Finding Heather

Year 7 Chapter 10

Author's Notes: This chapter will skip over the rest of the events in Godric's Hollow and the reading of Rita Skeeter's book. I tried hard to find enough in that section of the story that I could make Heather's that would be different enough from Harry's that it wouldn't feel like repetition but couldn't. So, this chapter starts on the night of the Silver Doe. I hope you enjoy as always.

Harry Potter belongs to the one, the only, JK Rowling. I borrowed bits and pieces from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for this chapter, but not too much.

Chapter Ten

Heather sat outside the tent dressed in every piece of clothing she had. The night was close all around her. Several times she sat up, only just catching herself falling into sleep, thinking that she had heard her name on the wind. Even through her many layers of clothes the chill crept in, making her shiver.

 With a start, Heather awoke to find it so dark that she could barely distinguish her own hand less than a foot in front of her face. There were noises in the darkness, the normal sounds of a forest an night, but even still in her momentary disorientation after waking, they seemed menacing. Then, in front of her, as though they had planned to meet there, a silver something walked out from behind a tree and stared at her.

 It was a doe, Heather recognized it at once as her, and her mother's, patronus. Awed by its arrival, Heather rose and stared into the silvery eyes. She gripped Hermione's wand tightly, but something told her that she need not fear attack. This wasn't dark magic at work.

"Mum?" Heather whispered, even though she knew it couldn't be true.

 Without a word the doe began to walk off into the trees. Heather cried after it, her voice cracking from the cold and lack of use. She hesitated, despite her confidence that there was no threat she had not taken complete leave of her senses. Looking back at the tent and seeing Hermione curled up on her bunk in the light of the lantern, a little voice in her head told her to go.

 It wasn't hard to follow the doe, though it left no hoof prints in the snow, as its light shone for a good way off. Heather kept her hand tight on the wand in her hand, ears pricked for the slightest amount of noise. How could her mother's patronus be here? Once before she had thought that her father had returned from the dead in order to save her and Sirius from dementors, but that had turned out to be Heather herself, travelling back to the past. Was it possible that this time that had actually happened?

"There's no spell that can reawaken the dead" came Dumbledore's voice, almost like that of a long-forgotten friend. She knew that, but still, what else could explain it? It certainly wasn't Heather's patronus, although if she had to guess hers would be near to identical to the one she was following now.

 The doe came to a halt some fifty feet ahead and turned, as though it were waiting for Heather. She began to run, completely disregarding any attempt at stealth. She had to reach it, to ask the questions that only it could answer. As she burst into the clearing where the patronus waited for it, it faded.

"No!" she cried, turning on the spot and staring out into the darkness. "Lumos!" Her wand light filled the dark space. Fresh snow reflected the light of the ground and tree limbs, illuminating the space with a ghostly pale light. There was a pool near where she stood, its surface covered in thick ice. As she circled, the corner of her eye caught a glimmer from somewhere under it. Bending over the pool, not willing to trust her weight on the ice, she held the wand out and looked. There at the bottom, on the rocky bottom, was a large silver cross. The sword of Godric Gryffindor was lying in the pool.

 Heather stood up and gazed around, looking more intently than ever into the darkness for some sign that she wasn't alone. When no one presented themselves, she turned again and stared into the ice. "Accio sword!" she said, but nothing happened. If she was being honest, she hadn't expected it too. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, or else it wouldn't have been put in the pool but left atop the ice. Knowing what she had to do, as much as she was deeply regretting it, Heather began to pull of her many layers of clothes.