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Heather only kept half an ear on the conversation, amused and a little nostalgic at the easy camaraderie blooming between Ron and Harry.
Ron was a cute kid. He had a bit of dirt on his nose and worn looking clothes, sure, but his hair was a brilliant red and his blue eyes were really clear.
Arthur and Molly Weasley made really cute babies. No wonder they'd had so many!
She was less interested in the contents of their chatter, so she turned back to her book.
-XXX-
Heather startled slightly when Harry waved a hand in front of her face. "What'd I miss?" She asked, tearing her gaze away from the words.
Harry pointed towards the compartment door. "Trolley lady wants to know if we want anything. Ron got some Chocolate Frogs."
"I'm good, thanks." Heather smiled and waved at the lady who responded in kind.
"Then we're all set!" Harry told the lady chirpily. "Thanks!"
"A pleasure dears." The trolley lady said, closing the door and moving on.
"You know something I don't." Harry declared, crossing his arms and glaring at her suspiciously on the door had slid shut. "Spill."
Heather blinked at him innocently.
He arched an eyebrow challengingly. He was well aware of Heather's sweets obsession.
Heather pouted. "I might-" She drawled teasingly. "-might, mind you, have convinced Kippers to try her hand at Nana's strawberry cheesecake-" She waited for Harry to light up a little before she added slyly. "-and nilla pie."
"Really?" Harry nearly squeaked, bouncing up onto his toes. "Like made from those thingies that Nana's cousin used to send for Easter and Christmas?"
"The very same." Heather replied with a wide smile. "It took Kippers nearly a week to get some of the ingredients so that's why we didn't have them the other night."
"Nilla pie?" Ron asked, curiously. "What's that?"
"It's heaven on a spoon." Harry declared dreamily, turning hopeful eyes to Heather. "Lunch?" He asked optimistically.
Heather laughed at him. "They're a types pudding, Ron." She explained to the young Weasley. "And no, not quite yet, Har-bear." She informed her brother, digging out her watch and noting that it was only three or so.
Harry wilted dramatically.
"You'll live for another hour or so." Heather drawled dryly, returning her watched to its pocket. "The Express doesn't reach Hogsmeade until almost nine in the evening and then we have to get to the Castle and Sorted. If we wait another hour or so then we'll not be positively starved by the time the Welcoming Feast commences."
"Fine." Harry acknowledged with a disappointed frown, slumping slightly. "But you have to play a game with us."
"Games?" Ron put in curiously, perking up a little. "There's Exploding Snap and Gobstones. But the twins have our deck and my mum made me leave the Gobstones stuff home for Ginny, since she'll be all alone this year. I have a wizarding chess set, but it's buried in my trunk."
"Cool!" Harry enthused brightly. "Our games don't explode or anything, but they're still pretty fun."
-XXX-
Ron was surprisingly competitive at Monopoly.
They'd played a few games of Clue, but Ron had been excited at the prospect of playing a game with money, so they'd switched to Monopoly.
Harry had 'sold out' to Ron early on in the game and now they were cheerfully partnering in an attempt to break Heather's grip on the board. She owned a good chunk of the 'go' portion of the board, most of the railroads, and was having extreme luck with the Chance and Community Chest cards, despite both boys shuffling them twice.
Each.
"Mwahahahahaha!" She gleefully cackled after she had been boosted around the board and granted another two hundred sweet, sweet pounds.
They had eaten the delicious food packed by the Black elves- Heather had made sure to insist it was only good manners to share, and Ron had caved fairly delightedly- and they all agreed that puddings were the best.
At some point- once they'd begged enough food off of everyone- the animals had shifted up on top of the bench Heather had been using, but was now functioning as her backrest.
Ron had just acquired the railroad Heather didn't have and was celebrating when the door opened.
She had been contemplating chucking the dice at him, too.
It was a time-honored tradition of losing siblings everywhere!
"I heard Harry Potter was on this train. Is that you, then?"
'Oh, wow.' Heather thought, valiantly trying to repress her desire to burst out laughing as she glanced up at the blond boy standing in the doorway, flanked by two Dudley-esque looking, taller brats. Draco was sort of comical looking, with babyish features and an expression that was more closely related to constipation than a sneer. He was sort of cute in a pointy-nose-and-chin sort of way, she supposed. The two bodyguards were mostly confused looking, as opposed to intimidating, really. Boys with more meat than muscle and sort of thug-ish features.
That might have been Heather's age talking, though. Or her quiet dislike of Vernon Dursley lookalikes.
Harry didn't answer right away, likely trying to repress his own desire to laugh.
Heather empathized with his struggle.
"And who are you?" The blond boy continued condescendingly, looking from the statue-silent Ron to Heather. He gave her an obviously imitated up-and-down, haughtily judging look. "Red hair, old clothes, playing with muggle rubbish." He gave the game and the animals a disgusted glare before turning back to Heather. "You must be the Weaslette. Did you sneak on the train, trying to get in an extra year to find a decent husband? You are a seventh child, though. So perhaps one of the desperate Seventh Years might consider contracting you as their Mistress. You'd have to leave Hogwarts at thirteen, of course, but it would be an upgrade from what you're no doubt used to. Think of the headlines. Your father might even lose his job for your little stunt, pathetic as it is."
As far as insults went, the speech scored poorly. And slightly confusing and circular, too.
"Actually." She drawled before Harry could do more than glare. "I am Heiress Potter. Harry's older sister by a handful of minutes." She tilted her head to the side, looking him over carefully. "Based on Aunt Cassie's description, you must be Cousin Narcissa's boy." Heather didn't move from her seated position on the floor, giving the reddening boy her own cool, assessing stare. "Pity. Aunt Cassie spoke highly of Cousin Narcissa, I expected better of her son."
"Don't disrespect my mother like that half-blood!" Malfoy yelled, his fists clenching at his sides and his shadows trying to loom in the background.
"Yeah, well, don't talk to my sister like that you great bloody prat!" Harry retorted heatedly, leaping to his feet and causing Mallie and Chromie to melt off the seat and wander over beside him. "And more to the point, Ron's awesome. Even if that was his sister instead of mine, I'd still be ready to punch you in the face. The hell is wrong with you? Talking about someone's sister like that?!"
"Hmph." Draco snorted, his ears and neck flushing bright red along with his face. "You'll find that some families are better than others." He glanced between Harry and Heather and Heather could almost see the tiny hamsters inside Draco's mind floundering.
To court favor with the Heiress or Harry Potter?
Harry predictably didn't wait for Draco to finish his grand speech.
"Yeah. Like families who teach their kids to respect other people, regardless of their blood status or gender." Harry spat out fiercely, causing Draco to take a step back as Harry stepped forward. "Now get out." Draco opened his mouth to say something but Harry took another step forward. "You insulted my sister, jackass. Shove. Off." Then Harry reached out and shut the door in the blond's face.
"My father will hear of this!" Could be heard through the door, the words high pitched and fuming.
The door knobs rattled, but Harry held them tightly.
"Yeah?" Harry called back just as angrily. "So will Aunt Cassie! Your point?"
There were some more mutterings and then the shadows on the other side of the glass quickly left.
"Wicked." Ron breathed after the shadows had left and Harry had plopped down beside him, Mallie crawling into his lap.
Chromie sauntered over and decided that Heather's sock covered foot made an excellent pillow.
Heather had taken off her shoes to sit on the floor. She wasn't worried about her skirt because, well, magic. Her shoes however, she didn't want to damage or get caught on skirt, so they were set neatly beside her bag.
The boys spent some time discussing how terrible Draco was, as they resumed the game. Heather was tempted to censure Ron's exuberant extolling of the dangers and inherent evilness of the Malfoy family, but Harry was a smart boy and people were entitled to their personal opinions.
And, extra mental discipline or not, Draco had been rather annoying and rude. He had time to grow and learn, but Heather certainly wasn't going to defend his current behavior.
She would, however, gleefully use her luck to extort more money out of the boys.
-XXX-
The boys had finally thrown in the towel and begged for a new game, so they were playing with the Uno cards. Ron kept messing up and bungling the rules, but it was actually pretty hilarious, so they were all having a good time.
Then the door opened again.
"Have any of you seen a to-is that a dog? I didn't know we could bring a dog!" Brown eyes blinked slowly before they alighted on the snoozing Chromie. "Kitty! May I pet her?"
Heather nodded agreeably. "Yeah, just be careful. She's not always nice to strangers."
Little Hermione was adorable.
There had been a huge fuss, Heather remembered, around the 'Cursed Child' actress having dark skin whereas the movie version of the book's actress had been lily white.
Well, Hermione did have a touch of color. Beige, if Heather was pressed to describe it; tanner than she or Harry's base skin color by several shades, with warm undertones that highlighted the varying shades of hazel in her eyes. Her hair was curly in that wild way that natural curls without anti-frizz products tended to be, and her front teeth were a bit prominent, but not overly so.
Heather was going to guess that Hermione had always attended a school with universal uniform, because the starched button up shirt, plain tie, and plaid skirt seemed comfortable. As did the knee high socks and sturdy mary jane shoes.
Chromie eyed the newcomer warily, but stayed seated on Heather's lap while Hermione hesitantly ran curious fingers over her fur.
Then came the expected torrent of words, once Harry had introduced himself, and Heather could understand how book-Harry had been intimidated by train-Hermione.
She was intense.
Well, she was nervous and excited and trying to blurt out words until she stumbled across the magical mess of words that might find her a friend. She was also trying to appear knowledgeable; trying to prove that she deserved to be here. Heather could see Hermione's panic mounting as her mouth continued to move and Heather felt nothing but empathy for the poor girl, despite her brother's dumbstruck expression and Ron's relatively mulish one.
"Hermione, right?" Heather broke in when the girl finally took a breath.
"Yes?" Hermione squeaked.
"It's nice to meet you." Heather said with a smile. "I'm Heather Potter, the blonde menace in my lap is Chromie. Yes, my brother is the Harry Potter, I'm afraid all the adventure books are fictional, and the only thing we've done for the past ten years is the same as you- going to Primary. We grew up on the other side, too."
Hermione looked crestfallen. "But all the books, like the Rise and Fall of the Darks Arts-"
"-are mostly supposition and rather thin on concrete fact." Heather corrected gently. "The magical side has very different rules on publishing and such."
"If you say so." Hermione looked upset and then she tried to cover it up by looking superior. "Well, I've memorized all of our course books and I intend on being the best." The girl hopped to her feet and bounced back over to the open door. "You should put on your robes. I've just been up to speak with the conductor, we'll be there soon." She gave Ron an unimpressed look. "You have dirt on your nose, by the way."
Then she was gone.
"Whatever House she's in." Ron declared with feeling after the door had closed behind Hermione. "I hope I'm not in it."
Heather tried not to laugh. 'Famous last words.'
"She's just nervous." Heather told him with a laugh. "She'll calm down."
"If you say so, Heather-feather." Harry said somewhat skeptically.
-XXX-
Hogsmeade was charming and old-fashioned. The houses Heather could see out the windows, illuminated by the moonlight and lanterns, had sloped, thatched roofs, brick walls, and thick panes of glass. The station was also old fashioned, with its charmingly antique signage and design.
A cool, automated voice instructed them to leave their luggage and pets and disembark, so Heather coaxed Chromie back into her cage and Mallie laid down next to it to wait.
The animals had both been fed and watered twice, and they had been taken into the luggage car to do their business on the papers the elves had packed for them, which Heather then put into the rubbish bins. Probably a bit unconventional, but she wasn't going to risk poor Mallie holding it for too long and having an accident or getting hurt. Chromie either!
Heather was thankful that they had lagged behind a bit, putting away the Uno cards, pulling on their robes- including their pointy hats which were rather ridiculous- and settling the animals, because they barely made it to the middle of the train before they ran into a backlog of living bodies.
Like any true introvert confronted with a rowdy crowd, Heather hid behind Harry. Ron was given a fond smile when he absently drifted nearer, blocking her view of the crowd and them from her.
Turned out the debarking point was the middle of the train, which certainly explained the mass backlog.
Like she'd seen from the windows, the platform was made of stone, with a wooden overhead, and the station itself was brick. There were benches scattered along the side and Heather wondered if this was all for Hogwarts or if there had been some sort of short-lived rail system.
Portkeys, Apparition, and the Floo were all well and good, but the idea for the Bus had to come from somewhere, right? Did it replace an old train system or something?
At any rate, the sun had set, and there was plenty of cloud cover, suggesting rain.
Then Harry nudged her and she tore her gaze away from the station and followed his insistent tugging. They went left, acr4oss the length of the station and then down a stone-dirt path surrounded by trees.
Hagrid was huge.
Like, Andre the Giant huge.
But his eyes really were kind and he seemed even more excited than the First Years themselves. He had a leather-like coat on, a lantern in one huge hand and his pink umbrella hooked on the same arm.
He reminded Heather rather strongly of Radagast.
"He seems brilliant." Harry whispered to her and she grinned at him.
Hagrid tapped a few trees with his umbrella along the way- suggesting to Heather that the path was protected from the average person- and after ten minutes or so of silently waddling after Hagrid like ducklings, they finally came to a stop.
"No mor' than four to a boat!" Hagrid bellowed as he hefted his lantern higher, and the group slowly rounded that last group of trees to see a neat line of bobbing rowboats along the shallow shores of a lake.
It couldn't be a river, Heather's mind stupidly informed her, as there was no obviously current, suggesting a stationary body of water. There might be tributaries or such further away, but it was most likely a lake.
The Black Lake.
The most anxious of the First Years ran to claim their little rowboats. One boat overturned, leaving the former occupants spluttering in the hip-level waters.
Harry, Heather, and Ron made their way to an empty boat and Heather forced the boys to go first. Once they had managed to get it and were seated across from each other, Heather gingerly stepped inside and nervously sat down beside Harry.
It wasn't that she didn't like water. She just didn't like unknown waters, at night, with a rowboat that looked to have been hand-hewn sometime in 1537.
There must have been an odd number of students, because they didn't get a fourth member to their little boat before Hagrid- in what looked to be a hollowed out tree trunk- hollered "Forward!" and the boats began gliding silently through the calm waters.
'This is it.' Heather thought with a grin. 'We're actually here!'
With the moon currently behind the clouds and Hagrid's lantern pretty far away it was fairly difficult to see. She'd grabbed Harry's hand at some point- she should really stop doing that- and it was quiet for what felt like several minutes before they sailed around a stone ledge and were confronted with an overhanging tree, trailing ivy vines nearly to the water.
Hagrid hollered for them to suck, but Heather just reached her free hand out to touch the ivy.
Well, until Harry yanked her down, via their linked hands.
The ivy was more of a hallway than a simple curtain, but once they were beyond it they could see Hogwarts Castle.
"It's amazing." Heather whispered as she looked at the monolith of stone. The windows held lanterns- candles flickering inside a bag; like those ones from the Tangled movie- in what seemed to be each and every window opening.
"Brilliant." Harry whispered back to her, and she could nearly feel his grin even if she couldn't see it.
Heather closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She could see why book-Harry had loved this castle so much. It definitely gave off a feeling of security and warmth and magic.
As silly as that sounded.
Suddenly, Heather stiffened, her magic easily answering her involuntary call.
"'feather?" Harry whispered as he felt his sister's hand grip his own tightly.
"It's ok." Heather whispered back, a bit chagrined.
Hopefully the Ministry wizard who tried to hit them with what she assumed were the Ministry monitoring charms wouldn't get in too much trouble for not tagging the twins. She'd felt the magic head towards her and she'd just reacted, willing her own magic to reject the foreign intrusion. And it had, though she wondered how much of that counter-attack had been her and how much had been the Blood Wards acting on her resolve.
Then they were gliding into a protected dock area.
The books and movies had not prepared her for the amount of stone stairs involved in the next leg of their journey. Heather grumbled uncharitably under her breath while Harry and Ron tried to not laugh.
"Is she always like this?" Ron whispered, slightly breathless from laughter and stair climbing, to an equally winded Harry.
"When she has to walk up stairs for reasons she deems 'stupid', yeah." Harry cheerfully informed his new friend. "You should have heard her when our tennis coach made us run laps."
Before Heather could snap something witty back at her brother, Hagrid was knocking on a wide, engraved, stone door and who could only be Professor McGonagall opened it.
"The Fir' years, Perfessor." Hagrid informed her gruffly, turning to wave at them and disappearing off back towards the boats.
Professor McGonagall embodied the idea of a stern lady of old. Floor length dark dress with delicate lace edging and a throat-brooch-thing, with thin spectacles perched on her perfectly proportionate nose.
She led them inside and along a hallway that was lined with suits of armor, the candles in the windows lighting their way.
The décor reminded Heather a lot of a museum, actually.
There were some moving paintings, too, which was pretty neat. After Blackmoor Hall, though, that initial bust of fascination with moving, talking paintings had faded somewhat.
She definitely understood why Grandfather kept most of the family paintings in stasis or in the Vaults, though.
Having seventy-eight different opinions aggressively shouted at you every time you stepped out into the hallway was vexing.
And it wasn't cruel! Placing them in the Vaults, that is. They could move to other frames or 'sleep' until they were purposely unfrozen!
Heather only paid a token amount of attention to Professor McGonagall's opening speech- Houses, House points, your House is your family blahblahblah- though she had the good manners and self-preservation to pretend to follow along.
Once the professor had disappeared off through the door- and let in a blast of loud chatter; Heather needed to learn some silencing spells, stat- everyone began to whisper among themselves.
Heather, honestly, tuned most of it out. She'd pulled Ron and Harry back a bit so when Draco went to look for Harry or her to start talking smack; they merely stayed in the shadows. It was an awkward moment, and Heather was afraid her restraining the boys was going to be for naught, but then the ghosts came floating through the walls and they were saved.
Phew.
The ghosts were strange. Sort of a buzzing energy contained in a luminescent form.
They reminded her a lot of those space-age holographic projections, honestly.
Then the professor was back and shooing the ghosts away and they were walked inside the Great Hall. Single file, so Heather had let go of Harry's hand and discreetly held on to his outer robes.
The Great Hall was….breathtaking.
The ceiling really did look like the night sky, making it seem as if they were eating in an outdoor garden of some sort. The staggered, floating candelabra were burning actual candles but the wax bits that occasionally fell disappeared after just a second. The Hall did have oil lamps lining the walls, about every meter or so- she still tended to think in standard terms sometimes, but she tried to use metric- not to mention several tiered, stunningly crafted chandeliers overhead.
There was a raised dais with a table running longwise at the far end of the Hall, where the staff were all gathered.
They were led up a center aisle, between two of the house tables. The long, sturdy looking wooden tables each had a banner running along their length in the middle, with little 'centerpiece' placements of large candelabra and cute, animated little House mascot decorations every three feet or so.
There she went with standard measurements again.
Given the colors, it looked to be Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and then Slytherin.
They were also full of bodies. Uniform pointy hats and black over robes and all! The majority of them were also blatantly staring at the First Years as they moved along the length of the Hall, which was disconcerting and distracting.
Ah. There was Heather's internal anxiety sonata. Like an old friend coming back to visit.
Honestly she was so tired of her brain twisting itself into knots over the matter of House placement she could scream. She was also tired, hungry, and more than a bit cranky that it was nearly ten and she didn't know where she'd be sleeping.
Heather made a mental note to plan a few emergency contingencies in the future. Like escape routes or safe places in the castle to retreat to. Having no 'plan b' or 'plan c' made her feel off balance and super grouchy.
Thankfully, they reached the end of the Hall and Professor McGonagall broke out the small wooden stool and the battered and frayed Sorting Hat.
The song was terrible, though the Hat seemed to be absurdly pleased with itself and tended to bounce from side to side, making its mouth-tear tilt rather hilariously.
Eventually it was over, everyone applauded, and Heather wondered if they could just be done already. Because she hated being the center of attention, like a monkey in a zoo, and the stares were beginning to get to her.
The Sorting commenced. Professor McGonagall began reading off names- some familiar and some not at all- and the Hat would settle over their heads for a bit before it shouted out a House name; leaving the newly sorted student to scurry off to the corresponding table, usually to welcoming applause.
Ever so slowly the line thinned.
'If we move any slower the Vikings are going to pop out of the walls and start swinging axes around.' Heather thought rather sourly as she slowly shuffled forward. 'Hm. Well, I'd make a somewhat decent Viking, I suppose. They made their women do the household calculations 'cause they thought it was witchcraft. Or so I read somewhere.'
Heather amused herself with the thought of being a craggy old spinster that lived in a hut near the sea who traded her math skills for cows and sheep. For a while, at least. Ron and Harry whispered back and forth to each other in front of her.
"Potter, Harry."
There was a fresh wave of mutterings. There had been whispers before, idle chatter with the occasional laugh or snort, but these were pointed whispers, directed at her brother.
Harry tossed her a grin over his shoulder and walked up to the stool. They locked eyes for a long moment when he turned around and sat down, but then Professor McGonagall dropped the hat on his head and it covered him all the way to his chin.
Time seemed to stretch on forever to Heather.
The whispers grew louder, moving into full chatter, and just when Heather's heart thought it was going to give out on her the Hat opened its brim-
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry lifted the Hat off of him with a wide grin and gave her a wave before he rushed over to the red table.
"Potter, Heather." McGonagall called after the hubbub had calmed down.
Heather straightened her shoulders and strode towards the stool with a confidence she most emphatically did not feel.
"The traitor's Goddaughter?"
"I heard they were twins?"
"I heard she stole her cousin's birthright!"
"Really? I heard that they're really close! Uncle Gerard is an Auror and he said that Harry Potter was sixteen shades of brassed off about her getting hurt at the Potter offices a fortnight ago-""
"Mother said that her friend told her the girl is James Potter's illegitimate love child!"
"She's got red hair though! I can't see her eyes, but that hair is really bright!"
"She's not very pretty, is she? Cousin Tilly told me that Lord Potter and his wife were an attractive couple, she can't be their child! Look at how plain she is!"
"She's eleven, Kenna!"
Heather spun on her heel and sat as gracefully as she could, giving the room her best bored glare.
'Oh, my.' A voice whispered inside her ear. 'Aren't you the complicated one.'
'….that's really disturbing.' Heather thought grudgingly.
'A bit.' The voice of the Hat returned cheerfully. 'Now, where to put you Heiress Potter? Or should I say Heiress Black?'
Heather's fears and worst-case-scenarios suddenly slammed into her with all the force of a freight train and she could feel her grip on the stool tighten painfully.
'Not to fret, young Lady.' The voice of the Hat soothed. 'I haven't spilled the secrets of a student in the past nine hundred and seventy six Sortings and I'm not about to break my record now! And you are hardly the first special circumstance I've ever Sorted, dear. Fraught times, and all that.'
'Thank you.' Heather managed to think.
'Now where to put you?' The voice of the Hat mused idly. 'Slytherin won't do at all, though you certainly could teach the latest generation a thing or two. Purely petty ambition is wasted ambition. I see you plan on setting me on fire should I place you in Ravenclaw, and some of those theories are quite interesting, so that one's out too.'
Heather felt like she should be sorry, but she wasn't.
'However, you are certainly loyal enough for Hufflepuff. Willing to work hard if the situation calls for it.' The voice contemplated seriously, and Heather could just picture the Hat rubbing its chin.
You know, if it had one.
'I used to have a pipe!' The Hat informed her happily. 'But some Headmaster destroyed it when I was off for my yearly cleaning about six hundred and seventy Sortings ago. Give or take a few. Alas. Hm. I have to say my dear, you could thrive wherever, but I must place you in a single House and so I shall. Bravery, dear girl, is not always preventing a killing blow. Sometimes, bravery is as simple as finding the strength to move forward, if only for the ones we love.' The Hat's words were strangely warm inside her mind.
'Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow.'* Heather quoted rather numbly.
She wasn't brave!
Well, she wasn't a political mastermind, hard-working, or particularly smart, either.
'A most excellent adage!' The hat informed her genially, shifting about a little on her head. 'And you, dear student, chose to keep your heart, when it would have been easier to discard it. You are far braver than you give yourself credit for. Ah! That's it! Better be-'
"GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat bellowed out loud.
Heather lifted the Hat and handed it to Professor McGonagall, making her way towards her brother out of force of habit.
Then she realized that her brother was one of the only ones clapping. Most everyone else was still too busy whispering or staring at her like a bug under a microscope.
As she was about halfway to the table, Percy Weasley stood and firmly and pointedly began to applaud. Shortly thereafter most of the other Gryffindors followed suit.
She summoned up her best smile and came to a stop in front of her brother. "Hey." She said thickly, trying her best not to cry but public humiliation had always been a weakness.
Her kryptonite.
She feared it and tried to avoid it as much as possible, because there was nothing worse than having a group of people randomly decide that you were unworthy. It messed with her head and her equilibrium and it made her brain try to eat itself as she struggled between being proud of who she was and being upset at the familiar sting of rejection.
Harry reached forward and wrapped her in a hug. "I'm glad we're together, big sister." He said, loudly and pointedly before they both sat down and the Sorting resumed.
Heather smiled gratefully at Percy, who puffed up a bit and beamed back at her.
She and Harry politely clapped and whispered to one another for the rest of the Sorting. When Ron was Sorted she scooted over and let him sit between them with a smile, since Harry's other side had been taken by a recently Sorted girl and her upperclassmen sister.
Eventually the Sorting was over, the stool and Hat whisked away, and the Headmaster opened the Feast.
Heather couldn't even bring herself to laugh at the Headmaster's humor, nor the dazzling sight of the tables being suddenly overloaded with scrumptious looking foods.
She just kept her face as blank as possible, desperately trying to keep from bursting into tears.
Stupid head. Unable to let go of all the little glances and side-whispers, despite being in a castle full of magic.
She filled her plate with whatever was nearby- even if it didn't look appetizing- and ate mechanically, quietly listening to the stories of the others. She absently heard Neville describe child endangerment and Seamus talk about his mother springing magic on his dad late in life.
Her mind was stuck on being rather uncharitable and sarcastic despite her attempts to make herself a bit more cheerful.
'Brave my ass.' She thought as the excruciatingly long dinner was finally cleared away and the Headmaster stood and made his announcements. 'I'm an anxiety-ridden coward. That stupid hat is senile.'
She really just wanted to curl up on Gramps' lap and cry it out.
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Please leave a comment on your way out if you enjoyed~!
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* Mary Anne Radmacher. Thanks to the lovely Madrigal-in-Training for suggesting this awesome quote!