Harry Potter And The Curse Of The Emerald Witch - Epilogue free porn video

EPILOGUE Harry lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself. A long time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to him that he must exist. He was more than a disembodied thought because he was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore, he had a sense of touch, and the thing against which he lay existed too. Almost as soon as he had reached this conclusion, Harry became conscious that he was naked. Convinced as he was of in total solitude, this did not concern him, but it did intrigue him slightly. He wondered whether, as he could feel, he would be able to see. In opening them, he discovered that he had eyes. He lay in a bright mist, though it was not like mist he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapour; rather the cloudy vapour had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which he lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be. He sat up. His body appeared unscathed. He touched his face, his chest, and his arms. He was naked and had returned to his male form. This did not scare nor excite him; rather, it made him feel relieved. For the first time, he wished he were clothed. Barely had the wish formed in his head when robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and pulled them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them. Then a noise reached him through the unformed nothingness that surrounded him: the shrill screams of something that flapped, flailed, and struggled against a powerful force. It was a pitiful noise, yet also slightly indecent. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on something furtive, shameful. In the distance of this great nothingness, a silhouette forms, then, a second. Despite not having his glasses, Harry could see sharply enough to focus on the two figures approaching him. He could not believe it, he refused to believe it; but the two figures were his parents, both smiling with pride and warmth. He could feel his heart swelling and his eyes stinging with sadness. It was almost too much for him, and for a moment, he found it difficult to feel anything because there was so much happening before him. His parents were right there within his reach. Lily and James Potter stood but a few feet away from their son, ceasing the chance to embrace him for the first time in fourteen years. "You're almost there, son," said James, beaming from ear to ear. "We are so proud of you," added Lily, beckoning Harry to come forward with her outreached arm. Harry took a step forward to take his mother's hand but his own fell right through her. He could not touch their spirit form. This injustice made him feel a horrible pain in his chest. "I guess you're about half way there then," said James sorrowfully. "You've only got one more step to take, Harry," said Lily, gesturing over her shoulder. A train was there, waiting by the platform. Had it always been there? Or did it just appear? "However, you can return if you wish," said James. "Return where?" Harry asked, feeling as though he already knew the answer. "Back!" beamed James. The distant screech out of unformed nothingness cried out in pain once again, startling Harry to the core. "W-What is that noise?" he asked, feeling rightfully scared. "It is the Emerald Witch," said Lily, her expression hardening. "She is destined to wander this wasteland for eternity, not quite dead, not quite living." Harry squirmed at the thought of living in the space around him. "I wouldn't want to spend eternity here," said James, his eyes trailing around. "I've been standing here for only a few minutes and I'm already bored." Harry laughed for the first time in months. His father lived up to the intelligent, witty man who never refrained from seeing the lighthearted side of life. Or death in this matter. "So if I get on the train, where will it take me?" Harry asked. James and Lily looked at each other warmly and then to their son. "It will take you to us," said Lily. "But you can go back if you choose." Harry felt like he needed a moment to himself. The choice before him was so great that it did not even comprehend with his mind. He thought about the prospect of spending the rest of his days with his parents in a far, unknown world. The idea filled him with so much joy and happiness that pain seemed impossible to imagine. However, he thought about the life he would be leaving behind, the life that included Ron and Hermione, Hogwarts, and the magical world that he loved so dearly. He felt he could not leave the life he fought and suffered through for so long, the life he made his own. He always yearned for his parents, and despite wanting to be close to them, he believed that he could spend a little longer waiting. He felt he had a duty to go on living, no matter the cost. Barely had the choice formed in his head when Lily and James turned to leave, leaving Harry with some very important words. "Remember, whoever you choose to be, you will always have proud parents who love you very much. We will always be in your heart until the day comes when we will meet again. Live well, Harry." *** Harry awoke to beautiful sunlight streaming through a window. He tried to climb through it but didn't have the strength to stand. Then something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it but his arms were too heavy. He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange. He blinked again and the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him. "Good afternoon, Heather," said Dumbledore. Heather? Harry thought. Oh no! Harry quickly jumped up, discovering that he was still a she. She noticed her vision was poor once again so she scrambled around for her glasses and put them on. She felt as if she had just returned to the panicked state she had left before Emerald took her body. "Sir! The Emerald Witch! She's going to take the castle and murder -," "Calm yourself, Heather, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "The Emerald Witch is gone." "But sir, why am I still a -," "Heather, please relax!" said Dumbledore sternly. Heather swallowed and looked around her. She realised she must be in the hospital wing private quarters. She was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to her was a table piled high with what looked like half of the stock from Honeydukes Sweet Shop. "How long have I been here?" "Two weeks. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have finally come round. They have been extremely worried." There was a moment of comfortable silence as Dumbledore smiled at Heather. "Sir, I was going to die," said Heather gravely. "How can I be here...right now...talking to you?" "I think you know the answer to that better than I do, Ms. Potter," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling. "You're probably wondering why it took me so long to take action against the curse, am I correct?" Heather lay there, lost for words so she simply nodded. "The truth is that I didn't understand," said Dumbledore, sounding vaguely flustered. "I never saw magic like that since - oh - before you were born, and if I am honest, it frightened me." "It made you feel frightened?" Heather exclaimed, not quite believing her ears. "Heather, even old wizards like me get scared from time to time," said Dumbledore, gently patting his chest. "But yes, I didn't understand the magic. I feared if I attempted to drive the curse from you that I would also kill you along with it. When you came to my office, I could see in your eyes that your life was upheld in a delicate balance between you and The Emerald Witch. I felt I couldn't take that risk." "Then why did it take you so long to act?" "I felt it would be easier to target the curse the more it took hold of you, but I guess the majority of my faith was invested in something that a dark sorcerer like Emerald would never understand." "What's that sir?" Dumbledore put it very simply. "Love," he said, gently nodding. "Love gives you the ability to do very great things. Someone full of hate, such as Emerald, who has never known it, cannot understand its power, and for that, we should pity her. She was doomed to fail the moment she cursed you, as was the dark lord Voldemort." Heather lay back in the bed. Her head felt numb. "Sir, there are some things I'd like to know, if you can tell me...things I want to know the truth about." "The truth?" Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie." "Will I...will I be like this forever?" Heather asked, looking down at her female form. "Your body never transformed back to its old self after the curse was broken so I'm afraid not," said Dumbledore, candidly looking at Heather in the eye. "You will be a girl, yes, but I have no doubt you will grow into a strong young woman as well as a cunning witch." Heather didn't give her mind the chance to register what she just heard. She had matters far greater than her concerning gender on her mind. She took a deep breath, feeling rather anxious, which was an odd sensation in the presence of the headmaster. "There's one thing I don't understand, sir," she said, sitting up in her bed to talk more closely. "Why would risk the safety of everyone at Hogwarts...just for me?" Dumbledore sighed deeply. "Alas, the second thing you ask me, I cannot tell you," he said truthfully. "Not today. Not now. You will know, one day...but put it from your mind for now, Heather. When the appropriate time comes, and when you're a little older, I will tell you." Heather knew it would be pointless to argue. "But why would the Emerald Witch want to curse me? It seems a little curious, don't you think?" said Heather. "Quite curious indeed, Heather," said Dumbledore matter-of-factly. "To think that Emerald would curse you after everything you've been through as mere coincidence would be rather imprudent." "Then why me?" Dumbledore started chuckling. "Again, I'm afraid I must present you with a complete lack of knowledge regarding recent events, Heather," he said, his expression apologetic. "All I can do is guess." "Guess?" Heather repeated. "I think you'll find many of the riddles in life rely heavily on our own clumsy guesswork," said Dumbledore, beginning to take on a graver tone of voice. "Having said that, I do feel that something malevolent is rising. It is unseen and hidden in plain sight. It will not show itself, not yet...but with every day it grows in strength." Heather felt slightly put out by Dumbledore's council and even a little disturbed. She had ideas about what he was referring to but she felt apprehensive in asking. "What's rising, Sir?" she asked rather hesitantly. "I'm not sure but whatever it is, it's something I haven't felt for a long, long time." Like the flick of a switch, Dumbledore had now become very interested in a bird that landed on the windowsill, which gave Heather the time to compose herself. She already felt exhausted with all the talking. She needed plenty of rest before she regained her full strength. "Ah yes, I remember these!" said Dumbledore, picking up a box of chocolate frogs. "In my youth, I knew a chap who used to eat these from dawn until dusk. Of course, he had to stop because he started believing he was like one of the countless frogs he ate every day." Heather couldn't help but grin from ear-to-ear. "Now, I must leave you before Madame Pomfrey throws me out," said Dumbledore, heaving his robes up as he stood. "She is a kind and strict woman, but nevertheless hell bent on making sure you get plenty of rest!" Dumbledore turned to leave but Heather felt like she needed to ask one more question before he left. She wanted to see if he knew anything about meeting people who died long ago, just like he had with her own parents after the curse was destroyed. "Sir," Heather called softly. "Yes, Heather?" Something at the back of Heather's mind told her not to say anything to the headmaster about meeting her parents. She felt unsure if she even met them at all. It could have been all in her head. Regardless of whether she did communicate with them or not, she felt the need to keep it quiet and sacred to herself. "Thank you for saving my life, sir," she said. Dumbledore seemed to sense that she was holding back some of her words but he smiled nevertheless and said, "Don't thank me, Heather. Thank yourself and your friends." *** Madame Pomfrey was adamant to keep Heather isolated within the confines of the hospital wing until she fully regained her strength. She was not allowed visitors and she was certainly prohibited from leaving her bed. This frustrated Heather so much, because she felt she would recover more productively in the company of her friends, namely Ron and Hermione. Heather would lay awake in bed, endlessly wondering, and hoping she would be able to pick up the pieces of her shattered friendships. After everything the curse inflicted upon her and her loved ones, she could not help but feel as though nothing would ever be the same again. She was a girl now. As much as she refused to admit it, she felt different inside too. She kept up to date with the goings on of the wizarding world through obsessive reading of The Daily Prophet every morning. She saw photographs of Hogwarts in ruin after the great battle, which horrified her. She learned there were many student casualties, but miraculously, no deaths. Despite this, all aspects of magical society from the ministry to the common folk, now questioned Dumbledore's ability to keep the school safe. "He's getting too old. I think it's time he steps down before somebody gets killed." "If Dumbledore is reading this, I want him to know that I will not be sending my youngest to Hogwarts this September." "Dumbledore is the supposed wizard of our age yet we cannot be assured that our children will ever be safe at Hogwarts." Dumbledore even issued a public statement, explaining the series of events in detail that led to the castle coming under fire. However, this only raised more questions that even he could not answer. It was painful for Heather to watch these events unfold through a newspaper. If she only knew why Dumbledore went to such great lengths to save her from death then maybe she might understand what was happening. Nobody understood. That was the problem. All she could do was wait until she healed and that seemed to be taking forever. The day finally arrived when Heather was discharged from Madame Pomfrey's care. She felt energised again yet utterly crestfallen and anxious. What could she possibly say to Ron and Hermione? Would the world accept her new gender? Would she ever feel like her old self? Heather's new uniform was left at the foot of the bed. It was well ironed and neatly folded. She looked at the skirt, taking into account how bizarre her life turned out to be. She got dressed and prepared herself to take the plunge into her new life. As always, she felt a little silly in girl's attire but she reckoned it was something she would have to get used to in time. Heather left the hospital wing, bag in tow, and spotted Ron and Hermione in the distance of the exit corridor. They were talking to each other as though everything were just fine. She liked looking at them this way so she gazed upon her two best friends with warmth in her heart. She swallowed down, trying her best not to get emotional when they spotted her. Hermione broke into a swift run down the hallway, beaming from ear to ear with joyful tears in her eyes, and Heather did the same. They both stopped halfway, looking at each other with pure elation, almost disbelief, until Hermione opened her arms. Heather did not hesitate to go into them. Hermione's embrace was warm, and her small, slender arms felt very protective and true. The world seemed to melt around her as she squeezed her back, not wanting the moment to end. Heather opened her eyes to see Ron standing behind them, awkwardly shuffling his feet. She broke away from Hermione and turned to the first person she had ever talked to on the Hogwarts Express five years ago. "Ron," said Heather. "So am I supposed to call you Heather from now on?" said Ron, grinning. The two gave each other a brotherly hug, much like the one warriors would give each other after the end of a long, hard battle. For in that moment, Heather felt like her battle with the Emerald Witch had ended but the deep scars remained. Despite this, she found that Dumbledore's words increased in resonance as she walked down the hallway with Ron and Hermione. All she needed were the ones she loved. *** Things were beginning to change very fast at Hogwarts. The number of students decreased as the second term wore on towards the summer holidays. Concerned parents pulled many of their children from the school after the "The Emerald Scandal," as the Daily Prophet labelled it. Among these were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, whom were arguably dealt with one of the strangest hands regarding the controversy. Their son, Draco, was now a girl. Nobody had heard much about the Malfoy's but whispers spread of Draco being taken to some of the best medical practitioners around the world. All tests proved to be inconclusive and no spell could reverse the changes to his gender. It was permanent. Naturally, the Malfoy's were not going to let it slide so they were pressing charges against the headmasters office, as were many other families. It was likely they would all be compensated for their hardships, which left the fate of Dumbledore gravely uncertain. In the midst of the chaos, Heather, Ron, and Hermione were forced to prepare for their O.W.L.'s, which were drawing ever closer by the day. Heather only saw them for an hour or two in the common room every night due to their busy schedules. Hermione had more or less chained herself to the library, using every second of her free time to study for the exams. She always looked tired even after she had just been sleeping. Her bushy hair was wilder and frizzier than ever as stress took control of her life. Heather hated seeing her this way and she could not wait to get the exams over and done with. As for Ron, he spent most of his days slacking off down at the Quidditch pitch, pretending he had no responsibilities. However, he would occasionally experience bouts of panic when he realised that nearly everyone else was studying except him. He would ask Hermione for help but she was far too preoccupied with memorising her own notes. Heather tried her best to concentrate on her work but her new lease on life was more than distracting. She had trouble sleeping at night because that was when she felt most aware of her new body. She would wake up each morning, wondering for a quick moment why she was surrounded by girls in the dormitory before remembering that she was now one of them. On her way to the library, Heather would avoid the prohibited sections of the castle as reconstruction and repairs commenced. She noticed the occasional stare, glare, or sneer but she did not let it get to her. As far as she was concerned, they were all in the same boat. Everyone had to get used to the way things were now. Heather was glad to receive a comforting letter from Sirius one evening in the Great Hall. Dear Heather, That appears to be your name from now on, so I hope you'll forgive me for using it. I cannot begin to express how relieved I am that you are alive and well. You are lucky to have made it through this curse and I could not feel any more pride in my heart. I'm sure James and Lily would feel the same if they were here today. I know the past year has been hard for you and I'm sorry that I was unable to support you during your darkest hour. You and I both know the reasons behind this but we will meet again very soon. I have no doubt that the real trial begins now as you adjust to your new life as a young witch. I promise that I will be there to help you to the best of my circumstances. Sirius For Heather, the letter felt like a blessing to her otherwise sheltered existence. Her friends and loved ones accepted who she was now yet she still felt uneasy in her own skin. She knew it would take a great amount of time for her to accept her new identity. She just wanted to feel like herself again. Or at least, feel content with being a girl. The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to the fifth-years this meant only one thing: their OWLs were upon them at last. Their teachers were no longer setting them homework; lessons were devoted to revising those topics the teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drove nearly everything but the OWLs from Heather's mind. The exams proved themselves mentally exhausting and soul destroying. Heather agreed to test Hermione on Charms, which was to be their first exam, but she regretted it almost at once. She was very agitated and kept snatching the book back from her to check that she had got the answer completely right, finally hitting her hard on the nose with the sharp edge of Achievements in Charming. "Do it yourself then!" said Heather firmly. Meanwhile, Ron was reading two years' worth of Charms notes with his fingers in his ears, his lips moving soundlessly. Seamus Finnegan was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Dean checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 and Parvati and Lavender, who were practicing basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil-cases race each other around the edge of the table. For Heather, the exams went surprisingly well. Her newfound academia, which accompanied her new gender proved to be most useful. Despite everything that happened to her that year, she took in a lot more than she had expected. But that still did not stop her from being stressed. She found that stress will always prevail. Their final exam, History of Magic, took place towards the end of June. The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took their places in front of their facedown examination papers. Heather felt exhausted. She just wanted this to be over, so that she could go and sleep; then tomorrow, she and Ron were going to go down to Hogmeade to celebrate their freedom. *** After being gone for the past few months of the term, Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts in time for the end-of-year feast. Most people finished packing and were already heading down to the Great Hall, but Heather had not even started. "Just do it tomorrow!" said Ron, who was waiting by the door of their dormitory. "Come on, I'm starving." "I won't be long... look, you go ahead..." But when the dormitory door closed behind Ron, Heather made no effort to speed up her packing. The very last thing she wanted to do was to attend the Leaving Feast. She was worried that Dumbledore would make some reference to her in his speech. He was sure to mention the Emerald Scandal seeing as it played a massive part in the past school year. Heather pulled some crumpled robes out of the very bottom of her trunk to make way for folded ones and, as she did so, noticed the photo album Hagrid had given to her in first year. She bent down, pulled it out from underneath her pleated skirts, and opened it. She could feel a lump forming in her throat, as she leafed through the pages. Looking at herself as a boy felt surreal. She felt that Harry now belonged to the past and all that was left of him was memory and photographs, much like her parents whom constantly lay in the back of her mind. She wondered if her vision was real, if she had actually met them in another world. She supposed she would not find out until the time came when she really did have to die. In a way, she liked to think that her old persona had gone on to join her parents but she knew she was over romanticising. She couldn't look back. She wasn't going that way. Heather reached inside her robes and took out a new photograph, one of her, Ron, and Hermione smiling together outside the Great Hall after their final OWL exam. She placed it inside the album, closed it, and brought it to her chest. She closed her eyes, bracing herself to go down to the feast. She was ready. The Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colours of emerald and silver to celebrate their victory in winning of the house cup. A huge banner showing the serpent covered the wall behind the High Table, casting a dark glow on the hall. When Heather walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. She slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the people who were standing up to look at her. Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later and the babble quickly died away. "Alas, we have come to the end of yet another year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And what a year it has been. I trust you all feel more knowledgeable as well as a bit wiser. Now before we sink our teeth into this delicious feast, I would like to say a few words." Heather's stomach lurched as a deathly silence blanketed the hall. "The end," said Dumbledore, looking around at the hall, "of another year." He paused, as if for the first time, he needed to choose his words carefully. His eyes fell upon the Gryffindor table. Theirs had been the most subdued table, pale faced, and quiet, as they had just fallen short of winning the house cup. "And with an end comes the greatest change, an aspect of life some find exciting, but for others, it can be extremely unsettling." Heather felt as though Dumbledore was specifically talking to her. She looked through the crowd, noting that most looked solemn, dejected, tired. "In light of recent events, you all faced a great evil within your school walls, one such entity that risked the safety of your lives," Dumbledore continued. "And yet here we are, each and every one of us, standing as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. The evil we faced was of immense power, one of which we fought with the strength and bond of friendship and trust. Differences are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open to the great battle of change." Dumbledore looked to his fellow professors, the students, and finally, directly to Heather, who was taken aback by the numbing silence in the hall. "There is someone else who must be mentioned here today," Dumbledore went on. "I am, of course, talking about Heather Potter, who managed to escape the grasp of a terrible curse in the face of great odds." A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned to look at Heather before flicking back to Dumbledore. "Heather risked her own life to save you all. She showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few witches and wizards have ever shown in facing great darkness, and for this, I honour her." Dumbledore turned gravely to Heather and raised his goblet. Nearly everyone in the hall followed suit, murmuring her name as they drank to her. When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, "Change will always a part of life, because our lives are forever progressing. It may not be easy, but it does make life rather interesting. After all, if nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies." A few students laughed while Dumbledore beamed, looking rather pleased with his little joke. He went on, resuming his grave, dulcet tone, "At that, I now face a great change of my own, one that I trust you've all felt has been coming for some time. As soon as the term ends, I will be stepping down as Headmaster of this great school." The hall burst into a frenzy of loud whispers and murmuring. Heather couldn't believe her ears. No - it was impossible. She didn't connect the dots in her brain, as though she caused a short circuit. Startled, it took her a few moments to realise that Hermione was touching her hand, gazing solemnly into her eyes. Did she hear correctly? The hall was silenced by the raise of Dumbledore's hand, whom continued on, "When you come back in September after a long summer rest, you will find Professor McGonagall in my stead, a witch more than worthy to undertake the pleasure of reeling in the next generation of magical-kind. To you all, I say good luck, live well and live broadly, for now is the envy of all those who have passed. Farewell." Dumbledore took a step back from the podium, and several people clapped, which quickly turned into hundreds. The hall erupted in applause, as everyone leapt to their feet, whistling and jeering as loudly as they could. For Heather, there was something magical about being part of the crowd, an easing to the loneliness within, but she could feel herself welling up, as she eyed the headmaster whom tipped his hat to her amongst the chaotic noise. Everyone acted the same, cheered for the same moment, and felt united as one to celebrate the greatest wizard of the age. Change was here. *** With all possessions packed away into her trunk, Heather stood idly in girl's dormitory, staring at nothing in particular. She found herself doing this a lot lately but she didn't really know why. She wasn't thinking about anything in particular rather she was lost in a daze. She wondered if she was suffering from some form of trauma, but she didn't feel particularly bad. If anything, she felt nothing. Heather knew she should probably hurry up if she were to catch the Hogwarts Express in time. Everyone else had already left. The dorm was so still, so baron, and quiet that you could probably hear a feather drop. She resumed looking at the two outfits she had laid out on the bed, one feminine and the other masculine. She was in two minds regarding her choice. She had a sentimental attachment to her red and white striped rugby jersey despite having inherited it as a hand-me-down from Dudley years ago. It never fit her as a boy and it certainly didn't fit her now. She sighed mournfully, as she came to the grave conclusion that nobody would ever perceive her as a boy ever again. So what was the use in trying. She knew she had to be bold and make a statement to the world that she wasn't afraid anymore and neither should anyone else. That's what Harry would do, right? Heather stripped down, heart racing, as she picked up the short-sleeved blouse - checked in maroon and beige, and buttoned it up. Then she stepped into a tweed a-line skirt, raised it up to her bellybutton, and fastened the thin brown belt around her tiny waist. She smoothened the skirt out, noting how the hem stopped at the knee before stepping into a pair of brown, t-strapped shoes with a two-inch heel. She took a deep breath, as though she were about to dive over the edge of a cliff. She was ready to go at last but she had one last stop before making her way down to Hogmeade Station. As she roamed through the corridor, trunk wheeling behind her in tow, she realised she had never seen the place so empty, well, perhaps at Christmas time but this felt different. Not even Peeves was anywhere to be seen. While she walked, she could feel her confidence rising, skirt swishing with her pelvic movements. She didn't know it, but she looked elegant. Heather stopped outside the Gargoyle statue that held guard over Dumbledore's office. "Sherbert Lemon," she said, and the Gargoyle immediately leapt aside, revealing the spiral staircase that led up the tower. She left her trunk by the gargoyle, telling it to keep a watch on it while she was inside, but it didn't budge. She ascended the staircase, feeling terribly nervous about the way she looked, but also curious. Heather felt a tremendous weight build up in her chest when she saw the office. The large and beautiful circular room was no longer filled with funny little noises nor did it house the curious silver instruments that stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. It was all gone. All that remained was a shabby, tattered wizard's hat - the sorting hat, and the portraits of old headmasters and mistresses of the past. Heather felt herself beginning to panic with the mere thought of having missed Dumbledore. Was he already gone? She quietly approached his empty desk and looked around it, stroking her hands against the gold rim. So clean. She cast her thoughts back to the time she sat in the very spot where she stood, all bloodied and dirty after facing Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets. Oddly enough, she found herself smiling, which made her feel rather guilty. "A bit confused lately are we?" croaked the Sorting Hat. Heather quickly looked at the dusty old hat with annoyance. It had startled her, but now she was lost for words. She ignored the hat, whom curled its lip knowingly, as if it knew exactly what Heather was thinking that moment. "You really should be on your way to Hogmeade Station, Heather," said the voice of Dumbledore. Heather looked to where the voice came from, which was atop the metal staircase. Fawkes rested proudly on the crook of Dumbledore's arm, his scarlet feathers, and golden tail illuminating the smiling face of the old headmaster. He whispered something to the phoenix, who took flight around the dome of the room before majestically landing on his perch, gnawing at his own feathers. "Who would dare say I never possessed the flair for a dramatic entrance?" said Dumbledore, humming with a warm smile. He began descending the staircase. "You've come to see me off?" "I've come to ask you something, sir," said Heather, clasping and unclasping her hands together. She didn't know what to do with them. "I just - I just want to know why you're leaving." Dumbledore walked around his desk to face Heather. "You and I both know that the people want me out of this chair and I'm afraid we must respect the wishes of those who put their trust in me to protect their children. "But -," Heather stopped to consider what she was about to say. "But you're a hero, sir." Heather felt her cheeks boil over. She wished she hadn't put it so childishly but she couldn't deny that she viewed him such a light after everything he did for her. She took a step forward, feeling a surge of confidence rise up from within. "If this is to be the last time I see you, I want to make it worthwhile. I want everyone to know what you did for me. I want them all to know what you did for them. I want them to know that you're a good person." Dumbledore's face slowly dropped and he forced a weary smile. "I wish that were so, Heather," he said gravely. "This isn't the end of our friendship. We will see each other again." Heather knew it was useless to subdue her frustration. She knew she would have to live with it, and in time, it should hopefully pass. They stood there, looking at each other, saying nothing. But it was the kind of nothing that meant everything. Heather felt it in the pit of her stomach, the familiar ache, that lost, regretful feeling only she could feel. Maybe this was she came to the office, so she could really know. So she could say goodbye. Dumbledore walked up to Heather, and pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her. She couldn't believe it. His embrace was warm and protective. The world around Heather seemed to melt away, as she found herself squeezing him back, not wanting the moment to end. But it was a simple, brief hug that cut short by the chiming of the clock tower, which meant she had to leave. She backed away from Dumbledore, feeling a lump forming in her throat, as she turned to leave. The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King's Cross than it had been on their way to Hogwarts the previous September. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky. Heather, Ron, and Hermione had managed to get a compartment to themselves. Pigwidgeon was once again hidden under Ron's dress robes to stop him from hooting continually; Hedwig was dozing, her head under her wing, and Crookshanks was curled up in a spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion. Heather, Ron, and Hermione talked more fully and freely than they had all week as the train sped them southward. Heather felt as though Dumbledore's speech at the Leaving Feast had unblocked him, somehow. It was less painful to discuss what had happened now. They didn't even draw attention to her new, feminine outfit, which rejuvenated her with self assurance. After a short while, the compartment fell silent, and the low hum of the train ushered Ron and Hermione into a peaceful slumber. Heather looked at them both, feeling warmth in her heart before turning her gaze out the window. She wondered how the Dursley's would react to her once she set foot on that platform. She hoped they would brush her off as some lunatic. The mere thought of being in Privet Drive for the whole summer made her quiver. The sky was painted in purples and pinks as the sun set behind the tall green mountains. Even though Heather knew the dawn was still some time away, there was newfound light in her heart that was missing just yesterday. Right now, it's a spark, a ray of sunshine yet to be born, but it was there and she felt it. Perhaps it was optimism, the anticipation of good things to come. It's a feeling she didn't experience in so long that it felt foreign but equally welcome. In that moment, she knew she had survived once more. After all, she was Heather Potter - The Girl Who Lived... DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.