Insert usual Disclaimer about not owning Harry Potter
Chapter Thirty-Four
In much the same way it had every year since her first year, September sped by in a flash leaving Heather with little recollection of individual events in its wake. What little free time she and her fellow seventh years had was filled to a breaking point by unrelenting and merciless professors assigning homework. On top of that, twice a week quidditch practices along with her private lessons with Slughorn neatly filled up what little time Heather had to spare. Outside the many windows of the castle, she watched as summer faded entirely into the cloudy grey that signaled the oncoming autumn. Long before anyone was ready for it, October arrived bringing with it unending days of rain.
Life at the castle had reached something approaching a routine, even if it could hardly be called a normal one. Everyone above fifth year was in a perpetual state of exhaustion, and it was mutually agreed among them that the younger students had far more energy than should be allowed. Heather hadn't felt this drained since her first week in the auror office, though at least this time she had far fewer bruises to contend with.
With Slughorn's help, Potions lessons had gone from her barely being able to decipher what he was saying as English to something she was actually beginning to grasp. Random pieces of information that had once been free floating in her mind were now forming themselves together in a way they never had before. She was able to answer questions correctly now when called on, and once her hand was in the air before Hermione's. For the first time, Potions was not her least favorite subject, and was even coming close to tying for first with Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Replacing Potions as her, and everyone else's, least favorite subject was Transfiguration. Maufe was certainly proving to be as cool as McGonagall was these days, which did not mix well with his exacting and high standards for coursework. Anything turned in that was short of perfection was dismissed out of hand. If the rumors going around were true, several of the younger students had even been seen fleeing the classroom in tears after receiving one of his stinging retorts. How long McGonagall would allow this to go on was anyone's guess, but so far she was either oblivious to her star pupil's methods or was actively ignoring it. To Heather's slight relief she had not yet been on the receiving end of Maufe's disappointment, but she feared that when they moved into the more complex subjects later this term that would change.
In the first week of term Heather had spent night after night trying to fall asleep in her four poster bed, caught between fits of nerves and fear of the dream. Now, however, she had trouble staying awake long enough to reach her dormitory in the evenings, and oftentimes found herself falling asleep in the library or the common room, and even once during the middle of a lesson. She was also finally sleeping fully through the night, her mind undisturbed by frightening images and cold corridors. Maybe it was because her head was so full of new information every night that there was simply no space left to conjure up new horrors. After all, bone numbing weariness had been enough during the summer to keep it at bay, or so she'd thought at the time.
In a fit of curiosity, she spent a few minutes while queuing up for class one afternoon trying to determine the reason. Rather than help her find an answer, all this accomplished was to pose more questions. Beyond the fact that she was tired, which in itself comprised most of her emotional spectrum these days, there was something else buried so deep down that she almost missed it. Past the strain, both physical and emotional, somewhere in the core of her being was a feeling of contentedness that she couldn't explain. It was as though something inside of her was happy with the path she was currently on. Just what that path was she had no idea, and no more time to try and decipher it.
She told Hermione none of this and Hermione in turn did not ask. Outwardly Heather was doing as well as anyone else in their year. It wasn't that she was trying to hide her feelings from her best friend, it was just, much as she felt about trying to examine the strange contentment, talking about her feelings might cause the damn to break. At the same time, Hermione hardly had any time to listen. Of all the seventh years she was, as always, the busiest. Heather gave up trying to figure out how she managed being Head Girl while keeping on top of her homework. Hermione had become a rare sight in the common room and was often absent patrolling the corridors or meeting with prefects from other houses. Even when she was physically present it was clear her mind was lost in other matters, particularly after her prefect meetings. Something she was hearing from the other houses was troubling her, but whenever Heather asked what was wrong, Hermione would bat the question away.
Heather suspected that she and Hermione were not the only ones keeping things to themselves either. Ginny, who most of September had been a common fixture in the common room outside of class hours and practices, was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Twice now she had even been late for quidditch practice, arriving at or just after start time. As her friend, and with Ginny being a former team captain herself, Heather allowed her perhaps a bit more leeway in being tardy than she would probably have given anyone else on the team. But when it happened for the third time, and this being twice in a row now, Heather's patience had run out and she decided to put her foot down.
She was standing in the tent, looking over a diagram of the pitch with little figures zooming this way and that while the rest of the team, minus Ginny, were getting ready for practice. Everyone was chatting in low tones, watching Heather with sideways looks. They all knew the reason their captain kept furtively checking her watch every time she thought no one was looking. Just as the clocktower in the distance chimed seven, the flap of the tent opened in a rush as Ginny pelted inside, clutching her broomstick and quidditch robes. "Sorry, sorry," she called breathlessly in Heather's general direction before starting to change. Heather took a beat before looking around. Her eyes found the back of Ginny's head and bored into it. Ginny in turn was looking anywhere but at her captain.
"Ginny?" she asked across the suddenly silent tent. "A word?"
Blushing furiously as Peakes, Coote, and Natalie broke out in low "oooohs," Ginny followed Heather from the tent, coming to a stop several feet away from the entrance. Even in the darkening autumn gloom Heather could see that Ginny was still refusing to meet her gaze.
"Ginny," she began, feeling more than a little testy that she was having to have this talk with Ginny of all people. "Look, I've given you some slack here, but I can't keep doing it. This is your third offence in two weeks," she explained with an edge in her voice.
"I know," Ginny replied, appearing contrite in the dim lighting. Her cheeks were still pink and she looked uncomfortable under her captain's stern gaze.
Heather arched an eyebrow and waited. When Ginny didn't follow up her acknowledgement, she coughed. "Ahem, that was your opportunity to give me some sort of reason or excuse."
"Erm," Ginny stammered, now definitely embarrassed. "It was sort of seeing someone."
Heather's other eyebrow skyrocketed to join its neighbor. The quidditch captain inside her wanted to continue berating Ginny for letting a date, if that's what it was, make her late for practice. On the other hand the part of her that was Ginny's friend was suddenly eager to know the identity of this mystery person. The desire to ask had almost overcome her irritation when her priorities readjusted themselves. "And that's your excuse for the last two times as well?" she asked sternly to cover her momentary hesitation.
Ginny nodded and Heather sighed. Ginny's desire to keep her date's name a secret only inflamed Heather's curiosity, but it would have to wait till after practice. Knowing that Ginny would be more reluctant to blab if she gave her an excessive chewing out now, Heather tempered her approach, but only slightly. It was certainly a fine line to walk between friend and captain. "Listen," she said, shifting to a softer voice. "You're basically my sister. You can't keep showing up late for practice late. It makes me look like I'm playing favorites to the rest of the team. They all look up to you, so I need you to tow the line and tell this guy, whoever he is," she added with a wink, "that you need to be here on time, got it?"
Something flashed in Ginny's expression that Heather barely caught. She was both embarrassed and a little grateful that Heather wasn't summarily booting her from the team for certain, but was there something else there? "I'm really sorry, Heather. It won't happen again," she mumbled.
Heather nodded and allowed a hint of the edge to return to her voice. That had been the friend talking, now it was time for the captain. "Prove it to me on the pitch tonight and be extra early for practice next time." With that she turned on her heel and led the way back to the tent. The rest of the team, who had clearly regained their seats the moment before Heather returned, did a poor job of hiding the fact that they'd been listening. It wouldn't be a bad thing for them to hear Ginny being told off Heather decided as she concluded her pre-practice strategizing.
As her lingering irritation with Ginny faded in the night air, Heather did have to admit that she was doing everything possible to make up for her infractions. It had been decided early on in practices that Ginny would handle coaching the chasers and working with Natalie, following Heather's overall strategies of course. This left Heather to spend her time on herself and working up the two beaters. A natural extension of this, Ginny had become something of a secondary captain in the eyes of the team, which was another reason Heather had been so annoyed with her.
Under Ginny's tutelage Rhys was shaping up nicely. As expected, he would never be as naturally agile as Ginny or Demelza, but even after only a few practices he was managing to keep up enough to bring his physicality into play. Demelza was as superb as ever, picking up on Ginny's intentions like it was second nature. Now that she was practicing against the chasers regularly and they were figuring out her moves, Natalie was having a harder time defending the goal but no one thought this was a bad thing. She was as natural a keeper as Oliver Wood had been, and might even be able to give him a run for his money in a year or two. She mostly did her own thing, taking the occasional note from Ginny but mostly needing little actual coaching.
Working closely with Peakes and Coote left Heather a lot of free reign to watch the entire practice without having to be overly focused on what everyone was doing specifically. Her beaters weren't spectacular, and were certainly not on the level Fred and George had played, but it turned out they didn't need to be. So long as they didn't get swept up in the emotions of the match and kept their heads on right, Heather had little doubt they'd play well enough to compliment the chasers. All in all, it was shaping up to be a good team, and Heather had to stop herself more than once from thinking they had the cup in the bag already.
The first match of Gryffindor's season would be against Slytherin in late November, which gave her the better part of two months to prepare. According to her latest reports, which she gathered from indirect rumors instead of dedicated spies, Slytherin was sticking with their usual team make up. Namely, brawn over brain. A few of the old Nimbus 2001's that Lucius Malfoy had provided years ago were still floating about, but if the reports were correct, they were in such poor shape that Heather doubted they'd provide any real advantage over Gryffindor. The only thing that really worried her was that there was no identity of Slytherin's new seeker. Without that, she had no real way of preparing other than a general brushing up on her favorite ploys.
"No, no!" Heather shouted suddenly, shaken from her thoughts as she watched Peakes swing at a passing bludger. "Aim for the chaser the quaffle is about to be thrown too, not the one throwing it! They'll be too busy watching for the pass to worry about incoming bludgers. Run it again!"
Peakes looked abashed and zoomed off to corral the errant bludger. A few moments later he was back in position a dozen feet above the chaser formation, who at a signal from Heather took off towards the goal post as though they were trying to score. Wham! Peakes let the bludger fly at the same instant the quaffle left Ginny's fingers bound for Rhys' outstretched hand. If Rhys hadn't been prepared and ready to instantly maneuver out of the way, it was likely that he would have woken up sometime next week in the Hospital Wing wondering what year it was. Instead, the round missile flew right through the space he had occupied only seconds before. The quaffle hung in the air, momentarily forgotten as Ginny tried to turn back for it, but Demelza, now playing the role of an opposing chaser, got there first. With a mad cackle of glee she was off, headed for Natalie's position at the other end of the pitch. To everyone's delight, she scored.
To ensure that both Peakes and Coote were well versed in the tactic, Heather had them run the play three more times each before calling an end to practice. "Good job everyone," she called as they descended to the ground. "Same time next Monday."
Once out of the changing tent and free of her responsibilities as team captain, Heather found her curiosity about Ginny's unknown friend overwhelming. She was hesitant to pursue the topic immediately however, wanting Ginny to broach it herself so that Heather could at least pretend she wasn't prying. To her frustration however, Ginny eagerly talked about anything other than her love life. It wasn't until they were approaching the portrait hole that Heather's patience finally snapped. "So," she said exasperatedly, unable to hide the grin that had been trying to force its way out for ten minutes now, "who is it?"
"Harmony," Ginny said to the Fat Lady, then to Heather in an extremely unconvincing attempt at a dodge, "What do you mean?"
Heather followed behind her as they climbed into the common room. As she did so she rolled her eyes at Ginny's back. "You know exactly what I mean," she said after straightening up. "You said you were…what's up, Hermione?" From a place near the fireplace Hermione had begun storming towards both of them the moment they had appeared. Her face was a blotchy red, full of an anger Heather had only ever seen once before on a frigid morning in the Forest of Dean.
"Go up to our dormitory and look. Ginny, you go too," Hermione spat by way of greeting. Her eyes were flashing dangerously around at the assembled crowd that Heather only just now realized was silently watching. A quick glance showed her that most if not all of Gryffindor was present in the common room, and they were all staring at her with rapt attention.
"Wha-" Heather stammered, momentarily at a loss.
"Just go, Heather. You'll understand when you see it," Hermione said curtly, pointing towards the girl's staircase.
Heather crossed the distance to the door in half a dozen paces and took the staircase two steps at a time. Ginny was hot on her heels, her wand drawn and ready for trouble. They passed other girls on the stairs who flattened themselves against the curved wall to let them pass, before several of them changed direction to follow. The door to the seventh year girl's dormitory was already ajar. Inside stood Pavarti, gazing around at a scene of total chaos as though unsure what to do.
The lid of Heather's trunk stood wide open with a blasted hinge. Similarly, the doors to her wardrobe had been flung open and the drawer in her bedside table was laying on the floor several feet away from its proper place. Clothes, underwear, books, school supplies, and anything else of Heather's were strewn everywhere, leaving hardly any empty floor visible beneath the mess. A few of her clothes were hung haphazardly from various pieces of furniture, apparently catching there in the wild abandon with which they had been thrown.
Carefully, Heather stepped over the threshold and approached her trunk for a better look. It was not empty, as it had appeared from the doorway. Sitting inside, neatly folded and contrasting starkly to the surrounding disaster, was a stack of Hogwarts robes. But they weren't hers, they were boy's uniforms.
The sight of the robes so clearly set there by whoever had done all of this was the last thing Heather saw clearly for some time. Her eyes clouded over with wet tears as an anger so intense her skin burned suffused her. It was lucky she hadn't drawn her wand or the entire tower might be on fire by now from accidental magic. Her fury at what she saw waged a silent war with her self-control and rocked her to her very core. From its place under the sleeve of her robe, her wand emitted a series of red sparks without being summoned, which fell harmlessly past Heather's shaking hand to vanish on the cluttered floor. Heather didn't need to turn to see what Ginny felt. Much like Heather, her hatred for whoever had done this was radiating outwards and blasting back off the walls like waves of heat. Heather soaked it in, allowing it to fuel her own anger for as long as it would last.
"Who did it?" she growled at last, still not taking her eyes off the offending robes.
"I…I don't know," Pavarti replied. Heather glanced around and saw her light brown skin had become paler than Heather had ever thought possible. "It was like that when I came back from dinner," Pavarti continued.
"It had to be a girl," Ginny supplied unnecessarily.
"Yes," Heather bit out, not trusting herself beyond single word replies to keep from misdirecting her anger at Ginny. Letting out a long sigh that did nothing to calm her, she bent down and began gathering up her many possessions, aided immediately by Ginny and Pavarti. At least nothing, other than her own uniforms, seemed to be missing. The vandals had overlooked the Marauder's map, probably believing it to just be old parchment. They had also left behind Neville's jacket for some reason. Even the Elder Wand, which she had been hiding deep in her truck, had been tossed aside where it rolled under her wardrobe.
Bending down to snatch it up, Heather cursed herself for not yet fulfilling her promise to Dumbledore's portrait. True, the wand was hers to do with what she wanted, but she did mean to return it. She hadn't tried to yet, fearing that in doing so she would be just as guilty as Riddle of desecrating the marble tomb and the body within. Neither Pavarti nor Ginny raised an eyebrow at the sight of the wand. This reassured Heather. She had no intention of telling anyone about the hallows. The secret would die with her, Hermione, and Ron.
By the time her trunk was repaired, packed, and locked, Heather's anger had abated enough to stop her from wantonly cursing people at random. The robes left behind by the vandals were laying in a discarded bundle out on the landing. The several onlookers to this whole affair had been forced to duck out of the way quickly when Heather had summarily banished them with her wand, and several had suddenly found they wanted to be anywhere else but there and did not return.
On her way back downstairs, followed by Ginny and Pavarti, Heather scooped them up and crumpled them into as tight a ball as possible. None of them bore any sort of nametag or identifying mark beyond the scarlet trim of Gryffindor. From the looks of it they were either brand new or extremely well cared for, beyond the usual care that the average Hogwarts student took with their uniforms.
Emerging from the staircase, Heather found that no one had moved except Hermione, who was now standing in a small group comprised of herself, Neville, and Hagrid. They were conferring in quiet tones, with Hagrid bent almost double so that he could catch what the other two were saying. All around them other students were not even bothering with trying to hide the fact that they were listening in.
"Right," Heather caught Hagrid grunt when she got close enough. "Oh there yeh are, Heather. Hermione was jus' tellin' me 'bout what happened."
"Did you find everything?" Hermione asked as Heather inserted herself into their midst along with Ginny. Pavarti stopped a short distance back, looking unsure if she needed to include herself.
"Yes," Heather growled, sensing the eyes of the entire common room on her. "Everything was there," she continued, laying particular emphasis on the word, hoping Hermione would understand. Presumably she had been worried about the Elder Wand as well, knowing Hermione's talent for considering all the angles of a situation faster than Heather usually could.
"Well, almost everything," Heather said suddenly, dumping the armful of clothing onto the rug at their feet.
"Do we know who did it?" Hagrid asked seriously, gazing down at the robes. He received four shaking heads in reply.
As casually as she could, which was not easy when she was the center of attention, Heather tried to take in the entire crowd to pinpoint anyone looking suspicious. Most of the faces she saw held open curiosity that on first glance appeared innocent enough. She doubted that this was a massive operation, it had all the hallmarks of being carried out by only a handful of overly cruel individuals. Every now and then she saw someone smirking, but never with enough venom in the expression to warrant her wrath. She had almost given up when she found what she was looking for. Not far from the portrait hole, leaning against the wall almost too casually, was a knot of girls who were all sneering at her with malicious triumph.
These were the culprits, there was no doubt in her mind. They weren't even bothering to hide it from her. She wasn't surprised to see Romilda and her two cronies among them, but not in the central position she would expect. Instead Romilda almost appeared to be on the periphery of the group. Still, she was certain that Romilda had something to do with it. The fire inside her, which instantly blazed into light again, thought this was very brave of them, to openly reveal their guilt to her. No, not brave. Foolish. How easy it would be to take them out. She could probably have half of them on the floor before the first wand was raised against her.
"Wait," Hermione said quietly, following Heather's gaze and resting a hand on Heather's wand arm before she could act.
"It's them," Heather bit out, locking eyes with Romilda and daring her to even bat an eyelash. The rest of the crowd had picked up on who Heather was gazing so venomously at and most of those watching who found themselves between Heather and the group quickly found another place to stand. Many regarded the girls angrily, moving to stand near Heather. A few others, mostly girls, rose to join the group and glower. Silently, Heather memorized every single face.
"Yeh sure, Heather?" asked Hagrid warily. He was probably wondering what he'd do if the situation turned violent, which if Heather had her way at the moment, it would.
"It's them." Heather confirmed. "I've already had a run in with them." She let Hermione and Neville explain about the night before term began. After silence had fallen again, she called out in a loud voice, "looks like they found their courage again." Several of the girls, it was hard not to think of them as targets, blushed furiously and emitted low hisses. The girl who had barred her way that night even dared extracting her wand from her robes.
"But, can yeh prove it?" Hagrid asked, seeing this and interposing his enormous bulk between Heather and the girls. "I mean, they look like a right pack o' harpies from here, but…"
"But what, Hagrid," Ginny spat, rounding on him.
Now Hermione was between Ginny and Hagrid. "Don't, Ginny. And don't take it out on Hagrid. He's right," she looked apologetically at Heather. "Unless we can prove that they did it there isn't much we can do."
"But we know they did it," fumed Ginny.
"Too bad they aren't brave enough to admit it," Heather barked, trying and failing to look around Hagrid to see if her taunt had had any effect.
Hagrid turned, still blocking Heather's view, and coughed loudly. "A'right," he addressed the common room loudly. "You lot listen up! Anyone who knows anything about this, come forward now."
No one moved so much as an inch. Heather hadn't really expected them too. There were nervous glances exchanged between friends while everyone waited to see what would happen. When it finally sank in that no one was going to rat them out, the group of girls began smirking in triumph again. Hagrid sighed and looked down at Heather sorrowfully. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
Heather barely heard him. All the anger and resentment that had been building up within her since returning to Hogwarts pressed at her self control, taxing its limits to the extreme. Her wand was in her hand, though when it had gotten there she had no idea. Finally, something snapped. In less time than it took to blink, she sidestepped Hagrid, her arm shooting straight out in front of her, aiming her holly wand directly at the group of girls. "Furnunculus! Locomotor Wibbly! Melofors! Denso-" She was halfway through her next hex when a pair of strong arms encircled her, pinning her wand to her side and lifting her bodily from the floor. Hagrid's beard was scratching her neck through her hair as he restrained her. She didn't bother struggling, it was impossible to break the giant's grip and she was too tired to try anyway.
In fact, she was too interested in seeing the results of her spells to worry all that much about what was going on around her. Even without taking careful aim at individual targets, all three of the spells she'd managed to get off had hit home, each on a different victim. One of Romilda's flunkies was wobbling around on unsteady legs. Trying desperately to stay upright, she grabbed tightly to the robes of the girl next to her, who was too busy screaming about the violent pimples breaking out across her face to notice. Both of them fell into a crumpled heap on the floor and were lost to view. Heather's favorite result however was the spell that had impacted on the girl who had blocked her way to the dormitories the first night back. Her head was now encased in a giant pumpkin. She tottered this way and that as the weight of it keeping her from maintaining her balance. Several of her friends tried to take hold of the pumpkin in an attempt to yank it off her head, with the end result of her being pulled in several different directions at once.
"Yeh shouldn't have done that," Hagrid said to Heather over the outburst of howling laughter and screams that filled the common room. From somewhere out of sight Heather could hear Ginny cursing and spitting at whoever had kept her from joining in the attack, presumably Hermione and Neville. When he appeared convinced that Heather wouldn't lash out again, Hagrid released her and waded off towards the still shrieking girls to do what he could to help. Someone had been kind enough to reverse the jinx on the first girl's legs, but no one appeared able or willing to assist the other two. Carefully they were led out of the tower for the Hospital Wing. Once they were gone, Hagrid lumbered back over and stared down at Heather with a dour look. "Come on, yer gonna have teh explain to the Headmistress about this."
Heather shrugged. She didn't care about anything right now other than the fact that she had finally gotten back at someone. True she would probably lose house points and get detention, but she doubted that this would warrant expulsion. Besides, whatever McGonagall would do, there was no way it could dull the sense of righteous satisfaction coursing through her.
Professor McGonagall was still dressed in her usual green robes when Hagrid knocked and escorted Heather inside. The Headmistress was not surprised to see them. Before either Heather or Hagrid could explain their presence, she held up a hand. "I have already heard that two Gryffindor girls are in the Hospital Wing being seen by Madam Pomfrey. They both claim that they were attacked by you, Potter, for no reason at all. While I do not doubt that their various symptoms are the result of your handiwork, I would hardly characterize you as someone who attacks without some provocation. Explain."
In a steady voice lacking any sympathy or remorse, Heather laid out what had happened since her return from practice.
"And so, you felt that the matter was one to take into your own hands, rather than allow Hagrid or myself to get to the bottom of it?" McGonagall asked, arching an eyebrow.
Biting back a retort that they weren't going to do anything without proof, Heather said "I stand by my actions, Professor."
"Indeed," Professor McGonagall replied sternly. "Thirty points from Gryffindor, Miss Potter. In addition, you will have one week's detention for this. I cannot condone students taking matters like this into their own hands."
Despite being prepared for such a punishment, Heather still had to stop herself from arguing. Only after restraining herself did she carefully ask, "And…what about whoever did this to my trunk?"
"They will be found out and dealt with," Professor McGonagall replied briskly. "Until then, I would remind you that any further attempts on your part to retaliate will be handled seriously, Potter. Is that understood?" Heather glowered at the Headmistress and gave a curt nod. "Very well. Hagrid, I will ask that you escort Miss Potter back to Gryffindor Tower. Potter, I will be in touch regarding your detentions."
The Common room was markedly empty when Heather returned. Feeling slightly put out that no one was waiting for her, Heather climbed the stairs to her dormitory and found Ginny, Hermione, and Pavarti working on something that had been spread across Hermione's bed. Moving closer, Heather saw that someone had retrieved the boy's robes from where she had dumped them and they were being transfigured into replacements for her missing uniforms.
"It's not right," Hermione said, catching sight of Heather and moving aside so her work could be inspected. "But it's the best we're going to be able to do until your clothes turn up."
"Thanks, Hermione. That's great," Heather replied in a deadpan, not caring enough to really listen. Together they moved her replacement robes into her trunk and securely locked it.
"What did McGonagall have to say?" asked Ginny.
Heather felt another surge of irritation wash over her. "She took points from Gryffindor and gave me detention." She didn't know what was worse on her nerves right now, Ginny's immediate hiss at this or Hermione's look of "well what did you expect?" Now sitting here, in this last place she was supposed to be safe, did her anger finally die as an icy wind blew it out.
"What do we do now?" Ginny asked, staring avidly at Hermione.
"We do as much as we can," Hermione replied firmly. "First, Heather you need to keep your trunk locked from now on."
Heather spared her a scathing glance that lacked any real ire. "I was already going to do that. But a lock isn't going to stop anyone who knows Alohamora."
"I know," Hermione said soothingly, trying hard to keep her voice level. "But that isn't all we're going to do. I have a few ideas that should make anyone regret a second attempt at messing with your belongings."
Ginny looked at Hermione. "Like what?"
Smiling crookedly, Hermione replied, "Well for starters, I've charmed your trunk so that if anyone who isn't you opens it, they'll be clearly identifiable."
"Is it gonna write 'sneak' across their face permanently too?" Heather asked, now mildly interested.
Stifling a self-satisfied smirk, Hermione said, "No. But it is going to spray them with stinksap that's been enchanted to not clear off for hours. It will also alert this old DA coin if it goes off." She extracted a gold coin from her trunk and tossed it to Heather.
"I can't believe you still had this," Heather said, straightening up and gazing down at the fake galleon. "I think I lost mine ages ago." She vaguely remembered chucking it after her breakup with Justin in sixth year.
Hermione laughed. "It's not mine, it's Neville's. He and I came up with the idea while we were waiting for you to come down to the common room earlier."
Purposely not making eye contact with anyone else in the room and vividly remembering being smothered in the foul ooze, Heather asked, "And I guess that means the stinksap was his idea as well?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, it was. He said he used it last year as a trap for one of the Carrows and promised it works."
"Brilliant," Heather replied, laying back down on her bed. "Listen," she said absently as the last of her strength bled away, "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll just go to bed." No one argued at this sudden end to the conversation, but Hermione and Ginny shared a quiet concerned look after Heather slid the curtains around her bed closed.
Inside her four-poster, Heather warded them against noise, already fearing that the dream's return was inevitable. She tried to get comfortable, but no matter how she lay her body objected to the soft coziness of her mattress. She didn't trust herself to sleep. If she slept, it wouldn't be long before she was fleeing down that blasted corridor. The darkness was gnawing at her just laying here, so what was the point in running away.
Running. Yes, that's what she should do. A spark ignited in her chest, one that continued to grow the more she thought about the faces of each person responsible for tonight. Her dormitory had been the only safe place she'd had left in the castle, barring Lavender's objections to her presence there which by now was more of a dull ache than an active hatred. That safety had now been shattered, stolen from her just like her robes had been. Worse, her vulnerability had been laid bare for the entire house to see. Heather Potter, the Girl who Lived, The Chosen One, was nothing more than a helpless weakling. There was nothing she could do to stop them, and now there wasn't anywhere…
She sat bolt upright, her head swooning at the sudden movement. How could she be so stupid? Of course there was a place she could go, a place she could design specifically to keep anyone, everyone, out. A room where maybe, if she was very, very lucky, she could finally escape.
Carefully, doing her best to make as little noise as possible, Heather crept from her bed and opened her newly repaired trunk. From it she extracted a sweater, her invisibility cloak, and the map. The sounds of her sleeping roommates filtered out from behind their own curtains. She had been lying there far longer than she had realized. After donning the sweater and her cloak, and after checking that there was no reaction to her movements, she slid silently from through the door.
It was a simple task to sneak down the staircase and out of the common room. She had done this so many times that it was almost second nature. Nothing stirred, not even the Fat Lady woke as her portrait swung shut in Heather's invisible wake. She raced along the seventh-floor corridor, abandoning stealth now that she was free of Gryffindor Tower, forgetting even to check the map to ensure the coast was clear. Not until she reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy did she stop.
Ignoring everything else and thinking only of summoning the hidden doorway, she began to pace back and forth in front of the apparently blank wall opposite the tapestry. "I need a place to hide, I need a place to hide, I need a place to hide," she repeated over and over again until her third pass was complete. Then, holding her breath, she turned and looked at the wall. There was no door, no entrance to the Room of Requirement. Instead, a large, jagged crack had appeared, slicing through the stone wall from floor to ceiling exactly where the door had once stood.
Perturbed but still determined, Heather set to pacing again. She was sure that the room would reveal itself to her, she just need to try harder. "I need a place to hide," she said aloud as she came to another stop, eagerly whipping around. Again, all there was to see was the fissure in the stone. She felt like even the Room seemed determined to mock her.
"It won't open," a quiet voice said from a short distance away. Heather didn't jump even though she hadn't been aware of Hermione's presence until her she had spoken. It was no surprise really that she'd been followed. Hermione had an annoying talent for being able to correctly predict her movements.
"The room's been destroyed, hasn't it," Heather replied woodenly, reaching out to run a hand along the crack and feeling the cold stone beneath her fingers. The hood of the cloak fell away, giving Hermione the somewhat disturbing view of Heather's disembodied arm and head floating in midair.
She moved forward, stopping at Heather's side. "I…I think so. That fiendfyre would have destroyed the castle if it had gotten loose. I think it took every bit of whatever magic protected the Room to contain it, most likely at the cost of the Room itself."
"When did you figure that out?" Heather asked without really caring about the answer. It wasn't going to change the way she felt.
"First week back," Hermione said without further explanation until Heather looked at her. Flushing pink, Hermione continued, "I wanted to see if I could find the diadem. I…I mean," she stammered under Heather's stare of incredulity, "It is a valuable historical artifact regardless of what Riddle did to it."
Heather almost laughed. It stopped halfway up her throat, which clamped tightly around it. A cold wind extinguished the amusement she felt at her best friend's obsession with such things before it could grow beyond a spark. She raised the cloak and gestured Hermione to join her.
"You…you can't keep running, Heather," Hermione said quietly. "And you can't hide from the world anymore."
"Well, that's that," Heather said, not wanting to discuss anything else right now. She gave the crack in the wall, her last hope for safety, before turning back the way she came. "Come on," she sighed, holding open the cloak for Hermione to duck under. "Let's get back to bed. It won't do for the Head Girl to get caught out after curfew."
As she had expected, the dream did return that night. The wards Heather had placed earlier had not been recast when she returned. So when her first scream split the air, her roommates were shaken awake. Immediately Hermione silenced the noise and sent the other girls back to bed. They now knew that Heather Potter was suffering from nightmares, but at least the rest of the tower would not. Heather, however, did not stir. She was locked in a torment it felt like she would never escape.