White Heather for Protection

Plots and Plans

The Headmaster had insisted that Hadrian go to the infirmary after that fiasco. Heather was all for making sure her brother was alright, of course. Not that she wasn't already almost positive that he was fine. Her diagnostics were perfectly adequate, thank you very much. Still, one could never be too healed. Especially where Hadrian was concerned.

That, and she could stay by his bedside at the infirmary, but couldn't do so if he was in Gryffindor Tower. (Well, technically she wasn't supposed to for either, but Madam Pomfrey had a soft spot for her.)

It was in the dead of the night that Rian finally blinked awake. She had been nodding off in her chair, but snapped to attention when he sat up.

"Hadrian, how are you feeling?" she asked quietly. She passed him a glass of water when he coughed.

"Fine," he stated, after a few sips. "Still a little tired."

She tutted, tucking his blanket more snugly around him. "Magical exhaustion does that to a person," she chided lightly. "You overdid it. With the third task, duelling Voldemort, stunning fake Moody, duelling Voldemort."

"Hey, not like I had a choice!"

"I know that! But you didn't have to tip the balance with the Moody stunt. Don't think I didn't notice how much magic you put into that stunner. Seriously, Rian, if your magic reserves weren't so huge, you'd be in real danger right now."

He pouted sullenly (oh, who was Heather kidding, adorably). "It was instinct, okay? He disarmed you!"

She sighed. "I appreciate the back-up, I really do. But I could have handled it."

"We handled it faster together."

Groaning, she gave up that train of argument. "And don't think I've forgotten the portkey thing. That was for you to get to safety! When a psychopathic murderer hell-bent on killing you appears, you do not give your emergency portkey away!"

Hadrian held his hands up defensively. "Cedric was gonna be killed! If I'd been only a second later, Pettigrew would have nailed him with an Avada!"

Her gaze sharpened at that. "Tell me everything!"

So he did. About being tied to a headstone, Pettigrew slashing his arm open, having his blood used in a twisted ritual, Voldemort's resurrection. At the end of it, she had tears in her eyes. Hadrian had been this close to being dead, murdered. "You saw our parents?"

"Yeah, our spellfire just fused, or something. Everything got really bright then spirits started appearing. I think they were all the people Voldemort killed before. They told me to grab the cup again, since it was a return portkey."

"I'm glad you got to see them again." She smiled tearfully, squeezing his hand comfortingly.

He pulled her into a hug. "They said they were really proud of us."

Sniffling, she tightened her arms around him. She'd tried. She'd really tried her best in their place, though she was far from being able to replace them as parents. To know that Mama and Papa were satisfied with her efforts meant the world. Hadrian had turned out well, if lacking in self-preservation. Well, that was the Gryffindor in him. Nature had beat out nurture in this case.

Once the moment had passed, Hadrian shot her a curious look. "Tell me what happened with Moody. You called him a fake...?"

"Oh, you should have seen it. I can't believe you slept through all of that!" She proceeded to launch into a blow-by-blow account of the events. "...then I chased the dementor out of school with my patronus. Got a really scary glare from...Professor...Snape..." she trailed off dispiritedly at the mention of the Slytherin Head. A Deatheater.