Author's notes: Hello again and thank you for your patience as I get the last of this story written and published. Before you get to reading, I hope you won't mind a brief re-introduction, for lack of a better word. As I progressed with writing this second half of After the War, I kept feeling like it was its own 'book' rather than the continuation of a single story. In the last chapters of 'Part One,' we saw most of the summer's plotlines come to an end, and many of the side characters fade away. Now Heather is off to school for the last time. There she will encounter old friends, new rivals, and the rigors of facing her new life in the closed knit community that is Hogwarts.
Rather than publish this 'Part Two' as its own story, I chose to follow in the footsteps of J.R.R. Tolkien, whose six-book series The Lord of the Rings was published as three volumes, each of which contained two books. It is with that in mind that I ask you to consider this chapter, and what follows, as the second book of After the War, published as a duology with its predecessor. Thank you again for reading!
Harry Potter and all associated everything belongs to JK Rowling
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The final weeks of summer seemed to pass in a flash. While Heather was not exactly dreading her return to Hogwarts, thinking about the upcoming term left her uncertain, as though some feeling, more unknown than unpleasant, kept her from looking forward to it. Both she and Ginny were of the same opinion that school could wait for as long as it would while they, and Hermione, enjoyed their last stretch of freedom.
Despite this desire, Hogwarts and her studies dominated much of Heather's time. In an attempt to get back into practice and a scholarly mindset, she joined Hermione daily for long hours of reading through their old textbooks, trying desperately to relearn everything that they had forgotten during the previous year's events. Even through the multiple headaches that these sessions always seemed to induce, Heather had to admit that by their last evening before they were due to return to the castle she did feel somewhat confident about most of her subjects.
The exception to this was Potions. Even before taking a year off from school, she had never held much aptitude or had a good deal of luck in the subject. Inwardly she blamed Snape for this, remembering the long hours of near torture in his dungeon classroom as he had done everything in his power to torment her, along with anyone else who wasn't a Slytherin. It was only due to Snape's inadvertent assistance during her sixth year that she had managed to fake doing better, rather than a blossoming ability of her own in the subject. Even after so much time she still hesitated to voice her unease to Hermione regarding this, remembering all too well her word for Heather's marks that year, cheating. Instead, she silently waded through Advanced Potion Making, trying her best to make heads or tails of it unaided. It was perhaps this that was the greatest cause of her headaches.
When these study sessions became too much for her, she and Ginny, who felt no need to waste her time on schoolwork, took to the sky in the orchard on their broomsticks, readying themselves for the upcoming quidditch season. Watching Ginny fly, Heather privately doubted that she would fail to secure her old spot as one of Gryffindor's three chasers on team. She was almost as natural a flier as Heather was herself, and had more than enough confidence in herself and her abilities to make the most of it. It hadn't surprised Heather in the slightest when Ginny let slip she was thinking of trying to go pro after Hogwarts, and there was little doubt that she would make that dream a reality.
Even after having her new, to her, Nimbus 2000 for several weeks now, Heather still felt a rush of admiration for the broomstick every time she mounted it. Any fears she might have had at purchasing such a relatively older broom faded as she reacquainted herself with its tendencies and quirks. Much of her delight in it stemmed from the fact that she still had to actually try in order to outfly Ginny on her Cleansweep Eleven, quickly breaking out in a tense sweat of exertion. She still won more matches than she lost, but never were her victories more than a hairs breadth away from defeat.
This, perhaps even more than the reassurance that Hermione's return had brought her, was what allowed her mind to remain free of the darkness that still lingered at the edges of her consciousness and swept inwards to engulf her when she stopped occupying herself enough to ignore it. The dream had left her once again, its presence not missed in the slightest even if she did still ponder at what this phantom vision of herself wanted.
At long last, whether any of them wanted it to or not, the morning of the first of September dawned bright and clear in the sky over the Burrow. Hermione was the first of the three girls down to breakfast, Heather saw as she pulled herself from her bed and crept bleary eyed down to the kitchen. Hermione was already dressed and ready to go, her Head Girl badge pinned prominently on the front of her jacket had to stifle a smirk, not risking voicing her mental comparison between her friend and Percy Weasley. Ginny arrived a few minutes later after enough of the tantalizing smells of food had wafted their way up the stairs.
"Morning!" Hermione greeted the tousled redhead cheerily, perusing the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. In reply to Ginny only let out a muffled grunt before dropping into her chair and pulling a plate towards herself.
For the first time in Heather's memory, perhaps even since her first trip to King's Cross before her first year, there was no last minute scramble to gather their possessions before setting out for the station. Much of this was due to there only being three of them this year, and Mrs. Weasley had been insistent that they all be packed the night before, specifically to avoid any hectic departure. The other possible explanation that Heather could determine had to do with them all being of age, and therefore not required to use alternative methods of travelling up to London.
Looking to get through as much of the day as possible without attracting an abundance of attention to herself, if that was even possible, Heather opted for a plain t shirt and jeans, over which she pulled Tonk's old coat, cinching the belt tightly around her waist and tucking her wand securely into her arm holster. There was no hiding the changes her body had gone through, and was continuing to undergo, and inwardly she hoped there would be no vocal reaction to her appearance. Her new uniform was ready to go on the top layer of her trunk, and that more than anything would tell everyone just how she intended to spend her last year at Hogwarts. She checked her reflection in the mirror for what had to be the fifth time, forcing herself to relax and force through as much calm as she could, all things considered.
Just after nine o'clock, Heather, Hermione, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley set off across the lawn, the girl's three trunks floating behind them. At the edge of the wards they gently lowered their trunks to the ground and took a firm hold, and Ginny gave her other free hand to her mother. As she had been forced to flee school before taking her apparition test, Mrs. Weasley had been insistent that Ginny side-along apparate to the safe area near King's Cross, even though her daughter had been safely apparating all summer even without a license. Mrs. Weasley's argument had been based around the premise that there might be magical law enforcement present, and that it would not reflect well on Mr. Weasley if anyone caught his daughter illegally apparating without a license. Ginny accepted this with more grace than Heather expected, probably because she knew that in a few hours she would be free from her mother for several months at least.
Emerging from the secluded alley that was secured each year by the Ministry for this purpose, the Weasleys, Heather, and Hermione melded into the mass of people, both magical and muggle, who were streaming into the station. Heather kept herself tucked in tight with the rest of the group, her eyes moving constantly. More than once she caught sight of a familiar face here and there, tall and serious looking aurors who were never there when she looked a second time. Honeywell was there, working behind the counter of a newsstand, and she nodded once at Heather before handing a harassed looking muggle woman a paper. There was no obvious guard standing near the hidden entrance to Platform 9 ¾, and one by one they each leaned against the barrier and felt it wash over them.
Ron was waiting for them on the other side with Robards, both dressed in the unofficial auror uniform and looking determined. At the sight of his parents, Ron's cheeks when pink, which only became more pronounced with his mother kissed his cheek.
"Mum" he groaned quietly, extricating himself from his mother's arms and shaking his father's hand.
"Any problems?" Heather asked, half interestedly as she scanned the crowd filling the platform.
Was it her imagination or did Ron not meet his gaze?
"None," grunted Robards when Ron didn't respond. His eyes were locked on a group that had followed the Weasleys through, quickly checking them for signs of visible threats.
"What gives?" Heather asked Ron, moving out of the way of the newcomers. Ron was spared the need to instantly respond by the scarlet engine letting out a long wheeze of steam.
"Erm, not sure what you mean." Ron replied, still not quite meeting her gaze.
"Why don't we get your trunks sorted while these two talk," suggested Mr. Weasley diplomatically. Taking his hint, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione all followed him towards the waiting train.
Without waiting, Heather grabbed Ron by the arm and led him in the opposite direction, where he could still see the barrier and still be out of earshot. "You wanna tell me what's eating you?" she asked, letting go of him and turning to face him.
For a moment, Ron looked like he was going to deny anything was wrong, then his body shivered and he said, "It's just…you're really choosing her over me, aren't you?"
"What in the world are you talking about?" asked Heather, utterly at a loss.
"Hermione," Ron muttered, gesturing back towards the train with a nod of his head. "It's like this. Ever since you told me you were a girl, well it's like you've been closer to her than me. Even when we were still at school or on the run, it wasn't the same. Now you're going back to Hogwarts with her and leaving me. I guess it just feels like this is it, like it's final or something."
The more Ron spoke the further down Heather's jaw dropped. "Ron," she said incredulously, "I'm not choosing anyone. I'm just going back to school. Is this why you've been giving me the cold shoulder lately?"
"Dunno what you mean-" Ron began quickly, looking
Heather fixed him with a stern look. "Oh yes you do, Ron Weasley. You've barely said two words to me since I quit the Ministry." She took him in, standing there looking a mix of defiant and…regretful? "Ron, I thought we'd had this out a long time ago. Hermione is my best girl friend, you're my best mate. You two aren't in competition with each other. That hasn't changed and it never will."
"But, you left the aurors," Ron said softly.
"And you feel that by doing that, I left you." Her expression softened with understanding. "I resigned because I had to, and you know that. If I had stayed an auror I would probably still be at the bottom of a bottle every night, no matter what you lot did to stop me. I didn't quit to quit you, and I'm not going back to school just to be with Hermione. For probably the first time in my life, I'm doing something completely for me. Do you get that?" she laid a hand on his arm.
Ron looked towards the train with an almost longing expression. "Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry if I've been a bit of a prat," he said, now with a sad smile on his face.
Heather winked at him. "It's alright, mate. I'm used to it. Now, come on, let's say a proper goodbye."
At his confused look, Heather laughed and waggled her chest just a little. "Oh Ron, come on. I'm a girl. You can hug me." The embrace lasted for about half a second, before Ron awkwardly dropped his arms. "Well, I guess that's something," Heather said, with a shake of her head and a chuckle. The last dregs of tension between them gone for the first time in a month, Heather unashamedly took advantage of her friend's height and build, using him like a battering ram to part the sea of witches and wizards between them and the rest of their group. When they were close, Heather saw another tall form with combed black hair just leaving, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief that she wouldn't have to speak to Neville right now. Her nerves were already on edge being this surrounded by people.
Her trunk, along with those of Hermione and Ginny, had already been hoisted aboard the train and stashed in a compartment. They still had a few minutes before the train departed, giving them time for a final round of hugs and goodbyes. During Heather's turn in Mrs. Weasley's rub cracking hug, she heard Ginny start laughing gleefully and saw her pointing back towards the barrier. Turning as best as she could, Heather saw Seamus Finnegan being led through the crowd by his serious looking mother, who might have been physically dragging him by the ear for how closely he was sticking to her. Catching sight of them watching and Ginny snickering openly, Seamus extricated himself from his mother and trudged over to them, dragging his trunk.
"Don't you bloody well say a thing," he grumped to no one in particular.
"Right, dears. You'd best get aboard the train," Mrs. Weasley chided, looking at the large clock hanging over the platform. She took each of them in turn, planting a kiss on their cheeks before herding them to the closest open door, leaving Seamus behind on the platform. Ginny led the way to the compartment they had already claimed, which was still empty. Through the window they waved at the Weasleys and Ron, who was certainly looking more relaxed now.
"Oy, mate!" Heather shouted, sliding open the window just enough to be heard. "Don't think you're getting out of coming up for Hogsmeade weekends!"
"All right!" Ron called back, now with a real smile.
There was a knock on the doorframe behind them, and they turned to see Luna standing there, looking ruffled. In one hand she was dragging her trunk while her other arm kept tight hold on a large wicker basket.
"Crookshanks!" screamed Hermione in shock at the sight of the squished face glaring out at them through a gap in the basket. The cat looked none too happy at being sequestered in there, and even less so at the loud noise. "Where did you find him?" Hermione gushed, rushing towards Luna and bending down to stare closely at her long-lost pet. An instant later she had scooped the basket out of Luna's arm and was holding it up at face height, whispering soft words to the cat. Crookshanks considered her for a moment, then after a few long sniffs, began to purr contentedly and push his body against the side of the basket closest to Hermione.
"He was at my house," Luna explained simply, pulling her trunk fully into the compartment and, with Ginny's help, hefting into an overhead rack. "I'm not sure for how long, but when I went home yesterday to see if there was anything left and…to say goodbye," she paused for a moment as a ghost of pain passed over her features, "he came crawling out of the rubble."
The train let out a loud whistle and beneath their feet they could feel it begin to move. "He must have escaped the Burrow before the Death Eaters arrived last year," speculated Ginny. "We all wondered what happened to him, but there were other things on our minds when we got back."
It was clear to all of them that Hermione had not heard a thing any of them had said for several moments, so completely lost in her reuniting with her pet. "Err, Hermione," Heather said suddenly, "Aren't you supposed to be meeting with the prefects right now?"
"What? Oh, goodness yes!" Hermione cried with a start. She looked longingly back at Crookshanks, clearly torn between her duties as Head Girl and her desire to not be separated from him again so soon. It was only after securing a promise from each of them that they would look after the cat that she raced from the compartment in the direction of the front of the train.
Chuckling to herself, Heather settled into a seat between the window and the seat holding Crookshank's basket. Mindlessly she scratched at the furry head through a gap in the lid, occasionally feeling the cat swat at her fingers with his paws when she wasn't petting him correctly. Already King's Cross was gone from view outside the glass and London was speeding by. Slowly the rush of the morning's events faded and a stillness forced its way onto her, resting heavily on her shoulders. A feeling of unease began to creep its way up her spine, sending more than a few shivers racing across her skin. Something wasn't right, and it was a good while before she was able to figure out exactly what it was. Ron wasn't coming with her. She had never travelled to Hogwarts before without him, even not counting those times he had been patrolling the train as a prefect. Now he was being left behind, and somehow, even despite her words to him, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was going to miss him more than she currently realized.
Following behind this revelation in quick succession was the realization that, no matter what, this was her last trip to school aboard the Hogwarts Express, not counting the return from the Christmas holidays. One way or another, her school career was coming to an end. Even at the end of her sixth year when she had decided to abandon her education to hunt down horcruxes, this feeling had been deadened by the stark reality that she would probably not survive her mission. But now, here she sat, alive and mostly well, her future spread out before her, unknown and unforeseeable. She had a life to live, and in this moment that was the most terrifying thing she could think of. What was she going to do if she wasn't able to figure out what she wanted to do with that life that she had won in the fires of war? Maybe she'd borrow Ginny's idea and go into playing Quidditch professionally, she might even play for England, if she was good enough. She filed the idea away as a back up plan. Whatever career she chose, shouldn't be a purposeful one? Something that meant something to more than just herself? After all, she had lived when so many hadn't, it would be a waste of their sacrifice for her to do less than the most she could, wouldn't it? Darkness tinged the edge of her mind at this thought and she stamped down firmly on the whispers. Taking a deep breath, she tried once more to force a sense of calm through her mind.
It was only then that she realized that Ginny and Luna were talking to each other, apparently content to let Heather stare aimlessly out the window. As they had seen a good deal of each other during the summer there wasn't really much to catch up on, but even small talk was better than an oppressive silence and Ginny used the cover to send more than one surreptitious glance at Heather out of the corner of her eye. When the topics of conversation eventually ran out, a silence that was not entirely uncomfortable settled on the compartment. London gave way to countryside as the morning passed and made for pleasant viewing of a sort that required little actual notice to enjoy. It was quite easy for Heather to just sit back and watch listlessly as the train swayed this way and that on the track.
No one bothered them all morning. Not even Hermione or Neville, who had earlier promised Ginny that he would drop by, made an appearance before the lunch trolley trundled its way down the corridor outside. Occasionally groups of students would pass by, more than a few of them stopping to press their noses against the glass or to wave, but no one actually went so far as to open the compartment door. Considering how packed the train was this year, what with an entire extra years' worth of students aboard, this might have been considered a sign of respect for Heather's presence, or as equally an condemnation from those who might not approve of her.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?" asked the elderly witch as she slid their door open and poked her head inside. Heather, who suddenly realized just how long ago breakfast had been, purchased a dozen chocolate frogs for them all to share along with an assortment of other snacks. Both Ginny and Luna tried to chip in but Heather firmly told them to put their money back in their pockets. She tipped the armful of colorfully wrapped sweets into the empty seat between them and snatched up a frog before dropping back into her own seat. Once the trolley was gone and the door had been securely shut again, all three of them set to work reducing the pile.
Unlike Heather and Ginny, or practically anyone else they knew for that matter, Luna thoroughly enjoyed Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, including a few of the more abnormal flavors those experienced with the candy tended to avoid. While she happily worked her way through a carton, Heather and Ginny proceeded to decimate the stack of chocolate frogs. It was on her third one, the back legs still hanging limply out of her mouth, that Ginny's eyes went wide at the side of the card tucked inside the packaging. She spewed the soupy remains of the chocolate across the compartment where they landed wetly in Heather's lap.
"Hey!" shouted Heather, trying her best not to touch the mess which was now dripping onto her seat.
"Oh, sorry," Ginny said contritely, still staring at the card in her hand while fumbling for her wand. With a wave, the brown ooze vanished.
"Thanks. Now can you tell me just what the bloody hell that was all about?" asked Heather grumpily, relaxing back into her seat.
Without a word, Ginny extended the card in her hand. On its front was a picture of Heather.
Going by her appearance in it, the photo that had been used to make the card must have been taken within the last three months. On closer inspection, Heather noticed the silver auror badge pinned to her chest and surmised that this must have been taken by one of the many photographers who used to wait for her in the Atrium every morning and evening. Numbly, she flipped the card over and began to read.
Heather Eliza Potter
(Formerly Harry James Potter)
1980 –
Known as the Child Who Lived, the Chosen One, or as the Savior of our world, Heather Potter has been famous since she was only a year old when she became the first person to ever survive the killing curse at the hands of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.
During her many years in attendance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Potter continued to face and defeat He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters, culminating in her final victory over him at the Battle of Hogwarts, May 1998.
"Nice of them to refer to you as a girl," Ginny said tentatively, waiting for Heather's reaction as she lowered the card into her lap.
"I suppose," Heather replied quietly, rereading the card and still not believing her eyes. "I notice it calls me the 'child who lived,' not the boy. Guess that's something."
Luna reached out a hand for the card and Heather handed it to her. "Didn't they tell you they were making this?" she asked when she too was done reading.
Heather shook her head. "No. I don't suppose they had too though, did they?"
Ginny shrugged. "I dunno, still, it could have been a lot worse."
"Yeah, they could have let Rita Skeeter write it," Heather said darkly, imagining just how this would play in tomorrow's Daily Prophet.
"You want it for your collection?" Ginny asked Heather, taking the card from Luna.
Heather shook her head. "No way. Keep it if you want or burn it."
Ginny considered the card carefully before shoving it in a pocket. "I think I'll keep it," she said with a shrug, "you never know when you'll run across a desk with an uneven leg that needs propping up."
"Gee, thanks," Heather said, turning away from her and staring back out the window, the pile of chocolate frogs no longer appealing to her stomach.
Now the corridor outside was full of people passing this way and that. A few people stuck their heads in for quick hellos, but most of the passersby just stared. Try as she might, Heather found it wasn't as easy to simply tune out the world anymore, and as the afternoon progressed the number of unwelcome gawkers, as she called them, continued to grow. What she wouldn't give in this moment for Draco Malfoy to make his traditional appearance. At least with him she could vent some of the frustration that was filling up inside her. She hadn't seen him on the platform and supposed that must mean he had elected not to return.
As it happened, she didn't need Malfoy to have an unwelcome intrusion into their compartment. They had just finished tidying up the littered wrappers and cartons of their snacks when the door slid open suddenly and someone stepped inside. Heather looked up, having just plucked a piece of foil from under her seat, to see Romilda Vain standing there, looking down at her with crossed arms and a smirk that held no mirth behind it. Behind her stood two other girls Heather didn't recognize who also wore similar expressions.
"So, it's true then, Potter." Romilda said derisively by way of greeting.
"What's true?" Heather asked nonplussed, sitting upright to face Romilda squarely and casually checking the intruders for visible wands without being entirely conscious of doing so.
Still with that same smirk, Romilda turned and looked at each of her friends. They all tittered with laughter as though they shared some unknown joke before she swept her eyes back around and found Heather's. "It's true that you still want to pretend to be a girl." She jeered with a malevolent gleam in her eye, "I mean, it's bad enough that you're too chicken to stay an auror, but this," she pointed lazily at Heather, "this is just pathetic."
Heather's cheeks flushed hotly while Romilda's friends cackled with glee again. She was just about to say something rude when Ginny beat her to it. "Speaking of pathetic, Vane, wasn't it you I saw cowering under a desk on the third floor during the battle while all the rest of us were fighting?"
Romilda's smirk died and her cheeks flushed a deep red. "Butt out of this, Weasley."
"Anyone whose got a problem with Heather has got one with me," Ginny said, rising and moving to stand in Romilda's face. Both girls squared off and Heather could see Ginny's hand slowly going to the pocket where Heather knew her wand was kept. Very casually, Ginny extracted it.
"What?" Romilda asked, catching sight of the emerging wand. "Going to hex me just because I said Potters a nutter?"
Now it was Ginny's turn to break out in a smile devoid of any mirth. Keeping the point of her wand aimed squarely past her knee towards the floor, she rolled her wrist slowly making little circles in the air. "Like I could do any worse damage to you than your mother did just by having you." she said softly.
Romilda hissed, then butted Ginny aside with a shoulder to the chest. "Going to let your pureblood friend fight your battles for you, Potter?" she jeered.
"No, I just let her handle my light work," Heather retorted, crossing her arms and feeling a surge of confidence. While Ginny had held Romilda's attention, Heather had extracted her own wand from its holster and was holding it casually. "Now, you've said what you have to say. So, unless you want one of us to teach you how make up is supposed to be used, I'd suggest you leave."
Their faces now bright pink and clouded with anger, Romilda and her cronies began to back into the corridor. Even held loosely and not aimed in their particular direction, they knew they were now facing down two highly experienced wands and wanted nothing more to do with them, for the moment at least. "You haven't heard the last of this, either of you." Romilda spat and whipped her hair around before striding away.
"I'd hope not!" Ginny called down the corridor at their retreating backs. "By the way, cover up isn't a miracle worker, though Merlin knows you need one!" She slammed the door shut, causing the glass to quiver in its frame. "What a bitch," she said, settling back into her seat and glaring at the door.
"I should have expected something like this," Heather said. The drunken memory of what she had overheard the night of her birthday party resurfaced for the first time since she'd heard it. "Not everyone is going to be alright with all of this." She gestured at herself and scowled.
"To hell with them," Ginny stated firmly, still twirling her wand aimlessly in one hand.
"That's right," added Luna fervently. She alone was still openly wandless, but Heather knew she would have thrown herself into it had any sort of actual altercation taken place. "But, why did she point out that Ginny's a pureblood?" Luna continued, a look of confusion crossing her face.
"Hey, that's right she did." Ginny said seriously. "Isn't she a pureblood too? I mean, she's got to be at least a halfblood since she was able to attend Hogwarts last year."
"Who are we talking about?" asked Hermione, arriving in the compartment with Neville in tow. At the sight of him, Heather fell silent and stared out the window.
"Romilda Vane," Ginny supplied while Hermione settled in on the other side of Crookshank's basket and Neville took the seat between Luna and Ginny that had been so recently covered in snacks. "She just gave us the displeasure of her company."
After hearing the rest of what had happened, Hermione looked thoughtful. "Yes, I've been wondering when something like this would happen too. Truth be told, I didn't expect it to happen until we'd gotten to Hogwarts though. Two of the new prefects expressed their unhappiness over your…situation as well." She said, looking now at Heather who was still pointedly staring out of the darkened window.
"Well, that's going to make tonight exciting," she muttered into the glass.
"What do you mean?" asked Ginny.
Heather bit out a laugh. "What do you expects going to happen when I try and go up the stairs to the girl's dormitory? You really think people like that," she waved a hand at the corridor, "are just going to let me?"
Ginny's face set in a determined expression. "Just let them try and stop you." Through the reflection Heather saw her hand close tightly on the handle of her wand again.
"Now wait a minute," said Hermione quickly, "Professor McGonagall has said you could attend Hogwarts as a girl. That means you sleep in our dormitory. Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me." She puffed out her chest, emphasizing the badge pinned there.
"And me," added Neville, causing Heather to blush which she hoped went unnoticed.
No one else bothered them the entire rest of the train ride. Gas lamps blazed into light as the evening closed in. When they were only an hour or so away from Hogsmeade, Neville excused himself to return to Seamus and Dean's compartment where his trunk was so that the girls could change into their Hogwarts robes. When the privacy blinds were lifted, Heather saw a full dozen people standing outside, waiting. Catching sight of her dressed in her new uniform, several of the watchers let out noises of derision before moving off. One of them, Heather saw, was Justin.
"Want me to hex them?" Ginny asked innocently, fingering her wand.
"No," Heather replied wearily. "If I've learned anything from my years here, its best just to let it happen."
Hermione and Ginny spared each other a quick look before leaning down to ensure the locks on their trunks were securely fastened. Silence fell again, and this time it was anything but comfortable. Heather spent the next half hour before the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station fingering her wand, before shoving it securely back into its restraints on her arm. Before leaving the compartment when the train came to a stop, she opened her trunk one more time and pulled out her invisibility cloak. Dumbledore had once asked her to always carry it on her person, and right now that felt like very good advice. She shoved it into her robes and relatched her trunk shut.
The platform was a jumble of black robed figures piling out of carriage doors. "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" came the ringing voice of Hagrid through the crowd. He was standing about halfway along with his large lantern held aloft, providing some light to the chaos. A larger group than normal began to congregate around him, making it impossible for Heather to get close enough to speak to him. He waved quickly then got about his business of shepherding the new students.
"Ooh, I hope there are enough boats," Hermione said interestedly, watching the fearful faces follow the gamekeeper down the path to the lake.
"I suppose they'll choose lots to see who has to swim?" Heather suggested with a halfhearted smile.
"Oh, ha ha," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's find a carriage."
It was impossible not to follow along as everyone in the second year and above made their way to the end of the platform. At some point in all this Luna vanished from beside Ginny and searching for her proved next to impossible in the crowds. When the leading edge of the mob turned the corner and saw the carriages that would take them up to the castle, there were loud shrieks of alarm and terror. Instinct overriding thought, Heather's wand forced itself into her grip and she began to press forward, mentally preparing herself to see at least a half dozen Death Eaters there waiting for them. Hermione's hand snagged her shoulder, restraining her forward movement. "Thestrals," she whispered into Heather's ear. Heather blushed and resecured her wand. Before now she had been one of a very small minority of students who had been able to see the skeletal winged horses that pulled the school carriages. Now that most of the student body had witnessed death and murder it was only natural for there to be some reaction to the creatures from those who had never seen them before.
In the distance, they saw Neville and Seamus standing near an open carriage door. "Oy, over here!" Seamus called, waving to them. Forcing their way towards them, Heather was grateful to see the carriage was apparently empty. "Neville told me," Seamus said simply, referring to their incident with Romilda. "Figured this'd be easier than taking your luck elsewhere."
"Thanks," Heather muttered quietly to him before climbing in. "Oh, and keep an eye out for Luna, won't you?"
Dean was already inside, watching the mass of students pass by outside the door. "Hi," he said warmly enough, shifting a little so that everyone could fit.
"Hi, Dean," chorused Hermione and Heather. Ginny, possibly due to her previous relationship with him, merely nodded.
When Neville pulled the door shut behind him and settled into the seat directly across from Heather, the carriage lurched forward. For lack of a better option of conversation, they all listened to Seamus continuing a tirade against his mother that, based on Dean's haggard expression, hadn't ceased since the Hogwarts Express had left London.
"If you didn't want to come back," Dean said wearily when Seamus took a breath, "then she couldn't have made you."
"You don't know her!" insisted Seamus. "She'd keel over dead before she didn't get her way."
Dean didn't seem to have an answer for that. "Sounds more like a good excuse to get away from Katie, if you ask me," needled Ginny to spare him having to attempt another argument.
"Oy, she doesn't own me," Seamus said a bit too defensively. Everyone rolled their eyes at that.
Looking to drag the conversation away from the many woes of Seamus Finnegan, Ginny asked if anyone knew anything about the new professors. As it happened, no one did, though more than one had wondered if the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be able to last the year now that Riddle, and his apparent curse on the post, were no more. "It'll be weird to not have McGonagall teaching Transfiguration," said Dean, to which there was nearly unanimous agreement. Neville had been unable to continue the subject in his sixth year and so was more concerned about the other new teacher.
With another lurch that made Heather slam hard into the side wall of the carriage, it came to a sudden stop. Through the streaked and grimy windows Heather could now see the warm glow of light spilling out of the open front doors. Her heart soared, feeling almost as though it was beckoning her home. Neville pushed open the door and then stood by to assist each of the girls make the uncomfortable hop down. A few passersby let out snickers at this when Heather appeared, but she pointedly ignored them, a feat made somewhat easier due to the sheer force of will it required not to blush at the touch of Neville's hand. When her feet hit the solid dry ground at the foot of the stairs, she stared up once more at the castle, feeling in that moment that nothing could spoil her return.
Surrounded by her friends, Heather pressed forward into the black clad mob filing into the Entrance Hall. As each person passed the memorial, now standing proudly in it's home, rather dominating the Hall with both its newness and purpose, a silence fell. More than one person broke from the crowd to stop and gaze upon the stone, some looking for the names of family or friends, others merely awestruck. As Heather passed, she too spared half a glance for it, fighting down a renewed anger over the omission of Snape's name. She still had not been able to completely reconcile her reasonings, and neither Ginny nor Hermione had been a great deal of help in that. It simply felt wrong, though apparently, she was the only one to hold this view. She stopped in her tracks, her gaze halfway between the memorial and the doors into the Great Hall, causing Dean to walk right into her. Brushing aside his apologizes and questioning gaze, she slid out of the way to take a better look at the knot of people who had formed up to read the stone. There at the front was Dennis Creevey.
He wasn't crying, nor were his eyes moving this way and that as though to read each name. They were fixed straight ahead, clear of tears and burning brightly with an internal fire that could have scorched Heather where she stood almost ten feet away. Again she saw that the face she had seen so often in DA meetings and palling around behind his brother. Now it was that of a monster, a demon so consumed by rage and hatred that it felt like nothing could soothe. As though he could tell he was being watched, Dennis' gaze shifted and found Heather's eyes. She recoiled two steps as the fire in those eyes found her and, or so it felt, bored into her very soul.
She stood still, half of her wanting to seek the safety of the crowd and throw herself back into their midst, the other knowing that she should say something, anything, to him, when she was spared that decision.
"Potter!" cried a voice from behind her. Breaking her eyes away from Dennis', who now unseen by her moved off into the Great Hall followed by a few others, Heather turned and saw Professor Sprout waving to her from a doorway on the opposite side of the Hall. She crossed the space quickly as the last of the crowd proceeded past her into the Great Hall. What could she have already done wrong that the new Deputy Headmistress would need a word with her?
"Yes, Professor?" she asked, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder, and wondering now how she might get to the Gryffindor table without being seen by everyone.
"Wait here, Potter," Professor Sprout said, gesturing to the side of the doorway and then ducking back inside. A moment later, with the sound of many whispering voices, another crowd of black robed figures, these much shorter than the one that had proceeded it, began to cross the now empty Entrance Hall. At their head walked Professors Sprout and Flitwick, the latter of which struck a slightly comical appearance carrying a stool that was more than half as tall as he was. Together they led the new first years, a much larger group than Heather had ever seen before, into the Hall.
A minute later, during which Heather's skin turned an icy cold with trepidation, Professor Sprout slid back out the door and walked purposefully towards her. "In here, Potter," she said with a smile, holding open the door and beckoning Heather inside. It was the first time she had been in this room since the night of her own sorting, and Heather had completely forgot it existed. Somehow, it felt smaller now.
"Now, Potter," said Professor Sprout, closing the door behind them and speaking in quick, low tones. "Professor McGonagall has asked that I take you aside and ensure you completely understand your new…arrangement here at Hogwarts."
Another icy wave rolled down Heather's back, making her shudder slightly. "My arrangement, Professor? I was told I would be treated just like any other girl here."
It might have been something in her face that made Professor Sprout raise her hands as though to forestall further questions. "And that is correct, Miss Potter," she replied, laying significant emphasis on the method of address. "But the Headmistress wishes to make sure there is no confusion, especially considering the, shall we say, pushback she has received from some parties." She ended this statement looking somewhat uncomfortable.
Heather didn't need to hear any more about that, she could easily guess just which kind of people might have a problem with this. After all, she had just witnessed a certain amount of it on the train. "All right, then. What do I need to know?" she asked.
Appearing relieved that she did not need to explain further, Professor Sprout spoke quickly. "As you said, you are to be treated like any other witch attending Hogwarts. This means that you will be sharing the girl's dormitory with the other girls in your year, you will be expected to wear the girl's uniform, as you already are, and you are allowed you use the proper toilets for your gender."
Heather nodded at each of these points. A small part of her was wondering why this needed to be spelled out, but Professor Sprout pressed on before she could ask a question. "This also means that you are forbidden from being anywhere that is strictly forbidden to girls. I trust that I don't need to spell out exactly what those are?" Heather nodded again. "The Headmistress wanted me to emphasize that point, Miss Potter. And that does include your former dormitory. Whatever your previous status may have been there, you are now a witch and are expected to follow their rules."
"I understand, Professor," Heather said emphatically, both unsure why this point was being driven home so fiercely while also remembering all those times that Hermione had been in the boy's dormitory before. She shrugged internally. She had no reason to go up there, but if one cropped up, she wouldn't be too worried about breaking that particular rule, so long as she didn't get caught anyway. She shifted back and forth on her feet, wishing that Professor Sprout would get to whatever the real point of this was."
"A few last things," she said, perhaps sensing Heather's impatience. "As has been said you are expected to wear the girl's uniform at all times during classes other school related events. Outside of these times you are allowed to wear non-uniform attire, however it is expected that you maintain a degree of modesty in these situations. The other girls in your dormitory can go over what those expectations are with you in greater detail. Lastly," she added, now looking more serious than she had so far, "I hope you know just how far the Headmistress has gone to accommodate you in this, Potter. More than one of the school governors was against this decision, and other parents will be writing in soon to register their displeasure once word becomes more wildly known. Due to your…well, due to who you are, amongst other reasons, Professor McGonagall is more than willing to face these criticisms unshakingly, however I feel I would be remiss in not pointing out that it has come with a cost. I am not trying to blame you for anything that we here are going to face because of this, after all, it is you after all and we owe you a great deal. However, considering your long and slightly…troubled record for rule following, I, and by extension the Headmistress, would appreciate you not drawing any undue attention to yourself this year, if at all possible." She said all this quickly, not stopping for a breath until it was out.
It was as though Heather had been struck dumb. "I understand, Professor," she finally managed to get out.
"Good!" said Professor Sprout, not looking relieved that this conversation was over. "Now, lets get you to the Gryffindor Table before the feast begins. Together they crossed the Entrance Hall, Heather still trying to take in everything that had just been said, along with what had been left unsaid. The mess of first years was still halfway along the tables, meaning the sorting had a long way to go. As she watched, a blonde-haired boy's head disappeared under the hat. So far no one had noticed her, and Heather intended to keep it that way for as long as she could.
Under Professor Sprout's confused gaze, Heather swiftly extracted the invisibility cloak from the inside of her robes and wrapped it around her shoulders, instantly vanishing from view. After a nod from the Deputy Headmistress, Heather stole into the hall, making directly for the Gryffindor table. Halfway along it her eyes found the distinctive Weasley hair shining out, and she beelined for it. Coming up quietly behind Hermione and Ginny, who had done their best to leave a small gap between them on the bench, Heather waited patiently. From the end of the hall, with a voice that ricocheted off the walls came the cry of "Ravenclaw!" and Heather made her move. In one fluid motion she slid off the cloak, quickly wrapping it around one arm as she stepped almost noiseless over the bench and dropped into place. A few people close to her, including both Ginny and Hermione, noticed her sudden appearance, but as almost every eye in the hall was watching the newest Ravenclaw find his table, there was no noticeable reaction.
"What was that about?" whispered Ginny while at the front of the hall Professor Flitwick cried "Day, Christina!" in his squeaky voice."
"Sprout telling me the rules I need to follow," Heather muttered back, trying to move her lips as little as possible in case anyone was eavesdropping. Her eyes slowly around the hall, trying to take in as much information as possible. A quick survey showed that much of her year hadn't returned. In fact, it appeared that much of Slytherin house hadn't come back, even those under sixth and seventh years. There was no sign of the platinum blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, or the hulking form on Gregory Goyle. About even with where Heather was seated she could see Blaise Zabini next to Millicent Bulstrode, and a few seats farther down were Daphne and her sister, Astoria. If the rest of the Slytherins looked put out at being there, it was nothing to the two Greengrass sisters. To Heather's eye, they looked downright morose.
As her view moved on from the Slytherin table, she saw that hers had not been the only ones watching them. At every table there were people glaring at the Slytherins, most of whom were not bothering to hide their stares.
"They don't look happy," Heather said, leaning over to whisper in Hermione's ear and gesturing to the Slytherins.
"No," Hermione replied quietly, "I can't imagine this is going to be any easy year for any of them."
Ginny also leaned close and said bitterly. "Serves them right too." At Hermione's sideways look of reproach, she added, "You didn't see them last year, Hermione. They acted like they ran the place and treated the rest of us like shit."
"Still," Hermione said before being cut off by loud cheering from all around them, Christina Day had been sorted into Gryffindor. "that's no reason to stoop to their level," she said once the noise had died back down to a point she could be heard.
"Easy for you to say," Ginny glowered, sitting back upright and watching as Richard Deacon was called up for his turn.
"Good thing Ron's not here to see this," Heather whispered loudly enough for both of them to hear her. "Can you just imagine how long this sorting's going to take? It'll be an hour before we can eat."
"Shh" Hermione chided, holding a finger to her lips. Heather and Ginny rolled their eyes together but obeyed and lapsed into silence.
The hat shifted on Deacon's head and proclaimed loudly, "Slytherin!" Traditionally when a new student was sorted, only the table belonging to that student's new house would make a noise. This served two purposes. On one hand it was a welcome to the new first year who, going by Heather's experience, was probably fearing that they would be sent home if they weren't sorted. More practically however, it also served to help guide the new student to the correct table and prevent embarrassing a young child in front of the entire school. But as Deacon placed the hat back on the stool and moved towards his new house, Heather detected a low rumble from the rest of the hall that the applause of the Slytherins did not entirely mask. Looking put out, Deacon slid into his seat and stared down at his empty plate.
"Is that the first new Slytherin?" asked Heather. At the head table Professor McGonagall had risen to her feet and was imperiously staring out at the hall, calling for silence. Hermione nodded, not wanting to risk the wrath of the Headmistress as quiet fell on the hall.
The sorting resumed as though nothing had happened. When the next new Slytherin was sorted, there was nothing to be heard other than the, relatively subdued, cheers of her new housemates. At long last, with "Zabini, Rodulphus," who Heather thought bore a striking resemblance to Blaise, sorted into Slytherin, it came to an end. Looking weary, Professor Flitwick, who could at last be seen standing next to the stool, banished the roll of parchment and scooped up both hat and stool before tottering his way back up the hall. Heather's stomach was not the only one audibly rumbling. She hoped that whatever pre dinner speech Professor McGonagall was going to make wouldn't take too long.
The Headmistress rose imperiously from her seat, quelling the light muttering that had broken out in the time it took for Flitwick to disappear from the hall. "I would like to welcome you all to a fresh, new year at Hogwarts," she said in a carrying voice. "Before you all get too focused on your dinners to pay attention, I have a few important matters I wish to speak to you about. First, to our new students, this is your one and only warning that the forest on the edge of the grounds is strictly forbidden to all students. I trust that none of our older students need to be reminded of that." Light chucking broke out. This warning had reached an almost traditional status to the older students who had heard it every year since they started. Most still took it seriously, but it had become funny in a way few could completely explain.
"Second, I would like to introduce two new members of staff this year." She gestured towards a tall witch wearing a bright purple hat halfway down the table on her left. "Taking the post of Defense against the Dark Arts is Professor Irene Brindlemore." Professor Brindlemore, a sprightly witch who looked to be in her late twenty's, rose and gave an enthusiastic wave to the halfhearted applause that greeted her. She looked very cheerful and unworried, Heather thought, considering the fates of her many predecessors. Professor McGonagall, who looked somewhat dubious at her new teacher's exuberance, next turned to her right. "Our new Transfiguration teacher is one Professor Xavier Maufe, a former pupil of mine who has agreed to now become my replacement." Maufe, a tall and skinny middle-aged wizard with a completely bald head stood. His black robes were relatively nondescript, though several patches and repaired seams could be discerned even from Heather's seat at the Gryffindor table. He slowly gazed around the hall before bowing at the waist, just enough to make the candle light shine off the crown of his head. He did not smile or wave, and after the perfunctory applause faded, he resumed his seat.
"Could she have picked anyone more like her?" Ginny asked, nodding towards McGonagall. Heather completely agreed while Hermione did not deign to reply.
"Lastly," the Headmistress pressed on, her voice becoming slightly less hard, "I would like to take this time to welcome each of you back to Hogwarts once more. The events of the previous years have left each of us scarred. These wounds are not always the kind that can be seen, but that does not make them any less real, nor less painful. We, the staff of Hogwarts, are here for each and every one of you who find yourself needing to talk about anything whatsoever. It is my sincere hope that we are able to put the past behind us and move forward into a new year, with peace and reconciliation between us all."
More than one person around Heather began muttering darkly at this. Someone a few seats away at the Hufflepuff table could be overheard whispered to her neighbor, "Reconcile? With the Slytherins? What a load of rubbish." Heather wasn't surprised to see a crease form between Ginny's eyes as well, though she hoped that this would pass.
"Now," said Professor McGonagall loudly, "it is time to enjoy the feast that you have all been so long in waiting for. Tuck in!" With a wave of her hands the plates before them filled with food that made the tables under them groan with the added weight. Without waiting, Heather began piling her plate with food.
"Harmony," Hermione said to the Fat Lady that evening when she, Heather, and Ginny reached the seventh floor. The Fat Lady nodded and swung her arms wide in welcome as her portrait swung forwards to admit them. Heather took a last steadying breath, fully aware that the contents of her now extremely full stomach were threatening to make a dynamic reappearance. She was deeply regretting that second helping of dessert as she clambered through the hole and into the common room. Other students were already filling the many faded armchairs and congregated around tables, catching up with friends and enjoying a last moment of each other's company before bed. It took a few moments before Heather's presence was noticed, but once she had been spotted a quiet took hold on the circular room. From against one of the walls a small knot, primarily made up of girls, began to drift towards the doors leading up to their dormitories. Even as she watched this group with a sense of growing dread, a small part of Heather's mind was surprised to see that neither Romilda Vane or her cohorts were to be seen amongst them.
Tension filled the air as Heather, Hermione, and Ginny crossed the common room towards the door, arriving only a few moments behind this other group who it was now obvious intended to bar Heather from gaining access. Under the sleeves of her robes, she felt her hands shake slightly and had to exercise restraint to keep from summoning her wand. If there was ever to be any chance of ending this quickly and for once, then the last thing she needed to do was start hexing people. For one tantalizing moment she enjoyed the thought of rushing from the room and hiding under her cloak so as to return later, invisible, but no. Retreating was hardly the move to make here, and one way or another this was a battle she was going to have to face at some point.
The group actually allowed Hermione to reach the door before sliding together to form a wall in front of Heather, separating the two with their bodies. "Where do you think you're going, Potter?" asked a girl that Heather thought she'd seen before leaving a class with Ginny. She was glaring at Heather with her arms crossed.
"My dormitory," Heather replied evenly, marveling at the fact that her voice did not shake.
The girl sneered. "I think that's over there, don't you?" she shoved a thumb over her shoulder towards the boy's staircase.
"No, I don't." Heather said, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry.
"Well," the girl took a menacing step forward, "we do."
Heather took a half set backwards, coming up against Ginny's shoulder which did not move. Ginny now moved forward just as she had aboard the train. Over the girl's shoulder Heather saw Hermione also trying to move back through the crowd and reach her.
"Step aside," Hermione ordered in her best Head Girl voice. "Heather has permission from the Headmistress, as you well know. She is going up to her dormitory." Her tone brooked no argument, but the girl didn't back down, still staring resolutely at Heather even while her fellows gave way to Hermione.
"McGonagall can say whatever she likes. That…boy isn't sleeping in the same tower that I am," one of the girl's who had let Hermione through piped up.
Ginny glowered at her. "Then you're more than welcome to sleep on a sofa over there, because she's getting through that door."
"Is there a problem here?" asked a voice from behind Heather. Unnoticed by her, and apparently by the rest of the group facing them, Neville had approached along with Seamus, Dean, and a handful of other Gryffindor's. Trying to keep her eyes on the many hands of their challengers, Heather was unable to make a firm headcount, but it now appeared that the group freshly arrived behind her outnumbered that of the students blocking her way.
"Just a little difference of opinion on where Potter should sleep tonight," the first girl told Neville. Now it was her turn to take a step back as the situation reversed itself on her.
Ginny countered her backwards step with a forward one of her own. "We've already told you where she'd sleeping," she growled.
"Anyone who has a problem with Heather can take it up with the Headmistress," Hermione added in a loud voice. "Now, it's late. If anyone wants to try and stop us from going up to our dormitory, then you can spend the first week of term in detention."
"Or they can put their wands where their indignation is," Ginny said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. When he wand had appeared in her hand, Heather neither knew nor cared. "Let's see," she continued, icy steel striking out with almost physical force. "The witch who defeated Voldemort," she held up one finger menacingly, "her best friend and the smartest witch of her age," she held up a second finger, "a few former aurors," she nodded at Seamus and Neville, "and of course, little old me. You might even stay conscious long enough to feel yourselves hit the floor," she finished with a smile, her voice still slicing through the air like a sword. The pink indignation in the faces of the girl's barring their way had long since drained to pale dread by the time Ginny had finished her tally, all except for the sixth year, and apparent ringleader.
Heather pushed forward now. "That's enough, Ginny. Listen," she pulled herself up to her full height and addressed the knot of girls blocking her way, "I'm going through that door and up to bed. If you want to stop me, then go ahead and try. You'll make her day," she flicked a thumb towards the simmering redhead next to her. "If you don't then move aside. I don't want to fight." Not waiting for a response, she stepped forward. For a moment it looked like the girl would stop her, but whether she realized that her friends had already lost the will to stand with her or that dueling was tantamount to suicide, she grudgingly moved aside. One by one her comrades did likewise, many of them looking almost relieved, leaving the path forward open. With a heavy heart, Heather wrenched open the door and placed her foot on the bottom step.
Another silence had fallen all around her as she began the climb, and she knew what they were all waiting for. One the third step the founders had placed an anti-boy charm to bar them access to the girl's dormitories. So now they all waited with bated breath to see what the charm would do to Heather. What none of them besides Hermione and Ginny knew however was that Heather had already passed this particular test back in fifth year when she and Hermione had swapped places temporarily with Polyjuice potion. Her foot found the third step and she planted it firmly upon it. In the span of a single heartbeat she could feel the tension behind her swell, and then pass instantly when nothing happened. She continued climbing to the fourth step, then the fifth, and the whole time the staircase remained solid.
Several girls, who appeared to have recovered their wits by now, started muttering angrily behind her but she ignored them. Had the charm activated and summarily dumped her at their feet, they would have crowed with glee, sure in their indignation and now possessing clear proof that Heather was just pretending to be a girl. But since it hadn't worked they were just as quick to dismiss the evidence. "It's just some old charm," would be their most obvious argument, rendered ineffective with age. Heather sighed. The only proof some people would accept is the sort that furthers their own argument. Anything that disagreed with their chosen viewpoint was to be ignored and derided for as long as possible. It was the same as when Voldemort had returned, and that was something she knew how to deal with, even if it made her heart heavy.
After a subdued goodnight to Ginny at the door of her dormitory, Heather and Hermione continued climbing to the next level. Wondering if her troubles were over for the evening, Heather followed Hermione inside. In truth, there was little different between her new home and the one she had spent her previous six years at Hogwarts living in. Realistically there was no difference at all, with the sole exception of the smell. Instead of sweaty socks and other odors, the girl's dormitory was suffused with the scents of various flowers, lifting Heather's spirits slightly. Her previous visit to this room had been a nervous time, and had only lasted long enough for her to find a way to slip back downstairs and swap places with Hermione. Then there had only been three beds inside, giving each of the occupants far more room than Heather had had in her old dormitory. During the summer a fourth bed and wardrobe had been squeezed into the space, placed between Hermione's bed and Pavarti's. At the foot of it sat Heather's trunk.
"Hi Hermione, Heather," Pavarti said cheerily, swinging her legs off her bed and getting up to greet them. "I hope that lot downstairs wasn't too much trouble."
"Nothing a few dueling challenges couldn't fix," Heather replied darkly. She glanced over at Lavender. The once giggly brunette was already stretched out on her bed. If Heather hadn't known better, she might have thought Lavender was already asleep. She had not moved an inch at the sound of the arrival, and even lying in bed gave off an air of great weariness and injury. Her left arm was tightly bound in a sling, and they could see the long, thin lines crossing her face where Greyback had slashed it. Her eyes were open, but they refused to meet Heather's gaze. "Hi, Lavender," Heather greeted her, waving awkwardly.
Lavender didn't reply, she didn't even look around. A small shake of Pavarti's head warned both Heather and Hermione not to pursue the subject. "Come on, Heather, let's get you settled," she said awkwardly, leading Heather over to her new bed.
Already feeling worn down and not looking to spark any fresh discomfort for her new roommates, Heather fished her shower bag and pajamas out of her trunk where she had put them, and went into the bathroom to wash and change. No one followed her, not even Hermione.
When she was done, she clambered quickly into bed. After a hurried, "goodnight," she pulled the thick red curtains closed around her and went through her normal nighttime routine of warding them against noise. Had this been a mistake, she wondered as the darkness closed in around her? Had she been nuts to think that she could do this? Maybe it would be best if she just pretended to be a boy, after all she'd done it for her last year here. She could go talk to McGonagall in the morning about swapping back to her old dormitory. The guys might think it was weird, but they'd accept it. She knew they would. With these thoughts swirling around her, she slowly drifted off into fitful sleep.