Author's Notes: This chapter will skip over the rest of the events in Godric's Hollow and the reading of Rita Skeeter's book. I tried hard to find enough in that section of the story that I could make Heather's that would be different enough from Harry's that it wouldn't feel like repetition but couldn't. So, this chapter starts on the night of the Silver Doe. I hope you enjoy as always.
Harry Potter belongs to the one, the only, JK Rowling. I borrowed bits and pieces from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for this chapter, but not too much.
Chapter Ten
Heather sat outside the tent dressed in every piece of clothing she had. The night was close all around her. Several times she sat up, only just catching herself falling into sleep, thinking that she had heard her name on the wind. Even through her many layers of clothes the chill crept in, making her shiver.
With a start, Heather awoke to find it so dark that she could barely distinguish her own hand less than a foot in front of her face. There were noises in the darkness, the normal sounds of a forest an night, but even still in her momentary disorientation after waking, they seemed menacing. Then, in front of her, as though they had planned to meet there, a silver something walked out from behind a tree and stared at her.
It was a doe, Heather recognized it at once as her, and her mother's, patronus. Awed by its arrival, Heather rose and stared into the silvery eyes. She gripped Hermione's wand tightly, but something told her that she need not fear attack. This wasn't dark magic at work.
"Mum?" Heather whispered, even though she knew it couldn't be true.
Without a word the doe began to walk off into the trees. Heather cried after it, her voice cracking from the cold and lack of use. She hesitated, despite her confidence that there was no threat she had not taken complete leave of her senses. Looking back at the tent and seeing Hermione curled up on her bunk in the light of the lantern, a little voice in her head told her to go.
It wasn't hard to follow the doe, though it left no hoof prints in the snow, as its light shone for a good way off. Heather kept her hand tight on the wand in her hand, ears pricked for the slightest amount of noise. How could her mother's patronus be here? Once before she had thought that her father had returned from the dead in order to save her and Sirius from dementors, but that had turned out to be Heather herself, travelling back to the past. Was it possible that this time that had actually happened?
"There's no spell that can reawaken the dead" came Dumbledore's voice, almost like that of a long-forgotten friend. She knew that, but still, what else could explain it? It certainly wasn't Heather's patronus, although if she had to guess hers would be near to identical to the one she was following now.
The doe came to a halt some fifty feet ahead and turned, as though it were waiting for Heather. She began to run, completely disregarding any attempt at stealth. She had to reach it, to ask the questions that only it could answer. As she burst into the clearing where the patronus waited for it, it faded.
"No!" she cried, turning on the spot and staring out into the darkness. "Lumos!" Her wand light filled the dark space. Fresh snow reflected the light of the ground and tree limbs, illuminating the space with a ghostly pale light. There was a pool near where she stood, its surface covered in thick ice. As she circled, the corner of her eye caught a glimmer from somewhere under it. Bending over the pool, not willing to trust her weight on the ice, she held the wand out and looked. There at the bottom, on the rocky bottom, was a large silver cross. The sword of Godric Gryffindor was lying in the pool.
Heather stood up and gazed around, looking more intently than ever into the darkness for some sign that she wasn't alone. When no one presented themselves, she turned again and stared into the ice. "Accio sword!" she said, but nothing happened. If she was being honest, she hadn't expected it too. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, or else it wouldn't have been put in the pool but left atop the ice. Knowing what she had to do, as much as she was deeply regretting it, Heather began to pull of her many layers of clothes.
As she got down to her bottom layer, a sense of vulnerability came over her. Picking back up Hermione's wand, she aimed it out in front of her and cried "Expecto Patronum." She wasn't sure if she'd be able to conjure her doe with Hermione's wand, but as it always had, the silver shape erupted from the end of the wand, cantering around the clearing before coming back to her owner. With it's reassuring light and comfort, Heather took off her last articles of clothing and stood there in just her bra and knickers with the locket resting uncomfortably between her breasts. "Stay" she mentally told the doe, which was almost identical to the one she had followed here. She didn't know if the patronus could understand her or not, but she got the sense it could.
Steeling herself, Heather aimed at the pool and blasted apart the ice. Slowly, feeling icy fire spread across her, she lowered herself into the water up to her neck. Her breathe was forced out of her by the cold, and as she moved into the center she struggled to stay afloat. With her feet she kicked out, trying to touch the sword with her toes, not wanting to completely submerge herself. After what felt like half an hour but was probably less than a minute, she gave up and dove to the bottom.
As her hand closed on the rubied hilt, she planted her feet on the slippery stones and tried to kick off. Her foot slid as she pushed, sending her careening off in the wrong direction. At the same time something icy cold closed around her neck. For a moment she thought some weed had grabbed her but when she touched her neck, she found the chain of the locket constricting her throat.
"Help!" she cried inside her mind, though of course no one could hear her.
Her shoulder slammed into something solid, causing pain to spasm across her upper body as red spots began to blossom in front of her eyes. Something grabbed her around the middle, though she had no idea what it could be. Suddenly she could breathe again and icy air filled her lungs. She gasped and rolled, the frozen ground making her shoulder hurt even worse.
"Are – you - mental?" asked a voice from beside her, each word punctuated by a gasp for air.
Rolling over again, not willing to believe what her oxygen deprived brain was telling her, Heather opened her eyes and saw a very drenched Ron sitting ten feet away, leaning against a tree, the sword and locket in each hand. Next to him stood Heather's doe, looking as though it were on guard.
"R-ron?" Heather asked, her voice catching as the cold air hurt her chest.
"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" Ron said.
"I had to get the sword." Heather said lamely, her brain still had not caught up with everything that had just happened. "H-how'd you f-find me?" she continued, her body shivering so hard that speaking clearly was a challenge. She pulled herself over to her pile of clothes and began to dress. Looking back later Heather would be surprised that she felt no embarrassment about being in her underwear in front of Ron.
"Your doe. I saw you following it a while ago but lost track of you. Then I heard a splash, and the next thing I know it's charging at me. Well, at first I thought I was about to be attacked, but then, it's like a voice in my head told me She's in trouble, come help. So, I came quick and saw you struggling and dived in."
Heather looked over at the doe incredulously, which nodded at her again before fading off into the darkness. Finally dressed, Heather moved over towards Ron who had gotten to his feet as well. For a moment, he looked as though he expected Heather to slap him again. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Blimey, it's good to see you too" Ron chuckled, trying to hug her back without poking her with the sword.
"So, who d'you reckon put the sword here?" Heather asked after she had released Ron.
"Beats me. How'd you know it was here? You were following your patronus weren't you?" Ron said
"Not at first. I didn't cast mine until I got to the pool."
"You mean that whoever left the sword here has the same patronus as you?"
"I would seem so. You didn't see anyone did you?"
"Didn't have the chance, mate. I was too busy following your doe. I thought I might have seen something over by a tree back there but it was only for a second."
Heather was already moving, wand aimed at a pair of close growing trees near the edge of the clearing. It was the perfect sort of place to see with without being seen yourself. The ground near the roots was bear and hard, no chance of finding footprints.
Walking back over to Ron, she inspected the two items he was still clutching.
"Reckon it's the real one?" asked Ron.
"I think we can find out." Said Heather, taking the locket from him and setting it on a flat tree stump. When Ron moved to hand her the sword, she shook her head. "It's got be you."
"Wha-Why?"
"You pulled the sword out of the pool. It's meant to be you. When I open it, you stab right away. Don't let it fight back, the last one I faced almost killed me."
"No!" cried Ron, backing away looking fearful. "That thing, it affects me more than you or Hermione. It made me think things. I can't."
"You can. It's got to be you." Heather said reassuringly, reaching out her hand. He took it and let her guide him back to the stump.
"Now, on three I'll tell it to open, and you stab. Got it?"
Ron nodded mutely, his eyes fixed on the locket.
"One, two three, open." The last word came out as a hiss, and the little golden door flipped open. Inside were two eyes, as handsome as their owner's had once been. They stared up from the two panes of glass, locking onto Ron's. His arms slackened as he held the sword.
"Ron, now!" cried Heather, but before he could, the locket began to speak.
"Your heart is mine, Ronald Weasley. I have seen your dreams and your fears. They will all come true.
"Ron!"
"Loved least by your mother, and now unloved by the girl who prefers your friend." And with these words two figures rose from the locket, floating in the air at eye level. It was a phantom image of Hermione and Heather, both more beautiful and crueler than either was in life.
"Who could love you compared to her?" crooned the phantom Hermione, "Even as a woman she is far more preferable than you are."
"We wanted you gone" added phantom Heather, "We wanted to be rid of the idiot who couldn't figure out that that his best friend wanted nothing to do with him anymore. That she was better than him, and always had been."
With these words, Riddle-Hermione snaked her arms around Riddle-Heather's neck and pulled her into a passionate kiss, their bodies writhing against each other. There was a moment, looking at Ron, that Heather was afraid he would attack her instead of the locket. With a flash of silver, Ron struck, sinking the tip of the blade into each pane of glass. An earsplitting scream filled the clearing and both phantom images faded.
Heather staggered back to her feet, having fallen over when Ron lunged. He was still standing where he had been, eyes locked on where the images of his two friends had just been kissing. Tentatively, Heather reached out her hand and laid it on Ron's arm.
"Ron, I swear to you on everything we've been through, there's nothing between us."
Ron blinked, and seemed to come back from whatever deep recess of his mind he'd been consumed by. Looking around as though he wasn't sure where he was, he blinked again and returned Heather's gaze.
"You're sure?" he whispered.
"Mate, she's my sister. Yes, I love her. Just like you love Ginny. That's all that's ever going to be between us."
Ron's eyes began to glisten and his arms went slack. The sword fell from his grip and landed with a thud on the hard ground. Doing her best to pretend that she hadn't seen his tears, Heather scooped up both items, sticking Hermione's wand into her back pocket. The locket was smoking and ruined. It was a shame, even though it had belonged to Slytherin it had been very pretty.
"Heather," came a small voice, "I'm sorry I left."
"I think you've made it up in my book, saving me like you did" she replied, turning to face him again. The tears were gone, but the look of contrition remained. "Come on, lets find the tent again. Oh, and one more thing."
"Yeah?" said Ron, looking nervous
"When we tell this story, lets leave out the part where you saw me in my knickers, deal?"
Grinning, Ron nodded and followed her back in the direction she had come.
As it turned out, finding the tent again was not nearly as difficult as Heather had feared. Within minutes she had found the wards and passed through, followed a few steps behind by Ron.
"Hermione, wake up!" cried Heather, entering the tent and making for the lamp in the middle.
"Heather? What's wrong?" Hermione asked, reaching instinctually for her wand even though Heather had it.
"Nothing, we've just got company is all."
"What do you-" her eyes found Ron. Heather stepped back, leaving the space between them clear. As though in a trance, Hermione rose from her bunk and walked slowly towards Ron. Heather wasn't sure if she was going to kiss him or kill him. It ended up being neither, but closer to the latter. With a ferocious scream, Hermione threw herself at him, clearly intent on pummeling every inch of him that she could reach.
"You. Complete. Arse. Ronald. Weasley!" she shouted; each word punctuated by another blow.
Acting on instinct, Heather raised Hermione's wand and shouted "Protego!" The shield charm formed between them, protecting Ron from the onslaught. Hermione spun around, fire in her eyes that scared Heather almost as much as it did Ron.
"Give me my wand, Heather." When she shook her head no, Hermione stalked towards her, causing Heather to cast another shield charm, essentially dividing the tent into three invisible sections.
"GIVE ME MY WAND HEATHER POTTER!"
Over her shoulder Ron asked why Heather had her wand, which was ignored. Heather locked eyes with Hermione and held out the still smoking locket and sword, then nudged her head at Ron.
"He did this, Hermione. He saved me from drowning, retrieved the sword, and destroyed the locket."
"And just how on earth did you find the sword?" Hermione said, rounding on Ron. For the moment, her curiosity overwhelmed her anger.
"Well, I was following Heather and the doe."
"The doe?" Hermione spun around again so quickly Heather was afraid she would give herself whiplash.
Fearing for her physical health if this kept up, Heather extracted a promise that if she dropped the shield charms, Hermione wouldn't attack Ron, which allowed them to sit down and tell the story. He started with what had happened the night that he had left, during which Hermione rolled her eyes a lot. Clearly any pain and suffering Ron may have gone through meant close to nothing to her at this very moment. When he got to the part about seeing Heather following the doe, and then what he at first thought was the same doe coming to get him, Hermione interrupted
"So, you followed a doe patronus that wasn't yours, then after it faded you conjured your own doe, which went to get Ron when you needed help?" She asked Heather.
"That's right"
"But you couldn't see who cast the first one?" she pressed on. Heather shook her head.
Ron continued, finishing out how he had stabbed the locket with the sword, thankfully leaving out the visions he had seen them. As far as Heather was concerned, she never needed to relive that memory every again.
"Did you say you have a spare wand?" Heather asked, hesitantly handed Hermione's back to her.
"What? Oh yeah, grabbed it off a snatcher. Figured it would be good to have a spare." He handed it to Heather. It wasn't anything like her old one and felt decidedly uncomfortable in her hand.
Without another word Hermione stood up and climbed back into her bunk.
Ron and Heather changed into their pajamas, grinning. It was, thought Heather, the best he was probably going to get.