The Eighth Weasley

The Eighth Weasley - Chapter Six

A Letter From The Lost

Molly Weasley had just put the kettle on when she heard a ‘ping’ sound from the fire in the hearth and looked around to see the broadly-smiling face of Albus Dumbledore looking up at her.

"Professor!"

"Good afternoon, Molly."

"Oh! Do you want to come in for a cup of tea, Albus? I just put the kettle on."

He raised his eyes to the large copper kettle that was dangling over his head. "I had noticed, Molly," he said with a small smile.

The matronly women uttered a squeak of surprise, then hurriedly hoisted the kettle from the hook that was holding it over the crackling fire. "Sorry, Albus," She reached down to help him out of the flames. "I forgot that you wouldn’t walk through it."

"Not to worry, my dear." He dusted himself down with a smile, straightening his velvet hat. "It is actually quite an enjoyable sensation and I have heard rumours that it does wonders for the hair."

Mrs. Weasley stared blankly at him as if he had grown a second head, then laughed faintly. "So, I was making a cup of tea, Albus…would you like one?"

"It would be impolite of me to decline." He took one of the seats at the table, as Mrs. Weasley manhandled the kettle back into place on the hook. Moving to the cupboards, she hummed to herself, as she gathered two cups and saucers.

She returned to the table to see him placing a white envelope on the surface. One of the cups slipped from her hands and smashed on the floor, the colour flooding from her face.

"Are you all right, Molly?" He started to rise, but the plump witch motioned for him to sit, shakily sinking into the chair opposite him. Absently, she tugged out her wand and pointed it.

"Reparo," The teacup’s shattered pieces flew together and she made another gesture with the wand. "Accio." It flew to her hand She placed it carefully beside the one on the table, her eyes still on the letter.

There was no way that the letter was from anyone in the Wizarding World. No one in their World used plain white sheets or envelopes. It was always parchment of varying thickness and colour.

"Is that…?"

"From Willow."

Molly’s face creased in confusion. "Willow?"

Dumbledore nodded, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "That was the name that they gave her." He smiled faintly. "If I remember correctly, Pettigrew had a wand made of willow and very little imagination."

"It’s a very pretty name." Her hands were shaking, the tip of her wand drumming on the tabletop, her tear-filled eyes still fixed on the envelope. "Is she pretty? And well? Is she well?"

The older wizard nodded, reaching into the depths of his robes again. "I thought you would ask, so I had got some photographs from her and had some taken as well." He produced the sheaf of pictures and handed them to Willow’s mother.

Unable to hide the tears rolling down her cheeks, Molly looked down at the pictures, the muggle ones at the top of the pile.

"Is this her?" she asked, even though she didn’t really have to. She could see that Willow had inherited her father’s smooth, silky hair and distinct features. In the first pictures, the red head was alone, but as Molly started moving through the pile, more faces joined her.

"Those are her friends," Dumbledore said softly.

"She looks so happy…so very happy…and her friends…you met them as well?" The main faces that seemed to stand out again and again were those of a blonde-haired girl, a dark-haired boy and a slightly older boy whose wild hair seemed to be different colours in every picture.

"I did," he nodded. "They’re a good group and love your daughter as much as she loves each of them."

"And they know…about us, I mean? About our world?"

"There is little doubt that they knew of our world before I ever got there," the old Wizard said softly. "The girl in the pictures is Buffy Summers, Willow’s best friend and the Slayer," Molly’s eyes rose to him in surprise. Dumbledore chuckled, nodding to the other two. "The dark-haired young fellow is Xander, her lifelong friend and the other is Oz."

"Goodness! Surely this isn’t..." Her fingers touched the picture and she shook her head in disbelief. "She knows Rupert?"

"She does," Dumbledore watched the smile of reminiscence spreading across the plump little Witch’s face. "He was Buffy’s Watcher and a kind of substitute father figure for her. Her adoptive parents were…have become less than attentive to her, so she became solidly involved in that small group."

"They all know about the Slayer as well?" Molly raised her brows. "I thought she was meant to work in isolation, in case the Muggle world realised that there was some kind of magic involved in her."

"That’s the amusing thing," Dumbledore said, motioning to one of the pictures taken with a Wizard Camera, in which the little group was armed to the teeth with swords, axes and stakes, wearing broad grins and chatting to each other. "They help her to fight against the Dark Side."

The shrill whistle of the kettle drowned out whatever word Molly had said, but Dumbledore could lip-read and couldn’t help smiling. Such language, he knew, was a very rare thing for a woman like Molly.

For several minutes, she rattled around, making the tea and sending biscuits flying from the jars and onto a plate on the table. She seemed to have calmed herself in the process and, by the time she returned to the table with the teapot and milk, she was able to find a smile, albeit a slightly strained one.

"Milk?" She cleared her throat, after a rather embarrassing squeak escaped her and repeated more steadily. "Milk, Albus?"

"Please," He waited until she had poured both tea and milk, aware of the shaking of her hands. It was more than a little obvious, considering the fact that the lid of the teapot was rattling.

"Were you serious?" She burst out, slamming the teapot down forcefully on the table, lest it shivered its way out of her trembling hands.

"That your teenage daughter has been involved in defense against the dark arts since she was thirteen and has saved the World several times?" he asked mildly, sipping his tea. "Yes, I was completely serious."

"S-saved the World?"

"You sound surprised." He couldn’t prevent the smile from spreading across his face this time. "She and her friends have closed the Hellmouth and fought the demons that thrive upon it for the past four years." He chuckled at the memory of Anya. "One of her friends is even romantically linked with a former vengeance demon."

"Goodness…" The little Witch hastily gulped down a mouthful of scalding tea, looking at the pictures spread on the table, then at the envelope that sat – unopened – in front of her. "Albus, would you…I…"

"If you wish me to stay while you read the letter, I can, Molly."

She nodded, unable to form the words as she reached for the letter. Her hand was shaking so violently, she could barely pick it up, unsteadily tearing the envelope open and withdrawing the single sheet of paper.

Slowly unfolding the crisp sheet, she looked down at the page, a weak smile breaking on her lips. "She has beautiful hand-writing," she murmured quietly. "Gets that from me."

"I’m sure." Dumbledore nodded, as the red-haired witch started to read the letter written to her by her long-lost daughter.

***

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

I don’t know if I should call you mom and dad are what, but if that’s what you’d like me to do, I guess I can. I’m called Willow, but Professor Dumbledore told me that you named me Sarah. It’s a nice name.

Since I can’t come to meet you yet, because I have to finish my school year, Professor Dumbledore thought it would be a good idea for me to write to you and tell you a bit about me, so we can keep in contact by Owl.

I guess you know how old I am and everything like that, so I should probably tell you what I’m like. I’m a student at U.C. Sunnydale and I live with my friend Buffy (she says I can tell you she’s the Slayer, because you’re my mom and Professor Dumbledore probably already told you).

I always thought and maybe kind of hoped that I was adopted. It explained why my parents, my adopted parents, always seemed distant from me when I was young. They were never close to me like everyone else’s parents were to their own children and when Professor Dumbledore told me that I was adopted, I was kinda shocked that it was actually true, but I also feel like I knew it anyway.

Xander (my best friend since Kindergarten) and I used to joke about it. Both of us wanted to have families like in the stories and movies. Neither of us every expected it to happen, but now, I have a proper family (Xander wants to know if there’s somewhere he can sign up for it too).

Anyway, I should tell you about my other friends too. Buffy has been my friend for four years and I’ve been helping her fight vampires and stuff, because it didn’t seem fair that she had to do it on her own. She’s nice, super-hero strong and way cooler than I am.

Xander is great. He’s been my best friend since forever, along with Jesse (Jesse died just after I met Buffy. He got turned into a vampire, but Buffy saved the rest of us) and he’s not at school with us, but he’s still one of our best friends.

Then there’s Oz. Oz is Daniel Osbourne, my boyfriend. He’s also a werewolf, but don’t be freaked! His baby nephew bit him and it turned out his nephew was a baby werewolf (a puppy…how cute!) and since then, I get a wolfie boyfriend to lock in a cage three nights a month. He’s a really nice, cute werewolf, when he’s in his cage and everything. He’s never hurt anyone.

Anya is a sort-of friend. She started dating Xander, after getting turned back into a human again, after screwing up at her job. She was a Vengeance Demon for more than a thousand years and I guess she’s kind of okay, once you get used to all the bluntness and rudeness.

Giles says I shouldn’t mention him, but since you’re in the photos, I guess I have an excuse, if he asks why you know he’s here. He’s the one who took care of all of us, really. He made sure we didn’t get in trouble and got all of us through School, in between helping save the World. He says he knew you both at school and I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

Anyway, I have to finish this now. Professor Dumbledore will be leaving soon and he’s bringing this letter to you. I hope you are well and all of the rest of the family are as well (It still feels weird being told that I’m related to people that everyone I know thinks are fictional).

Take care,

Willow Rosenberg (Sarah Weasley)

***

Molly laid the letter down, tears pouring uncontrollably down her face. The wizard across the table reached out to squeeze her hand gently, pulling a bar of chocolate out of one of his pockets.

"I know this probably won’t make much difference to how you’re feeling just now, Molly," he said softly. "but Willow thought you might need some." He laid a bar of Hershey’s on the table and gave her hand another squeeze. "It’s a gift."

"She’s a good girl, isn’t she, Albus?" the witch whispered softly.

"Yes, Molly," he nodded, with a gentle smile. "She is."