Author's Notes:
Harry Potter does not belong to me unfortunately, it is the property of JK Rowling.
Chapter Two
The professor who Dumbledore had brought her to meet was an old portly man named Slughorn. When they arrived at his house, which was located in an upscale muggle neighborhood, the door had hung on its broken hinges and the living room was in complete disarray. Slughorn, afraid they had been Death Eater's, had destroyed the room and disguised himself as an armchair. After he and Dumbledore set the room to rights with a wave of their wands, he saw Heather for the first time.
"Oho" he cried, his eyes flashing to Heather's forehead. Even though he couldn't see the scar, Heather's new hairstyle intentionally covered it completely, her identity was still very clear. "Oho!" he said again, turning to Dumbledore.
"This, is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Horace Slughorn, and old associate of mine." Dumbledore said politely, as though he were completely unaware of the expression Slughorn was giving him.
Slughorn seemed somewhat put out by their visit, eager to see the back of them. At the same time, when Dumbledore produced a bottle of what appeared to be more Elvish wine, Slughorn agreed to one drink. He told them how he had been on the run since word had reached him that Voldemort had returned. The Death Eater's had come calling once, trying to recruit him or kill him he wasn't sure, but that was enough reason for him to flee. He'd been moving once a week since then, trying to stay one step ahead of his pursuers.
As Dumbledore attempted to coax him into returning to Hogwarts, he replied rather gruffly "If you're going to tell me my life would be easier by returning to that school, save your breath. I've heard what happened to your last teacher, Umbridge. If that's how you treat staff it's no wonder-"
"Professor Umbridge," said Dumbledore, cutting him off, "decided to call a herd of centaurs 'filthy half-breeds' in the middle of the forest. I trust that you would show more sense in that situation, Horace."
"Is that what she did? Idiotic woman."
Without meaning too Heather chuckled to herself, remembering Umbridge begging her to tell the centaurs she meant no harm. "I'm sorry Professor," she had said, "but I must not tell lies." Looking up she saw that both older wizards were looking at her for the first time in several minutes.
"Sorry, It's just I didn't like her either."
Abruptly, Dumbledore stood and made, to Heather, a rather obvious act of needing the bathroom to leave her alone with Slughorn. Once he was gone Slughorn seemed determined to ignore Heather's presence, standing in front of the fire warming his expansive backside. After several minutes he spoke to the room. "Don't think I don't know why you're here."
Heather didn't answer, letting Slughorn gaze over her, his eyes attempting again to find the scar on her forehead.
"You look very much like your father." He said.
"Yeah, I know. I've been told that a few times." Heather replied.
"Yet, at the same time you look like your mother too. Certainly in the eyes, but also in the face."
"Did you know her?" Heather asked.
"Of course. A teacher shouldn't have favorites of course, but she was one of mine. A brilliant witch, Lily Evans. Charming, vivacious, and very cheeky."
As if reminiscing Slughorn started a long tale about his house, Slytherin, and all of the students he'd taught during his years at Hogwarts. The longer he went on the more it became obvious how much he missed teaching. "Couldn't believe it when I found out your mother was muggle-born. Thought she must have been pureblood, as good as she was.
This statement didn't sit well with Heather. "My best friend is muggle-born" she said, letting a slight chill enter her voice, "and she's the best in my year."
"Funny how that happens." Slughorn said absently, still lost in memories.
"No. It's not." This time there was no mistaking the ice in her tone and Slughorn looked down as if snapped back to where he was.
"Oh no, you mustn't think I'm prejudiced. No, no haven't I just said your mother was one of my favorites?" He seemed very eager to convince Heather of his lack of blood purity ideology, but it didn't work. From his mother he went on to bring up several of his old muggle-born students and how he had favored them, usually resulting in him getting some benefit, which didn't help him in Heather's mind. To her he seemed the type that would favor someone only as far as he got something back in return.
By the time Dumbledore returned, which took rather longer than Heather would have expected for a simple bathroom trip, Heather was ready to leave. Slughorn seemed nice enough in a way, but at the same time felt somewhat flattering and hollow. It was almost as if he was trying overly hard to get on Heather's good side. It seemed however that something in what they had talked about had settled in Slughorn's mind, for as Dumbledore and Heather made their exit and were walking down the front path, he cried from behind them, "Alright, Albus I'll do it."
They walked only a short way in silence before Dumbledore broke it. "What did you think of Professor Slughorn?"
"Err-" replied Heather, trying to find a way to be honest and not insult his old friend.
"Yes, I think that sums it up. He is a wizard who likes his comfort and to wield the power from behind the throne. He's had many opportunities to sit on the throne himself but always favors holding sway from the background. He enjoys handpicking his favorites and catapulting their careers, feeling he influences them."
The image of a swollen spider wearing Slughorn's dressing gown, weaving a web across all of Britain filled Heather's mind and made her shudder.
"I tell you this not to make you dislike Professor Slughorn, although I do get the impression you see through him better than most do, but because I have a favor to ask. He will undoubtedly try to 'collect you' this year. You will be, in a way, the crown jewel of his collection. I would like you to let him, to get on his good side this year."
Heather internally squirmed at this request. "I'll do my best, sir."
"Naturally." Said Dumbledore as though he had no doubts of this. "Now Harry, please grab my hand once more."
Again Heather was squeezed by tight bands as they apparated, this time arriving in a very familiar place. There ahead of them in the gloom was the tall home of the Weasley Family, and one of Harry's favorite buildings in the world. Before leading him up the path to the kitchen, from which there was light emanating through the window, Dumbledore steered them into the Weasley's garden shed for a private conversation.
Inside he asked Heather not to wander or leave the Burrow for the rest of the summer, and to always keep her Invisibility Cloak on her this year. He also informed her that she would be taking private lessons with him this year. When she asked what these lessons would cover all he would say was "A little of this, a little of that."
"Now, Harry, one last thing before I take you inside and let Molly exclaim over how thin you are, at the end of last year I gave you a letter addressed to one 'Heather Potter.' We did not discuss the matter, having a good deal more vital things to discuss, but if you don't mind I would like to ask about her now."
"Professor..." Heather began, caught off guard by the very direct question.
"Let me try to put that another way," interrupted Dumbledore, "Is this Heather another name you have for yourself?"
"Yes, sir."
"And to those who know, of which it is obvious that Sirius was one, is that the name by which you would prefer they refer to you?"
"Yes, sir" Heather said, feeling her mouth dry.
"Then, Harry, or should I say Heather, let us say no more. This is obviously something that for the moment you would prefer to keep personal and I shall pry no further. Please forgive my prying."
Heather nodded mutely, unsure of how to respond. With that Dumbledore turned and opened the door, politely gesturing that Heather should proceed him from the broom shed. Heather started across the garden towards the house not entirely sure of what had happened just then, but filed it away for pondering later. Dumbledore rapped smartly on the door, and Heather could see a shadow moving across the kitchen.
"Who's there?" a voice asked from the other side of the door, full of caution and nerves.
"It is Dumbledore, bringing Harry as I told you I would."
At once the door flew open to reveal Mrs. Weasley in a green dressing down. She quickly ushered them inside, closing and locking the door behind them. To Heather's surprise she wasn't alone. Tonks was sitting at the table, seemingly nursing a cup of tea, but she wasn't the same Tonks that Heather had seen only a few short weeks before. Instead of vivid pink, her hair was brown and flat. She looked drawn, and the smile she put on at the sight of Heather and Dumbledore seemed forced somewhat. Neither she or Dumbledore stayed for more than pleasantries at that point, leaving Heather alone with Mrs. Weasley
"Now, let me get a good look at you." Mrs. Weasley said, "You've hardly grown at all. I swear Ron's grown at least four inches. And you've still got your hair long..." she broke off here and for a moment Heather felt uncomfortable. With a start she continued "Are you hungry?"
"Yeah, I am" said heather, not realizing until now how hungry she was.
As Heather sat down at the table while Mrs. Weasley whipped up some food, Crookshanks appeared at her feet and started rubbing up against her legs.
"Hermione's here?" she asked
"Yes, she got here the day before yesterday. Everyone's asleep of course."
Before Heather she put a bowl of soup and a plate with a full loaf of bread. Heather wasted no time digging in to the delicious food while Mrs. Weasley started filling her in on the events of the past few weeks. Mr. Weasley had been promoted and apparently the twins shop was booming.
"Now, I've got you all settled in Fred and George's room, you'll have it all to yourself."
"Why?" Heather asked
"They're living in the little flat above their shop in Diagon Alley. Come on, dear. Your trunk is already up there."
Mrs. Weasley led her from the kitchen and up the stairs as quietly as she could. On the second floor landing she opened one of the two doors leading from it into the twins' bedroom. Two beds and dressers filled most of the space, along with a large pile of sealed boxes.
"I did my best to tidy it" said Mrs. Weasley somewhat resignedly.
"Thanks Mrs. Weasley"
"Think nothing of it, Dear. Sweet dreams."
Heather changed into her pajamas from her trunk, and within moments was fast asleep.
She awoke the next morning completely when something large and red-haired burst into the room. "We didn't know you were here!" cried Ron, punching him in the arm.
"Ron! Don't hit her" Hermione said, whispering the last word.
"Wha-oh yeah" stammered Ron as Heather found her glasses and pushed them on. There next to her was the freckly face of Ron, and standing in the doorway was her best friend, Hermione. Heather smiled at both of them, ignoring the momentary confusion of Ron. It'll take getting used to she thought to herself.
"You all right?" asked Ron.
"Never better, now," said Heather.
Hermione crossed the room to sit at the end of her bed and the three set to a conversation about his travels with Dumbledore. Remembering something that he had told her the night before, Heather said "Ron, shut the door. There's something I need to tell you both."
As they raptly listened to her, Heather told them about hearing the prophecy in Dumbledore's office. Hermione was the first to speak, "But, Heather" and again she whispered the word, "You said it specifically spoke of a boy, but..." she trailed off
"Does it still apply to me?" Heather finished for her, "I asked Dumbledore about that and he said that it does. Since Voldemort 'marked me as his equal' it has to mean me."
"So wait, Dumbledore knows about..." Ron too trailed off, gesturing at Heather vaguely.
"About...me? Yes and no. He knows I also go by Heather, Sirius left him a letter addressed to Heather before he died."
"Oh, Heather" said Hermione, reaching out to hold her hand, "You must be terrified."
"I was when I first heard it, yeah. But now, I mean it was always going to be him or me, wasn't it?"
Before any of the rest of them could speak, Ginny burst into the room, a foul mood radiating off her. "Hi" she said shortly before going into a rage about 'her' and how 'she' was treating Ginny. Heather was completely lost, especially after Ron started to defend this unknown person. The mystery of who 'she' was was quickly answered. Into the room, which was starting to feel very cramped now, entered Fleur Delacour carrying Heather's breakfast tray. She was exactly as Heather remembered her, tall and beautiful, with long blonde hair that seemed to shimmer as she moved.
Ron had gone slack jawed as she entered the room, as he had two years before anytime they had crossed paths at Hogwarts. Heather on the other hand found that whatever hold Fleur, and veela's in general she assumed, my have had over her in the past was gone. She was still exceptionally beautiful to Heather, but not in the way that made him want to dive out of the top box at the Quidditch World Cup to impress her.