The Eighth WeasleyBy Fyre
Chapter 16: An Interlude
"H-How was slaying?"Dropping onto the couch and swinging her feet up on the table, Buffy shrugged. "Slay-ey."
"How very literal."
The Slayer grinned at him, stretching her arms over her head with a satisfied groan. "You know me. Took out a couple of vamps on campus and a few in the old cemetery." She looked up at her former Watcher curiously. "So, what's the what? Why'd you call a meeting of the Scoobies?"
"A letter arrived from Willow this morning." He replied. "I thought you all might want to hear the news about how she's getting on." Buffy opened her mouth to say something, but Giles raised a hand. "And I'm not going to open it until everyone is here."
"You're no fun." The Slayer grumbled.
The former Wizard chuckled. "I try."
It was barely five minutes later when the door opened again, permitting Xander and Anya to enter the house. As usual, they were bickering about something, which had become a frequent feature of their relationship since their return from London.
Since, Anya had discovered she was a billionaire by Wizarding standards, she had decided that Xander would have to be one too and would have to put a few coins into a savings account, then get himself turned into a demon for a thousand years. Needless to say, he was not to thrilled about the whole idea.
"Honey, I don't want to be a billionaire. I'm happy as I am." he paused. "well, maybe not happy, but comfortable. I'm comfortable."
"You live in a basement and you work for Dairy Queen!"
Her boyfriend sighed. "That's because I can't get any other job and since I can't get any other job, I can't move out of the basement."
"so become a billionaire like me! Its nice having lots of money for clothes."
"Anya, I don't want to be a billionaire. I just want to be comfortable."
"But I can't date someone who has less money than have, Xander!" The former demon exclaimed miserably. "Its like a Queen dating a slave. And a muggle slave at that!" She gave him a plaintive look. "Can't you become a demon billionaire for me? I thought you loved me, Xander."
"Can we not have this argument now, sweetie?"
"Can we have it later?"
Xander reluctantly nodded. "I guess so."
"Okay!" Anya cheered up considerably and looped her arm through his. "Hi Giles!"
"Good afternoon, Anya...Xander."
"Will this take long? We have an argument to finish."
"It shouldn't take too long, Anya. Willow's owl arrived this morning with a letter from her."
"Her owl! I bought that owl!" She squeezed Xander's arm. "See, if you had billions of dollars, you could buy her an owl as well, instead of the presents that no one likes!"
"But she wouldn't need two owls, would she, Anya?" Buffy put in hurriedly, seeing the embarrassed expression on Xander's face. "C'mon! Sit down! I want to see what she's been doing and what her crazy family are like! Giles," She gave an impreious wave of her hand. "Make with the reading"
"Is that any way to speak to your elder?" The Englishman made a parody of being shocked.
"All right, all right." Buffy laughed. "Make with the reading...now!"
Shaking his head, Giles chuckled as he opened the letter. "You're incorrigible."
***
Hi guys!I thought I should write to you, to let you know whats going on and that I'm okay and everything. I got home to The Burrow (it feels weird writing that now) a few days ago and I'm having a great time here, even though my family are crazier than I thought they would be!
They built a room for me and stuck it on the roof of the house. From the outside, it looks like its standing on top of one of the chimneys, which looks really weird, but inside (You have to crawl along the roof to get to it, which is really neat. Weird, but neat) it looks just like my room back home in Sunnydale. You have to come and see it some time!
HI! Its me! Ginny!
Dad just called Willow down to ask her about more muggle stuff, so I thought I'd write something, since she left her quill ltying around (which is a really stupid thing to do in this house!). Willow thinks we're all crazy here and I s'pose she's right! Mind you, she's the only person in the family who has actually made friends with the ghoul in the attic, so maybe she fits in more than she realised...
Uh oh! She's coming back! Bye!
You know what I really don't like about this? Everyone else in the family could delete something that someone else had written with their wand, but I don't have a wand and no one else will show me how to do the spell to erase what Ginny wrote, so it looks like I'll have to leave it in for now.
Anyway, I wanted to tell you all about everything thats going on here. Everyone has come to stay at home and Fred and George keep trying to play tricks on me. Don't tell them I wrote this, but they're really funny. Ron is kind of funny as well, but in a non-jokey way and he's really nice. He reminds me a lot of Xander (if you're there, hi, Xander!).
Charlie is hardly ever here, cos they just had a new shipment of baby dragons and he can't leave them yet. He also says he won't get one for me (I asked if I could have one, when they're old enough)because they don't make good pets and because he thinks mom would be mad if it burned the house down.
Percy stopped visiting after George gave me a fake wand and it shot out sparks as soon as I touched it and set Percy's suit on fire. I don't know why he didn't want to see me again, after that. I told him it was an accident, but George said I could only set the wand off if I wanted to 'set Percy's arse alight'. I didn't! Not really.
Bill is really nice and his wife...she's okay. She's kind of like Cordelia, except she's got lighter hair and a French accent (a French Cordelia...that's scary!). I haven't met Fred and George's girlfriends yet, but mom says they're coming for dinner one night, when members of my family that I don't know stop visiting.
I've got about fifty uncles and aunts from all over England and its really crazy here now, cos every day, one or two of them falls out of the fireplace when we're having breakfast and asks to see me! I thought only my grandma did the cheek-pinching thing, but I was wrong! Mom thinks its really funny, especially since she hasn't seen half of them for years and they just arrive.
Apparently, Rita Skeeter did find out about the 'missing Weasley' and I was featured in the Daily Prophet and only in the nicest of terms. I think Rita is scared I'll set you on her, Buffy! it turns out that I'm almost as famous as Harry is, so I'll probably have books written about me in a few years. How cool is that? I'm nearly famous!
I have to finish this now! Merlin (my owl - thanks Anya!) is getting impatient again because he knows I'm writing a letter for him to take and when he's bored waiting, he rattles his beak along the cage. I had to send letters to mom in the kitchen, just so I could let him do something and shut him up!
I miss you all! Write back to me soon!
Lots of love,
Willow.
***
"She sounds like she's doing okay." Buffy commented, accepting the letter to re-read it. "Do we have an owl to write back to her with?"Giles motioned towards the roof with his glasses clutched between forefinger and thumb. "M-Merlin is up there somewhere. If we write quickly, we may escaped without the cage rattling." An indignant hoot sounded high above them. "Same to you, you little bastard." The former librarian muttered with grimace.
The three youths couldn't help laughing.
Chapter 17: Reunion
"What was that?" Willow yelped in surprise when something that looked strangely like a dirty potato with legs and horny little feet ran between her feet and darted into the long grass with a shrill giggle."Just a gnome." Ginny explained, spreading a tablecloth across two large tables that seemed to have appeared out of no where.
"Just a gnome?"
Her sister nodded, grinning. "Dad thinks they're funny."
"But...gnomes? I didn't think they were real. I mean, I know they were in the books and all, but I thought...well, she did make stuff up, didn’t she?"
Harry looked across the table, where he was laying out cutlery. "I didn't think they were either, until I got here." He admitted with a smile. "It was weird coming here for the first time, after living with dull muggles for so long."
"It was weird for you, when you had been at Hogwarts for a year?" Willow pointed up at the house that was her family home. Odd rectangular boxes stuck off the roof, even standing on the narrow chimneys to provide extra rooms. "Look at my room and tell me that's normal!"
Both the Potters turned and looked up at the box-shape that had been identified as Willow's room.
Two wonky wooden beams held up the floor, both of sticking out from the slanted roof of the kitchen at very odd angles. A chimney poked through the bottom, right-hand corner, small puffs of pale pink smoke curling out cheerfully.
The doors that would have opened out onto her balcony at her home in Sunnydale opened out onto a long pole that descended from the top of the house, as a means of a quick exit, if she wanted to get down to the garden in a hurry.
It had been with no small measure of surprise that she had watched her twin slide UP the pole, to pop into her room one morning and see how she was getting on.
"Looks fine to me, Will." Harry straightened up, wiping his forehead with his muscled forearm, then shrugged at his sister-in-law, his green eyes twinkling behind his unruly, dark fringe and glasses. "Dunno what you’re complaining about."
Willow pulled a face at him, joining them both at the tables to put down the pile of plates that she was carrying.
She had been at the Burrow for almost three weeks, since she and her parents had departed from Diagon Alley.
Random family members from all over the world kept popping up from everywhere and nowhere to meet the ‘missing Weasley’ and she was constantly discovering new and strange things as she wandered around the house.
The ghoul that lived in the attic seemed to take a liking to her and - at her request - went and rattled his chains, mournfully wailing, in the attic space above Fred and George's room in the middle of the night.
The mirror over the mantlepiece, though, had taken great pleasure in picking on her, mimicking her mother’s voice and telling her to brush her hair, tuck her shirt in and clean her teeth whenever she had walked past it, then laughing when she rushed off to do so.
Molly had threatened to take it down three days later, when Willow was on the verge of yelling back at it and, since then, there had been no problems, apart from when it blew wet raspberries at Willow when she entered the living room.
Tonight, though, was classed as a special night, because, not only was all of the family going to be there, but they were bringing friends with them. Willow had been desperate to meet most of those friends who were attending, having heard all about the whole story of what was - no doubt - going to show up in the Rowlings books, in time to come.
The tables that normally seated the whole family with room to spare had been expanded to fit at least half a dozen others.
If she remembered right, Fred and George were bringing their respective girlfriends, both from their Quidditch team during their time at Hogwarts. Bill’s wife had just returned from a Ministry conference in France and would apparently be joining them later.
That took care of three of the guests.
Willow’s eyes scanned around the table, settling at the spot that had been laid in front of the most elaborate chair. A small smile came to her lips and she knew who would be sitting there by the time dinner came.
Dumbledore.
He had visited regularly to check that she was keeping well and wasn't getting too home sick, as well as bringing the news that soon, work would soon begin in earnest to try and return Amy from her rat form to human form.
Who did that leave though?
The youngest Weasley mentally frowned, trying to remember people who had played significant parts in the battle against Voldemort, then laughed. Of course, that would mean Hermione Granger would be on her way.
Despite her brothers' - with the exception of Percy, of course - comments about the Professor of Muggle Studies, Willow was desperately keen to meet the young woman who had reminded her so much of her younger self, when she had read the books.
It would be nice to have someone around who thought along the same lines as she did, instead of just dealing with six Quidditch- or dragon- or prank- or work-obsessed brothers and a Harry-obsessed sister.
Not that they were all bad, but it would be nice, she knew.
And who else?
"Ginny, who else did mom say was coming tonight?"
"There's Angelina, Alicia, Fleur, Dumbledore, Hermione, Sirius Black and Professor Lupin." Her twin replied, trying to fend off the enchanted flower that her husband was making chase her around the garden.
Ah! Those were the two she had forgotten: Lupin and Black.
A werewolf and a once-alleged-psychopath currently-proved-innocent.
No, it wasn't going to be an interesting meal at ALL!
***
"Good evening, Miss Weasley.""Hi, Professor Dumbledore!" Getting up from the kitchen table, where she had been studying The Daily Prophet, Willow hurried towards the headmaster of Hogwarts, one hand extended towards the teacher, who shook it fondly. "How are you?"
"Better than I could be, but no worse than I have been." He smiled. "And how are you finding life with your madcap family?"
"Its great here!"
"And once again, I am convinced that the family tradition of lunacy has already affected your defenceless mind." The Professor chuckled. He motioned towards the fireplace, which had just flared to life. "If you don’t mind, I brought a guest."
"A guest?" Willow gave him a disapproving look, her eyes dancing. "You know how annoyed mom’ll be that you didn’t tell her, so she could get more food ready…"
"I’m sure she’ll cope." They both watched as a female figure fell out of the fire and landed in a heap of ash on the floor, sneezing vigorously. "Ah, Miss Madison, it is a relief to see that you made it intact…"
"Whoa…I don’t think I like travelling that way…"
"Miss Madison?" Willow looked at the girl on the floor. "Oh my God…Amy?"
"Willow?" Unsteadily getting to her feet, Amy brushed dust off her clothes. She found her red-haired friend starting towards her and in a heartbeat, they had caught each other in a tight hug, both laughing. "Look at you!"
"And you! You’re not a rat anymore!"
"And you’re not clean anymore!" Amy grinned wickedly.
Willow looked down at her dust-smudged clothing, pulling a face. "Mom is on her way, so in about five seconds…"
There was an audible PING!
"What happened?" Amy stared down at her clean clothes.
"We couldn’t leave you so dirty, when you’re here for dinner, could we?" Molly Weasley bustled into the kitchen, her wand drawn in her right hand. "I really wouldn’t want you to get ash all over the furniture."
"That’s my mom, always thinking of her furniture." Willow said fondly.
"Now, now, Willow…"
"Uh hold on…your mom?"
"You mean Professor Dumbledore didn’t tell you?" The youngest Weasley swung to look at the old wizard in confusion. "Why didn’t you tell her, Professor?"
Having taken a seat at the kitchen table, Dumbledore smile thinly, motioning for the two girls to join him. "This was something I thought it would be…better to discuss in a face to face manner, as it relates to both of your families…"
"What do you mean, Professor?" Molly was the first to voice the question.
"My dear, you may wish to sit down." Blue eyes looked at the three faces. "In fact, you all may want to sit down. This is going to take some explaining, I think." Folding his hands on the table, he waited until they were seated and started to explain.
As his tale came to a close, he looked from one face to another.
Molly Weasley was staring at her hands, which were resting in her lap, her usually rosy face pale and tears in her eyes. Clearly the memory of her daughter’s abduction so many years before was still painfully close to her heart.
"You mean my mom was the one who stole Willow from her real family?" Amy seemed unable to look at her friend, shaking her head. "I-I didn't know..."
Reaching out and taking the stunned girl's hand gently in one of his age-spotted ones, Dumbledore said. "Be comforted, Amy. No one knew how deep your mother and uncle's treachery ran."
"But I should have...I knew how bad she was...she always laughed when she saw Willow passing in the street or the store. I thought it was because of what she was wearing," She gave Willow an apologetic look. Willow looked down at her much-improved wardrobe, waving her friend's slight slur off. "But now...it was probably because she thought she got away with doing this to you." Reluctantly raising her eyes, Amy met Willow's. "I'm sorry, Willow."
"It's okay, Amy, really!"
"But my mom and uncle stole you from your family! Your parents could have been these people, but you had the Rosenbergs..."
Standing, Willow rounded the table and wrapped her arms around Amy. "Amy, if I didn't get taken, I wouldn't be as strong as I am today." She said seriously. "I wouldn't know the people who are my best friends. I would have had a great family, but I would have missed out on some of the best friends anyone can have."
"You...you really don't mind?" Eyes shining with tears that were threatening to fall, Amy stared at her.
"You didn't do anything, Amy! Why would I mind?" Amy struggled to find some argument, but gave up as she met Willow's eyes again. Muffling a sob, she sank against her friend's shoulder, crying quietly. Her own eyes closed, Willow rocked the other witch comfortingly, whispering reassuringly to her, her own silent tears splashing down her face.
On the other side of the table, Molly Weasley unobtrusively lifted a small, lacy handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes, hoping that her daughter would not notice her mother's tears.
She could remember all too clearly the morning - nearly nineteen years before - that she had walked into her and her husband’s bedroom, where her two-month old twin daughters also shared a cradle.
She had left them sleeping in one another's arms, while she tidied up the house before her brood emerged from their beds and she heard a thud, when she was dusting the living room downstairs.
Assuming one of her beautiful babies had dropped - or thrown - their teddy out of the crib to make their woken status known, she had amiably made her way upstairs, opening the bedroom door to find blankets strewn across the floor.
At first, it seemed that they had been a little more boisterous than she thought, but then she heard Ginny's plaintive wail and hurried into the room, stopping short in horror.
The cradle was on its side on the floor, Ginny buried in the pile of blankets.
Molly liberated her immediately and started searching for her sister, but the blankets had parted to reveal nothing.
"Sara?" She remembered calling, as if the baby would be able to answer. "Sara?" With every repetition of her daughter's name, her voice had grown more panicked, her shaking hands digging through the blankets scattered around the room. "SARA!?"
Ginny, by that point, was screaming against her mother's shoulder, as if she knew what was wrong.
"What's wong, mummy?" Fred had asked, toddling through the door, his miniature broomstick clutched in one hand, his twin's hand in the other.
"Fred, have you seen Sara?" The boy had looked at his brother for confirmation, then they both shook their heads in unison. "What about Bill? Or Charlie? Or Percy? Do they have her?"
"Dey's sleepin', mummy." George had answered around his thumb, forcing his mother to acknowledge what she had instinctively known the moment she had found the cradle overturned.
Her youngest baby child was gone.
Tears poured down her face uncontrollably in that instant and she had scrambled to her feet, holding Ginny to her as if she were afraid that she would disappear too.
She had managed somehow to stumble down the staircase to the kitchen, tossing a handful of dust in the fire as she wept. Her heart seemed to be tearing through her veins and she swayed on her feet as her husband answered the fire.
"Molly?" He had immediately known something was wrong.
In a heartbeat he had appeared through the fire and she hadn't been able to bear it a moment longer, her legs going out from beneath her.
"Sara." She sobbed. "She's gone, Arthur. She's gone!"
Time had blurred.
One moment, Arthur had run towards the stairs, no doubt to survey the bedroom and the next moment, Molly had found herself seated in the living room, a comforting blanket around her and her daughter, Ginny hugged tightly to her, almost ignorant of the Ministry Wizards swarming all over the house.
Despite the absence of her youngest daughter, her other children seemed to be doing their best to comfort her. Ron was cuddled to her other side, staring around wide-eyed, the three-year-old twins sitting at her feet, hugging each other. Four-year-old Percy was seated on the footstool next to the twins, hugging his battered teddy, blinking owlishly out from behind his glasses. Eight and nine-year-old Charlie and Bill surveyed the scene solemnly, each of them sitting beside her with an arm around their mother.
She could remember the warmth of her children’s small bodies around her and time seemed meaningless, until...
"I am frightfully sorry, Arthur. We had no idea that he would come after you and your family..." Cornelius Fudge, assistant to the Minister of Magic, was speaking quietly, as he had re-entered the living-room with her husband. Molly could not recall a day when her husband looked more hopeless. She had started to stand, but Arthur had shaken his head.
"She's gone, Molly."
"B-but how?"
A shaking white hand had held out a square of black material and Molly had felt the breath rush from her lungs, fresh tears welling in her eyes as the glittering green sparkles on the fabric had come into view as the cloth unfurled.
It was the painfully familiar skull with a snake protruding from it's mouth.
The Dark Mark in a deceptively gentle-looking form.
"No..." She remembered gasping, a heartbeat before everything had gone black.
She had returned to consciousness on her bed, the faces of her seven children staring at her with concern, her husband sitting on the blankets beside her. His face looked hollow, eyes full of grief.
Carefully, quietly, he had explained what he had been told and together, they had wept with their children, before forcing themselves to go through the torment of manipulating the memories of their children to make them forget the pain of losing their youngest sister, who was probably never going to be seen again.
After all, nobody survived the Dark Lord.
That is, until two weeks late, when a young couple were murdered and somehow, by some immense miracle, their son - the same age as the Weasley’s youngest son - had survived with only a cut to show for Lord Voldemort’s attack.
That had caused Molly to break down once again.
Not only had her youngest daughter been snatched by his allies, but if it had only happened two weeks earlier, only two weeks, fourteen miserable days, her little girl would never have been taken in the first place.
No one ever knew why their unobtrusive not-so-little family had been targeted, but it had been suggested that their ambivalent view of muggles had led them to be viewed as enemies of the Dark Lord.
Turning her attention back to her daughter, Molly sniffed as quietly as she could and stood up. "I-I should get the dinner on." She said, turning away from her daughter and the daughter of the Witch who had helped to break their family apart.
"Mom, are you all right?" A slim hand touched Molly’s shoulder and the plump witch reluctantly turned to gaze at her daughter. "Oh, mom..." Hugging her mother, Willow could sense the pain that the revelation had brought her mother. "Its okay, mom. I’m back now. No one can take me away from you again."
"I-I just..." Molly couldn’t find the words to express what she was feeling, returning her daughter’s embrace. "What...what if they find you...?"
This time, Dumbledore’s chuckle warmed both witches. "I’m delighted to say that would be a physical impossibility, dear Molly." His ruby and emerald robes rustled as he got to his feet. "After all, Pettigrew redeemed himself, by giving his life for your son-in-law and his sister is...or at least was, a trophy of some variety." Those words seemed to comfort the witch, who nodded, mopping her face on her handkerchief.
"And I was a rat for a year because my magic sucks and I couldn’t work out how to turn myself back." Amy put in hesitantly.
Molly made a sound somewhere between a tearful hiccup and a laugh. "Oh, dear, you don’t need to say things like that." She chastised Amy gently, sounding almost like her old self. "I’m sure you would be good at magic if you were taught properly."
"No, mom, she’s right." Willow grinned. "She sucks."
Amy pulled a face. "Thanks for the back up, Rosenberg."
"Anytime, Amy." Chuckling, Willow offered her friend an arm. "Any time." She nodded towards the door of the kitchen, which led into the garden. "Want to come and meet my brothers and sister?"
"You have brothers?"
"Uh-huh." Willow laughed, as they made their way towards the door. "All older and kinda cute in a brotherly way..."
"Are any of them single?"
"Yeah, but Amy, I have to ask you...do you like red hair?"
"Uh...why?"
Willow’s voice floated back to Dumbledore and her mother. "Oh, no reason."
Chapter 18: The Dinner Party
"They're here!""Ginny! Get off Harry!"
"Sod off, you git!"
"Language, little sis!" Ron winked at Willow, who was giggling behind her hand as Molly immediately sprayed soap from her wand into Ginny - and the unfortunate Harry's mouths.
Spluttering foam and bubbles, Harry raced for the kitchen to the sink. Ginny reached for her own wand and rinsed her mouth out, hiccupping a few more bubbles out as a group of laughing people appeared out of the kitchen and into the garden.
Willow, sitting nervously at the table already, looked at Ron, who gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and stood up, hurrying towards the expanding group. Many hugs were exchanged, a great deal of laughing and back-slapping going on.
None of the group looked especially like wizards, which Willow assumed Dumbledore had something to do with. They were wearing clothes that wouldn't have looked out of place on her friends, which made her feel a little more comfortable.
"Hey! Will, c'mon! Don't be shy!" Beckoning his youngest sister over, Bill smiled as she nervously stood up and approached. Throwing an arm around her shoulder, he gestured around the group. "Will, meet everyone, everyone, this is Willow."
Ducking her head, Willow waggled her fingers timidly. "Uh...hi..."
"Are you sure she's related to you?" A striking black woman asked, nudging Fred in the ribs. "She seems a bit too quiet and...er...normal to be a Weasley."
"Yep! Pure Weasley, this one!" Fred said proudly. "Will, this is Angelina, Angelina, this is my super-powerful little sister." His girlfriend gave him a skeptical look. "Hey, don't blame me if she runs around closing Hellmouths."
The chatter that had been going on around them dried up instantly, all eyes turning to the scarlet Willow, who shuffled her feet awkwardly. "It wasn't that hard." She muttered, embarrassed.
"And she's modest too." George reached over and ruffled Willow's hair.
"Although she's a crap cook, which kind of buggers the fact that she's saved the World a few times." Ron added, immediately ducking a half-hearted slap from his youngest sister.
"Willow!" A voice called from inside the house a moment before a dark-haired witch flew out from the kitchen, stopping short at the sight of the group of witches and wizards. "Uh, I was gonna say that some wizards just...uh...never mind..."
Ron spun around with an enthusiastic whoop. "Amy!"
"Oh God! You're gonna pick me up again!" Amy backed away as Ron stalked towards her, grinning. Since her arrival, Ron had decided it would be fun to pester the freshly deratted witch, and she had barely been left alone for five minutes.
"Well, I wasn't, but good idea!" Hoisting the screaming witch off her feet, Ron ran back into the house, leaving Willow at the mercy of her other brothers and sister, as well as the guests, who she was still waiting to be introduced to.
"Um...Bill? Who is everyone?"
Bill looked around at the group. "Fleur, you know." The semi-Veela smiled. "These two," He motioned to the women who flanked Fred and George. "Are Angelina and Alicia. Absolutely killer Quidditch Players. They play in the Witches' League." Both women grinned broadly at the commendation. "This," He gestured to an older man with greying hair and a tired smile. "Is..."
"Professor Lupin?" Willow hazarded a guess.
He extended a thin hand, which she shook. "I'm assuming that you've been reading those Rowling books?" He said, his voice quiet. She met his pale eyes and she found herself mesmerised for a moment.
"I...uh...it isn't just that...uh...Sir." She finally answered. "You...you remind me of my boyfriend." He looked slightly surprised, but - as Oz would - didn't comment. "I mean, he's a werewolf too. I can...see something in your eyes...your face...something like he has in his eyes and face...and you're quiet...like him...which makes me wonder if it's quiet people who turn into werewolves...or maybe just quiet men, cos Verruca was a skanky slut-ho of a werewolf and she..."Willow trailed off at the amused looks on the faces of the group around her. "Uh, I'm babbling, huh?"
Lupin gave her a quiet smile that made her ache for Oz. "I don't mind." He said. "To have someone who recognises what I am and doesn't run screaming..." He shrugged, barely a lift of his shoulders. "It's nice."
"Oh...good." She smiled at him, the nervousness starting to fade as he gently gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Don't I get introduced?" The tall man beside Lupin interrupted. Willow turned, meeting clear pale blue eyes and recoiling with a gasp at the torment that filled the bright orbs.
"Oh God!" She stared at him pityingly. "I-I knew it was bad, but I didn't realise that it was that bad..." Shaking her head, she reached up to touch his cheek, making him start in surprise. "You can't forget it, can you?"
"Um...pardon?"
"Willow, I don't know how things are done in America," Bill gently lifted her hand from Sirius' face. "But here, you don't pet a strange man's face the first time you meet him."
"But his eyes..." Willow trailed off, blushing furiously, ducking her head again. "It just reminded me of someone..."
"Another werewolf?" Sirius asked. He sounded genuinely curious and slightly confused by what had just happened.
Willow's green eyes rose and stared at him. He looked vaguely as she had imagined him, only his black hair was short and neat, his face young-looking for a man about to reach his forties.
Like everyone in the group - with the exception of her parents and Dumbledore - he was wearing casual muggle-wear, in his case a pair of dark blue jeans and a gold and red Quidditch shirt.
"You reminded me of Angel." She said quietly.
George burst out laughing. "Will, are you hitting on our famous Mr. Black? I mean, calling him an Angel...isn't that a bit much?"
"George, shut it." Bill warned his brother, seeing the embarrassed look on Willow's face. "I don't think she meant an angel." Willow nodded.
"If you don't mind me asking, who is this...angel?"
"He..." She looked to Bill for confirmation. "He's a vampire..." Sirius uttered a word that would have earned him a mouthful of soap from Mrs Weasley had she been his mother. "A vampire with a soul!" Willow hastily added.
Sirius' eyes narrowed. "I remind you of a vampire with a soul?"
"After he came back from Hell." Willow confirmed uncomfortably, Sirius' pale blue eyes staring at her intensely. The man's expression cleared and he lowered his head briefly with a nod.
"Azkhaban..." Fred murmured.
Willow uttered a squeak of embarrassment. "And I just reminded you of it! Oh God! I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said anything!" Flapping her hands, she tried to think of something to say. "Uh...do you like cookies? I could make cookies if it would make you not think of it..."
Much to her astonishment, Sirius started to laugh. She looked to Lupin, to see if she had done something wrong. His eyes, too, were crinkled with laughter. Bemused she looked at her brothers, who were smiling.
"Uh...what did I say? Did I say something funny?"
Lupin looked at his long-time friend, then at Willow. "You made Sirius smile." He said. "It hasn't happened for a while."
Still chortling, Sirius wiped his eyes. "I don't know if its a family trait, but your family has to be the nicest family in the world and, judging by what you just said, you fit right in, even though you've managed to stay away from these lunatics for your whole life. Offering me cookies..." Willow squeaked again, in surprise, when Sirius reached over and impulsively gave her a welcoming hug. "Thank you."
"But I didn't do anything!"
Blue eyes that seemed slightly less shadowed sparkled with amusement. "You didn't have to."
Looking around, slightly puzzled, Willow made a whimpering sound. "Am I allowed to be confused?"
"In this family, its a standard requirement." Harry replied with a grin, which faded when he received a magical slap around the ear from Molly. "Ow! Um, sorry, mum. I didn't know you were there."
Molly, fighting a smile, folded her arms over her aproned chest. "Obviously." Her eyes singled out Willow. "Willow, dear, could you come here for a minute. There's someone who wants to meet you."
Squeezing around various family members and guests, the youngest Weasley hurried into the kitchen, where her mother waited. Dodging out of the way as Amy raced past, trying to escape Ron, she joined her mother and father by the fire.
Dumbledore and a pretty, brown-haired woman were standing there, talking amiably to Molly and Arthur. "Ah," Dumbledore turned his attention to Willow as soon as she approached. "Miss Weasley. I would like you to meet Miss Granger."
"Hermione Granger?" Willow stared at the young woman she had heard so much about. If there was one thing that wasn't mentioned in the books, it was just how pretty Hermione actually was.
Her long, notoriously-unruly hair drawn back in a French braid, Hermione smiled broadly, her brown eyes shining. "Hi, Willow. Professor Dumbledore has been telling me all about you."
"Only good, I hope."
"Would I do anything but, Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore teased gently.
"Of course only good." Hermione flashed a look at Dumbledore, who chuckled amiably, looking between the two women. "I hear you're joining Hogwarts after the summer and that you might want a muggle-born to help you get ready."
A look of appreciation crossed Willow's face. "You'd help me? That would be great! I have no idea what I'm doing and everyone here is great, but I need someone who knows what its like to come from a normal muggle family and...uh...babbling..."
"I heard you do that regularly." Hermione smiled.
"She certainly does." Dumbledore smiled, as Willow went crimson again. "I must admit, though, it does make conversations interesting. One moment you can be discussing dinner and the next, muggle logic. It's very educational."
Willow was scuffing her feet, looking very embarrassed.
"Don't mind the Professor." Hermione stepped over and took Willow by the arm. "I think its part of his job to successfully embarrass every person who passes through the school at some point in their life."
Dumbledore spread his wrinkled hands with an amused laugh, his brilliant blue eyes twinkling. "It appears that our Professor of Muggle Studies has a better measure of me than I assumed. How wise she is!"
"And I love you too, Professor." The brunette woman rolled her eyes. Willow was trying to decide whether to laugh at the display or not. Hermione didn't give her a chance to make up her mind. "Come on! Let's get one of the decent seats at the table, before they start having to conjure new ones."
As the two young women departed, Molly studied their receding backs, Hermione turning to invite Willow into a conversation. "Do you think they'll get on all right, Albus?" She asked.
"Mentally, they're as alike as two peas in a pod." Dumbledore answered. "I think this is going to be very good for them. Neither of them has ever had anyone to match their abilities until now." He smiled at Molly. "But now, shall we join your family for that delicious meal you've spent so long working on?"
***
"And bam! We were up, one hundred to ten!""It wasn't exactly fair, though, was it?" Angelina smiled at her younger friend, who was enthralling all of Willow's brothers with tales from the latest match. Evening had fallen and - in the warm twilight - the table was illuminated by candles around the garden. "One of their Beaters was unconscious and their Seeker was being tailed by the bludger."
"That's the point, Angie!" Alicia laughed. "C'mon, admit it! We done good!"
"Um..." Willow waved a hand nervously. "The bludger is the crazy ball, right?"
Charlie grinned broadly. "Looks like little sister is catching on."
Fred and George sniffed in unison, exchanging looks. "We're so proud!" They both wailed, throwing themselves on one another's necks. Their siblings just shook their heads and ignored them.
"You guys are all totally crazy." Amy noted around a slice of Molly's thick, sweet strawberry tart.
Ron leaned to his left, where Willow was sitting between him and Hermione. "Is she always this observant?" He asked in a stage-whisper, that earned him a sharp elbow in the ribs from Amy. "Hey!"
Brown eyes looked around at him innocently. "What?" Amy asked sweetly. "I was just picking up my plate."
"It appears that Miss Madison fits in here rather well, does it not?" Dumbledore remarked with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Amy grinned around her dessert, the grin especially directed at Ron.
Ron wrinkled his nose, turning to Willow. "So, Will, what do you think of the family friends, then?"
"It...uh...its kind of weird to be sitting with everyone at this table." The youngest Weasley admitted. "I mean, only a few weeks ago, I thought I was living as normal a life as a teenage witch could on a Hellmouth and now, I'm having dinner with some of the most famous witches and wizards in the world."
Sirius shook his head, chuckling. "You class this meal as weird when you're dating a werewolf, your best friend is the Slayer and she was dating a vampire and your other best friend is dating a thousand year old ex-vengeance demon?"
"Not to mention that you lived on a Hellmouth for eighteen years." Hermione added, using her fork as a pointer. "No normal witch or wizard would ever do that if they could help it."
"Well, I didn't exactly have a choice..."
"Was it very hard to control your magic?" The brunette witch asked curiously. "I've read that Hellmouth's manipulate the waves of power emitted by wizards or witches and can make it very difficult to do spells."
"I-I don't know. I thought it was all right, but I think that's just because I did live there." Willow shrugged, looking around the packed table for a jug of cream. "I was used to it." Spotting the jug, she held out a hand and the jug rose and floated straight to her. "Its so much easier to do magic here, though."
"Whoa..."
The youngest witch present looked around at her audience in confusion, startled to find every single one of them staring at her. "Um...did I do something wrong?"
"How did you do that wizout a wand?" Fleur asked.
"Do what?" Willow frowned, puzzled, then realised that she was holding the cream jug. "Oh! That was one of the first things I learned how to do." She poured the cream over her tart, the floated the jug back to it's place. "I started with a pencil and it was easy, once you knew what you were doing..."
"But you didn't use a wand, Will!" Ron repeated his sister-in-law's statement a little more emphatically.
"Mmm?" His sister gave him a confused look, her spoon in her mouth.
"I think what they're trying to ask," Hermione interceded quickly, shaking her head at Ron. "Is do you do all your magic sheerly on telepathic ability?"
Swallowing her dessert, Willow put her plate down on the table, looking rather uncomfortable. "I...I sometimes use chants and stuff, if that's what you mean, but I can move stuff...I can make fire..."
"All without a wand?"
"Uh...yeah..."
"You can conjure fire without a wand?" Fred looked impressed. "Bet that's useful."
"First time I did it, I accidentally set my bed on fire." The youngest Weasley grinned sheepishly. "I was stupid enough to do it in my bedroom before I knew how big it would be. My mom...I mean, my adopted mom freaked."
"Do you have to use an incantation?" Angelina inquired.
Curious looks were directed at her from all sides of the table and Willow tried not to blush again. When she had learned her magic, she assumed that everyone learned the same way, but to find out that they had never seen magic like hers...
"Infierno." She said, opening her hand. Immediately a ball of flame erupted to life, hovering several millimetres above her open palm. Several sounds of surprise escaped various guests around the table. "Neat, huh?"
"What can you do with it?"
"Uh...duh!" Amy rolled her eyes at Ron, who had posed the question. "You can set things on fire with it."
"Don't be a smart arse." Ron grouched, then gurgled in protest as his mother shot a spray of bubbles into his mouth.
"Aquatis!" Willow cried immediately and a gush of ice-cold water flooded down on Ron from above. Gasping, bubbles pouring out of his mouth, his eyes went wide as he was drenched to the skin. "Uh..." Shrugging helplessly, Willow gave her brother a weak smile. "Well, I got the water right...I just need to practise my aim."
Ron gurgled a sound at her. Had it been coherent, it probably would have earned him another mouthful of soap.
Unnoticed by any of the family, Dumbledore was surveying the eighth Weasley, as she tried to fend of her dripping brother, the other adults round the table roaring with laughter as she threw spell after spell at him.
His lips rose in a smile.
She was happy and home and for that, he was grateful.
Chapter 19: Like Minds
“Willow, you decent?”Before the youngest Weasley managed to get a reply out, the door opened and what looked like an enormous pile of books staggered in the door. Willow sat up on her bed, where she had been lying, reading, staring at the books.
“If you’re a book-demon, I know how to destroy you.” She threatened, then grinned as Hermione managed to negotiate the pile onto the floor without dropping any of the enormous volumes.
“Just thought you might want to catch up on some light reading.” The brown-haired witch puffed, her face flushed. Like Willow, she was wearing a casual pair of jeans and a shirt, the sleeves of which she had rolled up.
Willow slid off the bed, kneeling down beside the pile of books that was easily as tall as she was. “Couldn’t you just have magicked them up the stairs?” She suggested, as Hermione sat down heavily beside her.
“Willow,” The Muggle Studies Professor stated, still drawing deep breaths. “When someone has just lugged a pile of books up the stairs, you don’t tell them what they should have done, okay?”
“Same as it was in Sunnydale, then?” Picking up the topmost book, she studied the cover, smiling a little. “Dark Arts...” Opening the thick cover, the smell of old leather rising from it, she studied the text. “Vampires, werewolves, incubus, succubus...” Her finger ran down the index. “Know, in love with, avoided, met...”
“So we can skip the dark arts for now?”
“Unless you know something about werewolves that I don’t?” Willow challenged.
Hermione’s nose wrinkled as she considered this. “They turn into wolves on three consecutive nights of the lunar cycle?”
“Having babysat a wolf for those nights, I know it.”
“Er...werewolves don’t classify as true wolves.”
“And why is that?” Willow’s eyes were dancing.
“Because,” Warming to her subject, Hermione motioned to the book. “They still have a somewhat human form, therefore it is usually identified as a creature of dark origins, because the first was caused by a dark spell gone wrong?”
Willow looked impressed. “I didn’t know the first came from a spell. I always thought it was a demon.”
“I think it could have been a little of both, if my research proves correct.” Moving to sit a little closer to Willow, she opened the pages to the werewolf chapter. “There’s something in here about the demon aspect, but there are other books that refer to a man who was trying to bind a demon by dark magic. Only, it ended up being bound to him on the nights of the full moon and the condition was passed when the demon bit other humans.”
“Oz, my boyfriend, was bitten by his nephew, and I don’t think his nephew could do any dark magic.”
Looking at her, Hermione inquired. “Why?”
“He was teething at the time.”
“A baby was a werewolf?”
“Yeah. We still don’t know how it happened, but Oz took me to his uncle’s one summer and I got to see him, when they both turned into wolves.” She sighed. “They were so cute, when wolfy Oz looked after the baby wolf.”
“I’ve heard werewolves called a lot of things, but I don’t think cute is one of them.”
Willow grinned. “Its kind of like having an oversized puppy.” Hermione gaped at her. “All right, an overgrown puppy who could tear you limb from limb, but still a big, fuzzy puppy.”
“So...uh...you won’t need any advice about werewolves, then?” Laughing, Willow shook her head. “Okay...vampires?”
“Staked a lot of them.”
“Succubus and Incubus? Grindylows? Kappas?”
“Know repellent charms for those kind of things, I think.”
Hermione scratched her chin. “All right, we’ll leave dark arts just now...how about potions? Can you make them?” A worried look crossed the red head’s face. “Want to try out some of the simple ones?”
“Sure!” With a wave of her hand, Willow summoned her cauldron and conjured a ball of flame beneath it. “So, do you have ingredients and things? I haven’t got any of mine yet.”
Withdrawing her wand from her pocket, Hermione waved it in the direction of the door. “Accio bag!”
Maybe what flew through the door was classed as a bag by Hermione, but - to Willow - it looked like the kind of enormous backpack that campers used, with straps and lines everywhere, tying the bulky pockets closed.
“Uh...you...you came prepared, didn’t you?”
Digging out her own cauldron, Hermione grinned. “Well, if I’m going to help you get warmed up for Hogwarts, I thought I might as well bring everything I would consider it normal for a person to know and use.”
A pile of bottles rolled out onto the floor and Willow picked a few of them up.
“Basilisk venom? Powdered Phoenix talon? Boiled bullfrog eyes?” She raised her eyes to the older witch. “Aren’t these only used in more advanced potions?”
Hermione met her gaze levelly, brown eyes twinkling. “Well, if you want to make shrinking potions, instead of something that will definitely stop your twin brothers putting dungbombs in your bed, we can...”
“You know,” The red head grinned. “I like the way you think.”
The older witch smiled serenely. “I suspected you might.”
***
Feminine laughter rang out from the uppermost bedroom in the Burrow.Molly smiled, as she bustled around the kitchen below, the sound of her daughter a joy to her. However, Ron was sitting at the kitchen table looking distinctly ill-at-ease, his eyes flicking towards the source of the laughter.
“We shouldn’t have introduced them, mum.”
His mother glanced around at him. He had avoided the upper floors of the house since Hermione had arrived and Molly had noticed - even at the dinner - he had barely spoken to his former girlfriend.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
Ron studied a knot in the table. “Nothing.”
“I’m your mother. I can tell something is wrong.”
Her youngest son looked up, his smile a strained one. “I...I didn’t need to see her again, this soon after...” He trailed off, his attention wandering back to the table, his fingertips tracing around the black knot.
“This soon after...?”
“After we split up, mum.” He sighed. “I know we agreed to it and that we should stay friends, but still, seeing her again, like this...”
Molly pursed her lips. Sitting down opposite her son, she reached over and took his hands between hers. “Ron, listen to me, I know this sounds hard, but you have to get over what you had. Its gone, has been since You-Know-Who was defeated.”
“But I loved her, mum.”
“Loved, yes.” She gazed at him in a way that only a mother can, the way that suggests everything, but reveals nothing. “You have to remember that. You did love her. You loved her. The past tense. I went through the same thing when I was sixteen, going on seventeen.”
“You did?”
Molly nodded. “Your father lost his best friend for a long time because of me.”
“Dad?” Ron stared at her incredulously. “What? Were they rivals or something?”
The plump witch chuckled. “Rivals and best friends in everything since their first year at Hogwarts.” She said. “They started mock-fighting over me in third year. I was incredibly close to Rupert and he was the one who introduced me to your father.”
“Rupert? The Slayer’s Watcher?” Ron blurted out in shock.
“Yes, Rupert Giles, the watcher.” Molly sighed. “Probably the first person I ever fell in love with.” A pensive look crossed her face. “Looking back, had Rupert asked me, I would probably have married him...I adored him and he me, but we acted more like friends, much like you and Hermione did during your school terms.”
Ron nodded, understanding what that felt like. “Then your father came along, and as a joke, asked me on a date, much to Rupert’s amusement and he...he...well, he sort of swept me off my feet.” Her eyes wandered to the ring on her ring finger. “Before I knew it, we were secretly seeing one another, whenever we could, despite the fact that I was still seen as Rupert’s girl by everyone else. Neither of us could face telling Rupert, we both loved him too dearly to hurt him that way.”
“How did he find out?” Ron asked, with rapt fascination. He had always assumed that his oddly-matched parents had been together forever, never imagining that a third party would become involved.
Molly gazed at her hands for a long time before answered slowly. “He was to be taken from the school for Watcher training.” She raised her eyes to her son. “He came to Arthur, another friend of their and me first, told us. He asked if he could speak to me alone and then, he told me...” She pressed a hand to her mouth, her vision blurring with tears as she remembered. “He told me that he loved me and wanted to be with me, if I could wait for him.”
“And you told him?”
His mother nodded, seemingly unable to form a verbal response. In her mind’s eye, she could still clearly see the second that Rupert’s heart had shattered, the disbelief and grief in his green eyes as she told him that she loved another.
Ron squeezed his mother’s fingers. “But you still got dad and all of us...”
“A whole Quidditch team and then some.” She agreed, smiling faintly.
What she didn’t say was the expression she saw in Rupert’s eyes, the day they had met up with the group from America, in Diagon Alley. He still bore a flame for her, she could tell, and she wished it wasn’t so, that he could have found someone to make him as happy as she was.
“Me and Hermione...we weren’t proper boyfriend and girlfriend, anyway...I think.”
“Oh?”
Ron nodded. “I love her to bits and everything, but she’s too smart for me.” He gave an amicable shrug. “As long as I don’t have to see her for the next ten years, I think I can cope fine with her being friends with Will.”
“It will get easier, Ron, I promise.”
“Yeah...now, I just need to think about finding someone else.”
Molly smiled. “You’re not the only one who does.”
That seemed to cheer Ron up a little.
“As soon as she gets a boyfriend, that’s it!” He slammed his hand down on the table as emphasis. “I’m taking the first good-looking, funny and not-as-smart-as-Hermione girl that comes along.”
Molly chuckled, getting back to her feet and returning to the dinner that was cooking in the oven, adding a huge pan of potatoes, as she glanced back at her plotting son.
All her precious, barking-mad little boys, so much like their father in personality.
Ron and Percy were the only ones who were single at present.
They didn’t hold out much hope for Percy, considering he worked, ate and slept, with a little breathing here and there. Molly secretly hoped that the new secretary that she and Arthur had planted at the office would distract their third son.
She could even seduce him on top of his desk, while in a meeting with the Minister of magic, for all Molly cared, as long as her little boy didn’t work himself into an early grave.
As for Ron...
She smiled slightly.
He was too similar to his father and with that in mind, she knew he would be fine.
***
“Eurgh! What’s that stink?” The voices of the older twins rang down the hall, their footsteps clattering up the stairs towards Willow’s room. The door was flung open, the twins stalking into the room.Hermione and Willow were lying on their stomachs, side-by-side on the bed, sharing a huge book. Both of them looked up at Fred and George, who were looking like they were somewhere between yelling and being sick.
“Did you put something in our room?”
The two witches exchanged looks, then turned to the twins and - cupping their chins in their upraised hands - gave the pair matching indignant glares. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Blimey...” George backed behind his brother. “That’s just creepy.”
“Did you do it?”
“Do what? Plant stink bombs?” Hermione asked, looking genuinely affronted. “We wouldn’t do anything like that! That’s a horrible thing to say!”
George waved an accusing finger down at her. “You put some kind of lingering stink bomb in there!”
“It might have been Ron!” Willow looked shocked by the accusation.
Fred and George exchanged looks. “Ron wouldn’t have the brains or the nerve to come up with one of those kind of bombs. It takes a steady hand and knowing your potions better than you should.”
“Still, I don’t see what that’s got to do with us. We’re just innocent witches, after all. And I’m a teacher and you know teachers wouldn‘t do anything like that.” Hermione said, resting her head on Willow’s shoulder, both witches hard-pressed to smother their laughter.
Fred sighed. “There are times I hate smart arses like you two.”
“Thanks.” Hermione said sourly.
“Sorry.” Willow put in apologetically. Her lips were pressed together and she did look sincere. “I just wanted to get you back for all the times you left dungbombs in here and made the place smell bad.” She pulled a face. “I really thought about going back to America because it was so gross and I thought it was just the room.”
The twins looked somewhat mollified. “Er...thanks, Willow. And sorry about those bombs as well...we meant them in the best possible way.”
Willow raised a hand. “By the way, if I were either of you, I wouldn’t wear your green sweatpants or your black sneakers in the next three days, if you don’t want to sprout claws and a tail.”
Hermione started to say something, but Willow nudged her, still smiling.
“I knew there was a reason I hated having a sister.” Fred muttered. He faked a smile back at her. “Thank you for ruining our best clothes, Willow. Now, we’ll just have to go and change into something less...best.”
Both the twenty-two year-olds backed out of the door, shutting it behind them and Hermione immediately turned to Willow. “I thought you said you weren’t going to tell them about the booby traps.”
Casting an innocent look at her friend, Willow rolled onto her back and grinned at the ceiling. “Whoops...” She said without a trace of guilt. “I got confused. Its the blue pant and blue sneakers they shouldn’t wear...”
“You sneaky little witch!” Hermione laughed.
Willow polished her nails on her chest smugly. “Thank you.”
Unified yells of pain and surprise rang from the room one floor down and both young women exchanged looks.
Raising herself on her elbow, Willow grinned. “Oops.”
***
“George, you are aware that you have a tail?”“No, mum.” Scowling as he sat down, George tried to ignore that his new appendage seemed to have a mind of it’s own, as it coiled around the legs of his chair. “I had no clue about it.”
Molly glanced down at Willow and Hermione, who were already sitting at the table, smiling innocently across at the twins. “Do you two know anything about this little thing?” She asked.
“Us, mom?” Willow had the innocent-eyes to perfection. “Hermione’s been helping me learn stuff for potions, charms and transfiguration today, just the basic stuff, so I know what the Professors are talking about.”
“And nothing to do with giving your brother a tail?”
“Or clawed feet.” Fred added, clumping loudly into the kitchen. every set of eyes dipped under the table, to see Fred’s feet swollen into scaly, lizard-like feet with four-inch-long claws scratching the tiles on the floor.
Ron was sniggering behind his hand.
“Mrs Weasley,” Hermione said sincerely, brown eyes large and innocent. “Do you honestly believe I would teach your daughter such horrid things? She needs all the help she can get to catch up.” She shot a dirty look at the twins. “They were probably coming up with more of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes.”
Fred started to open his mouth, then - just as quickly - clapped it shut.
Their mother knew nothing about them being chief researchers and co-semi-part-managers of Zonko’s Joke shop and anything he tried to use in an argument could be manipulated by the fact that everyone else at the table did know.
Molly studied the two girls, who gazed back at her, straight-faced and wide-eyed. It was the overuse of the innocence act which convinced her. Still, it was nice to see someone in her family get one over on the pranksters.
“Well,” She sighed. “I’m afraid that since we don’t know who did it, we’ll just have to wait until it wears off...”
“But mum! We know they did it and they probably have the antidote!”
Molly settled herself at the end of the table. “Like I said, we don’t know they did it, so you’ll just have to deal with having claws and tails.” She paused, then added. “And if you so much as scratch my floor, you won’t sit for a week, adult or not.”
Mumbling, Fred and George turned their attention to their meals.
As soon as they looked down, their mother glanced over the table, and - meeting Willow and Hermione’s eyes - Molly winked with a smile, which was returned by the two witches. She had always known that Hermione would be able to teach her daughter some interesting spells and potions.
It was just amusing that Fred and George were the unfortunate test subject of the very successful experiments.
Chapter 20: Supplies
"Good afternoon, Mrs Weasley. Miss Weasley."Choking on green ash, Willow blinked hard, her lashes crusted with the stuff. "Uh, hi, whoever you are." A wand tapped her on the head and her vision cleared, allowing her to look around.
She and her mother had used to Floo Powder to travel down to London to collect Willow’s wizarding supplies.
Apparently, they had arrived in a special store just inside Diagon Alley that had a fireplace for anyone using Floo Powder, or apparating directly in without having to pass through The Leaky Cauldron.
Willow looked around, fascinated.
Several fireplaces lined one of the cream and green walls: an old-fashioned, wide, smoke-blackened, red-brick hearth with a sign above it that said ‘Family Transport’ in curly golden letters; a small, blackened stove-like hob apparently for ‘Witches & Warlocks of the Elder Persuasion’, as well as several smaller ones that were polished, gleaming impeccably for ‘Individual Transportation’.
The wizard who had greeted them was a short, plump man, his grey robes coated in what was probably a permanent dusting of emerald powder. He had a round, friendly, red face, wispy, receding black hair and wore a broad smile and half-moon glasses halfway down his nose.
"Good afternoon, Basil. It’s nice to see you again." Mrs Weasley smiled, taking the pudgy hand that was offered and shaking it.
Impish brown eyes that looked too young to belong to an adult twinkled. "When I heard that you and the famous missing Weasley might be coming in to pick up her supplies, I simply had to arrange my shifts to see you again."
"Mom?"
"Willow, dear," Bringing her daughter forward, she smiled. "This is Basil Dimley-Butterworth, an old friend." Willow politely shook his hand. "He’s one of the Wizards who helped to try and find you, before he retired from the Ministry."
"Oh! Hi! Its great to meet you!" Shaking his hand a little more vigorously, Willow gave him a broad smile. "I’m Willow."
"It’s a wonder they took as long to find you, as they did, Miss Weasley." Basil said, studying her. "Anyone with half an eye would be more than able to see you take after the ravishing beauty that is your mother."
"Basil!" Mrs Weasley laughed, swatting him. "You are terrible!"
"And always frightfully honest, Molly, you know that." He smiled from one woman to the other. "I suppose I will have to allow you to depart now." Stepping out of their path, he directed their attention to the door. "Diagon Alley."
"You’re right, Basil." Pecking the giddy Wizard on the cheek, Mrs Weasley took her daughter’s arm. "We should be off."
As she was steered out of the shop and into Diagon Alley by her mother, Willow waved back at the receding figure of Basil. "By Mr...er...Bye Basil! It was nice meeting you!"
"And you, Miss Weasley!" He called after her. "And you!"
***
The streets were milling with people, witches and wizards of various ages bustling about, many young ones preparing for the return to school. The numerous colours of robes blended together into a kaleidoscope.Her arm looped through her mother’s, Willow looked around in awe.
She had been in Diagon Alley before, when they had been staying at The Leaky Cauldron, but it was still an incredible sight, so many different shops that seemed to normal, yet so bizarre in the same instant.
They had just been to Gringotts and Willow had been shown her own vault, which had been almost filled with contributions from the Ministry, as compensation for taking so long to find her.
So, with wizarding money jingling heavily in the purse hanging against her hip, she was looking forward to the shopping spree ahead.
"And I suppose we ought to get you some decent robes." She was only half-listening to Mrs Weasley’s words. "Mind you, knowing dear Professor Dumbledore, you would probably be allowed to wear muggle-wear..."
The young witch’s eyes fell on a gleaming broomstick in the dimpled windows of the shop they had just past, her mouth dropping open. She didn’t need her Quidditch-mad brothers to inform her that she was looking at a high-quality broomstick.
"And books...they’re always awfully expensive...ah! Here we are!"
"Wha?"
Molly smiled. "Ollivanders, dear." She nodded up at the peeling and cracked sign above the grimy window.
It read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382BC. From the looks of the shop, it hadn’t been given a new sign since then. Willow’s brows beetled. She glanced into the window and saw a single wand lying on a dusty pillow.
"Is...is it still a real store?" She asked uncertainly. "It looks a bit...uh...not-open."
"It has always looked like this, dear." Mrs Weasley assured her. "Come on."
Opening the door, which squeaked loudly as they did so, the bell jingled above them as they entered the gloomy building. It was as dusty inside as the outside suggested it might be, no one visible behind the counter.
Willow stared around, moving towards the counter in the middle of the store to take in everything. Mrs Weasley sat down on one of the spindly wooden chairs near the window, holding her handbag in her lap.
Everywhere in the tiny shop, boxes upon thin, narrow boxes were piled into every nook and cranny, some towering in dust-coated columns that looked like they would only be staying upright with help from magic.
Even the small lamp on the desk, which was giving out a buttery-yellow light that seemed to illuminate the whole shop, stood in a rather precarious position on top of a column of thin boxes.
It was almost as if someone had completely frozen time in the store, the heavy silence hanging as softly as the dust-spotted cobwebs that glistened in the corners of the uppermost shelves.
As they waited, the silence getting deeper, Willow shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest. "Mom...?" She started to ask, yelling in fright when a voice calmly spoke from right beside her.
"I did wonder if we would ever be seeing you in here." Spinning to face the speaker, Willow backed up slightly, startled. His frighteningly pale eyes gleamed at her in the pale light. "The youngest Weasley."
"Uh...hi and..." Hoping it wouldn’t sound to rude and blunt, Willow tried to smile at him. "Who’re you?"
"Ollivander." The old wizard said with an enigmatic smile. "I was informed of your recovery by Professor Dumbledore, when he brought me that rather interesting choice of your wand core. They provide great power to the bearer, some of the power of the mythical creature itself."
"Oh! Right! Hair of a Slayer."
Ollivander gave her an expressionless look. "If one might ask, how did you come by such a rare item?"
"I pulled it off her head."
"Indeed? Interesting...very interesting...raise your wand arm, please..." The wizard withdrew a long, silver-marked measuring tape from one of his many pockets and started to measure her. "And how did you find her?"
"Uh..." Watching the tape measure flit out of Ollivander’s hands and start measuring the length of her nose and width of her ears, the witch tried to remember what she had been asked. "Oh! I’ve been her friend for four years. I lived with her at college."
"You are on familiar terms with a Slayer, Miss Weasley?" Ollivander looked slightly surprised. "How very intriguing..." He walked into the stacks of boxes, still talking, as the measuring tape worked. "However, I will have to test your responses with other wand cores, lest there is something more suited to you." Returning with an armful of boxes, he gave her a small smile. "Although I have made a wand for you, to Professor Dumbledore’s specifications."
"Okay." Willow squinted around the measuring tape. "What’s this measuring me for, anyway?"
"To assess which wand would be best for you."
Willow looked a little bemused. "So I might not get one with Buffy stuff in it?"
"As I said, Miss Weasley, we will test you for the most compatible wand." He held out a thin stick with a distinct, decorated handle. "Humour me, if you will." Willow nodded, taking the wand. "Give it a wave."
Doing so, Willow squeaked in shock and almost dropped the wand when a miniature tidal wave spewed out of the back wall, behind Ollivander, sloshing down around her ankles as it trailed away to a trickle.
"Oh God! I’m sorry I didn’t know it would happen!"
Much to her surprise, Ollivander was chuckling. "Well, I suppose I did ask you to give it a wave and you certainly did that." He took the wand back. "That would be a no on this wand."
As he put that wand away and chose another, Willow noticed - to her astonishment - that her aquatic accident hadn’t even disturbed the dust on the lower shelves, all of the boxes in exactly in the same place as they had been.
"Here. Try this one." Several more different wands followed in rapid succession, each bringing a mini-natural disaster with it, or so it felt to Willow, a small pile of wands mounting up on the counter beside Ollivander.
"What’s meant to happen if it’s the right one?" She asked sheepishly, smoothing down her wind-swept hair.
"Ah, you will know, Miss Weasley." Still smiling, Ollivander offered her a slim wand that looked somehow better than all the other ones. Willow couldn’t say what it was about the wand exactly, but she held her hand over it for a heartbeat.
"This is the one." She said aloud, more to herself than anyone, before picking it up.
The wood was warm, smooth and the ridges of the handle seemed to fit perfectly against her fingers. She could feel the power radiating through it and swung it in a swishing motion, a dazzling rainbow painting across the musty air from the tip.
"Oh! That’s beautiful, Willow!" She heard her mother exclaim.
"Indeed, Miss Weasley." Ollivander’s eyes glimmered. "And, oddly, this is the very wand that was made for you." He took it from her and studied it. "You desired it, but it was the wand that selected you."
"This is the wand with the Slayer-hair in it?"
"It is. Twelve inches, willow with a slayer hair as the core." Placing it in the wooden box, he gazed steadily at Willow. "Be mindful, Miss Weasley. A Vampire Slayer is a very powerful individual. It goes without saying that this wand will be so, as well."
"I’ll be careful, Mister Ollivander." She promised. "I’ve done spells that went bad so I know about being real careful, because I don’t wanna be seeing a skanky vamp me again, because that was just creepy and..." She trailed off, embarrassed.
A small smile reached his lips. "With the power already manifest in you, I only hope that I will stay on your good side." He handed her the box. "For such a unique witch, who gave me such a wonderful challenge in making this wand, I would like to make a gift of your first wand."
Blushing, Willow grinned. "Thanks, Mister Ollivander. You don’t need to..."
"I will hear of no excuses!" Ollivander held up his hands. "It is a gift."
As the box was placed into her hands, Willow felt her smile broadening. "Thank you." She said sincerely. "I love it."
***
"Is there anything else I need, mom?"Almost every shop in Diagon Alley had been paid a visit by the pair of Weasley women, the supplies for Willow’s first year at Hogwarts rapidly mounting up as they afternoon wore on.
A set of formal black robes and deep, forest-green dress robes had been fitted for her by Madam Malkin, who commented on how skinny Willow was compared to most of the normal-sized pupils she dealt with, tutting and telling Molly to feed her up.
The clerk in the book shop had fawned all over Willow, eagerly telling her that he had been following her dramatic story in the Daily Prophet and - he asked somewhat nervously - could he bother her for an autograph.
Blushing scarlet, her mother chuckling behind her, Willow had hastily scribbled her name on a piece of parchment, before dropping a handful of coins on the counter and fleeing the shop with her books.
The only time she could recall being more embarrassed was when she had been forced to wear Vampire-Willow-wear, which had revealed more of her chest than she had ever shown before.
Her mother had found it very amusing and hadn’t stopped chuckling for half an hour after they left the shop, another burst of giggles escaping her every time that Willow started to ask her something.
She had finally calmed down after a brief stop at Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream parlour, where Willow had found out that she could actually get snozzberry flavoured ice-cream, much to her surprise.
They had just departed the parlour, for one last sweep of the shops, to pick up anything they might have forgotten.
Looking down in the enchanted, Mary-Poppins-style basket she was carrying, which worked on the principal that it could never be filled, Mrs Weasley smiled. "I think we have everything you need...except..." She withdrew a piece of parchment with a list on it. "Aha! A pewter cauldron."
Willow shook her head. "I can’t believe that we actually use cauldrons and wands. I always thought that that was what muggles decided magic was done with. I didn’t think we’d really have them."
"I doubt the muggles would expect us to use them either. If you claim to be a witch, while wearing robes and stirring a cauldron, with a black cat at your feet, they won’t believe a word you say."
"Must be kinda useful, huh?" Molly looked at her questioningly. "You look so much like a stereotype that they think you’re just pretending and they don’t even realise that you are a witch, because you look too similar to how they imagine one to look." A lop-sided grin crossed Willow’s face. "Well, it made sense in my head..."
Mrs Weasley laughed. "I’m sure it did, dear." She took her daughter’s arm again, both of them making their way towards the Cauldron shop, cauldrons of all shapes, sizes and metals standing in piles around the store-front and windows.
"They’re so dinky!" Willow exclaimed, as they approached the pewter cauldrons.
"Well, you don’t need to get a full size one yet, Willow." Her mother reminded her, smiling. "These ones work well enough."
"They’re so cute! It’s like a weeny baby cauldron!" She picked one up, cradling it carefully in her hands, studying it from all sides. The polished metal gleamed, her distorted reflection staring back at her.
"Can I help you, ladies?" Willow and her mother turned to find a tall, lanky wizard in grimy grey robes with the sleeves pinned up above his knobbly elbows, wearing a tan, leather apron over his clothes, a polished cauldron gripped in one hand.
"I need to get one of the wee...er...small pewter cauldrons." Willow held up the one she had in her hands. "How much are they?"
The wizard studied her for a moment, then replied. "The small pewter ones are three galleons and seven sickles plain, or four galleons and three sickles with decoration. If you want it engraved, for a personal touch, it costs five knuts a letter."
"Mom?"
"You want one with your name on it, don’t you?" Mrs Weasley smiled indulgently.
Willow grinned weakly. "Uh...well, it would be kinda neat..." She looked at the one she was holding. "Can I get this one?" The wizard nodded. "And-and on it...can I get something engraved on it?"
"Of course." Placing the cauldron in his hands on the counter beside him, he took the small cauldron from her. "What do you want engraved on it?"
"Willow Weasley." She said immediately, smiling at her mother.
"That will be two sickles and seven knuts." He withdrew his wand, from a pockets in his robes, tracing the outline of letters on the smooth side of the cauldron. They immediately started to glow and brightened until Willow had to look away. When her vision cleared, there was her name, in perfect, looping letters. "Now, would you like with or without decorations?"
"What kind of decorations can I get?"
"There are several basic ones..." He showed them, by tapping the wand against the cauldron’s side, the shape shifting a few times, growing feet and adding extra handles, before it returned to its original form. "Or you could develop one of your own."
Biting on her lower lip thoughtfully, Willow studied the cauldron for a long time, then a smile crossed her face. "Okay," She said. "This is what I want my cauldron to look like..."
***
"You can’t do anything like a normal person, can you?" Ron remarked dryly.He was examining Willow’s new cauldron, as his youngest sister tried to arrange her large pile of supplies that were spread across her bed and the bedroom floor around her, to get them into her new, leather, brass-bound trunk.
"You could...ugh..." Willow was stuck halfway under the bed, trying to extricate herself and the trunk, unsuccessfully. "Help..."
"Yeah, yeah..." Ron continued to study the cauldron, ignoring her.
It had four little feet that looked like a werewolf’s paws, complete with claws, no doubt to remind her of her boyfriend. The handles looked like they were made of three stakes of wood for the Slayer connection. Lastly, and oddly, there was a cartoon-styled dog, which he assumed was because of Xander and something Willow had mentioned about the ‘Snoopy dance’.
However, one thing did puzzle him. "Will, what’s the leaf-thing about?"
Squirming out, covered in dust, the youngest of the Weasleys looked up at her brother. "When I said I needed help, I did kinda mean now, Ron." She crossed her arms petulantly over her chest.
"I know, but what’s the leaf thing about?" He flashed a wide grin at her, and despite her annoyance, she couldn’t help smiling back. he motioned to the wreath of leaves that circled the top of the cauldron.
"They’re willow leaves."
Ron groaned.
"What?"
"You...Willow leaves...oh God...that’s just awful, Will."
Sticking her tongue out at him, Willow snatched her cauldron from him. "Well, since you don’t like that," She said, sniffing. "You can be useful and get my trunk out from under the bed."
"And you say you and Ginny are nothing alike..." Ron muttered, getting off the bed and kneeling down to look for the trunk.