Disclaimer: I don't own the original characters. I think that's obvious – I would be writing a book, not fanfic, if I did. I'm not using this for money. Yatsa, yatsa, and yatsa.
Claimer: I own any not of the HP universe.
A/N: I have never been to England in my life. I'm a seventeen-year old American girl who's never stepped foot there, and therefore I know little about it. If there are any mistakes that can be remedied, I'll gladly accept the help. I can't think of any other name that can be shorted to Harry, so I've chosen Harrison. (I don't think J.K.R. has given out his full first name…if there is one.) Oh, and, since the dates of the world aren't concrete (J.K.R. has only given one to play with), don't be mad if I say some things happened a year or two later then is usually accepted. Thanks!
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Heather Hidden
Chapter One
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"No, please. He's just a kid." The nearly nineteen-year old, redheaded girl cried out in her fevered sleep, thrashing in her bed, as her godparents tried in vain to end her suffering.
Aided by Albus Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall had been up all through the previous night, holding her as she retched and screamed. The adults knew, of course, what the source of the girl's pain was; just as they knew there was only one thing they could to resolve it.
"Mummy…" She whimpered, her small five-foot-one frame finally stilling, and revealing her emerald eyes slightly, "My brother…"
"We know, love. We're trying to find him." Minerva soothed, as she brushed the damp hair from the younger's pale, sweat-slicked forehead, "Do have any idea where he might be, Heather?"
She shook her head, as another bout of phantom stomach pain hit her and her hands clenched involuntarily, "There's trees. I don't…don't see anything…but trees."
Minerva rested a hand on her goddaughter's abdomen and motioned to the mediwitch. Poppy came rushing forward at the call, a goblet in her hand, but Heather wasn't fully aware of what was going on. She flailed against the woman, spitting up what little had gotten past her lips.
Severus approached and took the goblet, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "Drink it, sweetheart. It'll help you." He coaxed, raising her head to meet it.
Again she spat up a little, until her mind caught up to reality and she opened her mouth to accept the liquid. The dreamless sleep potion took affect almost immediately, and her eyes drifted closed as she relaxed.
"I shudder to think of what he must be going through, if this is what she's like." Pomfrey commented.
The other three looked between themselves. They hadn't thought of that – they'd been too busy caring for the teen to think of much anything else.
Heather's tie to her brother had been forged almost fourteen years earlier by their parents, allowing her to feel his physical hurts. And although there were times in her youth that she'd wished she didn't have the bond, everyday that You-Know-Who was gaining strength, she was grateful for it. Especially after she'd been forced into hiding.
"Poppy, you should go prepare for him at the school. We'll bring Heather as soon as she's able to be moved." Albus instructed and then watched as she left, before turning to his two companions, "We have to find him soon or we might lose him. Please, join the others looking for him. I'll stay with her."
Minerva and Severus nodded, placed kisses on the girl's forehead, and, reluctantly, left.
"Oh, Heather…" Albus murmured. He seated himself at her side to wait for consciousness to wake her.
-*-*-
Harry James Potter tripped over his feet as he stumbled down the near abandoned street, nearly missing falling flat on his face.
The first days back with the Dursleys found him cooking, cleaning, mowing the lawn, washing the car, whitewashing the backyard fence, and other assorted tasks that he was used to, but the nights were worse than ever. Beatings had never before been bad enough to break bones, just sprain and bruise – but this time Vernon could care less. Harry's screams woke him at all hours of the night and Hedwig refused to stop flying around the house.
But the absolute worst had come three weeks after the end of the school year.
He'd been exhausted from an entire day of manual labor, combined with a healing broken leg, when he missed hearing his uncle's order to stay in his room while they had company. He'd come down the stairs at eight, expecting to serve dinner – only to come face to face with a purple-faced Uncle Vernon. The man had quickly explained away Harry's sudden appearance, and when the guest had gone, dragged him out of the house.
"Let's see what a few days on the streets will teach you." He'd practically laughed, as he placed the boy's school trunk on the ground beside the huddled mass that was his nephew.
Harry had quickly shrunk the trunk to pocket size, and began walking down the line of shops. He had very little pocket money, but he knew that if he ate just once every other day and collected some rain water, he would be good for a while.
Life on the streets proved harder than he had thought, however. Other beggars and homeless people fought him for no reason, beat him to the point of being unable to move for an entire day, and, while screaming, raped him.
All the while unaware that his every pain could be felt – and tolerated for the most part.
But three days before, Malfoy had found him. He was too weak to fight back when the Cruciatus curse the first time, and totally unprepared to do anything more than whimper. He blacked out, but when he came to he knew immediately that he'd once again lost a piece of his innocence to fate.
When lucidity had once again become his friend, he limped his way further and further from the city, heading southwest in the general direction of Ottery St. Catchpole. He still had a month left of summer vacation, so he hoped that by some stroke of luck he might make it to The Burrow where he could gratefully pass out in to the arms of Molly Weasley.
Harry, by then, felt as though someone was following him. He had no clue that he had been watched through every violation and beating as he left London, traveling further and further from the safety of the city.
You've never been alone. The feminine voice teased, Mum and Dad made sure of that.
He didn't answer the voice, as he usual. To the boy, it seemed as if he'd known the owner at one time, but he'd been unable to ever figure out who the woman was.
Stumbling again, he landed face first into the grass at the side of the road, too tired to stand up again.
Where are you? It asked.
Potter was quite surprised – the voice had never asked him a direct question before, I don't know. Close to Winchester, I think.
There have been search parties looking for you for days now.
Really?
Would I lie to you?
He allowed himself a laugh. All his life, when things were tough, he'd had the voice in his mind to help him through his days. And it had never lied to him.
We're going to meet soon, Harry. I promise you that. You deserve to know who the invader in your head has always been.
You've never been an invader.
You say tomato, I say tomatoe.
Footsteps crunched the ground behind him, and he tensed. A hand came down on his thin shoulder, "Harry? Harry, it's me. Come on now, open your eyes." Charlie Weasley coaxed, before looking up at an approaching figure, "He's alright, Ron. Go tell Dad, I'll take him to Hogwarts."
As he felt himself being lifted of the ground, Harry watched a mass of red hair take off in the opposite direction, school robes flaring out behind him. Then the darkness took him, and a soft whisper told him she'd be waiting.
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"I never thought we'd see the two of them together." Minerva whispered, taking in the sight of Heather and Harry side-by-side.
"Yes…" Arthur sighed, "But we now have other problems that maybe more than we can handle. Especially if she's going to be in the school."
Albus shook his head, understanding the intent of the speaker, "No. He cannot know yet. He must recover from this summer's events before we tell him."
"He deserves to know." Severus murmured.
"And he will. When he is ready to hear it."
A commotion outside the curtains drew their attentions, "Please. We just want to see him and then we'll go!" Ron's voice came through, and his father sighed, knowing exactly who else would be with the fifteen-year old.
"I'll get them." He muttered and walked away from the group.
As predicted, twins Fred and George, Hermione Granger, and Ron were accosting Madam Pomfrey, who was looking very tired.
"The four of you can see Harry in a few hours when he's feeling better." Arthur informed, slowly pressing them backward and out of the room, "He isn't even awake yet."
"Can't we just see that he's okay for ourselves, Dad? Just a few seconds." The youngest redhead present begged.
"No, son. I'm sorry, but everyone needs to rest – especially Harry."
Defeated, the four teenagers walked away and made for their dorms; since there was no way in hell they'd be leaving the castle anytime soon. Arthur rejoined his comrades, after watching their retreating backs.
"I've kept them away for now, but I'll put galleons to pumpkin juice that one of them is going to use that invisibility cloak to sneak in here."
Dumbledore
nodded, "Severus, would it be too much trouble to ask you to prepare your spare
room for Heather? Now that Harry is
safely returned to us, I don't believe that she's in danger any longer."
Snape wanted to snort at the
statement; instead he nodded dully and disappeared from the ward.
"She's going to be very angry in the morning." The woman sighed, "You know Heather doesn't like being protected."
"Heather
will listen to reason, just as she always has." Came the soft reply, as he
patted the eighteen-year old's arm, "She knows I would never ask her to stay,
if I didn't believe the danger was serious."
McGonagall knew by the sound
of his voice that he was hiding something from her, and she narrowed her eyes
at him, "You know something you aren't tell me, Albus."
"When doesn't he know something he doesn't tell the rest of us?" The strained, whisper-soft voice interrupted.
Both adults looked up to see Heather lying semi-awake, her right hand resting on her forehead and rubbing her left temple. Her skin had regained some of its color, though not much considering her skin was already quiet pale from the Irish heritage running through her veins, and she'd stopped sweating.
"How are you feeling?" Albus asked, eyes trained on the green ones that had finally focused.
"Like I've been run over by a tractor-trailer." She half-moaned, removing her hand and trying to sit up, "It's an American thing." The redhead told him, upon realizing he likely didn't know what she meant, "How's my brother?"
"He's very, very ill, but he will live." Poppy cut in, "As will you."
"And that's a surprise, how?" The humor coloring her words let all know she was definitely feeling better.
"Heather, that was the worst we've ever seen you react."
Something dawned on her and she sat up completely, looking around for any sight of the brunet named Harry. She turned to look to her right and breathed a huge sigh of relief, "There you are." The redhead lisped, reaching forward hesitantly to touch him, but was thwarted by the white-haired man.
"Not yet. Let him recover first."
She nodded and pulled her arm back to herself, "He looks so weak. So…defeated."
"That's probably the way he feels." The mediwitch answered, "Which brings us back to you."
"The more I talk, the better I feel."
Rolling her
eyes, Pomfrey smiled, "You say that, yet we all know you're lying."
"Hey, worked when I was a
kid."
"And it stopped working when you were in your fourth year and I realized you're not up to par for days after those visions."
"This wasn't a vision though." Heather countered.
"No, this was full magical connection of two ill and injured people through a moderately used mental channel, which is dangerous to begin with as well as physically draining on the older of the pair."
"How is it you can explain that down to the last detail, but you refused to give me that stupid sex talk?"
"Because I thought your godparents were best left to explain it."
"Oh, yeah, they did a great job – they asked Uncle Albus. Lord, that was the last thing I needed to here. The word 'sex' coming out of his mouth…" She mock-shivered.
The witch decided to ignore the comment at the smiling look on the Headmaster's face, and finished her brief exam, "Severus is preparing a room for you in the dungeons."
"Good. I'd ask to go home, but seeing as my house has been destroyed, I guess I'll have to stay."
"What!?"
Minerva glared at Albus, "That's what you didn't tell us?"
"She was safely away by the
time the wards stopped working and the house was burned to the ground before I
was even alerted that the Death Eaters had found it. I saw no reason to alarm you."
Still fuming when the potions master returned, the woman was barely able to contain whatever it was that she wanted to say to her oldest friend, but managed to follow Snape as he carried their goddaughter to the dungeons.
"I will never understand how, after being mostly raised by them, Heather isn't very good at potions or transfigurations or where she got that personality of hers!"
The headmaster merely smirked again and left for his office – there were letters to be sent.
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Hey, short first chapter…that's definitely a change of pace.
*v* Cassie Jamie *v*
cj.1@cassie-jamie.com
08-28-02
