Harry Potter and the Wizarding world belong to JK Rowling.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ministry announces massive victory against remaining Death Eaters

In a statement today from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, it was announced that in a raid on St. Oswald's Home for Old Witches and Wizards in Upper Flagley, Ministry Aurors and Hit Wizards captured or killed close to forty supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who have been, until now, still at large. Says Chief Auror Gawain Robards, "We managed to achieve complete surprise, and were able to ensure that none of the residents of the home were injured."

Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt added later that, "With this victory, I can firmly assure the public that the war is finally over." Many say that this couldn't have come at a better time, with continued calls for the Minister's resignation now being received daily by the Ministry. Shacklebolt went on to promise increased security at St. Oswald's moving forward.

"What a load of crap," scoffed Heather, closing the paper with a disgusted flourish.

"Well, what else could he say?" asked Ron across the Burrow's kitchen table. "He can't very well announce that we won probably the biggest battle of the war, after Hogwarts that is, and not say the war's over."

"Ron's right," agreed Mr. Weasley, who had also read the article before Heather. "I don't like it either," he said quickly, raising a hand to waylay Heather's indignant reply, "but Kingsley hasn't been a popular Minister, not with the wizarding public. Too many people think he was wrong to even give the death eaters trials, not to mention…what's come to light because of them." Heather let the casual mention of her testimony go unchallenged.

"Yeah," she said, "but all declaring peace does is make it easier for any death eaters that are left to operate unopposed." She had been running Mulciber's last words round and round her head for days now, trying to make sense of them. No matter what anyone else thought, she wasn't ready to say the war was over.

"Mate," Ron said cautiously, "You're beginning to sound a lot like Mad-Eye."

A tap on the window forestalled what Heather was working up the nerve to say. A handsome tawny owl was perched on the sill, staring beadily into the kitchen. Ginny, who was closest to the window, fetched what it was carrying. "Letters," she announced, separating one of the three envelopes while handing the other two to Heather and Ron. Each was identical and made of thick yellow parchment. On the front of the envelope, in familiar green ink, was the address.

Miss H. Potter

The Burrow

Heather ripped the seal and extracted the letter inside.

Dear Miss Potter,

When we last spoke, you were unsure as to whether you will be returning to Hogwarts for your seventh year. As we are now more than halfway through the summer, would you kindly inform us as to your intentions regarding the completion of your education. We await your owl.

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress

She looked up. Ron and Ginny had also finished reading their letters. Mrs. Weasley, who was reading Ginny's over her shoulder, looked now at her daughter. "Well of course you're all going to finish school," she said in a carefree tone as though there was any other option. "Ron, you're going back to school, right? Heather?" she added when no one had said anything.

"Fat chance." Ron snorted, crumpling up the letter and shoving it in a pocket.

"Ron," Mr. Weasley said sternly.

"What?" Ron said, "It's not like I need to go back. Already got the job I want, don't I? What's school going to teach me that it hasn't already."

Mrs. Weasley looked like she was going to argue, but her husband shook her head at him silently. Instead, she turned to Heather. "And you, Heather dear? Aren't you going back?"
Heather tried to avoid looking at either her or Ron, or Ginny for that matter. All of a sudden, she felt very much put on the spot. Ginny was looking at her curiously, while Ron barely managed to hide a face full of concern. She knew he was thinking about what had happened in the basement of St. Oswald's, even if he hadn't said anything about it to her since. It wasn't as though she wanted to talk about it either, but by not doing so felt like there was a large knife hanging over both of them, waiting to drop.

"Well," Heather temporized, "I'm not really sure."

"If you ask me," Mrs. Weasley pressed, "I think you should. There's nothing wrong with finishing your education. The Aurors will still be there in a year."

"Molly," Mr. Weasley interjected when it looked like Ron was going to say something, "They're of age now. They've got to decide for themselves."

Looking to get out of further badgering on the subject, Heather excused herself from the table and went into the living room. It was blessedly empty. She collapsed in her favorite armchair and reread the letter, trying not to figure out exactly what she was feeling. To a small degree, she was disappointed. Not that Hogwarts had reached out, but that it hadn't been the letter she was waiting on. In an effort to face her problems after Ginny's intervention, she had sat down and written out a long letter to Dennis Creevey, trying her best to not only apologize for what she had done, but also try and explain. He hadn't replied, and more and more Heather doubted he ever would, but her heart still jumped whenever an owl arrived.

And now here was Hogwarts, asking her once again to choose whether the Ministry was her future or not. Before the night at St. Oswald's, there hadn't been a doubt in her mind that she wanted to be an auror. In fact, she might have even gone so far as to say she was meant to be an auror. But how could she still think that after almost collapsing during her first battle. She didn't even know what caused it. And why in the world had she been searching for Dumbledore?

"You just have to get stronger," she told herself quietly. It was weakness of some sort, that was the only conclusion she had been able to reach for what had happened. Somehow, since the end of the war, she had lost some strength, some nerve she used to possess, and all she needed to do was get it back. Shifting in the chair, she felt her muscles groan with lingering aches.

Her shifts since the raid had felt excruciating long. Everywhere she went in the office, her ears were pricked for the sound of her name. She was constantly on the lookout for signs that anyone had seen her collapse and she was never comfortable being in the same room as Proudfoot. Maybe she was seeing things, but it felt like he was watching her more than normal. Honeywell hadn't said anything about it yet, but then, she had been at the forefront of the fight driving the death eaters back. Honeywell was what an auror should be, she hadn't been lying on the floor while her comrades were dying all around her. Heather shook herself out of that thought. She'd be that auror too, she just needed to get stronger. The arrival of Ginny and Mr. Weasley in the sitting room made Heather push these feelings to the back of her mind until she and Ron managed to escape the Burrow and return to London. The last thing she needed was Ginny to notice something was off and force the issue.

Seamus, Luna, and Susan had received similar letters it turned out. Both girls had already chosen to return to school, but Seamus hadn't decided. "Mum's gonna go ballistic if I don't go back," he moaned over dinner. "What about you two?"

"Like I told my mum, fat chance." Ron replied. Heather said nothing, and eventually the subject shifted to quidditch. That night in her bedroom, she set the letter on her dresser and stared at it, wondering what to do. Before going to bed, she locked it in her jewelry box, thinking that if she couldn't see it then she didn't need to face it. Not yet anyway.

July was passing quickly, much quicker than Heather realized. For her, time felt like it was dragging. She knew people were whispering behind her back now at the Ministry, and more than once she noticed people stop talking when they caught sight of her. She had taken to spending almost her entire shift in the practice room, dueling dummies or anyone who was looking to spar. There was little else to do really, what with everyone starting to really believe that the war was over. "Potter, you need to take a step back," Honeywell had told her after she had almost collapsed, but Heather hadn't listened. She couldn't get stronger if she didn't keep pushing herself.

Before she knew it, the week before her birthday arrived. She had come back to the Burrow for a few days, looking to get away from the noise and mess of Grimmauld Place, and to give Ginny a break from only having her mother for company. Heather was happy Grimmauld Place was being used, and knew that if Sirius could see it, he'd be thrilled. Still, the chaos did get to be a bit much sometimes. Added to that, if she stayed away too long, Ginny would start getting at her about avoiding them.

"Heather, dear," Mrs. Weasley said at dinner. "I was wondering what you'd like to do for your birthday."

"Oh, you don't need to do anything special," Heather said quickly. "Really, Mrs. Weasley. I don't want any bother."

"It's just that, after the… events of your party last year, not to mention it being overshadowed by the wedding, I think we should do something a bit special. Not to mention, this is your first birthday as yourself." Heather tried to find another argument to dissuade Mrs. Weasley. The last thing she wanted was to be surrounded by people.

"What if we did something small, just us, Bill and Fleur, your friends at Grimmauld Place?" Mrs. Weasley suggested kindly when Heather didn't respond.

"Err, I guess that would be alright." Heather agreed. "Can we invite Andromeda and Teddy, oh and Hagrid?"

Mrs. Weasley beamed. "Of course, we can, dear. It's your birthday after all. We can invite anyone you want."

"Don't worry," Ginny winked at her as they climbed the stairs to their bedrooms later that night. "I'm planning your real party with Katie." Something about that did not sound entirely innocent to Heather.

The decision whether to return to Hogwarts or not may have been one that Heather was willing to put off, but Minerva McGonagall was not. The very next day another letter arrived at the Burrow for Heather, summoning her imperiously to for a meeting with the Headmistress that Friday at one o'clock.

"Someone's in trouble," prodded Ginny when she read the letter.

"She probably just wants to get your answer," Mrs. Weasley suggested, though she too looked nervous.

Getting the afternoon off to go to Hogwarts was easy enough. Even with Mulciber's last words being picked over by the entire office, an air of relaxation had pervaded the Ministry. With time passing without Yaxley showing his head and the two other known death eater groups going to ground, more and more of the DMLE were beginning to think it was nothing but an idle threat. Others put far too much stock in what they read in the newspaper. Either way, it made Heather uncomfortable, but then again, so did almost everything right now.

"Go on, have a pint at the Three Broomsticks," Honeywell had suggested when Heather asked for the time off. "You need to relax."

Heather apparated from the Atrium directly to the Hogsmeade High Street, intending to use the walk up to the castle to trying and finally work out a decision. The village felt empty without the throngs of Hogwarts students visiting shops or the pub. Madam Rosmerta, the local barmaid, waved to her from behind the thick windows as she passed.

Heather followed the lane towards the school's boundary walls, inspecting the castle gleaming in the summer sunshine. Any sign that there had been a battle here to decide the fate of the wizarding world had been wiped away. The walls and towers had been patched, the windows repaired, and the oak front doors once again hung on their hinges. Only the odd patches of grass here and there where fresh blades were filling in the scorched earth gave any indication of what had transpired. The gates, flanked as always by two winged boars, opened for her as she approached. Heather took this as a good sign and passed into the grounds. Hagrid's hut stood once more by the edge of the forest, but there was no sign of the gamekeeper or Fang.

As she strode passed the lake, Heather saw the white tomb of Dumbledore. She felt a shudder run up her spine at the sight. In a locked box buried in the bottom of her wardrobe at Grimmauld Place still lay the Elder Wand. She still intended to return it, but there just hadn't been time. She took a few halting steps towards the marble slab before stopping. No, Dumbledore was dead, just like he had been for over a year. There was no more wisdom she could receive there, and even if there was, did she really want to hear it?

"My gracious, Potter!" cried Horace Slughorn as she crossed the empty Entrance Hall. He had just emerged from the door leading down to his classroom carrying an armful of empty potion vials.

"Hello, Professor Slughorn," she replied amiably.

"My dear, you are no longer my student. Please, call me Horace." He said with a slight, clinking bow. "What brings you here today?"

"Meeting with Professor McGonagall." Heather said as they started to climb the Marble Staircase.

"Ahh, of course, of course. To decide if you intend to return to us or not?" Slughorn asked knowledgeably.

"Right. I take it that means you're staying on to teach?" Heather asked.

Slughorn eyed her curiously. "Oh of course, what I said to Dumbledore so long ago. Well as it turns out, I did rather miss teaching after all. So many young minds to mold and…" he paused, "It helps to feel as though I am doing some good, you know, to make up for things." He said softly.

"There's nothing you need to make up for, Professor." Heather said. "Riddle had everyone fooled."

"Indeed, indeed." Slughorn replied, returning to his boisterous self as though nothing had happened. "I will say, if you don't mind me doing so, that I do miss my star potions pupil. So very much like your mother, and now that is more clear than ever before."

Heather stopped, debating. After all, Slughorn had just revealed something deeply personal to her. Wasn't it right to come clean about it now. She had stopped walking without realizing it, and Slughorn was looking back at her with a puzzled expression. "Err, Professor, about that."

"Yes, m'dear?"

She caught up to him in a few strides. "You remember how you loaned me a textbook at the beginning of my sixth year?"

"Of course, of course. It's not the first time such a thing has happened, but what about it?" Slughorn asked.

"Well, it turned out that was Snape's old textbook, and he… he had modified almost all of the recipes in it."

Slughorn furrowed his brow. "And you were using these…modified recipes?" he inquired.

"Yes," Heather said hesitantly. For a moment she thought he was going to be angry.

To her surprise, he chortled and shook his head. "Why didn't I see it before. Potter, Potter, Potter. I dare say you have some nerve, boy. I mean, my dear." He made a little bow and almost spilled the vials from his arms. "If you were still a pupil here I would have you brought before the Headmistress. As it is," he shrugged. "It's all water under the bridge, as they say."

"So, you aren't angry?" Heather asked.

"Of course not," insisted Slughorn. They had reached his office and Heather opened the door for him. "By the by, whatever happened to that book?" he asked.

"Destroyed."

"Ahh well, probably for the best. Well, Heather, I do hope you return to us. It would be nice to have you as a student again." With that he closed the door with a foot, leaving Heather standing in the corridor. Shaking her head and knowing exactly why Slughorn wanted her under his eye again, she strode off towards a concealed staircase that would get her closer to the Headmistress's office.

The stone gargoyle stared at her when she reached it. "Tartan" she said loudly, hoping it was still the password. The statue moved aside, revealing the staircase. Professor McGonagall had taken the time to redecorate, Heather noticed when she opened the door. Instead of Dumbledore's tables of whirring and clicking devices, there were now comfortable armchairs and linen covered tables. The portraits hadn't changed, and Dumbledore beamed down at her from above McGonagall's desk. Heather furrowed her brow. Snape's portrait was still absent

Minerva McGonagall looked the same as ever, though she was far more put together than she had been the last time Heather had been in this office. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and she was wearing emerald, green robes. "Potter, welcome back." she said, rising from behind the large desk and sweeping around it, gesturing towards one of the armchairs.

"Professor," Heather said quickly, "before we get into why you called me here, why isn't Snape's portrait on the wall?"

"Snape? I should think that would be obvious," Professor McGonagall replied, taken aback.

Heather looked at her puzzled. "But he was on our side the whole time."

"So he claimed for many years, though I am surprised to hear you say so. Be that as it may, I see no reason for Severus Snape to grace the walls of my office with his presence." Professor McGonagall said dismissively. She had settled into a chair and gestured again for Heather to take one.

Heather shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "Professor," she began slowly. "He was telling the truth. I was never fond of Snape, but he was on our side."

"As I have been telling you for weeks now, Minerva," added the portrait of Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall pointedly ignored him.

"See, even Dumbledore agrees." Heather pressed.

Professor McGonagall looked at her sharply and raised her chin defiantly. "Regardless. Severus Snape is not why I called you here today. Sit, please." Fighting down irritation, Heather obeyed. "Miss Potter. I know that you received my letter asking you to return to school. You are the only former student not to have replied. Even Miss Granger has managed to get word to me from Australia. So, I would like your answer if you please."

"Hermione's written you?" asked Heather, shock driving away her anger. She hadn't had a single letter from her friend all summer.

"Yes. It will be no surprise to you that she will be returning to sit her final year." Professor McGonagall said. "So, the time has come for you to give me your answer. Will you be returning to school?"

The time had come to answer, and Heather still didn't have one. Under Professor McGonagall's stern gaze, she tried to conclude the argument that had plagued her weeks. Could she just walk away from the Ministry like that? Wouldn't she be thought of as a coward, especially if word of her breakdown got out. Besides, how was she ever going to get strong enough to fight again if she quit now? Going back to school was admitting defeat, wasn't it?

"No, Professor. I won't be returning," she said finally.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips tightly. "I see. Well, Miss Potter, I do wish you well. If there is anything we here at Hogwarts can do to assist the Auror Office, please let us know."

It was a dismissal, not a rude or hostile one, but a dismissal all the same. Heather rose and left the office, wondering like she did so often now whether or not she had just made a huge mistake. As she lay in her bed at Grimmauld Place that night, she found herself sprinting down a stone corridor. Behind swarmed a blackness that swallowed up everything, and she knew that if it caught her, she would never be able to escape it.