Story notes:
Heather is called feather by her friends due to an accident. I'll make it an omake if I have time. It is NOT a typographical error.
Any more questions will be welcomed and stated in the Story notes of the next chapter.
Please R&R.
"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has."
-Margaret Mead-
It says something when you don't feel fear when there's a really sharp sword going at you, Heather thought as she ducked and parried.
It had been nearly six months since she had left the Sanctuary and careful questioning had led her to the Dúnedain. How that happened was a blur of horseback riding and spying at people while nursing a bitter tankard of ale. One event did stand out clearly and that was being chased by a pack of wolves. She had managed to down three of its members and then they came and helped her. In the middle of the skirmish (ones that involved proper armies and countries were called battles; apparently), her cowl had fallen and revealed she was a girl. The three men had gaped for a minute before interrogating her.
"What were you doing?" they had asked.
"Avenging my family," she answered, a mulish tilt to her chin. They all exchanged glances.
"Avenging!" the youngest of the three of them muttered. "You would have likely joined them before the day was over."
Heather knew she was making stories in her mind to stay in character, and she allowed the story to become her. The righteous female anger swept through her. She was young enough – and short enough – to act out the adolescent angst. Besides, these men felt like old souls.
"I know," she cried out, real tears stinging her cheeks. "I'm likely to get myself killed, but who would teach a girl? I'm doing the best I can!"
The encampment turned slightly awkward. The young man was on the receiving end of many irritated glances, but no one spoke to reprimand him.
A series of arguments later and she ended up in the company of a rough riding group of men. They set a harsh pace and looked at her with respect when she did not complain of the lack of comforts.
The three of them had a rotation in teaching her. There were survival skills, learning how to distinguish sounds and the Art of Staying Still and Quiet. And lastly, there was sword fighting. Draco's lessons were quickly trashed and they all scoffed at her etiquette.
"It's sword fighting, not sword play. It's a choice between your life and your enemies'" they told her.
Initially, the gaudy sword of Gryffindor received some insult from the youngest of the rangers. But after she divulged that it was her ancestors' sword, (which it technically was) passed down from father to son, he clammed up. That was also the reason why the men were calling her Gryffon. They had asked after the runes engraved on the sword and she had translated it to them in Westron.
"It is 'Gryffindor'," she explained. "My family values bravery, courage and honor. To be the last heir…it is a heavy sword to bear."
There was understanding in their eyes, as well as sadness. In those times, it made up for all the bruises and saddle-sores she received. There was a sense of companionship amongst these warriors that felt wonderful to her. Hermione and Draco, heck, even Luna, weren't warriors. These men were and that made her settle into her own skin.
Sometimes though, that made Heather irritable to see how other people treated the Dúnedain.
"Do you not complain?" she asked their sort-of leader.
He had simply snorted. "No. What use would that be? This is a job we have tasked ourselves when we lost our lands."
It reminded Heather of the Girl-who-lived title, the position that made one into a pariah. But Heather had not wanted it and found the title shoved on her anyway. These men could have left these people to the wolves (literally and figuratively) but instead embraced their status as a pariah.
Her heart swelled for the three battle-hardened warriors and she impulsively gave them a kiss on the cheek.
Draco's news came sparingly, and when it did, it was a wealth of information.
Potter,
I hope this finds you well.
I have settled in one of the many towns of a country named Rohan. They are truly not suspicious of me since I have made myself seemingly blind. These eyes are a damn nuisance sometimes. But this is more than my eyes becoming noticeable. I have started to feel a difference but I will discuss it with you when we meet again in person. Granger, no doubt, will try and dissect it for me. I will spare her the trouble and do it myself.
These coins…I am wary of using it. It feels like it is giving off a magical aura. If anything is watching, I do not want it to know, or see.
The chicken – damn it bird! – will serve as our owl. She seems to relish the exercise.
D.M.
P.S. I'll warn the others, don't panic yourself.
The letter arrived in one of their older, more recycled parchments. The rangers raised an eyebrow at Hafny but said nothing at the unadulterated joy on her face.
"She's a friend and a messenger," she explained.
They were nice enough not to interrogate her more intensively.
Hermione's letter was curt, which was uncharacteristic of her…to put it mildly. Upon examining the letter, she realized why. She was writing in the code that they invented during the war. It involved Ancient Runes, numbers that represented and scrambled the alphabet and several gibberish shapes that made things complicated. The thing was, three symbols could state an entire sentence.
The letter was summed up as simply, "Need your help. Near Rohan, western point. Met with Draco. We need to talk. 3 weeks."
There was a sense of urgency in the letter and that was worrying to Heather. They had only parted for eight months. Not even near a year.
"Trouble?" they asked as her brow furrowed.
"One of the last that remain of my family is asking for help," she explained. "It feels…worried."
The youngest one snorted. "Hah! Most likely about you."
She scowled at him. Between the three men, he had the least tact, but that was still polite by the standards of most people.
"Do you need to leave?"
Heather sighed. She knew that she would eventually leave them but the sudden arrival of the letter reminded her of it.
"Do you know where Rohan is?" she asked instead.
Eventually, they parted but not before she met their captain, Aragorn. The man had taken in the additional person in the expected encampment without a single reaction.
"Guests?" he had asked in his soft, unused voice.
"She's leaving soon," his second-in-command answered.
Aragorn had cocked an eyebrow at the almost defensive note in his voice but said nothing of it, he had noted the girl's calloused hands and the easy way the sword hung at her side, even if it was rather…noticeable. She was a warrior, and felt like a kindred spirit. For that alone, sharing a fire needed no explanation.
Heather learned a lot of curse words from the Gryffindor boys and she felt like she used it all up in the journey towards Hermione. It was good that Hafny guided her but owls didn't like slowing down, which frustrated both of them. When fare started to get scarce, Hafny hunted for the both of them.
"I truly dislike horseback riding," were the first words out of her mouth.
Surprise, surprise, Draco was there!
"What?" Heather demanded when they remained silent, staring at her.
Draco approached her patting the top of her head. "She hasn't grown taller."
Hermione unhooked Heathers cowl and examined the hair. "It's gotten more colorful. There's now cream mixed in it."
Heather was tired and saddle-sore. Anger was quick to surge through her at being treated like a science experiment without the proper petri dish. "What is going on?" she exploded.
Draco sighed and sat on his haunches. Hermione was the one to explain things. The scene was familiar and only lacked Luna and they would be back in Grimmauld Place.
"We're changing. Some of them are physical but some of them are also internal," Hermione said bluntly. "Its worrying, feather, because we don't know why it's happening."
A niggle of doubt and worry wedged itself at the back of Heathers mind. "What changed for you, Hermione?"
The brunette started pacing. "I've grown taller. I mean, I know I wasn't exceptional in height or something, but I've grown six inches in eight months. And I've always got an eidetic memory but these past months have been ridiculous! It feels like my mind has gone so sharp."
An incredulous look stole across Heathers face and Draco interrupted before she could say anything that would inspire another rant from Hermione. "She's not bragging," Draco said. "I sent her one of my alchemical problems and she solved it in a day. The Granger I know would have needed a week and a library; she did it in a day and in a godforsaken tavern, without resources!"
The panic subsided and wonder replaced it. Heather wasn't worried. She felt like they had simply reached a level of perfection they ought to have reached back in their own world but certain factors failed to trigger a catalyst. And anyway, theories aside, Hermione getting smarter wasn't a problem for her.
"And Draco," she said. "What about you?"
He shifted uneasily. "I can see souls."
"What?!"
"The purities of their hearts, I mean," he elaborated. "I wrote that I was blindfolding my eyes to keep it hidden, but losing my eyes seemed to make my other senses sharper. I can see their intentions, lies and even thoughts, if I concentrate hard enough."
"Bugger!" both girls exclaimed.
And then he added, "I've grown taller too."
It was ridiculous to get caught up on that fact that both of them had gotten taller and she hadn't but that was what stood out the most to Heather. The Injustice!
"That's so unfair!" she whined. "It doesn't help that I'm bloody short to begin with!"
Both of them laughed at how ridiculous things were.
"What about you, Potter?" Draco asked when the mirth subsided.
The question surprised her. "Me? Nothing. I haven't really had much time for introspection. I've been travelling with men for months! When we cross a stream, it's for the horses. Merlin, now that I think about it, I would like a bath very much."
They laughed again. And from there, it was a simple agreement to go to the Sanctuary.
"Merlin, Luna!" Hermione exclaimed when they saw the house again for the first time in nearly nine months. It seemed to have expanded from a small cottage into a decent sized two-story house.
"She must have been very bored," Draco remarked.
Heather said nothing, feeling guilt at leaving Luna alone.
A small crack sounded before they could touch the house and it turned out to be Kreacher and Luna…whose eyes had simply widened with relief and happiness. There was no anger at being left behind, or resentment.
"I will prepare a meal and the rooms immediately," Kreacher said, his deeper voice startling the newcomers.
"You're home!" Luna exclaimed. "And with darker and happier eyes," she then latched on to Heather, who felt the first human contact in a couple of months. "Heather, your reflexes have gotten sharper."
Heather gave a nervous laugh. "Really? What makes you say that?"
"Well, your sword was halfway out of its sheath when Kreacher apparated me home." Luna patted her shoulder. "It's alright. I'm especially happy that you received that change, the added speed of your reflexes. It is needed in what you wish to do."
Heather barely had time to smile weakly at Luna before the words registered in Hermione's ears and she started interrogating Luna.
"What do you mean, 'received'?" she asked.
Luna had another one of her patented looks, this time it was the "you seriously don't know?" Coupled with her protuberant eyes, it was slightly patronizing. "Rita Skeeter was an animagus. Change is in her blood when she finished the animagus transformation, so of course change is one of the things we will receive."
Hermione's new mind was way too fast. She started firing questions that had Draco and Heather scrambling to catch up. Soon, only Draco was attentively following since Heather had long since discarded her gear and her sword, falling into a light doze by the new fireplace.
"We have Voldemort's corpse integrated into our system?!" Hermione shrieked. It was the question that woke Heather and she instinctively tensed, one of her daggers dropping into her palm with familiarity. Heather nearly threw the knife until she realized she was in the Sanctuary and throwing knives at Hermione wasn't good for their friendship.
"Buggering fuck, woman," Heather growled out irritably. "I'm taking a bath and I hope I drown in it. You just don't scream Voldemort's name around, you know?"
Hermione looked extremely embarrassed and Draco, despite wincing, seemed very entertained. Heather was always bad tempered when it came to Voldemort. It was especially worse if she lacked sleep.
"Feather, don't forget to thank Kreacher! And open your window to let Hafny inside. She's going to be arriving soon," Luna called out as Heather grumpily stomped to the nearest bedroom.
She slept off her exhaustion from travel for three hours. When she woke, Draco was perched on a chair beside her bed reading a book. When he noticed her return to consciousness, he closed it with a snap!
"Sup?" she asked groggily.
The blonde pointed to the array of daggers on the table, along with her sword and a very fancy looking knife. "I didn't see this on you earlier. Undetectable Extension charms?"
She snorted. "Hell no. I was taught where to hide that on my person so that no one notices." She yawned and stretched. "What did I miss?"
Draco gave her a momentary look of marvel at the degradation of her language before blinking and going back on what he gleaned from last nights discussion. "Apparently, Lovegood says that most of our changes come from Rita Skeeter being an animagus. Voldemort is the counter-balance to your really 'pure' blood. The bones were the stabilizing factor. Technically, if we hadn't taken an animagus, none of this would have happened."
She nodded in agreement. "Alright. So what about the changes? Is there any logic to it?"
Draco looked uncomfortable as Heather practically undressed herself in front of him. She, who had spent her recent time with men and had very little privacy, ignored him.
"She says that it merely enhanced what we already have," he said. Draco was keeping his eyes firmly on the window.
"You can turn around now, Draco." There was amusement in her voice. "I theorized that already. What did Luna receive?"
"She can hear all the voices of living things. No need for physical changes, she was saying earlier, but you should have seen her hair when sunlight touched it. It looked like molten gold."
They exchanged news over a late dinner, with Heather keeping quiet, simply basking in the feeling of peace and happiness of seeing her friends alive.
"I've been viewing maps," Hermione told them. "And a lot of land is unclaimed. Most of the claimed lands are rather large countries but they leave out tons of empty grasslands alone too. The north, especially, is rather – "
"No, Hermione," Heather interrupted. "The north belongs to the Dúnedain. No map ever says it but their island kingdom sunk to the sea. They all fled to the north. No one likes to confirm that, since they are a race of kings that are technically without a country."
Her eyes went wide. "You've been staying with the Dúnedain! The people call them the Rangers of the North."
Heather nodded, "Yeah. I'll tell you about it later. So, where do you plan to create your orphanage?"
Hermione blushed and reverted to a stuttering mess. "W-well, y-you see…feather, I think…Well, I'm changing my plans a little bit. There are dozens of towns that are neglected and then, when I was in a barge, we came across pirates. I can't explain it well, but there was a taint of malice around them that made them cruel to everything. I wanted to help them, but then, how many people are like that?"
Draco summed it up neatly. "So you want to give them proper warding?"
"But how do you plan to do that?" Luna asked. "The malice you felt will keep battering at your wards, eventually weakening it. You'll have to redo it every year or so."
Hermione nodded with determination. "It'll be a lifelong goal. Besides, the taint seems to originate from one place. If you guys agree, I'll set up Blood wards to block most of the miasma and keep it in one place."
There was a round of agreement. And then, it was Draco's turn.
"People call me 'Hodur'." Draco said.
"The blind god of the norse pantheon?" Hermione asked. "Won't he be offended?"
Heather chuckled. "Mione, the norse aren't here. These people have a different set of gods. Go on, Draco."
"I go around the village, feeling for illness. When that's done, I commission the village children to gather my herbs for me. Some days I experiment, other days I brew. Most of the time, I end up discouraging people from apprenticing with me."
"Why ever not?" Luna asked.
Draco had an extremely distressed look on his face. "I'm a potions master Lovegood! I don't heal people. I make the brews to heal people! For Merlin's sake! They stitch people here!"
"Well, of course they will!" Hermione exclaimed. "They don't have healing magic here. Most things will just have to heal naturally."
Draco shuddered and Heather finally let out her laughter. "Don't be such a pansy, Draco! I have tried some stitches myself. Look!" she showed them a long line running up her bicep.
"Feather!" Hermione exclaimed. "Where in the world did you get that?"
She shrugged. "Faced a rabid bear. Now that I think about it, Mione, that miasma is probably the reason why there are dark creatures in the north."
Luna ignored the bit about the miasma and ran a finger through the line of the scar. "Did it hurt very much?" she asked with clinical curiosity.
"Nope. As sore as anything, but it wasn't painful."
Hermione cut in. "If it suits you, can we do the Blood wards this week? The more I hear about it, the more troubled I get."
They all agreed and Draco added, "But I have to return to the village now. They think I am foraging for obscure herbs, so it isn't uncommon for me to vanish. But a week will make them worry."
Luna and Kreacher sent Draco off while Hermione and Heather exchanged knowing looks where he couldn't see it.
"The responsibility is good for him," Hermione said.
"He looks better now too," Heather agreed. "I like Hodur better than Draco."
Author notes:
Guys, I am having my midterms. I'll keep writing but it will be difficult.
Meanwhile, I will post the next chapter if I receive atleast another 5 reviews. I am greedy, I know.
~Lady Hallen