Chapter 14
Disclaimer. I do not own Harry Potter or any of its elements, its ownership remains with JK Rowling.
It had been several days since Heather first reunited with Harry, and yet the warmth that bloomed in her heart during that meeting hadn’t faded. If anything, it had only grown. That moment—seeing him again, alive and so very young—alongside Severus at Hogwarts, had struck her with the overwhelming realisation that she’d truly been given a second chance.
She had purpose again.
Not just to live, but to save—to protect those she hadn’t been able to the first time around. The idea that she could stop the suffering, steer so many lives away from devastation, made her feel grounded, alive.
Since that first meeting, she and Harry had begun exchanging letters. Short, sweet messages, little glimpses into their respective lives. Heather had made a point of mentioning bits and pieces about the Potter estate, sharing tiny anecdotes about its upkeep and the changes she was making. It was subtle, but deliberate. She wanted Harry to start realising there was far more to the Potters than a dusty little trust vault in Gringotts.
It was a small start, just a nudge. She didn’t want to overwhelm him. She remembered how jarring it had been in her past life to discover just how wealthy the Potters actually were. They weren’t just well-off—they were wealthier than the bloody Malfoys, albeit far more modest and private about it.
Even with her natural curiosity and Severus’ subtle guidance back then, Heather had been shocked. The wizarding world wasn’t just different from the Muggle world; it was alien. Knowledge was hidden behind bloodlines and centuries-old customs. It had taken her a long time to learn to navigate it.
So now she’d take her time guiding Harry.
She’d also started encouraging him in his studies, slipping words of praise and gentle prodding into her letters. She knew what it was like—to crave someone who cared about your grades, someone who believed in your potential. For her, it had been Severus, quietly mentoring her from the shadows after that very first Potions class. Now it was her turn to do the same for Harry.
And Harry? He was already opening up, sending back letters filled with life at Hogwarts. Most amusing—and familiar—were the constant updates about Ron and Hermione’s arguments. Apparently, even in the second week, they were already bickering like seasoned rivals, with Harry caught helplessly in the middle.
Heather smiled fondly when reading those parts. She’d lived that scenario too, back in her third year, and the nostalgia it stirred was bittersweet.
In her replies, she advised Harry to give them space. To let them work it out while he focused on his other friendships. That dynamic would mend itself with time—if given the room to breathe.
But her mind, always ticking, couldn’t help drifting to darker matters.
Ron and Hermione’s quarrels reminded her of other, more dangerous threads: Sirius Black. Peter Pettigrew. The things she couldn’t change too soon.
Peter had to live. As much as she loathed the idea, Voldemort had to return with a body during Harry’s fourth year. That was the fulcrum—the point on which her entire knowledge of the future balanced. If it didn’t happen, the board would be reset, and her advantage gone.
But that didn’t mean she was going to let Sirius rot in Azkaban.
She wanted custody of Harry, yes—but not at the cost of leaving Sirius out in the cold. He mattered too. He deserved the truth, and Heather would see that he got it.
First, she needed legal support.
She took a pinch of Floo Powder and tossed it into the hearth. The flames flared green, and she spoke clearly, “Blackthorn & Ashford Solicitors!” Then, without hesitation, she knelt and leaned forward, her head emerging in Shaun Blackthorn’s office.
“Shaun, do you have a moment? I have something I’d like you to sink your teeth into.”
Intrigued, Shaun rose from his desk and gestured her through. Heather stepped gracefully out of the fire and into his office, where a tea set was already preparing itself at a flick of his wand.
Once seated, Shaun raised an eyebrow. “So, what do you have for me, Heather?”
She folded her hands on her lap. “I’ve been in contact with my nephew. Harry.”
Shaun blinked, then smiled slightly, clearly pleased. “That’s wonderful news. Go on.”
“I want him safe. And eventually, I want custody transferred to me. But before I make any move or speak to him about it, I want to ensure his safety.”
Shaun nodded, his tone growing serious. “Understood. And what, precisely, do you mean by ‘safe’?”
“Sirius Black,” she said plainly.
Recognition dawned. “Ah.”
“I want you to dig into the case. Everything. I want a retrial. I want to understand why my brother’s best friend betrayed us—or if he even did at all.”
Shaun leaned back, thoughtful. “With the Prophet buzzing about his escape, this might be easier than you think. Public pressure makes the Ministry twitchy. And if there’s any gap in his trial history—”
“There is,” Heather cut in, her voice sharp. “He never got one.”
Shaun’s expression darkened. “Then this is already a scandal waiting to explode.”
Relief loosened Heather’s shoulders. She had expected resistance, red tape, anything but this smooth cooperation.
“Thank you,” she said softly, standing. “Let me know when you find something.”
Shaun rose as well, giving her a reassuring nod. “You’ll be the first to know.”
Heather stepped back into the Floo and exited into Horizont Alley, her cloak billowing gently behind her as she walked.
Her mind was already planning.
Soon, she’d need to figure out a way to temporarily capture Pettigrew—just long enough to prove he was alive. There was no better evidence for Sirius’ innocence than a supposedly dead man showing up in the flesh.
And she would find a way.
Heather smirked, eyes gleaming. She didn’t just want to expose Pettigrew. She wanted him to suffer before he ran back to his master.
After all, some rats deserved the trap.
The beginning of the school year at Hogwarts had not gotten off to a great start.
The usual chill of the Scottish Highlands was made far worse by the presence of Dementors patrolling the grounds. The bone-chilling cold they brought with them seemed to seep into the very stones of the castle, leaving both students and professors feeling unusually downcast and drained.
As if that wasn’t enough, the ever-present bickering between Ron and Hermione over their pets had begun to wear Harry down. Caught in the middle of their quarrels, he found himself constantly playing the role of reluctant mediator, trying desperately not to take sides. To make matters even more confusing, Hermione kept mysteriously appearing and disappearing throughout the day, leaving Harry baffled by how she managed to be in two places at once. Still, he had far too much on his plate to worry about it for long.
One oddity that had recently started to gnaw at Harry, however, was Professor Snape. The dour Potions Master had always glared at him with disdain, but lately there was something different—his dark eyes lingered on Harry longer than before, his expression unreadable, as though trying to peer straight into his mind.
Despite all of this, one bright spot had emerged in Harry’s life: his correspondence with Aunt Heather.
Since the start of term, they'd been exchanging letters, and Harry found himself looking forward to each new message. In her letters, Aunt Heather shared details about her estate and the wizarding world, subtly hinting that there was far more to the Potter family than a dusty trust vault in Gringotts. Harry relished the chance to ask questions freely for the first time in his life—questions about magic, Hogwarts, and life as a wizard. Unlike the Dursleys, Heather never made him feel stupid or unwelcome for his curiosity.
He had even begun to regret some of his choices—particularly Divination. After reading about the practical importance of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy in Heather’s letters, Divination felt almost like a waste of time. Especially with Professor Trelawney constantly predicting his gruesome and untimely demise every class. He found himself seriously considering dropping the subject and switching, though he wasn’t sure which path to take yet.
In between Ron and Hermione’s arguments, Harry managed to tell them about Aunt Heather. His enthusiasm was impossible to miss as he described her to his two best friends.
Ron, ever loyal, was genuinely happy for Harry, remarking that it was about time he had a proper magical relative who actually cared about him—unlike the dreadful Dursleys. Hermione, on the other hand, had a more intellectual reaction, immediately intrigued by Heather’s connection to the Unspeakables. Having clearly read about the mysterious and secretive department, Hermione was thoroughly impressed.
Harry had been thrilled by their reactions, but his happiness was short-lived. Once again, Ron and Hermione began arguing—this time louder than before—about Crookshanks and Scabbers, leaving Harry rubbing his temples in frustration.
Later, he wrote about it all to Aunt Heather. Her advice, as always, was straightforward and surprisingly helpful: let Ron and Hermione work it out on their own, and in the meantime, try to spend time with his other friends.
Harry hadn’t thought much about it before, but her words struck a chord.
Aside from Ron and Hermione, who else did he really spend time with?
The answer, embarrassingly, was not many.
Determined to change that, Harry started with Neville.
At first, Neville seemed surprised—perhaps even suspicious—of Harry’s sudden interest in spending time with him, which only made Harry feel a bit guilty. But as they began talking, Harry quickly realized just how fun and knowledgeable Neville was, especially when it came to Herbology. They ended up talking for hours about magical plants and their practical uses in defense and healing. It was refreshing—no trolls, no basilisks, no You-Know-Who—just plants and laughter.
Next, Harry began hanging out with Dean and Seamus more often. Their conversations were lighthearted, filled with jokes, games, and Quidditch talk—far removed from the usual intense trio dynamic of solving mysteries and saving the school.
Even more surprising, Harry began striking up casual conversations with the Gryffindor girls in his year. Lavender, Parvati, and even quiet Fay Dunbar were all pleasantly surprised by the sudden change. For the first time, Harry was truly integrating with his peers beyond just surviving the school year with Ron and Hermione.
It felt good—normal.
And through it all, Harry found himself thinking of Aunt Heather. Her advice had led to a genuine shift in his school life, and the more he followed it, the more grateful he became. He had never really imagined he could find someone in his family who cared this much about him—someone who not only looked out for him but also encouraged him to grow, to reach out, to truly live.
For the first time in a long time, Harry felt like he was gaining more than just magical knowledge.
He was gaining a family.