JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I'm just borrowing the world for a while.
Chapter Forty
December arrived at Hogwarts with the speed and force of a howling gale. Overnight the grounds outside the frosted over windows of the castle were buried beneath thick drifts of snow. For a week the sun was hidden by heavy gray clouds that filled the sky. Fierce, shrill winds buffeted the stone walls and windows, tearing through every gap in the stonework to drop the temperature in the corridors far below the point anyone could find it comfortable. Many of the girls complained loudly between lessons through scarves and mufflers that someone might have thought about patching up all the holes during all the reconstruction over the summer.
Since this was her first winter wearing tights and a skirt on a daily basis, Heather found herself agreeing wholeheartedly with their complaints. Even after casting a warming charm on her clothes, sharp stings like the blades of knives continued to bite at her skin as she clutched her robes tightly around her. She never voiced this aloud, partly out of fear that someone who still didn't approve of her situation overheard, but she wouldn't have minded switching back to trousers until the weather warmed up significantly.
All activities that took place outside the castle were suspended until the weather abated, including both Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures lessons. With the quidditch season essentially over until after Christmas, no one felt to put out at the loss of practice time. It wasn't like they'd get much done on the pitch right now. Heather doubted if even she'd be able to fly in a straight line in these howling winds. Instead of teaching, Hagrid was seen constantly busy helping Filch keep the Entrance Hall clear of snow that repeatedly forced its way in through the oak front doors and hauling large trees in from the forest. Meanwhile, Professor Sprout had taken it upon herself to get a head start on decorating the castle for Christmas.
Preparations began appearing earlier than Heather could ever remember, with perhaps the exception of that Christmas during the Triwizard Tournament. She wondered if this was some new attempt by the teachers to lift everyone's spirits and offset the gloom that had settled on the school like the thick snow outside. Within days of December's arrival, two of the eventual dozen trees had already been placed in the Great Hall, flanking the staff table. Even devoid of garland or ornaments there was no doubt they gave mealtimes a festive air, their presence a visual reminder that the holidays were not too far off.
Lessons that took place indoors continued unaffected by horrendous weather or glimmers of freedom that were only a few weeks away. For the rest of the school, this was a time where lessons tended to relax, but not for the seventh years. Even Professor Flitwick, who had always been the most lenient of their teachers when it came to taking time off before the holidays, refused to relent in his dogged instruction. From the moment class began everyone's quills were a flurry of motion, jotting down lines of notes on a variety of subjects on which they would certainly be tested at the end of the year.
Without quidditch to occupy her free time outside of the hours spent doing homework, Heather and Neville found scattered opportunities to be alone together. Sometimes Heather would accompany him on his rounds as Head Boy, always with her invisibility cloak ready to throw over herself in case any of the teachers caught them and thought Neville wasn't taking his responsibilities seriously.
Through these late evening walks, Heather learned that the prefects remained on heightened alert for further signs of trouble. With disturbing frequency, she heard stories of new activity by the unknown person or persons who seemed intent on making Slytherin students suffer. And now that the weather had deprived everyone of the ability to temporarily get out of the castle, a feeling of being trapped inside with whoever was doing all this was growing.
Neville never actively brought her into these conversations, and as neither of them wanted the other prefects to know she was on patrol with him, she was always out of sight when these stories were being reported. Every time something new happened, Heather felt her old desire to get involved flair into life again, only to be immediately repressed by the promise she'd made to Hermione. Instead, she focused on just spending time with her boyfriend.
It continued to amaze her how simple it had become to just be together since their first date. Gone were the awkward pauses and inability to meet his gaze that had plagued her for weeks before they'd gotten together. Now it was like there was something electric passing between them whenever they were in close proximity. Inwardly, Heather doubted if she'd ever been happier than she felt right now.
Midway through the month, word of a final Hogsmeade weekend before everyone went home for Christmas surfaced in the common rooms. As with the previous trip into the village, the thought of escaping the grounds for a few hours went a long way towards soothing strained nerves, even considering the fact that a week afterwards most of them would be leaving the school anyways. Moments after learning about it, Neville made sure to ask if Heather wanted to come with him to the village.
With outdoor lessons cancelled, seventh years found their new free periods being filled in by other professors who were hoping to use the time for extra instruction. Announcements for these rescheduled blocks were posted every morning on the house bulletin boards. So, on the third Monday of the month, rather than going outside for a Herbology lesson, Heather made her way to the third floor for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Since today's was an extra lesson, Professor Brindlemore started it out by promising that it would be an easy one. No one took this seriously as they filed in and took their seats. Brindlemore's sense of humor had long since been figured out and few dared to take anything outside of her instruction at face value. Therefore, the sight of her walking up to the blackboard with her signature grin plastered on her face surprised no one. "Patronuses!" she shouted gleefully once the bell rang, and silence fell. "How to cast them, when you use them, and how to get over the eternal disappointment when yours turns out to be a skunk."
Grinning widely at the mental picture of such an unpleasant animal sprouting from her wand to chase down a dementor, Heather could see the unintentional irony of today's lesson plan. Had it not been for the fact that she herself had taught nearly everyone in the class how to conjure a patronus years ago, this might have been the hardest lesson of the year. She wondered just how much Professor Brindlemore had learned about Dumbledore's Army and hoped she'd be in for a surprise today.
Her smile not slipping an inch, Brindlemore exhaled. "Huh, I was expecting some groans and complaining. Has someone been peaking at my planner?"
Characteristically, Hermione's hand was the first in the air. "Excuse me, professor, but several of us already know how to conjure patronuses." Having determined that Professor Brindlemore not only knew her subject extremely well and was also more than willing to actually teach them, Hermione's opinion of her had improved greatly as the term had progressed.
Heather nodded along with nearly everyone else as Brindlemore scanned the class as though to verify this claim. Only Neville and a few others who hadn't been a part of the original DA remained still. She regretted that she'd never been able to get Neville to the point of being able to conjure a corporeal patronus before their group was disbanded.
Meanwhile the twinkle in Brindlemore's eyes blazed into life again. "I'd heard something about that, but it's nice to hear that someone else has already done my job for me." She winked at Heather. "So, why not make today's lesson a bit more interesting then?"
"Interesting, professor? How exactly do we do that?" inquired Seamus.
"Why by rating and judging everyone's patronuses of course, Mister Finnegan." She held up a hand and began to exaggeratedly count on her fingers. "Let's see, we'll grade each by ferocity of the creature, the number of attempts it takes to conjure it, and…hmm, let's see. Oh, right, by number of legs your patronus has. The stranger the number the better! So, who's first?"
Heads turned as everyone looked to their neighbors, hoping someone else would go first so they wouldn't have to. The few students who hadn't ever tried to cast a patronus before slid down in their seats looking put out. Noticing them, Professor Brindlemore said, "Not to worry those of you rule abiding students who didn't take part in illicit underground paramilitary groups, we'll be covering how to actually perform the spell after Christmas. For now, why don't you all join me in judging your peer's attempts. Now, someone get up here and let us judge you!" she cackled with mad glee and walked to where several non-participating students were sitting and squeezed herself onto one of their benches.
Seamus rose and moved to the front of the classroom. With a flick of her wand Professor Brindlemore summoned one of her training dummies to stand opposite him. Today it was wrapped in a tattered black cloak that gave it the distinct appearance of a real dementor. Using this as his target, Seamus raised his wand. "Expecto Patronum!" he roared. Everyone watched as a silver fox burst outwards on his first try and sped towards the towering figure. It passed through like silver vapor and tore around the room, searching out a target.
"Excellent work, Finnegan! I'll give it a six," called Professor Brindlemore from within the knot of students who were not taking part in the contest. Setting her feet up on an empty desk in front of her she shouted, "next!"
Spurred into action by Seamus's success, Dean got up and took his turn next. His boar elicited impressed cries as it too charged down the would be dementor. Heather was not alone in being thankful that its gigantic tusks weren't real or else it would have taken off her leg as it sprinted past her seat. After receiving his score of seven, he returned to his seat. One by one, anyone who could or wanted to try stepped forward. Hermione took two tries to make her otter appear, which dropped her score to four points. "I was expecting something…bigger," Professor Brindlemore said airily as the otter scampered away into oblivion.
Heather, who had decided that she would go after Hermione, got up and stepped forward. As she worked her way around him at their shared desk, she felt Neville's hand touch hers. She hoped he would take a turn trying even though he'd never managed it before. Perhaps after the last few weeks and the very happy memories they'd made together he'd finally be able to do it. If not, she mentally shrugged, she'd just work harder to add a few more to his list.
She faced down the tall wooden dummy and aimed for the center of its chest. Bringing the memory of the evening she and Neville had spent in Firenze's classroom to the forefront of her mind, she shouted the incantation and watched as her silver doe sped forth from the end of her wand. It had been a while since she'd seen her patronus and from the moment it appeared her eyes were unable to look away from its beauty.
Rather than racing off like everyone else's had, her doe canted slowly in a circle around her before coming to a stop directly in front of her. It stared at Heather with its silver, empty eyes as though it was seeking out the soul inside of her that it was bound to protect. The light within it grew, and Heather found herself thinking about standing amid thick, fresh snow in a very different forest than she had just been picturing.
The doe had stared at her like this that night as well, although it hadn't been her patronus then. There, in the darkness of the Forest of Dean someone else had sent it to tell her something, and to lead her to where she needed to be. A man who, for his own reasons, had the same patronus and Heather did. There was something in the demeanor of the doe facing her that was both sad and hopeful, a feeling that it managed to convey without words remarkably well.
As she continued replaying the memory of that night within her head, the classroom around her lost to her senses, her doe bowed its head and faded away. When the vision cleared, Heather had no idea how long she'd been standing there staring at nothing. She had a vague sense that it had been several minutes at least as she'd made her way through that dark forest. Going by the fact that no one was staring at her with concern, it would seem that the entire episode had lasted only a handful of seconds, if that.
"Five points, Miss Potter!" cried Professor Brindlemore, making Heather jump a full foot in the air. "Well done indeed. If only it had a less boring number of legs. Head on back to your seat and send your boyfriend up here, won't you?" There was a ring of laughter as Neville, looking ashen, slid back on the bench. Still partly lost in thought about what had just happened, Heather remembered just in time to give his hand a strong squeeze of support as they passed each other. Forcing herself to pay attention to the present, she watched with bated breath as Neville took his turn.
"Expecto Patronum!" Neville shouted, his voice betraying no sign of his nerves although he kept his eyes screwed tightly shut. A pale wall of silver formed before him and lasted for almost five seconds before fading away. Crossing her fingers below her desk, Heather wondered if he would try again. This attempt had probably been his best yet and would probably have held off a real dementor for several seconds if it had needed to. "Can I try again?" Neville asked nervously as Heather's heart soared.
"Maybe you should give him some encouragement," called Seamus quietly. She pointedly ignored him.
Neville took a deep breath and raised his wand again. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he practically screamed and to everyone's amazement a silver something burst into life and took to the air. Heather's first thought was that it was an eagle, but the head didn't seem exactly right. It was too small and the neck too narrow. The bird circled the room four times before coming to land on Professor Brindlemore's desk. Neville stared at it, and Heather was surprised to see growing dismay on his face. She'd been expecting him to be jubilant at finally casting a corporeal patronus. She gave the bird another once over and had the distinct impression she'd seen one like it before but couldn't place where.
"What is it?" asked Dean interestedly, standing up to get a better view.
"Some kinda bird," chimed in Ernie.
"Well, we can see that," cut across Seamus. "It looks like a…" he stopped mid-sentence and began laughing.
"What?" asked Heather loudly. Dean seemed to have caught onto whatever was funny because by now he was laughing as well.
And then Heather had it. Neville's patronus was a vulture, just like the stuffed one that was fixed to the top of Augusta Longbottom's favorite hat. The same hat that had once been forced onto the head of a bogart in the shape of Severus Snape. Before she could catch herself, she too had joined in laughing, although this was more at the mental image of Snape in a dress than at Neville's shock. The look on his face was enough to stop her laughing cold.
"Alright now. Settle down, settle down," Professor Brindlemore called loudly, getting to her feet and walking forward to stand beside Neville. "Sit down Finnegan or I'll get Mister Longbottom here to sick his vulture on your fox." She laid a hand on Neville's shoulder. "A vulture is nothing to be ashamed of, although I do feel like I'm missing something here. Nevertheless, if you really want to see a comical patronus then look no further!" She whipped out her wand and cast the spell. A comically large spectral monkey bowled forth from her wand tip. From pictures she recalled seeing in her old primary school, Heather thought it was called an orangutan. It dropped to the floor and stared balefully at the class while scratching its head and looking incredibly confused. "You see, Mister Longbottom, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Well done! I'll give you nine points, three of which I'm taking from Mister Finnegan because I can."
Now smiling, Neville returned to his seat where Heather hugged him ecstatically. Seamus, perhaps chastened by his loss of points in the contest, said nothing else about vultures. For the remainder of the lesson both of them kept their hands tightly clasped together under their desk. Once Ernie went there seemed to be no one else confident enough. The competition over, Professor Brindlemore rounded out the lesson by detailing the overall basics required for casting the Patronus charm for those who didn't already know.
Heather allowed her mind to drift during this, quite sure that Professor Brindlemore wasn't going to say anything that she did not already know. She proudly recalled the memory of watching Neville's vulture swoop around the classroom. It might not be what he could've wanted it to be, but it was still an achievement to be proud of. She squeezed his hand again. He had come so far since she'd met him in many ways that she was still coming to learn about.
Since Brindlemore was still talking, Heather rest of the class to think more about what her doe had been trying to tell her. Not that she was even sure that's what had been happening as it had stared her down so intently. Patronuses could be used to send messages she knew, but she'd never heard of one unconsciously trying to tell its caster something before. Was there something it wanted her to do, the same way that Snape's had wanted her to follow it that night? Or maybe it was that there was something she was supposed to be doing and wasn't. She became so lost in thought trying to divine the meaning of it that she almost missed Brindlemore's final announcement.
"Right then, you lot. That's the lesson. I hope you all have a very happy Christmas, and I shall see you all next term," Professor Brindlemore said in dismissal.
"But who won the contest?" asked Ernie as he slid parchment and quill back into his schoolbag.
Professor Brindlemore adopted a puzzled look. "You mean I've been teaching a group of seventh years who can't count? Mr. Longbottom was the clear winner with nine." She beamed at Neville. "This means that, unlike the rest of you unfortunate souls, he is free of homework until classes resume."
"She gave us homework?" Heather asked Neville confusedly as they left.
"I'll tell you about it later," Neville replied with a laugh. "I knew you weren't paying attention, but I didn't think it was that bad."
It was easy enough to forget about what was troubling her, together with Hermione, she and Neville went back up to Gryffindor Tower and then on to dinner. Tonight was Hermione's turn to patrol the corridors before bed, meaning that Heather would have a few hours this evening to spend with him in the common room. Their relationship was new enough that she both wanted to spend as much time with Neville as possible, while at the same time wasn't bothered by the fact that Hermione was usually somewhere close by. Heather knew that the fact that both of Hermione's best friends were now in relationships could easily see her being left outside, and so wanted to make sure that she knew that wasn't what was happening.
However tonight, she was glad to say goodbye to her outside the Great Hall and walk slowly up through the castle with Neville. They talked about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend and what they might be doing over the holidays. Neither of them specially mentioned trying to get together, but Heather hoped that it would happen.
The common room was packed by the time they got there and was far noisier than Heather really wanted to put up with right now. Sensing this, Neville pulled her back through the portrait hole down the corridor to an unused classroom. He cleared a space on the floor in the corner furthest from the door and conjured a dozen or so soft pillows for them to sit on. "You're getting good at that," Heather remarked as she curled into him.
"Helps to have a good reason to practice," he chuckled.
They sat together in silence, watching the flickering of the torchlight on the wall and enjoying the simple act of being together. As far as Heather was concerned, the world outside the door had ceased to exist. All that mattered was that the two of them were here. Unfortunately, this didn't stop intrusive thoughts from trying to creep back into her head.
"What's wrong," Neville asked as she shifted position for the third time in as many minutes.
Defying her first instinct to shove the problem down deep and say nothing, she reminded herself that one of the great things about Neville that had attracted her to him was that he was very easy to talk to. Or at least, he was when she hadn't been too embarrassed to look at him. "It's about my patronus," she began slowly. "Well, I guess if I'm going to tell you this you need to know something."
"Alright, so tell me," He replied in a way that didn't make her feel like he was pressuring her to explain.
"I got my patronus from my mum. Well, my current one anyway. My old one I got from my dad." She waited in case that statement required any further explanation. Either he understood or had decided not to ask questions yet because he remained silent. "The thing is, I'm not the only person who has this patronus." She felt like she was doing a bad job of trying to explain this.
"Well, don't a lot of people probably share patronuses?" He supplied. "I mean, there are only so many creatures out there…"
Heather shook her head. "That's not what I mean. I mean that, someone else had my mum's patronus."
"Who?"
Feeling as though she was unwelcomely summoning an ancient spirit best left in the past, she whispered. "Snape." Neville's body tensed momentarily behind her. Quickly, so as to leave this particular section of the story behind as rapidly as possible, she explained Snape's history with her mother and his continuing feelings towards her. When she was done, she craned her neck around to look up at him and saw confusion written across his face.
"So, what's that got to do with your patronus from today? It's not like you'll ever have to see him or his doe ever again. Wait, how do you know his was a doe?"
She continued to stare into his face. "There's so much I haven't told you about last year," she said quietly.
To her surprise his eyes suddenly went blank, and she could tell his mind had gone to a very dark place. "You aren't the only one," he said after a minute. Then his face softened, and he smiled. "But let's focus on you right now."
Not feeling reassured by what had just happened, but also not wanting to push him into reliving something he'd clearly rather leave hidden, Heather gave him the highlights of that night in the Forest of Dean.
She allowed him to process everything she'd told him, hoping that maybe somehow, even without all the information she had, he might just be able to see something she hadn't. Minutes ticked by and her anxiety slowly grew until she was unable to sit still. Getting up, she paced back and forth, up and down between two rows of dusty desks while he continued to sit quietly.
"So, what's it all mean?" he asked at last.
She spun on her heel to face him. "I think…I think…honestly I have no idea."
"But you do think your doe was trying to say something to you today?" When she exasperatedly threw her hands into the air, he pressed on. "Alright, it's clear to me that you think these two events are connected. You wouldn't have told me all of this if you didn't. So what is it about Snape that's bothering you?"
Heather resumed pacing. Was there something about Snape? He was dead, but that didn't mean that their difficult relationship throughout her years at Hogwarts no longer affected her. But how could that be upsetting her, because before today she hadn't thought about him in months.
"The memorial," she said aloud at last. "His name wasn't included on it."
Neville nodded. It seemed that he had reached that conclusion as well but had waited for her to arrive there without assistance. "And I know you weren't happy about that. I still remember your speech at the dedication."
"And…" Heather started then stopped, feeling like she was on the tip of whatever it was but just couldn't get herself over the last mental hurdle. "…my doe was telling me I need to do something about it?" She phrased this as a question because even saying it out loud didn't make it feel any less ridiculous.
Neville got up off the pillows and approached. "I'm not sure if that's it as much as it's you are feeling like you need to do something. I've seen the way you looked the last few weeks, listening in on me and the prefects. In all the years I've known you you've never not been doing something when trouble is brewing."
Heather unconsciously nodded. He was right, and she knew it. A plan began forming in her mind. She sighed and leaned into him. The bubble of happiness that hadn't been able to be popped since their relationship started deflated a fraction. The world outside existed once again. "I think I need to do something that's going to make a lot of people very mad at me."
He hugged her, and the smile she could hear in his voice reassured her. "I think I like this plan already, tell me more."
An hour later the two of them were huddled over a table in the common room. They'd eschewed their usual seats by the fireplace so that no one would overhear what they were talking about. With Neville's help, Heather drafted a short letter that she would post the following morning, requesting a meeting over the holidays with the Minister for Magic.