Chapter 11
Disclaimer. I do not own Harry Potter or any of its elements, its ownership remains with JK Rowling.
Heather Potter stood in front of the mirror, her eyes scanning her reflection with a critical eye. It was finally time. She had spent the past month preparing for this moment, ensuring every detail was meticulously planned. She had done everything to establish herself as a true native to this dimension. The support of the Unspeakables had been invaluable. She had rewritten all her discoveries, inventions, and work from her original dimension, painstakingly recreating years of research to solidify her presence here.
Accessing the Potter Vaults had been another great step. The wealth within had allowed her to invest in various ventures, ensuring a stable future. She had made strategic investments in businesses and shares that would bear fruit in the coming years, securing not just her own future but also that of her nephew, Harry. Hiring Shaun Blackthorn, an old friend and trusted lawyer, had been another move to protect Harry's interests and, if necessary, her own.
Now, it was finally the weekend when she would meet her male counterpart in this dimension and her nephew, Harry. The thought filled her with a mix of excitement and apprehension. How would he react to her? Would he accept her as part of his family? She took a deep breath, pushing aside her doubts. She had faced far greater challenges than this.
Heather turned her attention to her outfit. She picked comfortable Muggle winter clothes, a sensible choice given the Scottish Highlands' climate where Hogwarts was located. She figured Harry would be more comfortable seeing her in such clothing, one of the remaining perceptions they had both retained from living in the Muggle world. She pulled on a thick sweater, jeans, and sturdy boots, feeling the warmth and practicality of the attire. It was a far cry from the elegant robes she wore in formal wizarding settings, but today was about making Harry feel at ease.
She knew the school was swarming with Dementors this year. The mere thought of those dark creatures sent a shiver down her spine. Her reaction to their presence had worsened since the end of the second wizarding war with Voldemort in her original dimension. Heather took out a vial of calming draught, knowing she needed it to ignore the effects of their proximity. The memories they dredged up were too painful, too vivid. She couldn't afford to be incapacitated today.
As she drank the draught, her mind drifted to Severus. The thought of him always made her hold onto her hexagonal onyx pendant. For a month now, it had continued to give off the same warmth it did when Severus from her original dimension was still alive. Unlike then, this warmth didn't fill her with sudden bouts of overwhelming positive emotions but instead provided a steady comfort, comparable to the warmth of a living being.
Strangely, in the previous week, the pendant had grown warmer at odd times, only to cool down to its normal temperature after a while. This phenomenon puzzled her, but she had no time to investigate it further. The jewellery always made her heart squeeze tightly because it never failed to remind her of the man who had died in her arms. Severus would always be the only man who could evoke such strong feelings in her. His loss is a wound that time had not healed.
Heather shook herself out of her reverie. She couldn't afford to be lost in memories today. She needed to be present, to make the best possible impression on Harry. She grabbed the floo powder, threw it into the lit fireplace, and shouted, "The Three Broomsticks!" Stepping into the green flames, she felt the familiar sensation of being whisked away, leaving her thoughts behind as she focused on the task ahead.
---
Harry Potter could not stand still. Ever since the Headmaster had informed him of his long-lost Aunt Heather, he had been a bundle of restless energy. For the rest of the week, he hadn’t stopped thinking about their upcoming meeting. His mind raced with endless scenarios of how their reunion would go, ranging from his Aunt Heather immediately asking him to move in with her, to her being utterly disgusted by him and treating him just like the Dursleys.
In classes, he was barely present, running on autopilot except during Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. He couldn’t help but think back to the DADA class where he was the only one who hadn’t faced a Boggart. He wondered what his Boggart could possibly be, considering all the fears he had amassed over the years. The idea of facing it both intrigued and terrified him.
Hermione’s odd disappearances and reappearances between classes also caught his attention briefly, but he quickly dismissed it. He had bigger things to worry about. In the rare lulls between Ron and Hermione’s bickering about Crookshanks and Scabbers, Harry managed to tell them about his upcoming meeting with his Aunt Heather. Ron was enthusiastic for him, exclaiming, “That’s brilliant, mate! An aunt you never knew about!” Hermione, though happy for him, couldn’t help but express her curiosity about how his Aunt Heather’s existence had remained a secret until now. Harry shared her curiosity but had no answers.
Now, it was the first Saturday of the year, and Harry was eating lunch, his eyes constantly flicking toward the entrance of the Great Hall, waiting for an unfamiliar face to arrive. Each time the door opened, his heart would skip a beat, only to settle back down when it wasn’t her.
As he picked at his food, he was startled by Professor Snape sneaking up behind him. He jumped, nearly spilling his pumpkin juice.
“Potter,” Snape’s voice drawled, a hint of annoyance already present. “Must you always be so jumpy?”
Harry turned, scowling. “What do you want, Professor?”
Snape’s face twisted into a sour expression. “The Headmaster has assigned me the dubious pleasure of chaperoning you to your meeting with your Aunt.”
Harry’s mood soured further. “Why you? Why not someone else?”
“If you are unsatisfied, Potter, feel free to take it up with the Headmaster,” Snape sneered. “Goodness knows I find this task horrendously unpleasant.”
Frustration boiled within Harry. He scowled at Snape, only for the Professor to deduct five points from Gryffindor. “For being an ungrateful little sod,” Snape remarked with a sneer. “Now, finish your meal quickly and meet me at the entrance of the Great Hall.”
Snape marched away to the Head table, leaving Harry fuming. He finished his meal as quickly as he could, his appetite completely gone. A minute after Snape had left, he stood up and headed toward the entrance, his heart pounding.
Just as he reached the doorway, an unfamiliar face walked in. Harry froze, his breath catching in his throat. The woman who entered had long, wavy black hair held down by gravity, unlike his messy bird’s nest. Their eyes met, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Her eyes were exactly like his own, the same emerald green he had always been told were his mother’s eyes. Yet, here they were, mirrored in this woman’s face.
She looked around the Great Hall with a nostalgic expression before her gaze settled on Harry. She smiled warmly, and Harry found himself smiling back, albeit uncertainly. He wanted to say something, but his voice seemed to have abandoned him.
A silky dark voice interrupted him before he could even formulate a response, and just like that the moment is lost. Harry and his Aunt Heather turned towards the Potions Master, their faces sporting two completely different expressions.
---
The walk to Hogwarts was a mixture of soothing nostalgia and deep-seated pain for Heather. The castle, pristine and untouched by the ravages of war, stood as a stark contrast to the Hogwarts of her dimension. Even after the extensive repairs, the scars of the battle in her world were more than physical; they were etched into the very soul of the place. Here, however, everything felt as it had before the world went to hell in her old dimension. The difference was both a comfort and a reminder of all she had lost.
As Heather entered the school proper, the sight of students milling about struck her. Some faces were familiar, pulling at the strings of her memory, while others were strangers to her. These were the counterparts of people she had fought for, sacrificed for, and even died for, albeit temporarily. Her heart ached with a strange combination of recognition and longing as she watched them.
Stepping into the Great Hall, a wave of nostalgia hit her full force. The vibrant chatter, the aroma of dishes cooked by the talented house-elves, and the sight of her old classmates, young and unburdened by war, were almost too much to bear. Professor Flitwick, still alive and animated, was talking excitedly with Professor Sinistra at the staff table. It was a scene ripped straight from her memories, yet achingly new.
Heather's eyes roamed the hall until they landed on Harry. She saw his breath catch and couldn't help but smile. Despite everything he had been through, he still carried an innocence that life had not managed to fully erode.
“Potter,” a familiar voice cut through her reverie, making both her and Harry turn toward the source. Heather felt a strangled cry catch in her throat. Standing next to Harry was Severus, the man she hadn’t seen alive for at least the last twelve years. He looked at her with his usual blank expression, but Heather, who had once been able to read him so well, could see the scrutiny in his gaze.
The onyx pendant hidden under Heather's thick clothing glowed a bright green and heated up, filling her with a sensation that felt like her whole soul was being embraced by flowing black robes. Severus’s dark, alluring eyes met hers, and instinctively, Heather strengthened her Occlumency shields, a reflex honed through years of practice with her Severus.
When she felt a gentle touch probing her shields, she automatically sent a wave of warmth through Severus’s mind. His face twitched minutely in surprise before he once again closed off. It was only then that Heather remembered where she was and withdrew the warmth, locking down her mind from further intrusion.
She felt foolish for forgetting, even for a moment, that this wasn't her Severus. Her Severus was dead, and the man in front of her was merely his counterpart. Deep inside, she wept, for a fleeting moment she had thought her love was back. But no, he was still gone.
As all this turmoil roiled in Heather's mind, she outwardly maintained a calm, composed demeanor, a polite smile fixed on her face.
Severus introduced himself coldly but professionally. "Heather Potter, I presume. I am Professor Severus Snape, assigned to chaperone your meeting with Mr. Potter."
Heather felt herself curling up inside in pain but managed to respond politely. "Yes, Professor Snape. Thank you for your assistance." Her smile was forced but sincere.
Severus inclined his head and gestured smoothly towards the door, "Well then what more are we waiting for, let us head off." And walked briskly but elegantly towards the exit, signalling the two Potters to follow.
Harry who had earlier been wearing an annoyed expression towards his Professor, and who Heather for a second forgot because of her sudden lapse of attention had now turned towards her, his expression puzzled as to the sudden polite visage of Professor Snape.
Heather could not help but smile at the boy and take his hand on her own before hurrying towards the quickly disappearing man. With her heart in turmoil and her mind racing with memories, Heather and Harry took off catching up with Severus.
She might have come from a world where her heart had died, and she might be surrounded by people she terribly missed, but she could not forget the reason why she is here now.
It's time that Heather remembers that she now once again has something to live for.