Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with it in any way.

Author Note: It's finally posted. This is the final chapter of the story. Please, even if you don't normally review, let me know if you would be interested in reading more of Whitney Potter, the Girl Who Lived, and I will continue the legacy.

All my love.

\-wujy

Chapter Twenty – Goodbye for Now

The next thing Whitney was fully aware of was a dull throb from somewhere just beneath the scar on her forehead. The second was the sterile smell of the Hospital Wing. She took in a deep breath, so grateful for that abrasively-clean smell, and breathed out slowly, stretching the muscles in her aching legs and arms.

"Awake at last."

Whitney jumped, jarring her sore limbs, and her eyes snapped open, but she relaxed back into the bed when she saw the Headmaster peering down at her. "You gave us quite a scare," he told her.

Whitney tried to speak, but found she couldn't. She cleared her dry throat and reached for a glass of water on her bedside table. She drank the entire glass in three gulps, licked her lips, and then looked back at Dumbledore with uncertain, but thankful eyes.

"You saved me," she said, her voice still a little hoarse.

"Oh, you were doing quite well on your own," he replied, clearly amused. "It seems your mother left her mark on you when she died."

"Sir?"

Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "You were too young to remember the night that Voldemort killed your parents, but in the end, your mother gave her life for yours. She offered to take your place. It was her sacrifice, I believe, that protected you from Voldemort's curse that night, and her sacrifice that protected you from his touch three nights ago. Every ounce of her love for you permeates your very being, and if there is anything that Voldemort doesn't understand—cannot bear—it is love."

Whitney made a face. "That's probably why he's an evil prat," she said before she could stop herself. Dumbledore, however, laughed, making Whitney blush slightly.

"I imagine that's very nearly the root of the problem," he replied. "You, however, seem to have in spades what Voldemort lacks."

He gestures to the foot of the bed to a stack of candy and cards. Whitney looked dumbly at the pile for a moment before asking, "Is that for… me?"

"Indeed. Your Housemates should be relieved that you're finally awake."

Whitney couldn't stop the shy smile that crossed her face. After a moment, though, she looked ashamed. "I thought it was Professor Snape," she admitted to the Headmaster, who nodded sagely. "Hermione was convinced he was using magic during my first Quidditch game.

"Professor Snape, I'm afraid, does lend himself over to a rather dark disposition," he acknowledged. "As it turns out, in fact, he was using magic at your first game, but not to knock you from your broom. He was performing a counter curse."

Whitney was silent after that, and Professor Dumbledore stood up from his seat next to her bed.

"I'll leave you to your rest," he said, "and your thoughts."

Whitney nodded and laid her head back on her pillow once more. She listened to the Headmaster's footsteps as he walked out of the room, an almost hypnotic noise that ushered her back to sleep.

Whitney knocked on the door of Professor Snape's office, at first with confidence that tapered into hesitation. Her fourth knock was barely a tap as doubt grasped her made her stomach flutter. She prayed that he wasn't in and she could scurry away with no one the wiser, but the deep voice from the other side called, "Enter!"

Feeling sicker than she had staring down even Voldemort, Whitney pushed open the door and stepped inside, leaving it open so she could make a quick exit when she was finished.

Professor Snape sneered at her and said, "Exams are long over, Potter. No time now to earn credit to offset what I'm sure is a truly abysmal grade."

I should go, Whitney thought to herself, but she remained rooted to the floor anyway.

She wet her lips and cleared her throat, and Snape set down the quill he'd been writing with and looked at her expectantly. She wished he wouldn't glare at her with such contempt, but there was nothing to be done for it. She attempted to look him in the eyes, but her focus refused to rise above the prominent crick in his nose.

"I just… Well, I wanted to apologize," she finally forced herself to say.

"Apologize?" Snape asked, sounding lazily intrigued. "Whatever for?" Sarcasm dripped easily from his tongue.

"I h-heard you," she stammered. "In the forest with Quirrell. I… I thought it was you. You with Voldemort, but you were trying to stop him."

Her gaze slipped upward to look into his surprised eyes. "And I wanted to say thank you, because… B-because I know you were trying to save me when he was cursing my broom."

Snape's expression of shocked contempt remained frozen on his face as he asked, "Is that all?"

Whitney squirmed beneath the weight of his obvious disapproval. Her eyes dropped, and she said quickly, "Y-yeah. Yes. That's it."

Without waiting for his response, Whitney shuffled out of the office, closing the door heavily behind her as she went, feeling slightly sick.

Contrary to what Professor Snape had told her, when exam grades were finally announced, she had done reasonabley well in his glass, and had earned high marks in all of her other classes except History of Magic. Hermione, of course, had the best marks in the year, but was still extremely cross with Whitney for leaving her behind.

"Could've gotten yourselves killed, you know," she said to Whitney, who laughed a little.

"I do, actually," she quipped, which silenced Hermione, who merely hugged her friend and walked with her to dinner.

The Great Hall was lined with red-and-gold when they arrived, and the Gryffindors were being louder than usual. This, however, seemed to be tolerated by the teachers at least for this night, when the House Cup changed hands from Slytherin to Gryffindor for a year. Whitney picked through her food slowly, knowing it would be the last decent meal she would get for a while, and let the cheer and enthusiasm soak into her; she was going to need it where she was going. She squirreled away a few morsels to take with her on the train ride back to London.

She shared them with Ron, Neville, and Hermione on the way to King's Cross.

"If they don't show up," Ron said, chewing on a biscuit, "you can some stay with us this summer. Mum said so. And you have to come visit."

Whitney perked up. "Really? That would be great."

Ron nodded, but his mouth was too full to reply. "You can come stay with me, too, if you like," Hermione offered.

"And if you don't mind my gran fussing, I'm sure you could visit us," Neville added, looking both gloomy and hopeful.

Whitney was overwhelmed with emotions and unable to speak for a few moments, but no one seemed to mind. She glanced up at her trunk where she had hidden a photo album of her parents that Hagrid had made for her and thought about how wonderful the year had been. Nothing and no one was going to take Hogwarts or magic from her if she had anything to say about it, so she let herself feel happy.

"I think I'd like all that a lot," she said, turning pink around her ears. "Someone would need to pick me up, though. It was hard enough to get the Dursleys to make the trip to the station. You'll write over break, yeah?"

"Promise," the three of them chimed together.

Whitney was glowing when they got off the train, even in the face of her horrible family. She skipped over them to Ron's mother and stood before her, looking as humble as she could make herself appear. "I really wanted to thank you for the Christmas gift, Mrs. Weasley," she said. "The sweater was lovely and the fudge was really good."

Mrs. Weasley put her hand over her heart the way mothers do and put her other hand on top of Whitney's head. "I got your owl saying so, but it's so sweet of you to say again," she said, and she meant it.

Maybe owls can read, Whitney thought vaguely to herself.

Pulling up every ounce of bravery she could manage, Whitney stepped forward and hugged Mrs. Weasley around the middle very quickly before running off to join the Dursleys, who all looked somewhere in the spectrum between terrified and sick. Whitney waved back to the Weasleys, Hermione, and Neville, and then turned to face the Dursleys.

"I had a wonderful year," she said, evening knowing that they wouldn't care.

"Shut up," Vernon said firmly, but Whitney couldn't stop smiling.