Author's note: I am so sorry for this taking so long. I never meant to not get this done, but I had writer's block, then I got an outline done. After that, I started on the chapter and got about halfway through when I got the evil block once more. I came back and hated what I had and redid the entire chapter. Here's what I got. It's not as long as the first and the next should be longer, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

Chapter 2- After the Feast

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Never in her life had Heather been so eager to leave a meal. She refused to touch a crumb, instead choosing to nurse her goblet of pumpkin juice. It was unnerving, sitting here at the Slytherin table. This hadn't been a surprise, of course, but nevertheless, she hadn't prepared herself for such an awkward situation.

She kept getting glances from the other tables. Frankly, the Slytherins as a whole couldn't care one way or another. They were always getting strange looks for one reason or another. The eldest new addition to the table, however, couldn't swallow it. It was blatantly obvious of whose relation she was. Everyone was wondering the same questions.

"Could twins really be that different?"

"Since when does he have a sister?"

"How could a Potter be in Slytherin?"

Well, there were some upsides to being in Slytherin, she mused. No one trying to be her friend. They would leave her alone. No one would ask annoying questions or try to use her to get near Harry. She wouldn't be bothered at all.

Perhaps she was wrong. There was a certain set of eyes that bothered her the most. Draco Malfoy was blatantly staring at her from his place next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him now that his dinner was over. She could feel him appraising her as his eyes raked over her form.

She knew what kind of guy he was, from her many years of lurking within the walls of the ancient school. He was the type of guy who enjoyed the chase, the conquer, and the satisfaction that he got once he got a girl in his bed and left her. She had seen that look in his eyes before, the appraisal that a tiger would once it had spotted its next meal.

She was not an entrée.

Carefully, she set her goblet down and stared at it. "See something you like, Malfoy?" she asked, not turning her head. "I'm not interested. Find someone else to prey on."

"We'll see," was all he said as she got up. Heather didn't care that she was the first one to leave the Great Hall, nor that everyone was watching. She lifted her head, stared straight forward, and left them all behind.

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Aliana couldn't believe her luck. The charm had actually fooled that stupid old hat! Of course, she knew her father was strong, but she had no clue that he could bamboozle such an old artifact, charmed by the founders themselves.

Harry was such a nice person. She didn't know if he knew who her father was or not, but there was no way he was normally this courteous to every new student. Hermione was so intelligent, engaging in a conversation with her about Ancient Runes and their powers while Ron tried to get her attention with a discussion about Quiddich.

Aliana wasn't entirely sure how Voldemort wanted her to kill Heather Potter, but with the girl in Slytherin, accidents would be bound to happen. It was too bad about the young Miss Ginny Weasly. It would be too much of a coincidence if she died along with Heather. What a waste of a good-looking guy.

A slight smile flitted across her face briefly. Perhaps death wasn't the only way to rid herself of any competition for the Boy Who Lived and his affections.

Turning back to Hermione and Ginny, she continued the discussion on potions with makeup products, all the while plotting her own evil schemes to follow after the legacy left for her.

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The hallways were eerily silent as Heather crept through them, but it did not bother her. She was used to creeping around in silence. However, she was quite unnerved by all of the space around her. It was better than the Great Hall, but open corridors still left her feeling vulnerable. She greatly preferred the small walkways that were the secret passageways of the school.

So she was the daughter of Lily and James Potter. It explained so much, yet raised so many questions that were still unanswered.

Actually, what surprised her most was that the hat had put her- the daughter of a Muggle-born and a person who fought the Dark Arts- into Slytherin. Although, she mused, Voldemort was the son of a Muggle and still rose to be the most powerful Dark wizard in a century. Prejudice has nothing to do with it.

By this time, Heather had arrived at the wall that served as the entrance to the Slytherin common room. She stared at the wall for a few seconds the continued down the corridor. The password was unknown to her, but until she gained knowledge of it, she had other ways of getting in.

Just around the corner was a marble statue of Devlin the Dastardly, a wizard rubbing his hands together, a look of sheer craftiness on his face. His white color stood out in stark contrast to the cool gray granite of the corridor. She placed her hands on his shoulder and boosted herself up to stand on his slightly bent knee. The statue was a good seven feet tall and she only cleared the five-foot mark by three inches. She whispered, "Serpents cry no tears" in the ear of Devlin and jumped to the floor. The marble head turned minutely and a stone eyelid slowly sank into an unmistakable wink. The grating of stone echoed through the hallway as the statue moved from the passage it was guarding. Heather nodded to Devlin and entered the passage, ignoring the statue moving behind her.

She entered into the Slytherin common room and fell, exhausted, into an overstuffed green velvet chair. Irritation settled over her in a haze as she glared at the empty fireplace directly in front of her. She pulled her wand out of her robes and jabbed it angrily at the fireplace. Flames, green as her eyes, shot out of the tip and roared to life on the grill. She settled back in her chair, fighting the urge to cry.

Her reserves broke after a moment and Heather began to sob uncontrollably. The stress of the day and the dashed hopes that her prophecy wouldn't come true had finally crashed down on her, making her feel like she had been trampled by a hippogriff.

As the tears slowed down, she quieted, her eyes going to her ring, which had caught the light of the green flames. It was made of gold, fashioned in the shape of two lions, close to the one depicted on the Gryffindor emblem. The tiniest of rubies was the eye of each one. She had learned several things about her ring over the course of years.

First, when Sirius Black had brought her to the school when she was two months old, she had been wearing the ring on a fine chain around her neck. Now it fit snugly onto her ring finger, though it also fit onto anyone who tried it. She guessed that there was a size enchantment on it. Second, the ring was actually two rings that fit together perfectly. Third, whenever danger was near, the eye of each of the lions would begin to glow. Further experimentation revealed that when the two rings were separate, when the owner of one ring was in danger, the other would glow and vice versa. The last thing was one she examined right now. It was an engraving on the inside of the rings, which, together, looked like an ornate but strange "H". Separate, however, they looked like random scribbles. Now that she examined it again, she found it to really be a cursive J connected to a cursive L.

Who could tell her more about her rings? Her parents were dead. Sirius Black, her godfather and the only one who had seemed to know of her existence, was dead. Dumbledore hadn't known about who she was. How would he know about this?

She slowly looked up as the wall opened and interrupted her thoughts, showing the Slytherin students coming into their common room. The group ignored her, taking places in the room or clamoring up the two spiral staircases towards the dormitories. She likewise chose to ignore them and turned her gaze back to the fire. It had turned to a natural fire color about a minute or so before the entrance of her fellow students. It was probably because of the house elf magic.

However, her gaze was interrupted. A set of expensive robes blocked her view and she looked up expectantly at Draco Malfoy's face. She said nothing, but her bored expression made his feathers ruffle nonetheless.

"You're in my chair," he said shortly, barely keeping his anger out of his voice.

Her eyebrow rose, yet she still said nothing.

Draco was starting to see red. The look on her face clearly said that she had known about his claim on the chair, yet she chose to ignore it. No one disrespected him that way, especially the sister to "The Boy Who Got Lucky When Powerful Wizards Tried To Kill Him". He opened his mouth to speak, but Heather cut him off.

"If you have a problem with me sitting here, Ferret-boy, I suggest that you do something about it. So, unless you want to see which of us is better at magic, you ought to find yourself another sear. Accio book!"

He lost his superior look for a moment as he pondered her last sentence. However, it thoroughly explained itself when, with a rushing sound, a thick book clipped his head and landed neatly in the girl's lap. The title was shown only briefly before Heather opened the book to where a bookmark resided, about halfway in. He registered the title anyways. Hexes, Curses, and Potions: What To Do When You're Against a Wall and a Wand. He had seen the book in the Restricted Section and knew it was far above the level that the seventh years- including himself- was at. Challenging her was only a death wish.

With the look of a cat that had decided all along to do what he did, he stalked away, leaving her to her own devices and completely missing the superior look that graced her face. She looked at her book and muttered, "So this is what it's like to be a Slytherin. Perhaps I will like it here."