Finding Heather

Year 6 Chapter 2

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.