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Surprisingly returning to Hogwarts wasn't as difficult as Heather had expected.
In a way.
Sort of?
…maybe?
Heather's new mantra was, 'public embarrassment is not the end of the world; focus on your support, not the masses'.
It was difficult, but Heather had rather firmly attached herself to Sophie and Harry- and therefore the other boys from the dorm. The whispers and judging stares annoyed and stung her pride, but she focused solely on what she needed to do.
The constant sensation of being suffocated was entirely unwanted, but preferable to her being cornered by less than well-meaning people looking for juicy gossip bits that were easily twisted into utter untruths.
The pointed questions and groups attempting to corner her were slightly terrifying- moreso than they would have been just a fortnight ago- but she circumvented this by trying to stay near the center of the little mob of First Years.
'One foot in front of the other. This too shall pass.'
Also, Percy was a godsend and she was never giving him to the Ministry. Not only was he brave- he went toe-to-toe with the Head Boy, who was a Slytherin- he was also crafty and well-armed with knowledge.
Not to mention he seemingly had skin thicker than a dragon's hide.
So, yeah.
Percy was one of Heather's people and Mr. Reginald was looking forward to having the teen as an intern for the coming summer. Should Percy perform as well as Heather figured he would, Mr. Reginald would then go to Arthur Weasley and try to set up an Apprenticeship.
Boom.
The Ministry's loss, Heather's gain.
'Get on my level, bitches.'
In other news, at least she didn't have to deal with Yaxley anymore. She didn't even really have to look at him, either.
Grandfather had demanded- when Grandfather had escorted them back to Hogwarts Monday morning and demanded to know what the Headmaster had done to her attackers- reassurance that Heather would be safe. So Heather had been allowed to stay and listen to the Headmaster's list of punishments and the magically enforced restrictions of her attackers.
Despite the Headmaster's reluctance in informing her, which she sort of understood and sort of was supremely irritated by.
Yes, she was young and she really did believe that the Headmaster had taken action, but being informed of those actions and about any safeguards put in place to protect her were sort of her right as the victim.
At least Grandfather had agreed with her personal thoughts on the matter and had raised hell- in a decorous manner- until the Headmaster caved to Grandfather's demands.
Heather, once her emotions had settled from their initial spike of outrage and hurt, had grudgingly acknowledged the reasons as to why the Headmaster had been reluctant to disclose the information to an eleven-year-old, but the mildly disapproving looks he'd sent when she'd insisted on knowing the extent of their punishment had still stung.
According to the Headmaster, Yaxley had been entirely removed from any position of authority whatsoever.
Yaxley was still the Hogwarts Potion Master's Apprentice- Master-Apprentice Pacts were apparently sacred, akin to 'internal Family business'- but he and the rest of Heather's attackers were not allowed within one hundred meters of Heather, Harry, or Sophie and that included during their Potions class.
Thanks to a happy scheduling coincidence, Professor Flitwick's Assistant Professor- Assistant Professor Shacklebolt- had that period free and Professor Flitwick had offered her aid as an Assistant Professor, which the Headmaster had allowed as she had gotten an 'O' on her Potions NEWT. So Potions would still have an Assistant Professor and Apprentice Healer Talmhach as an impartial observer.
Grandfather wrangled a firm agreement that Severus Snape would be barred from issuing detentions to either twin or Sophie. The Headmaster had been extremely reluctant to undercut the authority of a Professor in their own classroom, but Grandfather had thrown- again, a very dignified- fit until the Headmaster had agreed.
Yaxley and his associates were also constantly under magical observation or restricted to their- separate- rooms in a secret area of the castle. They couldn't call on any house elves- least of all their personal ones- and if they came within the hundred meters of Heather on 'accident' the castle would take 'immediate corrective action', thought he Headmaster had remained mum on details. Which Grandfather had agreed to suspiciously easily, so Heather assumed that meant he was confident that Hogwarts didn't mess around with such things.
By the time she left the office Heather felt a bit bad about the relentless grilling Grandfather had given the poor Headmaster- he looked so tired!- but also a whole lot better.
On their journey back to the tower there were a few really dirty looks thrown her way and whispers that died to nothing but judgy or suspiciously innocent glowers whenever she rounded a corner unexpectedly, but it was tolerable.
It set the tone for how her general treatment by most others, as well, with far more people seemingly neutral on the issue than she had expected, given the way the books had portrayed things.
There were some really outspoken folks, but they mostly just voiced their opinions really loudly in her vicinity, not directly at her, so she pretended to ignore them from her place behind Harry and Ron, with Sophie on one side and Sally-Anne on the other and the other three First Year boys gamely bringing up the rear.
It was…..survivable.
Still, the dissenting voices made it seem like the whole school was against her, even if all the factual evidence assured her otherwise.
Harry, as always, was adorable.
Harry's suspiciously 'coincidental' guards that seemed just 'happen' to be headed wherever she was going. Even if that person was Percy offering to escort her to the Library after class ended for the day- and Harry had quidditch practice- when she knew damn good and well he'd had a class at the other end of the castle the previous period.
It was survivable.
It could have been much, much worse and she was grateful so many people cared about her.
'Count your blessings. And when the world seems especially dark, count them twice for good measure.'
The first three days of that first week back were excruciatingly long and grueling.
'Nevertheless, she persisted.'
Then they announced Heather's first Flying make-up lesson would be on Thursday and she could have cursed a blue streak, had it not been Professor McGonagall who had held her back to inform her. Apparently only Heather and a few other First Years had needed the remedial classes, so the lesson had gotten lost in the shuffle of scheduling conflicts until now.
Fan-frickin'-tastic.
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In the early thirties to late forties there were three sons and two daughters born to the House of Nott by way of the House's Lady and all five of them had suffered for the Lord and Lady's marital troubles.
As in, the Lord didn't deem to present himself at the birth of any of his Lady-wife's children, not even the children he'd confirmed as his own progeny.
Thusly, the proper potential heirs were named Cantankerous, Pugnacious, Contentious, Bellicose, and Quarelsome by their displeased Lady-mother.
The home the Nott siblings had grown up in- like most Roman-inspired villas- had four 'sides' that enclosed quite a large area of land. The villa was perched atop a wide hill with a beautiful view of series of small, interconnected lakes on the northern side. It was quite beautiful land being in what the muggles would come to call 'God's Own Country' with vivid green grasses, rolling hills, and clear skies. The land inside the wards stretched for miles, with the preserved ancient buildings providing a wonderful contrast to the unrestrained beauty of nature.
Yet-
Dust gathered in the grand rooms of the villa, floors were encrusted with grime, and the hired help did little more than clean up the tutoring areas. Charms weakened and broke or became corrupted and wild. The home's marble began to lose its shine and splinter. The formerly stabled animals ran free, becoming more wild and untamed with each spring's new additions.
It was a lovely ruin with no fire to warm its hearth and those circumstances bled through in the lives those children lived.
Cantankerous had despised his parents and their chosen lovers to the point of madness, obsessively compiling- and then publishing a book- of what he considered the 'pure' and 'proper' families before he even reached the age of ten. Cantankerous spent many, many long and lonely hours poring over the genealogy texts and journals in the Nott Library, loathing every single Family that had been noted to have a 'mistress' or 'companion'.
Alas, the Nott Library was far from an authority on such matters and so his work was fundamentally flawed, but that didn't stop the blood purists- who had been on the rise thanks to the situations with the Ottomans and Grindelwald- from using the book as a war banner.
When Cantankerous Nott met Tom Riddle on the train to Hogwarts, they'd recognized kindred souls. Brother-in-arms, and so Cantankerous became the closest thing Tom Riddle ever had to a friend.
The hypocrisy would be hilarious if it wasn't so tragic.
Cantakerous knew full well the story of Merope Gaunt and Tom Riddle Senior and he had been Tom's willing accomplice in Marvolo Gaunt's demise in return for Tom's assistance in deposing of his bitterly despised parents and assorted other Family members who had 'participated in sullying the name of Nott'.
To be somewhat fair, Cantakerous had plenty to be angry and bitter about. Not only for his hated name and loveless upbringing- that was nearly entirely regulated to indifferent tutors and greedy social-climbers- but also for his parents' extreme expenditures that had steadily drained the House of Nott coffers. Mostly on expensive gifts and garishly opulent lifestyles for their chosen lovers and those lovers' offspring while the five proper heirs had been left mostly to raise themselves, save for the hired help and a villa whose upkeep was deemed 'too expensive' or 'not important right now'.
Cantankerous and his siblings hadn't even had a single elf left to tend them!
Granted, wholesale murder was an extreme response to such things, but neither Cantankerous nor Tom were what one would consider 'stable' or 'even keel'.
And that was where Cantakerous' story met with Anastasia's.
Or, more correctly, her mother Beatrice's story.
Beatrice Clearwater had not been Cantakerous Nott's first concubine and she wasn't his last, but she certainly made an impact.
Beatrice had been a Hufflepuff and damn proud of it. Her school photos showed her in all of her wildly curled haired glory arm-in-arm with a girl she'd met on the train. Thick as thieves they were, despite being Sorted into separate Houses. Rarely apart and brilliant in their own rights, they had been made to do great things.
And Cantankerous Nott hated them for it, he took their zest for life and fierce friendship as a personal offense.
Beatrice's best and most cherished friend in the entire world being Josephine Prince, the youngest of the Prince girls and the wife Cantankerous felt that he deserved.
Cantankerous had tried to convince Lord Prince to Contract Christine Prince- the middle daughter- to the Nott Family, but Lord Raleigh Prince had refused.
While House Prince had still been reeling- politically, socially, and economically- from the disappearance of Eileen Prince, the Lord Prince had been extremely reluctant to Contract his granddaughter to a man who was rumored to be spiraling into debt and who had been noted to brag about his no less than three concubines- no one could pin down the exact number- yet none of the concubines nor children had been seen in Diagon or Hogsmeade.
Children from anyone other than the Lady-wife being given 'lesser names', making them rather difficult to trace back to a Family if enough precautions were taken.
Amazing what the public was willing to blatantly overlook in the name of keeping the status quo.
Christine married Albert Diggory straight out of Hogwarts and- even more furious than before- Cantankerous had turned his eyes to Josephine, who was ten years younger than Christine, the baby of the Prince family.
Cantankerous Nott hated Josephine for consorting with a half-blood, he hated Beatrice for being so much prettier than her pureblood friend, and he especially hated the way the girls would rather study and better themselves than act like 'proper women'.
The Lord Nott had been so obsessed with the two girls that he had asked for help in 'securing' them for himself from his charming and handsome friend, Tom Riddle. From the girls' Third Year to their Sixth Year he would 'just happen' to be in Hogsmeade- usually with Tom- and would buy them gifts and trinkets and acted like a proper, upstanding gentleman.
Even Beatrice, a very sensible girl with very little interest in relationships or men, was eventually charmed.
That was all it took for everything to go horribly wrong.
The way Anastasia's mother had always told the story was that the last thing she remembered clearly was being in Hogsmeade's most famous pub and Tom coming back to their booth with a tray of butterbeers.
The next thing she knew she blinked awake in a place that she would come to know as her prison.
Bereft of her wand, lost, confused, and more than a little scared she had searched for her friend, but she didn't get very far before she found Mama Jo- bound to a hard chair with conjured ropes, shivering violently, and sobbing her eyes out in the middle of a disgustingly dirty, crowded, dilapidated room- and the reality of the situation began to sink in.
Then Cantankerous Nott had appeared and gleefully explained his triumph.
Mama Jo had been Contracted off to Lord Nott by the new Lord Prince- Lord Ralston, after Lord Raleigh and the other potential heirs died in a series of 'accidents' – who, incidentally, was much more sympathetic to Cantanekrous' proposition. Knowing that Beatrice wouldn't stand idly by for such a thing- and was smart enough to think her way around it- the man had concocted an elaborate scheme to snare both girls for the price of one.
Technically Mum had been allowed to leave, could have even gone to the Aurors and most likely gotten away.
But-
Lord Nott had sworn- up, down, and sideways- he'd murder Mama Jo in the most gruesome manner he could manage if Mum did. And it was well within his rights, as he had gleefully pointed out in the copy of the Contract that he'd smugly handed the shocked-to-stillness Beatrice.
Mama Jo had begged Mum to leave, but Mum had stoutly refused and that was how she'd ended up as little more than a slave to Lord Nott.
Over the years that followed, Mama Jo and Mum had done their level best to protect others who were seduced by Lord Nott just as they'd done their level best to make their prison into a home. But Lord Nott worked all of them like dogs- often leaving one of his disturbed siblings as a 'minder'- taking their accomplishments and using them to fund the House of Nott coffers, while steadily drinking his way through what little there was left over after funding 'Lord Voldemort' and keeping up appearances.
Then Mum had had three children before Mama Jo managed to have even one and Lord Nott threatened to murder a child a year until he got what he wanted most- a 'proper' heir to present to the Dark Lord.
From what Anastasia had been told by her older siblings- which was anyone born to Lord Nott by way of his Mistresses, Concubines, or Lesser Wives and was restricted to the estate like a prisoner until they shipped off to school and returned under duress if and when they managed to graduate- it had all come to a head the night after both Bellatrix LeStrange and Lucius Malfoy had announced that they were expecting.
Cantankerous, who was paranoid about either of them replacing him as the Dark Lord's most faithful servant, had been exceptionally angry. Yuylia told Anastasia that she remembered Lord Nott sending a curse at her when she went to take his coat when he came home from the meeting and that Peter told her that Lord Nott had gone directly into his study and started drinking.
About an hour or so later Lord Nott had stumbled out of his study, entirely punch-blind drunk, ranting nearly entirely incoherently and simultaneously blaming the problem on Mum- for 'stealing magic' and Mama Jo- for being 'a useless woman'.
The two women managed to keep him pacified for a few years- as shitty as it always made Anastasia feel, she was guiltily grateful that both Bellatrix and Lucius' wife had suffered miscarriages, as the tragedies had likely saved Anastasia and her siblings' lives- but the two women grew increasingly desperate as time moved forward and the Dark Lord was on the razor's edge of winning the Blood War.
In the end Mum had gotten pregnant again in 1979 and Mama Jo still hadn't had any luck.
But one should never, ever discount the impact of a group of women with a common goal and a common enemy. They- there were seven of them at that point- managed to engineer a spell that essentially caused Mama Jo's body to mimic Mum's- down to the baby's kicks- but ensuring Lord Nott wouldn't notice any differences meant risking everything. Their gambit worked, but it came at a high price and neither Mum nor Mama Jo were nearly as hale or healthy after Theodore's birth.
Mama Jo and the others did their best to shield the kids from that reality, but Anastasia would never, ever forget listening to Mikhail pleading for his mother while Ma Tia tried to claw her way through the doors to the ballroom in the south hall the night the Dark Lord had visited, just a week before the incident at the Potter's house in Godric's Hollow.
Anastasia had only been four, but she remembered how her big brother had looked when he'd finally been released. Probably because Mikhail was her favorite big brother, but the memory had stayed with her no matter what she did.
Fortunately the Dark Lord was banished shortly after Theodore's birth, but unfortunately this meant a major financial crisis for the House of Nott.
With the Dark Lord gone he was no longer around to order his supporters to 'pay tribute' to Lord Nott and of the original five siblings, two died and the other was in Azkaban. They had managed to have ten children among them, but most of them were either toddlers or imprisoned with their parents.
Or dead.
Mama Jo and Mum's decline in health, of course, meant a decline in productivity as they had been the driving force behind all the research and innovations that Lord Nott squandered away for a fraction of their worth.
With no enforcement and no backdoor galleons rolling in, things grew progressively tense and miserable.
It all came to a head near Theo's fourth birthday when Lord Nott had spent an evening in his study, drinking heavily as usual. Then he'd burst out and began throwing around Dark Curses around, raving like a madman.
That was the night Anastasia had awakened the Trait of the House of Nott that had not made an appearance in the previous two generations. The most closely guarded Nott Family secret that tied in to their birthright and inheritance through the Family Magics.
But Anastasia had been young, terrified, and confused; unable to understand that she'd accidentally tapped into the very fabric of reality and time itself- well, into the leylines and they were literally timeless- and was seeing layers upon layers of images that may or may not happen.
Because time is fluid and measuring time is sort of impossible when one is dealing with magic and what always has been and always will be yet never was and never is.
The Trait of the Nott Family Magic allowed a practitioner of Transcending to do so for small bursts of time- protecting their mind from overloading and shutting down entirely because it wasn't made to process such vast possibilities- while also providing an anchor for the user to traverse the streams in search of answers.
It was rather difficult to properly reckon, really.
Anastasia hadn't known any of that, however, and so she'd just moved when she'd seen a glimpse of a curse cutting down a person she loved. Still not entirely coherent she bodily tackling Mam Katy out of the way of a curse out of sheer instinct- as Mam Katy had been holding Trevor, their newest addition- she didn't realize that she had accidentally left Theo- who had been hiding behind Mam Katy, but hadn't been caught up in Anastasia's sudden bodily relocation efforts- exposed.
Before Anastasia could even properly focus again- her head had been throbbing and her vision had been full of tears- she heard the sound of a scream as something solid hit the floor.
Anastasia knew that for as long as she lived she'd never forget the kind little creases around the edges of Mama Jo's lifeless eyes, nor the way Mum had reached out and caressed Anastasia's face and whispered, "That's my girl." as the light faded from her eyes.
Nor would she ever forget the massive backlash of magic that tore itself away from the walls and barreled into Lord Nott with all the fury of a hurricane. The furious, seething winds of magic sending the man tumbling down the hall and pinning him to the furthest end of the hallway mercilessly, as ribbons of blood began to splatter all over the walls in the chaotic unnatural winds.
Lord Nott hadn't raised a wand to any of them since- the other women firmly believed that Mama Jo and Mum had done something that prevented the man from hurting them anymore- but Anastasia still felt terribly, horribly guilty.
Responsible.
Ever since that day Anastasia had dedicated herself to honing her abilities as best she could to help Theo.
Ma Tia helped- as did Mam Katy and Mater Helena- and they never breathed a word to Lord Nott. Anastasia had told Theo the moment he had slipped on the Heir Nott ring at age nine, when Lord Nott had been in a bad way and at Saint Mungoes and had finally relented to officially Naming Theo his Heir.
The man had been trying to find another wife- to bear him a different, legitimate heir- but no matter what he did he never quite managed to get his plans to work right. The strangest things went awry during his plans- he liked to rant loudly, even if they no longer feared his wand- and he just couldn't manage to keep up his veneer of charm or wealth going strong enough to find a woman willing to marry him.
Theo had gone into the Family archives- where none of the others were allowed- and brought back information to better help Anastasia, who in turn tried to help all of them.
Tellingly, the Family Magic seemed to be protecting Theo from Lord Nott instead of alerting Lord Nott to their 'deception'.
Anastasia had been extremely reluctant to branch out too far, even given her advantageous gift. Time was, as she'd mentioned before, rather fluid and it was rather difficult to make an entirely firm decision on anything still in flux when dealing with time's rather chaotic and open-ended nature. Anastasia was quite good at peering into past events- especially given Anchors or a Connection- but trying to tap into the best way to get them all out from under Lord Nott's cruel thumb was another matter entirely.
But there are fixed events in time. Events that happen and strengthen a certain timestream's hold on reality, and so when Heather Potter had been attacked by Roland Yaxley and the Black Magic rose up to protect her, Anastasia had sensed a chance.
Now, all she had to do was seize it.
"Potter, a word?" She called out clearly, trying to make herself appear as unthreatening as possible.
-XXX-
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Please leave a comment on your way out if you enjoyed~!
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A/N:
Yes, dears, more OC's~!
I just wanted to address a few things before you go:
One: I love everyone who enjoys this crazy story! Your favs/follows/comments are amazing and I really, really appreciate knowing that I'm not the only one who loves the wizarding world but feels a bit frustrated about the cracks and blatant corruption. I think magic adds a unique, quasi-sentient layer to the existence of these special humans and it's super fun to try and imagine what life in such a society would be like!
You, darling supporters, can ignore the rest of this note!
Have an awesome day, my lovelies~! (=
Two: I've gotten complaints about the system being 'blatantly corrupt' and 'ridiculous' because 'people wouldn't stand for that sort of thing'. Uhh, really? I appreciate the optimistic outlook, but evil and reprehensible things such as human trafficking and babies being sold into slavery still exist. Let alone in a world without 'modern' sensibilities.
Modern, of course, being the turn of the twentieth century. But it should be noted that there have been many civilizations with the ideas like 'healthcare is universal' and 'literacy is important' through the ages. Then some power hungry jerks come in and destroy stuff and after a generation or two the area is nearly unrecognizable until brave souls decide to fight back and the cycle begins anew.
Thus, the complicated and seemingly contradictory nature of the wizarding world's values.
Three: 'The Potters never meaningfully lose/Mary Sue/no conflict' complaints. Siriusly? You mean other than Heather's ten year struggle with Petunia in a toxic household? Other than Nana Anna's death? Other than Heather knowing that her choices are going to come back and haunt her and going forward with them anyways? Just because an action didn't have an immediate reaction doesn't mean that it went unnoticed.
If you're looking for childish spats then I am truly sorry that you've wasted your time with this story, because Heather is fighting a soldier's war, not a schoolyard fistfight. This entire generation has lived under the shadow of the Blood War and Heather is awake and fully cognizant that her fight- to keep Harry safe- is a dangerous one, against men and women who have- and will- kill and torture to advance their agenda.
Four: Just for the record: This is my hobby, I'm allowed to be shit at it.
All my stories are properly categorized and you have no obligation to 'slog through' it. If you do and you continue to hate this crappily made cake- well, whose fault is that?
Not mine, I assure you.
'Policing your content intake' does not mean 'removing/tearing down any content that doesn't suit your personal tastes'.
Don't like my OCs/worldbuilding/characterizations/ect?
Well, do I have some good news for you!
You are under no obligation to proceed!
Everybody wins!
Hooray~!