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A/N: I'm so sorry guys, I've been so sick, it's not even funny, and I'm so overwhelmed with all the school I'm missing….  In any case, here's the next chapter.  I know I had something else up, but it was far too early to reveal the secret that was leading to.  So thanks everyone, hope you can put up with me, and I'm immensely jealous of all the people in England because at this very moment they are one hour into OotP.  Oh, and if you update and I don't review, chances are it's because I will soon be avoiding  ff.net like the plague until I am finally allowed to read OotP.  So, here it is:



Recap:

"Umm. . .  Hello?  I, um. . .  I'd like to return to my vision now. . ." And to her immense surprise, she saw the world spin, and she returned to exactly where she had been before she had been disturbed by Harry's entrance.

Chapter 13: Alone

Heather sat in the hospital wing, all alone, bored.  She wondered if Harry would come by today.  He hadn't showed up yesterday, and it had dashed all her hopes.  He didn't care.  She leaned back against her pillows and began to cry, silently.  There was no one left who cared about her.  Her mother still had not written her back.  Harry didn't visit anymore, and he only talked about her visions when he did.  And the only true friend she'd ever had. . . the only Hufflepuff who had been true to his friendly nature. . . .  She shook her head.  Best not to think about him.

And so she lay there in bad, remembering him, while trying not to.  How they had met for the first time in the common room, with Heather crying over her charms homework, and he had come over and clamed her down and helped her.  Ever since then, she'd wanted to be a good student, because he always smiled at her when she told him she was doing well.  She had had a crush on him for a while, but then she had grown up a bit and realized she loved him like a brother.  When he had needed help, though that was indeed a rare occasion, he turned to her.  He asked her for advice on girls, he asked her to help him research, and he asked her to help him put up with the cruelty of the other houses.  If he knew she was in here right now, she had no doubts that he would be right next to her, holding her hand, and once she fell asleep, he would murder Malfoy and return to her side before she awoke.  Every day seemed to be a new adventure in grief.  She was alone, she was lost, she was hopeless without him. . . .  And yet, here she was, with nothing and no one left to her.

She watched some leaves meander towards the ground through the ward window.  Falling. . . falling. . . falling. . .  They were dead now, but moments earlier, they had been vibrant and alive.  And soon, they would be nothing but earth.  Just like him.  To this cruel and pathetic world, he had been of no more worth than that leaf.  He was an utter Hufflepuff, he was loyal and noble and true.  And it made no difference.  In the end he was just leaf, falling from a tree branch, and drifting to his grave, dead.  And no one took notice.  People saw a falling leaf and they didn't care.  So had it been with him.  A moment's reflection was caused by it, just as the leaf caused her reflection, but it made no significant difference in anyone's life.  They were smiling and laughing and sitting in his armchair and telling his jokes, and they didn't care.

Heather wanted to drown in visions.  In times when it was alright that no on ewas grieving, because there was no one to grieve, and she could at least pretend that those people were better than her peers.  He wouldn't want that, though.  He had loved her, and he would have wanted her to be happy.  But flatly, she didn't want to be.  In time, perhaps, but his face was still warm, his blood had yet to cool in his veins, and no one cared about him.  He deserved all the reverence any man could receive, just because he was such a good person, and he did not even receive mild recognition and respect.  It made her sick inside.  She wanted to be free of all of this.  Her head swam with memories of him, and she cried for hours, thinking about his life, about his death, about that leaf.

When Harry walked into visit Heather, he was confronted with the tear-streaked face of a sleeping girl.  He paused, set something on her nightstand, straightened her covers, and walked away.

A/N: Yeah, I know it's short and you all probably know who "he" is. Gimme your best guess.  Man, I'm so stereotypical it's not even funny.  By the way, this chapter is dedicated to Hagrid, because I think he's the one who dies in OotP. (But DON'T TELL ME IF I'M RIGHT OR WRONG IN YOUR REVIEWS!)

R/R, PLEASE!! Flames are welcome, though constructive criticisms are preferred. Anonymous reviews are accepted.