White Heather for Protection

The Hunt

The first thing Heather did once Poppy pronounced her well again was to throw her hands up in celebration. The muscles in her arms felt tight and she knew she would have to work on them daily to get them back to normal working condition. It was a much better improvement on the mummified state she'd been in the past week.

She carefully scrutinised herself once the bandages had been peeled off. Her arms were pale, even after just a week of sun deprivation. What her eyes caught on were the angry red scars that ran from her the dorsal surface of her wrist up to her elbows. Three lines on her left and four on her right. Poppy had done all she could for them, but scars inflicted by dark creatures were notoriously tricky to handle. And it wasn't like there were many people with werewolf scarring to experiment on. Most ended up dead, or turned.

The modified version of Murtlap Essence that Heather had was able to reduce the redness, but that just left darker scarring. Honestly, she wasn't overmuch bothered by them. In fact, Mrs Weasley was much more devastated than she was.

The only thing that mattered to Heather was whether or not she could still brew with her previous level of dexterity and stamina. And everything had seemed fine, at first. The first week or so she had spent on simpler and shorter potions, just to build up her strength again. By the time it came for her to brew the Wolfsbane Potion, however, she knew she was in trouble. It was the longest time she had spent brewing since her injury, and halfway through it, her arms had started cramping something fierce. And the pain wasn't even the worst of it, no. Pain, she could push through. It was the trembling.

She'd almost broken down when her hands started shaking, in time with the flares of dark residue that pulsed along her scars. Only the insanely volatile potion in her cauldron had kept her focussed enough to use her magic to pull through. Using magic to prepare ingredients and stir the potion was not a viable replacement for actual physical brewing, however. For one, it used up more magic than it was worth. For another, the more delicate potions could only handle magic in extremely precise amounts before being ruined.

She'd had no choice, however. Her hands had been shaking so much she couldn't even handle a knife without the fear of cutting herself. And because she channelled magic through her arms and hands, even that took more focus and control than she normally needed. This, this was a potioneer's worst nightmare.

Fred had found her on the floor of her lab, shaking apart with distraught tears, the Wolfsbane Potion thankfully completed without exploding. It had taken the combined efforts of both the twins and her brother to snap her out of it, but once she was done with her self-pity, she came up with a plan.

So although Heather didn't care about the appearance of the scarring, she did care that her ability as a potioneer was hindered by them. She was determined to create a potion that would give her back full use of her arms. And if in the process the potion would get rid of the scarring? Well, then it would benefit others whom it mattered more to.

~~~

The 31st of July had been much anticipated. It was Hadrian's birthday, and it wasn't just any birthday, but his 17th. He had finally come of age. Although he had, for all intents and purposes, already been regarded as an adult since his participation in the Triwizard Tournament, it was the sentiment of the event that mattered.

Mrs Weasley wanted to organise a large party for him, of course. Heather made no effort to tone her down, despite knowing how embarrassed Rian would be. She had plans of her own for her brother which would take up the afternoon, so that would give the Weasley matriarch freedom to go wild. It wasn't every day one turned 17, after all.

"Haaadrian!" Heather made a running start and jumped, throwing her arms around her brother who dropped whatever he'd been holding to catch her.

"Damn it Heather! A warning would have been good!" her brother said, though there was no real bite to his words.