Flames licked the thick lacquer of the wooden door, cutting off that path to escape the room. The other door, where her hands were pounding, was sealed from the outside. No one could enter, it seemed. There wasn't even a seam. She stumbled away from the door and glanced around her, looking for another escape. The one in front of her was where they were going to be entering any second. The one behind her was already occupied by the Order. She saw them gathered, rather surprised to see her, so she took a stance in the middle of the room. The least she could do was die fighting and die protecting the Order.

The silence consumed the room until the only unoccupied door opened and Tom Riddle Jr. strode through. He seemed to stagger as he saw her, her pale hair falling in her eyes as she glanced behind him. Too many Death Eaters for her to fight off with good chances... She'd have to make it a remarkable fight. "Heather?" Voldemort whispered. His shock was very evident in his voice, but he seemed to recover as he realized his company. "My, you just don't want to die, do you?" he sneered.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you, Tom, that it's not nice to play cat and mouse?" Heather returned in response, her stance rigid and ready. He would have to attack first, of course, in order for her to return the spell-fire. It was how she worked. Back in the old days, there had been rules to warfare. Modern society forgot it in turn for easier "kill first, talk later" methods, but she didn't. She respected tradition. "Oh," Heather winced as the Dark Lord's lip curled in fury. "That's right... Merope never taught you that lesson, did she? Never could from the grave."

"I thought you were dead, little girl," Voldemort growled instead, not bothering to comment on the fire she was throwing at him with her words. "You were bleeding on that floor-"

"Your aim is impeccably horrible," Heather returned. She glanced out of the corner of her eye to the Order, wands out and rigid. It wasn't the entire Order, of course. Just a select few. She recognized some - Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter... The others she couldn't see very well. "And I'm a better actress when it comes to faking death than you seem to assume."

He hissed, as if talking in that snake language of his, but gripped his wand tightly, pointing it at her. "I've never missed."

"There's always a first for everything, Tom," she said gently, as if talking to a toddler. "Don't lose your temper with me. I know things you'd cringe if I let out of the bag... For example, how Regulus Black truly died... Why he died... it's all a very interesting story, really, you see, he-"

"Silence!" Voldemort shouted. Heather sucked in her words with a breath, doing as he ordered. She was so used to giving orders, not following them, that she was surprised at how well her body obeyed. "How do you know about these things?"

"I don't just lay about," she explained haughtily. "If you aren't practicing, someone's got to. No, I've delved into the archives... You really should clean up your tracks better. You're almost becoming predictable." She flipped her hair out of her eyes as she continued, feeling as though she had the upper hand. "An attack in Surrey tomorrow? Another in Highgate next week?" His jaw clenched in surprise and she grinned to herself. "Yes... we know."

"You were a mistake," he spat. "I should have killed you myself. Drawn every last drop of blood from your veins-"

"Sangophilia?" She wrinkled her nose. "I'd expect it from Dracula. Not you."

He stood with fury radiating from him. Heather smiled sweetly as a curse came flying from his wand toward her. She swept out-of-the-way, her wand aimed at him as she righted herself.

"Oh, Tommy, dear, you really are predictable. Another killing curse, and then a few stunners, and then you'll go for the kill. Dark magic." Heather grinned, her eyes taking his form in and then those of the Death Eaters behind him. "Not going to let your little slaves join in on the fight? Aw, they must be so disappointed to miss out. I assure you lot, my Dragons and I can take you and more." As if to punctuate her sentence, she reached a hand up to clasp her necklace, smirking as the Dark Lord faltered only slightly. "How long have I been training for you, Tom? Merlin, let's see... We did meet just a few years ago, didn't we? For the first time, that is..."

Gold illuminated Heather's flanks, nearly the same color as her hair, before the light dissipated and in its place were women all around Heather's age, their wands out and their uniforms the same. Heather valued precision.

Heather giggled suddenly. "Oh! And let's not forget how I bested you, even then. A sixteen year old girl? My, you've lost your touch. I've been training since I was born, Tom. You can't best that. This war... These wars... They're my game. You're just the poor unfortunate pawn. And soon, Tom, the big bad queen is going to knock you out." She gave a sympathetic sigh. "Nothing personal, of course. Just a few murders that provoked a small, innocent girl to war."

"If only you were one of mine," the Dark Lord agreed. "We'd be unstoppable."

"You have enough experience to be unstoppable," she returned. She glanced to the left, seeing Arielle ready to back up her leader. "Très ennuyeuse." Arielle laughed richly, her eyes locking on a Death Eater. "Belle, tu vas endroit. Yasmina, tu vas derriere."

"Oui," the girls Heather addressed murmured.

"Allons-y," Heather winked at Voldemort. Her wand flicked in a split second and the Dark Lord barely had time to cast up a shielding charm before she shot another at him. The Death Eaters soon joined the fight, each matched with one of the golden girls that had appeared out of nowhere.

As the Dark Lord shot a spell back at Heather, she barely had time to move out-of-the-way, hearing it crack on the wall just behind the Order. "Aurore, make the Order leave," Heather snapped. She glanced quickly as she fired another spell and saw Yasmina free. "Yasmina! Get rid of the fire, and unblock the door."

"Oui!" Yasmina called. "Cindy, cover me."

There was silence as Heather shot a disarming spell when the Dark Lord bumped into another Death Eater, causing him to fumble. All fighting seized as the Dark Lord's wand fell from his grasp and clattered on the floor, rolling towards Heather at a very slow pace. She made eye contact with the Dark Lord before she started forward. She had to get his wand before he got it. She had a few seconds advantage before he started as well. Her fingers barely grasped it as he knocked into her.

She knew he used wandless magic in the blow and she flew backwards, hitting the ground with a groan. But she still had his wand.

"Tom, Tom, Tom," she sighed, slowly getting to her feet. Oh, yes, definite damage. She could feel the pain. "Are you ever going to learn? You know what to do. The last Saturday of the month, Stonehenge. Your wand will be where I always put it." His lips curled in fury. Oh, how he hated to be bested in front of his followers. "Now, until next time? You can never keep a girl hanging after a date." She giggled as he apparated away, his horde of Death Eaters soon to follow.

There was a tense silence before Heather slid her wand into her holster and glanced at the door. Yasmina was nearly done with unwarding it, the fire already out. She assessed her girls, making sure none of them were dead, before she gave a satisfactory nod.

"Meet at the Manor. We'll discuss improvements and new tactics to keep the element of surprise. I'll be back shortly. I expect you all fed and ready for a long night, ladies." Heather's lips twitched as she noticed a few groans hidden by clearing of throats. "You'll be getting no sleep."

She turned to face the Order that had simply refused to listen to Aurore. She couldn't fault the girl. Fighters were more difficult to distract from a battle than moths from a flame. A smile lit up her features as she spotted Albus Dumbledore amongst the throng. "Albus!" she cried in greeting. She reached to embrace the old man and he let her, hugging her back. Pulling away with the scent of lemon in her senses, she shook her head. "I must say, I'm quite surprised to see you in the middle of battle. Especially with your age. What are you? A hundred and seventy now?"

"Not quite, Miss Draconis," Albus twinkled, watching as her Dragons apparated away in a beam of gold light. "Fascinating. You're getting more and more impressive as the years wear on."

"That's a true compliment coming from you, Albus. I pride myself with the work I've put into those girls. They just needed the push to get their greatness." Heather winced slightly as she glanced back to follow his gaze. Perhaps a cracked rib, then, from Tom's assault. "I wasn't quite sure you'd gotten my message."

"Just in the nick of time," the elderly headmaster assured her. "I've gathered who I could. I'm sure you recognize most of them."

Her eyes darted through the familiar faces. She recognized all of them, but she had yet to meet one. Her eyes lingered towards the werewolf and the bubblegum colored hair of one woman. The werewolf looked the most surprised to see her. And the girl... confused. Two people, that is.

"You should introduce me to your friend here, Albus," Heather said, her gaze dropping abruptly to the raven haired boy to Albus's right.

"Heatherlyn Draconis, this is Harry Potter. Harry, my boy, this is Heather. She's the leader of the Golden Dragons, an organization much like the Order."

"We're based out of France," Heather smiled politely at Harry, offering a hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter. I truly find catalysts fascinating, don't you? And you... look at you." She stepped back as she surveyed him. "You're the perfect catalyst. Bold... a true Gryffindor, like my parents. I've heard stories. I've been keeping tabs on you, Mr. Potter. I always have been meaning to thank the man who saved my life all those years ago." At his look of confusion, she knew she had him on the hook and she was reeling him in with his curiosity and interest. She looked away from his green eyes, finding them almost painful to look at, and instead gave a once over of his spotty clothing.

"But … we've never met before."

"And you weren't born yet when you saved me," she returned lightly. "It's because of you the prophecy was made, Mr. Potter." She cleared her throat and glanced at Tom's wand. "Eugh, right. Tom. How could I have forgotten. I must be leaving, Albus. I have to hide a wand at the highest peak of the stones of Stonehenge. Maybe I could just bury it. Tom might be angered by the change."

"I'll never understand your rules of warfare," Albus admitted.

Heather smirked, "How so? They ended when Tom was just a boy. You practically grew up on them, Albus. The rules of engagement, the proper way to fight one another. Total war is so... unpredictable and so... dull." She glanced at Harry. "Enchantee, Monsieur Potter. I'm sure we'll be in contact... I'd very much like to have tea with you. Albus knows how to owl me."

"Heather, my dear," Albus began as she turned away. "Why do you give the wand back?"

Heather grinned, "Why would I keep it? It's no fun fighting him when he has no proper wand. It's actually quite boring. I think this is the fourth time I've won it from him." Heather glanced at Potter as he eyed the wand, seemingly ready to lunge for it. "Why do you ask, Albus?"

"I only think it'd give us the advantage if we were to keep it."

"Ah," Heather smirked, slipping the wand into the holster, taking her own out in its place. "That's the difference between my Dragons and your Order, Albus. I stick with honor. You and your..." She almost sneered as she glanced them over, showing a much different side of her bubbly self, "friends are more concerned with winning. I find honor in death. Death shouldn't be any other way. Dying to do something... stupid, as many of your Order members have, well... like I said, that's the difference between you and me. My Dragons aren't stupid."

"So, you're on Voldemort's side, then?" Harry snapped. "You help him out. You give him his wand when he wants it, and you disagree with our side so you don't help us-"

Her good mood with the wand victory was gone. And he saw it a second too late. His words died in his throat as her eyes turned deadly and she sauntered forward, her fingers tracing his jaw line. She forced herself to meet his eyes, also making sure she realized the eyes belonged so someone of raven hair. "You think you're so brave, Potter. You think you have so much weight behind your words. So much of a punch because of everything you've experienced. I'd be delighted to hear just how much better you are than me. In fact, I insist upon it. Tell me, Mr. Potter." She gave a smirk as she tapped his chin with her finger, causing him to shrug away from her. "How great are you? Did you really kill Cedric Diggory for the win?"

"Of course not!" he gasped, completely offended.

"Of course not," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. She turned away, walking down the line of Order members. "You didn't want it badly enough. In fact, word reached me that you tried to back out. Where's the bravery in that? Oh! You thought backing out was just the beginning, but no. See, Mr. Potter, I've studied your life. Call me a fan, call me a stalker, whatever." She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, allowing him to see the scars that marred her body. "First year. You rescue your little friend, Miss Granger, who, by the way, is far braver and more capable than you, from a troll. Alright, I'll give you the rushing into battle thing a bit of points. Afterall, you didn't know the first thing of battling a troll. But when you get there, your friend is seconds from being pummeled by a troll and your response is to jump on the trolls back? I don't know if that's bravery or idiocy. But continuing, while I strongly believe it was your brain in a world of idiocracy-"

"Me and Ron saved her life!" Harry argued.

"Ron and I," Heather corrected condescendingly. She turned to face him, walking back very slowly. Afterall, the Order followed this boy blindly, put every hope on him. It's only time they saw exactly what he was. An idiot that acted on the expectations around him. "Second year. Oh, poor, defenseless Ginny Weasley." Heather shot him a grin. "I would have let her die, you know." She really wouldn't have, but his face contorted into anger. "She almost killed half the students in that school, and her life would have been the price to pay for it to end. And then there's the fact that you … walk up to Tom Riddle Jr., and you ask him to let her live."

Heather let out a laugh, probably the richest she could have mustered. "Oh, Harry, you're so innocent and naïve. And facing that basilisk. I will admit that was brave. Basilisks are known to kill and leave no evidence behind when they devour your body... And yet you decide 'Oh, it's coming straight at me. I'm going to shove this small sword into its very large mouth and potentially have it bite my arm off. Only it did worse than that. It bit you. And you would have died, yet you were healed by the tears of a Phoenix. Who sent that Phoenix to save you, because you're the only chance the Order has at winning? The man right beside you. Shall I continue?"

"I think we get the point, Heatherlyn," Albus said sternly.

"The point is that, Mr. Potter, you aren't brave. You're stupid and naïve and think all the good things in the world will protect you. That you can rely on those you love and that you can count on your friends to save you. But you can't. They'll die, they'll betray you, and all you'll do the entire time is count on them every second of the way." She dared him to disagree as her eyes leveled with his. "You aren't going to win this war, Potter. You know why? Because Tom is smarter, stronger, and more adept at magic than you can ever dream to be."

"Better than you?"

She smirked. "Almost. I've dedicated the eighteen years I've been alive to ending him. Every seconds of my life has been spent learning something. I'm running on around five days of no sleep. Truth is, I don't sleep. All I do is train, learn, grow, adapt... My girls? That's all they do as well. Some of them hate it, but they push through it because the bigger goal is more important than that of whining and complaining. They're conditioned not to." Heather leaned away. "Our pain threshold is highest on record. I once had my insides ripped open and had to put my organs back inside me myself, and I felt nothing." His eyes widened, now, in fear. "You won't win this war, Mr. Potter. You have no chance. That's why I despise the Order's techniques. In fact, despise is light. I loathe them because it makes you weak. And not just you. I've seen the most capable fighters be murdered because of their lack in technique. Dorcas Meadowes is the finest example. She was the best fighter the Order has ever seen and the Dark Lord blew her up into a million pieces. You'll never be as good as her, especially when you're brooding like you are now.

"So, tell me, Potter, are you better than me? Are you braver? Stronger? Smarter? Tougher? More skilled?" He didn't answer. "I didn't think so. That's why I keep the rules of engagement and the entire … traditional warfare. I don't believe in hit and run attempts to gain the upper hand. They're disorganized and too many die because they don't know where they're supposed to go. I know how to work a battlefield to my advantage. You can't even work in the classroom."

"That's not true-"

"You want to be an Auror. Oh, I've heard. But you can't be an Auror with that temper and with your inability to contain any common sense or self-preservation. Though, I guess that's not your fault. Your father had the same problem. And you've been raised your whole life to be bold and, despite your aunt and uncle always calling you a freak, you've always acted stupidly. It's why a Gryffindor is always the first to be dead in battle. Most of the people in this war will die because of their Gryffindor upbringing."

"That's because they're brave," Harry emphasized.

"It's because they act foolishly," she returned.

"You're only, what? A year older than me. That doesn't make you smarter."

"I've bested Tom every time I've met him or his Death Eaters but once, and that's because I acted like a fool. I used the Gryffindor in me that my parents had to get revenge for something and I nearly died because of it." She looked him over. "You'll do the same."

"What makes you so sure?"

Heather smirked. "Because you already have." He looked confused so she chose to clarify. "Sirius Black was someone you nearly died over in order to get revenge. You're lucky Dumbledore was there for you, because you would be six feet under by now. Because you aren't brave. You're reckless."

"You know nothing about Sirius!" Harry shouted. "You have no right-"

"Everyone knew everything about Sirius," Heather shot back. "He liked it that way. He consulted me about the Ministry of Magic raid you and your pathetic friends pulled off in your fifth year. I told him not to go, it was a trap and a pathetic attempt to lure you out. Little did I know that you were an idiot and decided to act on a connection the Dark Lord gave you. You believed the Dark Lord's words and it landed you in prison - because that's all the world is right now. Tom and I have a respect for each other, you see. I know whatever spews from his mouth is a lie, and he knows I … well, mostly, tell the truth." She looked him over. "You ever lie, boy?"

"I'm not a boy-"

"You're a boy if I say you're a boy," Heather returned, smirking as he turned red in anger. It was almost too easy. "You lied just then, you know. You are a boy. And your tell... Tell me another lie, Harry. Show them all."

"Why should I?" Harry returned. "You're some crazy girl that-"

She grinned wickedly. "Do you know what your tell is, Harry?" She stepped back, spreading her arms wide. "You look behind me. There's nothing behind me for you to look at. And you know how I know? Training. Extensive training that makes my hands bleed and my limps quake, being unable to move for hours afterwards. And then once I can move, I start over like I hadn't just trained. Diligence. The entire time I've been talking to you, I've been scanning this room, looking at possible exit points... I've been assessing you so I know which wand arm you all have, how you hold it. It makes it that much easier to disarm you. So try it. Try to disarm me, Mr. Potter. Je vous mets au défi."

Harry didn't move. She didn't expect him to. "If you wish to talk to me, then, owl me. Perhaps I'll set you up on a more rigorous training schedule that will guarantee you last ten minutes, instead of two."

"I've faced him before!"

"When you were a child," she returned. "A toddler. And again when you lot were in the Tournament. Nasty bit of magic, that tournament. I'm surprised you don't remember me from it. I trained Fleur Delacour. She was a member of my team. And even when you faced him then, you had a huge amount of help from your dead parents. And ran away like a sniveling baby with the body of your boyfriend-"

"He wasn't-"

"And fifth year, you were possessed. You would have died had Dumbledore not been there. Yes, you know how to face him quite well. The Boy-Who-Is-Destined-To-Die, huh, Albus? Told him that yet?"

"Heather, you're out of line," Albus said firmly.

"You weren't my headmaster for a reason, old friend. I don't doubt your methods, I know they won't work. He finds out and he'll turn coward for sure." Heather twirled Tom's wand in her hand. "I'll leave you with that to think on." She gave a polite bow to the Order. "Order, Potter, Albus." She then apparated in a burst of gold dust, letting it shower down where she once stood. As soon as the dust touched the ground, it disappeared. Just like she had.