Author's Notes: Ok I just want to put here that if I could really change things, no one in this series would die except for Voldemort, his followers, and Fudge. However, I'm writing this story following as closely to canon as I can with only a few minor exceptions. So, I'm sorry for not saving anyone who is supposed to be killed, but here we go.
Chapter Seventeen
When Harry slammed into the floor of the headmaster's office, he simply lay there for a minute, exhaustion, grief, and anger filling him in equal measure. The room, which had been sealed since Dumbledore had left all those months ago, seemed to have repaired itself, with the tables righted and their small tinkling objects fixed. When Harry finally garnered the will to raise himself up, he found that the door was locked, keeping him from leaving. The sun was rising outside the window, and he collapsed into one of the chairs in front of the desk, trying to get a handle on everything he was feeling.
It had been a trap, and he had walked right into it. Voldemort had wanted him to go and showed him the only thing that would have gotten him to leave Hogwarts, his godfather. The only adult who knew and loved Heather, who Harry would do anything for. And now he was gone. He, and Harry's friends, had paid the price for his stupidity. With a surge of hatred Harry remembered holding his wand on Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's cousin, and murderer, trying to find the will to kill her as she lay on the floor of the Ministry Atrium.
Wish a roar and a flash of green Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace, looking far older than Harry had ever seen him. From his pocket he pulled a small Fawkes and set him on his perch, gently stroking his head.
"You should know Harry, that you're friends will be alright, and the Minister of Magic himself saw Voldemort tonight. Even now word of his return is spreading. The people know you were right." Dumbledore said, sitting down behind his desk and looking at Harry kindly.
Deep within his chest the feeling of wanting to strike the old man returned. Angrily, Harry walked to the door and tried to open it again. He didn't want to hear anything Dumbledore had to say. He'd been ignoring Harry for a year, and now wanted to talk? No, Harry wasn't going to listen.
"Let me out" he growled; anger barely being held back.
"No" Dumbledore said gently.
"LET ME OUT!" Harry roared, causing many of the portraits on the wall to murmur with disapproval.
"No Harry, I won't. Not until you've listened to what I have to say. You aren't nearly as angry with me as you should be, and you deserve to hear the truth."
Despite himself, Harry remained quiet, waiting for the next words Dumbledore would speak.
"I know you are close to attacking me, Harry. And I cannot blame you for that. You could even say I deserve it. Because Sirius's death is my fault.
"What?" asked Harry incredulously.
"Please, sit down and I'll tell you everything." Dumbledore said, still in his calm and measured tone.
Blankly, Harry walked back to the chair and felt his knees give way, dropping him into it. Dumbledore began to speak, telling Harry about his scar, and the connection with Voldemort's mind. Dumbledore had known that Harry had sensed Voldemort in his mind at Christmas and had feared the day that Voldemort would try and use Harry to get to him. That was why he had distanced himself all year, so as to protect both of them.
"That is why I had you study Occlumency with Professor Snape, Harry. Any why I did not instruct you in the subject myself."
"I'd wondered about that" murmured Harry. He was still raging inside and halfway didn't want to keep listening, but Dumbledore had caught his attention and was holding tight to it.
Dumbledore continued, saying that ever since his return to his body the previous summer, Voldemort had been focusing all his will on hearing the prophecy that had been made just before Harry was born. The only way he had to hear it was by either getting Harry himself to enter the Ministry or going himself.
"And I walked right into the trap." Said Harry quietly, a fresh wave of anger at himself washing over him.
"Yes, he laid it well. Kreacher himself was in on the plan, having been working for another master since Christmas. It seems he had been told to make sure you believed that Sirius had gone, when in fact he was upstairs tending to Buckbeak."
"So, the mirror?" Harry asked
"Kreacher had hidden it, so as to force you to use the floo network, where he was placed to misdirect you." Dumbledore said simply
Silence fell with that statement. Harry had no words for his feelings right now, as they seemed to change every heartbeat. After almost a full five minutes of quiet, Dumbledore rose.
"It's time Harry, for you to hear the prophecy that has brought so much pain and suffering to your life."
From it's cabinet on the wall Dumbledore removed the pensive and placed in it on his desk. From his temple he pulled a silver string of memory and dropped it into the stone basin. Professor Trelawny rose from the swirling mist, her voice sounding the same as it had when she had prophesized Voldemort's return two years ago. In several short sentences she spoke of a boy who would be born, who the Dark Lord would mark as his equal, and how neither of them could live while the other survived.
A boy, Harry thought, a boy born at the end of July, that Voldemort would mark as his equal.
A boy, but did that truly mean Harry anymore? True he still took on the persona of Harry most of the time despite knowing the truth about himself, and still mostly thought of himself in male terms, but his magic had shifted, Sirius had told him that.
"Professor…" Harry said, trying to frame how he could ask what he wanted to ask without having to tell Dumbledore everything, "I don't think that prophecy can be about me."
"Unfortunately, Harry, it most assuredly is. It clearly says that the Dark Lord would mark the boy, and that's what he did when he attacked you all those years ago. In that moment, without realizing it, Voldemort himself created his own worst enemy."
"But sir, it says that it would be a boy…" Harry trailed off, not sure how to continue.
"And because of Heather you don't believe that a prophecy about a boy can be about you?" asked Dumbledore.
Harry's mouth dropped, "How do you know about Heather?" he asked
From his robes Dumbledore puled an envelope and handed it across the desk to Harry. On it in Sirius's handwriting was written Heather Potter.
"Sirius had left that with me in the event that something happened to him. He didn't say who it was for, and the envelope was blank until almost two hours ago now when Sirius died. It's clear to me that the only Potter to whom Sirius could have written was you."
Harry held the letter, unable to hold back the tears that he was feeling.
"Harry, I will not ask you for an explanation of who Heather is, but I will ask you not to read that letter yet. I would like to finish talking to you first."
Harry looked up and nodded, holding the letter tightly in his lap.
"Harry, when this prophecy was made, had Voldemort simply ignored it, it never would have come to pass. You would have been born and lived a mostly normal life with parents who loved you. I wish I could tell you that it was wrong because it was about a boy, but that scar on your forehead leaves no doubt. No matter who you are now, Voldemort has marked you as his equal. His actions prove the truth of it."
"But I haven't got any powers he doesn't have" cried Harry.
"Yes, you do. You have the greatest power, and it is something that Voldemort can never have. Love, Harry. You can love. And with that comes great pain, when those we love are gone, but it also brings a strength that Voldemort has no answer to."
"So, does this mean that one way or another, I have to kill Voldemort, or he's going to kill me?"
"Yes." Replied Dumbledore, and as he looked at Harry, a tear rolled down his cheek.
Dumbledore kept him for another hour before sending him to the hospital wing. There Harry found all five of his friends being patched up by Madam Pomfrey. When they saw him, they fell silent and did not pester him with questions. They could all see the haunted look behind his eyes. Once the curtains had been drawn around his bed, Harry opened the letter that Dumbledore had given him.
Heather,
I hope you're never going to have to read this letter, but if you are then I'm gone. I hope I went out fighting, protecting you. You have been more of a gift than I could ever have imagined. I know right now that nothing I write here can help how you are feeling in this moment, but I want you to know just how much joy you have brought into my life.
I want you to promise me that you will never hide who you are from the people who love you. Life is far to short to pretend to be someone else. I know that your friends already know who you are, and in time you will reach a point where your true self becomes your only self. Until then, don't hide her away. You are going to need her in the days that are coming, of that I am certain.
Dumbledore might have already told you that I'm leaving you everything in the event of my death. I won't ask that you keep the house if you don't want it, lord knows I never did. But I hope you'll remember the home we had there together, even for a brief time.
Well, that's enough of that. Always remember that you are loved, and wherever I am now I'm looking out for you. And one day when you meet the right person and settle down, be sure to tell them about your lunatic mass murdering godfather.
Love, Padfoot.
Silent tears weren't possible. Sobs wracked Heather's body as she lay in her bed in the Hospital Wing. She didn't notice when the renewed conversation outside stopped, or even when Ginny came in and held her. Nothing else at all mattered in the world in that moment except that Sirius was gone and wasn't coming back. Once she realized who was holding her, Heather held out the letter and let Ginny read it. When she was done Heather wasn't the only person crying anymore.
Four days later Heather was in her haven, comfortably dressed in a pair of her favorite jeans and a purple t shirt, when a knock came at the door. It was Ginny and Hermione, the latter of whom had just been released from the Hospital Wing.
"Can we come in?" Hermione asked when Heather opened the door.
"Of course," she said.
"Ginny told me about the letter from Sirius." She said simply
"I figured she would." Heather said, smiling slightly.
"How are you?" Ginny asked, "We haven't seen that much of you the last few days."
"I've been thinking."
"About?" prompted Hermione
"Earlier this year you told me about potions I can take, to turn me into a girl." Heater said
"Yes, I did. They aren't very easy to make but they will work." Hermione replied
"Can you brew them?" asked Heather
"You mean, you're going to transition?" asked Ginny.
"Yes. I am. I know it's going to take a while, but I want to be Heather." She said.
"If you're serious, then of course I can Heather." Hermione said, looking like she wanted to sweep her best friend into a hug.
"What does this mean though?" asked Ginny.
"It means that I'm not going to think of myself as Harry anymore. My magic has already made the switch so now my body is going to follow. As far as everything else, I'll tell people slowly. What matters is that I stop hiding me from myself and the people close to me." Heather said resolutely
"So, are you going to tell Ron?" Hermione asked.
That was something Heather had been considering since she'd reached this decision. On the one hand if Ron reacted badly and told everyone, Heather would lose a friend and have to deal with those repercussions next year. Of course, she'd lost Ron as a friend before, and as painful as that was, she couldn't stand the idea of being friends with Ron and him not know anymore. It wouldn't feel right. As for if Ron decided to be a prat and tell the whole school, well it wasn't like Heather had ever slipped by unnoticed around here.
"Yes, I am." She said finally.
"When?" Ginny asked, glancing at Hermione.
"May as well get it over with," sighed Heather. 'Can you go get him and bring him here?"
Hermione and Ginny nodded and left, leaving Heather alone. Looking at herself in the tall mirror, momentarily remembering her vison in the Mirror of Erised, she fixed her hair and outfit, making sure she looked presentable. Deciding it would be better to be out of sight when they came back, she stepped into the closet and pulled the door almost closed behind her, leaving a narrow crack.