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Heather Hidden
Chapter Seven
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George and Ron had been sent off to the wing to help Poppy, leaving the redhead to keep a watchful eye on the scarred boy.
"Where'd you go?" The fifteen-year old asked, staring sleepily at her from his place in between the red-n-gold linens.
"Tommy and Thea were ambushed and needed help, but they're okay now. I just needed to get them to the hospital wing and keep them stable until Poppy could get there." Slowly, Heather settled onto the bed.
Harry searched for words, hoping that silence would not claim the room, "I like your sheets."
"I'll get you some for your bed."
He grinned weakly, "The guys would tease me."
"Well, there are ones that have the gold snitch in lieu of stars."
Not going to give up, are you?
Nope. Remember, I was raised by Minerva.
"Why is it so easy to switch between speaking and…speaking?" The raven-haired child before her implored, suddenly curious, as he sat up on the comfortable mattress.
"I'm not completely sure, but it's probably just because we're in such close proximity to each other." Her eyes laughed, "I think it's nice to be able to switch."
"It is." He mumbled, "Heather, I heard Ron and George talking and they were saying some odd things."
"Like?" She was sure she already knew he was about to ask the question that would ease her soul and burden his.
"They said that you're my sister."
She gazed at him, momentarily gauging his reaction as the inquiry was made. His breathing was even and normal, but his skin was red from embarrassment.
"What would you think if I were?"
A moment's contemplation, then, "I don't know. Happy…"
"Hurt." She spoke for him, knowing the word was floating around his head. She briefly became aware of footsteps above her head and knew Snape was in the Order's private lab, waiting in case Potter did something drastic.
Harrison his eyes, "Sort of."
"It's alright. I'm amazed you haven't made a move to hit me." She grazed a hand toward him, letting it rest lightly on his ankle.
"I'm not mad. I don't know why, though, because I should, shouldn't I?" He spoke to his hands more than her.
"Maybe." Heather was at a loss for words to answer that question, but continued before the fifteen-year old could speak again, "Like I told your friends, Harry, I tried for many years to get you away. However, since I was too young and couldn't reveal our connection to anyone in the ministry, save Arthur Weasley, you were going to have to stay at their house. But now that I have you, I will see to it that you never have to see the Dursleys ever again."
"I know." A sense of belonging had washed over him when he fully realized that he indeed had a sister, "I guess this explains why you knew my mother so well. I always knew there was someone out there who loved me."
"I have waited such a long time to be able to say that you're my brother." Her eyes were misting, and she reached forward to cradle him, "Such a long, long time."
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The siblings had fallen asleep after a few hours of talking, blissfully unaware of the faculty's re-arrival at the school and the ill news they brought with them. Dreams brought Harry a broad array of ideas of the house the almost-nineteen-year old described to him and images of his parents. It was a sudden sensation of belonging he'd only had during the months of school, and he was glad to feel it in his bones. Now he had a real home.
Heather's dreams, on the other hand, were wrought with images of death, of pain, of blood. The vision was bad, but with her brother close by, it eased to discomfort and she was alert enough to deal with them adequately. Screams were predominate. Something was going to happen, her soul cried and her eyes burned beneath her eyelids. Something was going to happen to the castle and the student body. She couldn't stop the moan that pulled them both into consciousness.
"Sis?" The word rolled off the boy's tongue like water, as if it were completely natural to wake up cuddled to her.
"It's nothing." She rubbed her eyes.
"No, it's not. What is it?"
The hand once again drifted to his hair, carding through the somewhat tamed locks, "Visions of a future I'm trying to stop."
"I don't understand." He stared at her, green eyes seeking out green eyes.
"I have a gift. Well, right now it's a curse to any sleep cycle I may try to have…I see the future, Harry. I knew when I was a child that Mum and Dad were going to die. I tried to stop it, tried to get them to stick with Sirius as our secret keeper, but things just didn't work out the way I wanted them to." She brushed a fallen lock from his ear, "And now as Voldemort gets stronger, I see things that could happen if we continue on the same path."
He nodded, "I guess this is why you are such a firm believer in the 'all things in their own time' policy?"
"Mostly." She smirked.
"What time is it?"
A brief look at the end table across the room, and, "Noon. We should go make an appearance in the Hall. The family might freak if we don't show up."
"The family?"
She silently cursed herself. The redhead kept forgetting that he knew almost nothing about the life she had created for herself, and for him when the time came, "Severus adopted me when I was younger. He's my godfather, but there were only so many decisions he could make for me without being a legal guardian. Same for Aunt Minerva."
"Wait…Professor McGonagall is your…your…"
"Adoptive mother." She slid from the bed, "No one will ever take the place of Mum and Dad in my heart. However, I was only four when they died. I couldn't make a good decision for myself until I was much older."
He nodded, "Do you think…that they…"
"Will adopt you too? No doubt in my mind. Of course, Mom will right away, but Papa will take a little longer. He won't do anything until he's sure that you know him and he knows you."
"It's rather frightening to hear you call them those names."
"And I was frightened in the beginning when the words just sorta slipped out of my mouth without me realizing it, but after awhile, Harry, it's normal. They have taken care of me; given me a home whether it was in Latvia or the States. They were already my Godmom and my Goddad, I just fixed up the names." She allowed herself to smirk once again, "Although, I think I scared them witless the first time I did it to them."
"They won't be mad if I don't?"
"No." The girl disappeared into her bathroom, "They know you see Mum and Dad as your Mum and Dad. They don't expect you to call them anything other than Minerva and Severus." She reappeared with a toothbrush in her mouth.
He merely sat there, "So I guess I'll have to call you Miss Paddock in class."
Barely a sigh more, a choke, then, "I can't let everyone know I'm alive. In the eyes of the wizarding world, Heather Potter died that night. I'm a secret, Harry."
"Why?"
"You know, after all these years, you'd think I'd remember that that's your favorite word." A chipper grin graced her previously tired features, "Because I must remain an enigma to the community. As far as they know, the Order of the Phoenix is run by Albus. Imagine their panic if they found out that an eighteen-year old who was believed to have been dead is the true leader."
"But you look like mom."
"Which is why those who knew our family know I'm alive. And the similarities will be marked off as coincidental by the parents."
There were no more questions from Harry, who finally managed to roll from the bed to the floor and walked into the living room. A quick imploring inquiry and he was headed back to the dorm for clean clothes and a shower, while the girl did the same in her chambers. As she pulled her hair from the ponytail, she made a mental note to buy some Gryffindor-colored sheets before the start of the term.
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"Ah, there they are." Severus patted the chair beside him. The round table from breakfast had returned.
Heather sat down beside the man, Harry next to her and a rather talkative Tommy. When the food appeared, she leaned slightly to the side, "What did you say to her to get out of the ward this quickly?"
The other people in the room smiled as if saying 'we-know-something-you-don't-know'.
"What?" Harry was nervous.
"You two have been asleep since mid-morning yesterday." Hermione told her best friend gently, but couldn't stop the teasing tone she picked up by the last word.
The siblings launched into their best impressions of fish, "No." They gasped in unison.
"We let you sleep. Both of you could use the rest." The hint that the potion master knew her visions were becoming frequent wasn't missed by the girl, "And you may not be getting much in the next few days." He stared pointedly at the teenage teacher.
Her eyes betrayed her façade of calmness, "Particular reason?"
"Something we will discuss tonight." He lisped, then dove into his food wholeheartedly.
"I'm bringing them to the meeting." She replied.
The adults nodded, the children wondered what was going on but kept their mouths shut or continued to munch the sandwiches that the house-elves had prepared.
Another bout of sleepiness laid down on Harry and he placed his head on her shoulder, What is wrong with me?
With the careful grace of a mother, the older's hand came to rest on his forehead, "I knew this would happen." Her hand ached with the heat of his skin, and a quick inspection of his ears told her all she needed to know, "Time to go back to the dungeons."
"No!" He rejected the idea. He didn't like dank and dark places.
"Yes." The tone in her voice told him that there was no room for argument, but he was damned if he wasn't going to at least try to fight.
"Please?"
She began the act of caressing his face yet again, "There is none of this potion in the stores. It has to be specially made and administered immediately after it's brewed. It's the only option we have right now or your fever will continue to rise radically every hour."
"Why?"
"That word…" She muttered, "You know why."
A sheepish red came to his face. He'd been sick since he'd arrived, true, but it had mostly gone. Or so he had thought.
"It's a sickness that would've killed you in days, if you were a muggle. Must've picked it up from someone else on the street." She explained, picking him up from the chair. Her tired and just-becoming-alert muscles weren't able to support him, but the black-haired teacher came to the rescue and pulled the boy, struggling, into his arms. Readjusting the teenager in his arms, he soon discovered that Harry had become unconscious at some point.
Just when things were looking up…
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*v* Cassie Jamie *v*
cj.1@cassie-jamie.com
