A/N: Okay, so I thought I'd be getting these chapters out faster, but I've got a bunch of higher level classes – and the homework load leaves something to be desired when it comes to time to write.
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Heather Hidden
Chapter Three
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A few hours later, while Harry slept on, Heather and crew had settled all their things into their various rooms. The eldest girl had happily declared that, though she had a room of her own, she wanted to sleep in the tower – which soon turned into a chorus of "let's sleep here'. Here being the common room. Several red and gold sleeping bags ended up spread out on the floor, where they began to relax.
And thus twenty questions began.
"So what's your middle name?"
"How many
countries have you been to?"
"What do you want us to call
you?"
She held up her hand to stop the barrage, smirking as she did so, and spoke, "My middle name is Lilandra." 'Lily…Lilandra…Eh, close enough…' She thought, before continuing, "And I'm not really sure how many. Umm, let's see…there is England, of course, Scotland, Ireland, France, Russia, Italy, Latvia, Slovenia, Australia, The States, Norway, Austria, Chile, Canada, Greenland, Egypt, Morocco, and Greece."
That elicited a collective 'wow.'
"And as for what I want to be called…I think in class Miss Paddock will suffice. But out of class, you'd better call me Heather or I'll hex you." She said the last part with a fake serious expression on her face.
The quartet laughed, then quieted and stared at the fire. The dancing flames entrancing them – and Heather's eyes began to become gold.
"Gods, I haven't played Quidditch in years. The last time I slugged some Ravenclaw for purposely knocking me out of the air."
"You should see her ride! It's like she's on a skateboard!"
"Thomas, don't use Heath as your voyeur."
"Thank you, Thea!"
Darkness descended.
"No! Let her go!" Harry screamed, his throat raw.
Darkness descended.
Flashes of gold. Pinpricks of white light. Fear.
"Listen to me, Harry! Listen. I could never tell you until now…it wasn't safe, but it doesn't matter any longer. Harry, know this – you have a sister, and she loves you very, very much. And no matter what happens, know that I'll always be with you."
Tears.
And darkness descended.
"Heather?" Severus' worried face came into view as she surfaced, "Are you alright?"
She was still laying on her sleeping bag, but someone had laid her on her back, and beside her godfather, Poppy was staring at her while Minerva herded the others away.
The redhead started to hyperventilate, latching on to him in a move that was faster than anything previous.
"Heath, breath. Come on, deep breaths. You're having a panic attack. You need to breathe." He rubbed her back, and breathed as deep as he wanted her to, knowing she would mimic his body's movement.
And she did so, calming slowly until she could speak, "It's going to happen. Everything will come to pass." The Eighteen-year old shivered, "I knew I should have fought Uncle Albus."
"There was little you could have said that would have gotten him to change his mind." Snape smirked slightly, "He's just as stubborn as you. If not more."
"Don't smile, Uncle Severus." She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed herself back so Heather could look him in the eyes, "When this happens, there won't be a damn thing on this planet that can stop some plans from being put into motion that could endanger us all. Plans that are contingent upon my death."
"I won't let that happen."
"You don't have a choice."
"The Order cannot…"
Fire blazed in the deadly green orbs, "I am the Order. The members will do what I tell them, whether they want to or not."
"But…"
"I need to stand up." She stated, and allowed him to pull her weary body from the ground, "Is dinner ready yet?"
"Yes." The Headmaster answered warmly, as he entered, "Harry has been asking for you."
"I know. I can hear him." Heather smiled happily, "I'll go get him and come down to the Great Hall in a few minutes." She paused, then "Has Sirius been told yet?"
The faculty members turned to their leader, and Dumbledore spoke, "I only told him that Harry was here at Hogwarts and was safe. He has not replied yet."
She nodded, and shifted her feet, while pushing her godfather's hands from her shoulders. Her health had returned as quick as it had when she was a toddler, "Must be how close I am to him." She muttered, hoping no one heard. Finally, a look of determination set on her features, before she headed for the portrait of the Fat Lady, "I'll meet you guys downstairs in twenty minutes." The redhead informed, without even glancing over her shoulder, as she stepped out into the corridor.
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Your name is Heather, right?
Right. She replied, casually, approaching the door to the Hospital wing, Heather Lilandra Paddock.
Paddock? That doesn't feel right. He thought back, knowing that while he had never heard her be called by a last name, Paddock just didn't fit.
She stalled for a second, thinking up a reply, That's because it's not my real last name. When all else fails – go with edited versions of the truth.
Then what's the real one?
Sorry. No dice. She smirked, and appeared in front of his bed. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed Pomfrey, took the vacated seat, before, "I'm not telling you the real one. Not yet, at least."
"Why?" He prompted, feeling around for his glasses.
She sighed, "Your glasses were half-destroyed when they found you, Harry. I can get you new ones, exactly the same as the old ones, if that's what you'd like, but it'll be a few days before they'd arrive."
He nodded, "They looked like my father's." Smiling slightly, he added, "So why won't you tell me?"
Heather couldn't help but grin at the boy, "It's like…for your entire life, you knew me as just a voice, as a person in the back of your mind helping you through hard times. And as much as I wanted you to know me, since I knew you so well, I knew you weren't ready to hear it, to see me. I wish I could tell you my name, Harry, but it won't be…right of me to tell you now."
"I understand. Everything in its own time, but will you ever tell me?" He pleaded to know. He loved this girl – he knew her from long ago; somewhere in the back of his mind, there was the spark of a memory. She was more than the Voice.
"Some day. Hopefully, soon. However, I am waiting for Uncle Albus to able to say you are definitively safe."
"Uncle?"
"That's right…you don't know." The redhead transferred from the chair to the edge of the bed, "My parents died when I was very young, so I was raised by my godparents."
"Snape?"
"Yes, Professor
Snape is my godfather."
Harry forced the pain back,
and sat up to continue, "Who's your godmother then?"
"Professor McGonagall."
"Really?"
"Yeah. My dad picked her, my mom picked him."
"Why?"
She smirked, "That is has always been your favorite word…" Heather received a laughing smirk in response, and explained, "My parents were still students when my mum found out she was going to have me. The only people who knew where my father's godmother, Uncle Albus, and my mother's second best friend."
"Was she a Slytherin?"
"No. Dad was a Gryffindor, and Mum…well, she spent the first two years in Ravenclaw until it came about that someone had tampered with the sorting and was placed in Gryffindor where she belonged."
"Then how did she know him?"
"I was sorted into the wrong house, too." Snape's voice, soft with compassion answered, "I was only in Slytherin for my first two years, then, when the Headmaster realized the hat had been cursed, I ended up in Gryffindor as well."
Harry looked curiously at the teacher, "The hat was cursed?"
"The Dark Lord had many followers here back then, Harry." He brushed some straying hair from the boy's eyes. And to the Potions Master's amazement – the teenager did nothing to back away from the touch. Severus spoke again, "Many who were fighting to be made a member of his inner circle would do literally anything – including cursing the damned hat."
"You were in the same house as Dad?"
"Yes. And we were friends for a long time."
"I thought…" He started, but Heather cut him off.
Standing up, she spoke, "I think it's time to eat. I suspect I was taking too long to go down to the Hall, so they sent Uncle Severus to corral us in that direction." As carefully as she could, she helped him to transfer from the bed to a wheelchair Poppy had left.
"Can…can I walk?"
"Yes, but it'll be insanely painful." She warned.
He nodded his understanding and was content to be pushed by the enigma known as Heather.
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"Nice of you to join us." Minerva teased, as her goddaughter and student appeared.
"Well, I thought it'd be a good idea. Just so you knew I wasn't stealing him and running off." The young adult teased back, turning to help Potter to shift from the chair to the bench at the Gryffindor table, "That's it. One leg first…" She coaxed, lifting him up from behind and maneuvering forward, "And now the other." She whispered, as his left foot slipped over the bench.
Her godparents shared a knowing look, remembering back to a time long ago, before the Potions Master took a seat beside the Headmaster.
"Thanks." The teenage boy told the redhead, once they both settled in front of their plates.
"Not necessary." She grinned, seeing that the usual array of food was already laid out, and quickly began placing small bits onto both her plate and Harry's.
Discussion quickly began between the limited residents of the castle, Quidditch popular as it was the boy's favorite sport. Food was passed and devoured with much gusto, most trying to engage Harry in conversation unsuccessfully.
A glance around the room told all what they wanted to know – he was thinking and mustn't be disturbed – as Heather lifted a spoonful of soup up to his lips. Automatically he opened his mouth and swallowed, his glazed over eyes never deviating from staring at the space just above and beyond Hermione's head.
It went on for a few moments before he began to shake, almost imperceptibly, prompting the newest teacher to lean over, and murmur into his ear, "Relax, Harrison. It's over, and you are safe now. You will never be hurt again." She repeated the soothing statements over and over until he calmed.
Surfacing from the daze, he choked out, "They…they…"
"I know." Her eyes were already misting, as she turned to face him crossing her legs and pulling him to her.
He accepted
her silent offer of comfort and placed his head against her shoulder, his right
hand coming to rest on her shoulder, I can't talk about…
Then don't. It's alright – no one will force you to do
that now. I'll make sure of that.
She replied, brushing her hand up his forehead, brushing the messy hair
from his eyes.
I'm sorry that I'm not stronger than this.
You have had to be strong your whole life, Love. It's alright to stop now. Harry, you are just a child. I know you hate when I call you that, but it is exactly what you are and no one here expects you to be courageous all the time.
He looked up hesitantly, green eyes grazing up the pale skin to another set of shimmering emerald eyes, "I don't understand."
Heather sighed and kissed his head, resting her chin in his hair, "Growing up you were their servant, a maid and a gardener. You lived in a cupboard, inside of a house with abusive people. You had to be strong to survive. But those days are over, Love. They are gone and over with. It is okay to cry, and to show weakness – you are only human."
He had silently, rhythmically clenching and unclenching his hands in her robes, an effort to stop himself from letting any salt-filled tears spill from his eyes – then she had said the last four words. Slowly the soft weeping led to sobs until they shook his thin frame.
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*v* Cassie Jamie *v*
cj.1@cassie-jamie.com
