White Heather for Protection

Minerva McGonagall

Hadrian and Professor McGonagall were chatting when Heather walked into the room.

"Ah, Miss Potter, I was just telling Mr Potter some stories of your parents' Hogwarts days. Both of you have such delightful manners; I'm sure you got that from Lily rather than James," the Professor said with a small quirk of her lips.

Heather chuckled and replied, "Yes, Papa had to be taught manners with Hadrian and I. Poor Mama actually had three children rather than two!" All three of them laughed lightly at this before the mood turned serious.

"Speaking of which, where are your muggle relatives? I regret the lack of advanced notice, but this visit was an impromptu one."

"Muggle?" Heather questioned, her brow wrinkled in slight confusion.

"It means non-magical, Miss Potter."

"Oh, they're out right now, but Aunt Petunia is quite happy to leave discussions regarding the magical world to us," Heather stated truthfully. Petunia wouldn't interact with freaks if she could help it.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips briefly in disapproval. "Then let's discuss your concerns, shall we?" Heather indicated her agreement and the Professor continued, "First, your financial worries. You need not be concerned as your parents left the both of you a rather sizable inheritance. It will be more than enough to see you though your schooling years."

"How would we access this money?" Heather enquired.

"The vaults containing the inheritance are in the Wizarding Bank of Gringotts. Gringotts and the other shops where you will purchase your school supplies are located in the magical district of Diagon Alley. I will be chaperoning your visit there later on for your shopping." The Professor paused briefly, seeming to hesitate in bringing up the next point.

Heather schooled her expression into neutrality. She knew what the remaining problem was. Rian did too, if his anxious look was anything to go by. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "And what of that other problem I wrote about? Regarding Hadrian?"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat delicately. "Mr Potter shall have to remain here with your relatives. While the both of you are underage, they will remain your legal guardians. You shall also have to return here during the summer holidays, Miss Potter."

Heather frowned at this and protested, "I don't think Hadrian should be left here alone. It's not safe for him!"

"His safety is actually the very reason he needs to stay here. I understand your concern regarding Deatheaters, but your blood relation to Petunia Dursley née Evans provides protection against wizards who would wish Mr Potter harm," the Professor explained.

"I don't understand. Deatheaters? And what do they have to do with Aunt Petunia?" Heather was confused; Professor McGonagall didn't seem to realise that the danger she was worried about came from their relatives themselves.

The Professor attempted to clarify. "Deatheaters are the followers of the Dark wizard who tried to kill Mr Potter all those years ago," and succeeded in killing your parents. "Your mother's sacrifice that day enacted a blood protection for Mr Potter that is maintained by living with your aunt," she tried to say clinically, though her eyes had a suspicious sheen.

"I see." Hadrian clenched his hands to prevent them from shaking. "So I'm still in danger from Dark wizards?" His voice rose in agitation. Heather threaded a hand through his to calm him and he took a deep breath.

"You will be safe living here with your relatives, Mr Potter," the Professor reiterated. 'Yeah, safe from Deatheaters that is,' Heather thought sarcastically.

"I understand," Heather stated softly, "Hadrian and I will enrol at Hogwarts in two years' time then." She ignored the shocked look Rian gave her.

Professor McGonagall was shaking her head. "No Miss Potter. The school laws rule against delays in admittance, barring extenuating circumstances." Heather opened her mouth, but was cut off. "And before you ask, Mr Potter cannot be enrolled early either."

Heather wanted to slump in defeat at the Professor's apologetic but firm expression. She sighed in resignation and smiled weakly at Rian's comforting glance. "You are absolutely sure that the blood protection will hold, even under siege, Professor?"

The elderly witch stared steadily at Heather's measuring glance and said, "Yes, Miss Potter. I assure you that no wizards will harm Mr Potter in this house. Headmaster Dumbledore has personally verified the integrity of the blood wards."

At Heather's grimly satisfied nod and murmured thanks, the Professor continued, "Now that all that is settled, shall we proceed to purchase your school supplies, Miss Potter, Mr Potter?"

"To Diagon Alley, right, Professor? Is there anything we need to bring?" Hadrian chimed in, glad that the sombre mood was broken.

"All you need is Miss Potter's Hogwarts letter." Professor McGonagall then looked Hadrian over and concluded, "Mr Potter, you may consider donning a hat to cover up your hair and scar. You are known as a sort of celebrity in most of Wizarding Britain. One of your most common monikers is the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Your wavy copper hair and lightning bolt scar are especially distinctive traits." Hadrian grimaced slightly at the words.

Heather agreed inwardly. Drawing attention meant attracting danger. Anonymity would be their best bet. She smiled slightly at her brother's shudder of distaste. She would be teasing him mercilessly for this. The Boy-Who-Lived, really?

Heather excused herself to clean up the tea tray and to put everything back where she found it. It was unlikely that Petunia would notice anything amiss, but odds were that the Dursleys couldn't be completely oblivious all the time. Best not to try her luck too much.

She returned to the sitting room to see Rian hand a piece of scrap cloth to Professor McGonagall. Curiosity piqued, she observed closely as the elderly witch drew out a long wooden stick out of her sleeve. A swish of her stick, a few muttered words and the cloth turned into a worn cap.

Intrigued, Heather asked, "What did you just do with that stick, Professor?" Was using the stick somehow affecting the use of magic?

"This 'stick' is my wand, Miss Potter. It is a tool that wizards and witches use to channel their magic for spellcasting," the Professor explained while leading the siblings out of the house. "We will be getting you one as well later. However, you cannot use your wand outside of Hogwarts until your seventeenth birthday because of a law that bans underage use of magic."

"But Hadrian and I have used magic without wands before," Heather stated, perplexed.

The Professor led them across the street. "Most magical children display random bursts of magic known as accidental magic when experiencing strong emotions. For controlled use of magic, however, you will need a wand. True wandless magic can only be performed by extremely powerful wizards," she explained matter-of-factly.

Heather exchanged a look with her brother which went unnoticed behind the Professor's back. She shook her head minutely and held a finger to her lips. Hadrian nodded briefly in acquiesce and attempted to divert the conversation.

"So what was that spell you used just now, Professor?" Hadrian asked, half in part trying to change the subjected, half because he was truly curious. The magic he and his sister performed was mostly instinctive and wordless. He was fairly confident that they could replicate what the Professor just did, but perhaps wandmagic was different?

"That, Mr Potter, was a branch of magic known as Transfiguration. It is basically magic which specialises in transforming one object into another. I happen to be the Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts," the witch eagerly lectured. She stopped as she stepped onto the porch of a familiar house and knocked briskly.

'Mrs Figg? Why would we be visiting her?' Heather wondered. The old lady was nice enough to take care of them for the Dursleys occasionally, though she was slightly batty and had an unhealthy fixation on cats. Heather held her peace when the door opened.