White Heather for Protection

Of Dragons and Derring-Do

The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement. Everyone was discussing the latest news about the break-in at Gringotts. Heather paid no heed to the flashing headline on the newspaper and dug into her pancakes with vigour. She would write to Griphook later - the Daily Prophet wasn't worth the paper it was printed on.

She pushed away from the table and went to collect George and Fred for their first class, DADA. She really hadn't thought it was possible for that class to get worse after last year's fiasco of a teacher, but Professor Quirrell really took the cake. It was really peculiar how their defence teachers kept changing every year. Professor Wilson had disappeared while visiting the selkies of the Faroe Islands. Professor Harlowe had perished in a tragic flying accident. And who knew what would happen to Professor Quirrell. Personally, she was betting on a gnome skirmish.

Really, what had Professor Dumbledore been thinking when he hired that stuttering mess? Professor Quirrell looked like a pixie could scare him into apoplexy. Doxies had succeeded the other day in class.

On the other hand, he sometimes had malevolent looks when he didn't think anyone was paying attention. At those times, he could strike fear in her heart in ways Professor Snape's glares and threats didn't. It didn't make sense.

Shuddering, Heather banished her wayward thoughts and focussed on the paragraph on defensive strategies and spells against Lethifolds, tuning out Professor Quirrell's choppy introduction on boggarts.

After the dismal DADA lesson in which the Professor had shrieked like a bean sidhe upon encountering his boggart, Heather walked to the hospital wing for her annual check-up. She had been surprised to find out that her Head of House was the only one to schedule mandatory appointments for his students.

Because of that first check-up in first year, Heather now visited Madam Pomfrey at least once a month. Initially, it was because she needed her weight monitored. Now, she went to see the matron to just chat or learn some healing spells.

It had been insightful for Heather to learn how spells differed from her own wandless healing. The spells held much more finesse, utilising a minimal amount of magic and intense precision to heal the injured cells. Her own wandless magic simply involved flooding the wounded area with dense healing magic. While useful when she had an abundance of magic and no knowledge of the required spell, learning Medimagic was much more practical.

She had also had a mortifying talk with the matron about puberty and relationships. Petunia had obviously never felt the need to inform her of any of that. Heather was grateful that Madam Pomfrey had been shrewd enough to discern her ignorance in such matters. She wasn't looking forward to having the same talk with Hadrian. She smiled wryly at the thought and opened the infirmary door.

"Madam Pomfrey, I'm here!"

"You again, child? I should make you start assisting around here, you know enough of the basics," the school matron said as she huffed fondly.

Heather formed an indignant frown. "Hey, I actually have an appointment today, ma'am."

The kindly woman chuckled and pointed to a bed. "Yes, I'm aware. Why don't we get star-"

"Poppy!" someone shouted as the door banged open. "We have a flying injury. Might be a broken bone." Madam Hooch strode in, a distraught Neville Longbottom following behind.

"Oh my, just a moment please, Heather." Madam Pomfrey switched her attention to the injured first year.

Heather smiled reassuringly at the anxious boy, receiving a grimace in return. "Hey there, Neville. First flying lesson, huh? Don't worry, you'll get better!"