XII.

Dorothea remembered how Harry had felt last year after the Christmas holidays. It had been startling to have so many students filling the halls which had once been so empty. Harry and Ron had enjoyed the peace of the Gryffindor common room- being able to sit close to the fire and roast whatever treats they wanted. It had been good to see Hermione return- bright-eyed after two weeks on her own- but Harry had also been sad.

Now, there wasn't even the anticipation of seeing familiar faces, as she and Theo stepped through the floo at the end of Christmas break. House-elves immediately appeared to whisk their trunks away and one reached for Dorothea's loom.

"Oh - no, please," Dorothea said and held it closer to her chest. "I'll just carry it." She and Theo were about to be headed to their separate tables and being able to hold onto one piece of magic from Nott Keep was comforting in a way she hadn't understood.

"Here," Theo whispered and held up the braid he had been working on before their fireplace had turned green, "To keep you healthy-"

Dorathea bit back a sarcastic remark- born of nerves rather than exasperation- and held out her left arm. Several braids already were wound around her thin wrist, but Theo found an empty space and tied the knot tightly.

"I'm going to be fine," She reassured him and remind herself. "It's just Hogwarts. And I'll see you all the time."

"I know- I know-" Theo had automatically fished another ribbon out of his pocket and his fingers worked through the complicated knotting on their own. It was his way of coping with stress, Thea realized, and she felt a little bit better about the plaits around her arms.

"It's going to be ok." She said and then bit her lip as she saw the Headmaster turn the corner.

. . . . . . .

"I take it that you have not had access to a Daily Prophet, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore said not unkindly as Dorathea took a seat across from him in his office. She shook her head, both to refuse his pro-offered lemon drops and answer his question. Theo received basically no owls or letters from anyone- much less a daily missive from the Prophet. As for Hogwarts, Harry had always assumed that if he needed to know something important in the world, someone, usually Hermione, would tell him. Dorathea assumed the same.

Granted, Lady Malfoy was an avid reader of not only the Daily Prophet but several other publications from across Magical Europe and there were times that she had seemed particularly smug about a certain article, but Dorathea had never thought to press further.

"Are they saying something about me, sir?" She asked.

"You, well Dorathea Nott at least, is quite the celebrity." Professor Dumbledore said with his familiar twinkle. "A young, pureblood woman raised in the muggle world, but called back to the Wizarding by magic alone- it was an inspiring story, Harry. The Press has been devouring the possibilities. No doubt helped along by your friends the Malfoy's."

Dorothea didn't say anything but colored slightly. Was she never going to enjoy the blissful anonymity other students had? Harry had been a celebrity due to circumstances out of his control and now, because of a hastily constructed story, so was Dorathea. She tucked and untucked the toes of her shoes from under the rungs of the chair.

"Of course, people immediately began wondering which other children might have been whisked away to the Muggle world," Professor Dumbledore was saying. "It's a sad fact of history, but both sides of the last war had motive and cause to deprive the other of their heirs. And truly, it is kinder to exile a child than kill it."

Dorathea flinched at the bright tone. Did Dumbledore really think growing up with the Dursley's was better than, well, death? What about children who were sent to Muggle families that didn't have a blood relation? Before she could protest, Dumbledore continued.

"I must say- this was a wonderful opportunity to further the cause of Muggleborns - how many of them, after all, are actually secret children of friends and neighbors in disguise? Perhaps if we can stop othering the children-" Professor Dumbledore broke off his conversation and glanced over to Dorathea. His thoughtful look vanished, to be replaced with the twinkly face of the kindly old grandfather.

"Forgive me, Harry. My ramblings escaped me." The headmaster leaned forward to fold his hands on his cluttered desk, "Now, many people will want to know about your supposed past. Divert the conversation when you can. Maintain the fiction of partial amnesia whenever people press for more detail. If your classmates continue to ask, as they may very well do in Ravenclaw, you may mention your time with your imaginary muggle family, But Harry-"

Here the Headmaster's bright blue eyes became sharp and direct. Dorathea fought the urge to squirm or look away.

"Harry, no more of this ridiculous story of abuse at the hands of the Muggles. They were kind, decent, hardworking people- who took you in and treated you as one of their own. If I hear another word about being forced to cook meals or sleep in a cupboard, I will be very disappointed. Understood?"

Dorathea, who had opened her mouth to protest, slowly shook her head. A thin line of anger ran up her spine and she twisted one of the chords around her wrist viciously. She hadn't made those things up. They had happened to Harry! Of everything she had told the Malfoy's they were the only ones that were true. But the Headmaster's expression booked no disagreement, so she clamped her mouth closed and said nothing.

"Also, I will be making an announcement at the feast, but if anyone asks Harry Potter is attending a special class abroad for the next few months."

. . . . . . . .

"Are you alright?"

Rather than have returned to the returning feast with the rest of the students, Theo had apparently set up camp outside the Headmaster's office. When the gargoyle stepped aside and Dorathea entered the hall, her brother scrambled to his feet.

"Yes- it's-" Dorathea broke off the beginning of her rant as Theo's eyes skated to the left. There, Professor Flitwick beamed up at her happily and Dorathea found that, once again, she had to close her mouth and swallow what she had been about to say.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Nott," the Charms professor said, "And an even greater pleasure to welcome you to Ravenclaw."

"The pleasure is all mine," Dorathea said flatly, sending a despairing look at Theo. Her brother shrugged a shoulder helplessly.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to escort you to Ravenclaw tower and show you your room. Right this way, Miss Nott!"

"But-" Dorathea started to protest. She didn't know what she was going to tell Theo about her conversation with the headmaster. After all, Theo didn't know Dorathea's real past or why Dumbledore's offhand comments were so infuriating. Actually, he didn't know the real reason why Dumbledore was meeting with her. Dumbledore, upon seeing them in front of the fireplace, had simply made some vague noises about welcoming their newest student officially.

Dorathea sighed. At Nott Keep, it had been easy to forget that she was, or had been, Harry Potter. At Hogwarts, without Theo, no one had raised any questions. But with Theo in school with her? Dorathea bit her lip and held her loom close to her chest.

What was she going to do now? What was Harry?

. . . . .

A/N: and the story rambles on. Your follows, favs, and reviews always make my day! Thank you so much!