Disclaimer: I do not own the HP franchise...nuff said, only the enigmatic OC Ashlen Fennec (aka me as myself)
"meep" – note (Heather mostly)
"meep" – thoughts (same as above)/ Newspaper (this chapter and all others that apply)
"meep" – everyone else (not Heather, not for a loooong time.)
Chapter 3- Calm Before the Storm...
Nothing much was exchanged conversationally as Heather devoured her food as if it would escape somehow, and Ashlen merely watched in sympathy. She knew, despite the two and a half week duration, what it was like being to go hungry; how her mentor put up with that and more…gruesome things, for lack of a better and tamer term, for 10 years she'd never understand, never truly. Nor would she want to as understanding often is borne through experience…
And so Ashlen, in her mind, understood enough to know what not to do or say to someone with such a background, and what they don't want from you as a person they trust.
Ashlen returned to herself just as the small girl finished massacring her meal, and with a jolt she remembered something as she saw a russet haired man with a newspaper in a dark corner, "When we get to my flat, after we eat dinner, I have something for you," Ashlen said lowly as she stood to leave, the action prompting the six year old to follow suit, "news of what became of Them." She finished with a smirk on her face and a wicked sadistic glean in her blue-ringed fern eyes.
"I'm interested…" the ravenette's gaze relayed, a crazed gleam within those emerald depths.
The fair girl-woman winked discreetly, "Remember when I said 'My karma ran over your dogma'? Well the car struck the dog…" pregnant pause, "…Hard." That smirk turned feral in a split second.
Heather's serene face fell, and let show the half crazed state of mind that lie beneath.
To resuscitate the girl, Ashlen chimed in with her angelic voice, "Off to the shopping strip we go then?"
Heather, rendered memoryless from her lase of sanity, nodded eagerly as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.
However, one lone figure under a glamor felt a shiver go down his spine at the disturbing sight he had just bore witness to.
Glamored mahogany eyes would never be able to forget the scene that played before him; the look of pain borne insanity set on the face of a six, nearly seven, year old child's face; But not just any child…
It was without a doubt Heather Jaclyn Potter; she was a perfect mix of both of her parents. Right before his eyes, any bigotry he might have at one point bombarded upon her was, for a lack of better descriptive term, obliviated from his mind.
Now he could only wonder how he'd be able to do such a thing to an already broken and disillusioned child with this alluded knowledge of her past.
"Ignorance is truly bliss," and the image branded into his memory let him know just how true that statement rang, causing a shiver to run down his spine yet again,
"Now, if only I was ignorant…" He mentally cursed the universal law if hindsight. Masked mahogany eyes followed the sister-like pair out the door into the expanse of seemingly endless field of pure white.*(1)
Hours later, they arrived at Ashlen's deceivingly simple and small flat, which was anything but on the inside, dog tired but satisfied after a long day of shopping.
After stating her intentions for the day, to make a dent in her inheritance money, Heather fought the losing battle of convincing the determined woman otherwise.
In the end, however, she conceded to Ashlen's request due to three factors; One, it was her birthday and one dos not simply argue against the birthday recipient; two, the will shattering look in her wild eyes paired with her indomitable will, no more need be said; three, well…she needed new clothing anyways, so who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Not that the latter points matter one mite if the former condition is met; which, of course, it is.
So naturally, both of them stumble through the front door bogged down by dozens of shopping bags each arm, their cheeks and lips chapped and red from the cold.
"I'm gonna run these to my room and then start dinner-" the woman's breathless declaration was cut off by a halting hand. Heather shook her head disapprovingly, pointing at herself, then at the kitchen. Emerald eyes challenged Ashlen to go against her declaration, the former only nodded mutely at the reasonable request.
Both then left to their respective sizable rooms to clean up. Heather at this point opted to take that desperately needed shower. She could attest to the difficulty of the simple act of cleaning oneself whilst being hunted down by child services that threaten to drag you off to the local orphanage, aka hell; fire and brimstone pretty much included.*(2)
Worst two weeks since her escape. It was comparable, although not quite as bad, to the pre-beating days of her former life, and that was bad enough as is.
It was fifteen minutes later that found Ashlen lying in a sprawled and gaping heap on her couch while Heather, wearing a newly bought pair of music themed pajamas and a white gold charm bracelet (that said blonde was adamant about getting her) with a raven and a fox clipped to it, stood in front of her with a notepad and a pen, ready and awaiting the newly turned 19 year old's order.
Ashlen knew she wasn't getting out of this, so she opted to play along.
"I'll take a Café Mocha with three even teaspoons of suger, please." The "waitress" wrote down her order, and then danced off to the kitchen (that the young woman learned the hard way she was forbidden to go anywhere near tonight.) to happily oblige the request.
Mere minutes later, Heather returned with a pleasantly warm, but not steaming, mug of said beverage along with a hot cocoa for herself. Ashlen hummed in approval when she took a sip of her coffee, "Perfect." They shared a smile.
A note in loopy scrawled handwriting slid into her peripheral vision, "What would you like to eat? It's your call b-day girl ;)"
"Something simple, really, but my favorite…" the ravenette was poised to write, "Soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, the soup is your choice." Raven hair flashed crimson for a brief second as the girl nodded, then went on her merry way to the kitchen with a content, if not happy, light in her killing curse green orbs.
15 minutes later found the pair enjoying the prepared meal with vigor.
"Earlier, I told you I had news for you in regards to Them." The unique eyes that once held impish mischief in their depths turned cold and serious, her voice equally chilly and monotone laced with an undertone of justified hatred. That was all the Aquarius born said before tossing the papers to Heather as she sat down from washing the dishes.
Heather snatched them up greedily as if they'd run away. She started with the oldest one, dating back from roughly a year and half ago;
Murdered or Missing: Young Girl Confirmed Missing by Minor August 17, 1985.
By: Louis McClanton
A young boy, aged 5 years, phoned local law enforcement on August 10th, 1985 at approximately midnight to report the fatal beating of a confirmed to-be-missing 5 year old girl with dark hair and green eyes, her name he refuses to divulge to the press, "For her protection." He claims.
He also tells of the domestic abuse and neglect (on both children's accounts) by married couple Vernon and Petunia Dursley on a daily basis. He (whose name is not disclosed due to status as a minor) has this to say when questioned about home life, and how events escalated as quickly as they did.
"It started when we were three. Then, like, when school started, they went bonkers. She brought home a pretty violin and her name was carved into a gold rectangle on the case. They tried to take it from her repeatedly under the idea that she 'Stole' it; but in the end she always found a way to get it back."
Then this reporter sees a heart wrenching look cross his face; "Then that night…he got drunk. And he was a violent drunk. He saw her trying to open the front door…you know what happened next…"
Then one asks next if she has made contact with and if he thought she was out there somewhere alive.
"No, I haven't heard from her since the night she and me escaped* together. Last I saw her she was running like hell was at her heels; running from the hell she lived for years. But I do think she's alive...at least I hope."
After this enlightening admission, this one deems that the ministry has a case on their hands. In fact, neighbors readily correlate the story; one Mrs. Figg tells of a failed rescue mission;
"Suffice to say, it ended badly for the poor child." The woman, even after much coaxing, elaborated no further on the matter, "Please, it hurts too much to recollect."
On a somber note, this concludes today's report.
Heather raised a brow, "It took a week for them to realize I was missing?" she scoffed, "If not for my mystery savior, I'd be lying dead in a morgue right now." Annoyance aside, she was touched by Dudley's genuinely spoken words and actions; from him not mentioning her name, to showing care he could never show with her abusers breathing down their necks.
Heather got the distinct impression she should be feeling something profound right about now…except she didn't. It was, a strange feeling say the least, something akin to the process of sublimation…*(3).
The strange numbness aside, Heather opted to move onto more entertaining aspects as she positioned to read the other more recent paper:
Ongoing Investigation Unearths Sufficient Evidence to Commence Trial Proceedings.
January 10th, 1987 By: Wolf D. Bane
Startling evidence rattles seasoned investigators as details of child abuse case come to light. Both evidence procured from the crime scene and eye-witness accounts bring validity to prior accusations against defendants from approximately 3 years ago.
This claim was further cemented by the boy witness, who at the end of a recent child custody case, violently objected to the aspect of his legal guardianship being granted to his paternal aunt, Majorie Dursley, reciting the following words like a mantra:
"She's one of them!"
Due to the aforementioned recent events, the criminal trial for the accused Mr. Vernon Dursley, and accomplice, Mrs. Petunia Dursley, will be officially held on Febuary 3rd of this year.
Heather felt a lightness settle in her chest at the genuine actions that played in her favor, but then it felt as if she swallowed a bowling ball at the notion that her cousin was in a very similar, if not the same, scenario she has lived all her life and the danger he now faces; he is now in the crosshairs of those who will seek reparation for being "wronged."
He saved her life that night a mere year and a half ago. He hopes she is alive and well, maybe even wondering if his hope is all but moot.
Perhaps, Heather muses as she scribbles furiously on a piece of paper, that she repays her debts and abates her brave cousin's fears and confirms his hopes.
Heather slid the paper to Ashlen, who immediately took to reading the scrawled words.
Judging by the gleam in those wild eyes, the ravenette had her answer.
As Heather was making her way to her sanctuary, she got the feeling she was being followed; as well as the piercing gazes that watched her every move. An air splitting crack sounded from behind her then a familiar voice she heard not even ten minutes ago call to her.
"Heat-Raven! W-wait up!"
Ashlen stumbled to a halt in front of Heather as she tuned to the voice's owner. Breathlessly, Ashlen stuttered out, "Y-you forgot this…" as she held out a very familiar bag.
Ah, well, that was important indeed.
The heart sisters stared at each other as an awkward silence passed between them. Heather could've sworn she heard a cricket chirping…
The enigmatic girl-woman broke it, "Welp, my jobs done. Chao!" she imparted a cheerful wave before running off the way she came as the strange popping echoed into the still night once again, followed by two faint cracks a fair distance away from the guards' station.
Killing curse green eyes that in this moment glowed like a wolf's in the dark night, scanned the desolate street. Upon discovering nothing out of the ordinary, save for a passing scrawny black stray cat*(4), she passed off the odd noises as innocuous street walkers loving their whips far too much.
if the half-blind girl was able byond 6 inches in front of her, she would've noticed the shadowy outlines of two tall figures peeking out from behind the guards' station…
A/N: I give my congratulations to those who caught the less than innocent innuendo I threw in there and I sincerely hope you enjoy it as mush I find the aspect entertaining (I would think Heather learned some very unsavory…things from her time around her equally unsavory maternal uncle), if you don't grats to you as well. I know this was a short chapter and I'm sorry for taking so long to update, I've had a busy work schedule and I'm getting used to it since the recent change of management.
Anywho, what did our dearest Heather write on that paper? Who were Heather's night stalkers? Comment on the following if you so wish with suggestions or ideas…or just for the he double tooth picks of it to boost my morale…*Gives her infamous "I'm innocent and can do no harm" look*
*(1) - Symbolic of a conscience cleared of bigotry.
*(2) - of the orphanages in the world, I only hear that Britain is one of if not the worst when it comes to this particular institute. Not that I know anything about it.
* - to the grammar Nazis; the grammar here is incorrect, yes, but I meant it to be this way. Any other grammar issues save this one are up for nitpicking (unless I pull a GN on myself before you do...which i probably will, knowing myself...)
*(3) – sublimation (from one physical state to another): from solid (like an ice cube) strait to gas form (evaporation) – yes, I've felt this before, and this is the best, most poetic way to describe it besides being cut with an extremely sharp knife and not feeling it until later when it's healing. I felt this enough times to remember, sadly.
*(4) – black cats have carry an omen of bad luck when sighted passing by…poo is gonna hit the fan next chapter…dear Merlin, what is going to happen to our beloved heroine now? - this superstition started in the middle ages of Europe when they were thought to be witches prowling the streets in cat form. this is the gist i'm going for here