White Heather for Protection

Stirring Emotions

It was now well into October. Heather was ahead of her lessons, up to second year, in fact. She'd explored more of the castle with the twins. Her foxglove was blooming beautifully. Hadrian was doing fairly well - as well as he could be at the Dursleys', anyway.

And Heather was miserable.

Fred and George had detention every weekend until the end of November for turning all the Ravenclaw firsties' hair bright blue. (Heather should probably have seen it coming when she taught them that charm.) Heather didn't have many (any) friends outside of the Weasley twins, so she spent the weekends alone in their room.

The Slytherins were becoming more overt in their ostracism of her, spurred on by their Head of House's obvious resentment. Nothing happened in public, but all bets were off in the common room. The first years had once ganged up to attack her. After wiping the floor with them using just a mass Stupefy, they stuck to snide taunts and jeers. Heather researched more specialised locking spells and wards for her room following that incident.

Professor Snape himself was becoming increasingly unbearable. Although he couldn't exactly go to the common room and hex her, that wasn't much of an obstacle for him. His weapon of choice was much slyer. Total apathy. Outwardly, at any rate. He acted like she wasn't even there. While the other Slytherins received helpful comments and corrections on their essays, hers were returned pristine, without even a grade written. As if he hadn't even bothered reading them. Her hand was never picked in lessons, whether for a question or answer. This was especially grating because she had many, many questions from her extra readings. He was ruining what would have been Heather's favourite subject. Of course, the rare times he did come to the common room for whatever reason, she made sure never to be there. She'd learnt her lesson after that first time. She didn't much fancy being totally debased.

October also reminded Heather of Samhain. Which brought to mind her parents. Voldemort. Green light. Death.

And Heather desperately missed her baby brother.

To curb her loneliness, she'd tried going flying, but she kept looking behind her to see if Fred and George were keeping up. She'd tried writing more to Rian, but in her mood, she just felt his loss more keenly.

Heather sighed for the umpteenth time and opened her trunk. Maybe that book on fairytales would cheer her up. Rummaging around for it, her hands landed on another tattered book instead.

Property of the Half-Blood Prince

Oh, she had totally forgotten about these books! She recalled that they had really funny and informative notations. This would probably lift her spirits a bit.

Heather settled down to start reading Maddison's A Guide to Healing Potions, already starting to feel better.

~~~

The following weeks were easier to bear. She was still alone, but the Prince's comments made it seem like she had a friend with her. Usually, she pictured an older boy (somehow, the sharp writing didn't seem very feminine) with dark hair and a sarcastic smirk sitting next to her and critiquing the bumbling fools who wrote those books. He would make his smart-aleck remarks while she laughed and agreed. Even when Heather read other books, her mind would conjure the Prince's voice giving harsh corrections and witty insults.

This made Potions infinitely more tolerable. Even when Professor Snape complimented Octavius Bulstrode on his failed potion. It was difficult to feel slighted when she could hear the Prince's voice in her mind making snide comments.

'Fantastic work, Mr Bulstrode. That stunning shade of puce is obviously better than the typical sky blue hue that is characteristic of the Boil Cure that us mere mortals brew.'