The Eighth Weasley

The Eighth Weasley - Chapter Seventeen

Reunion

Notes: This is just a random chapter, leading up to the...er...interesting occasion I have planned for poor, naive Willow. Needless to say the next chapter will definitely be a more Potter-fandom-centric chapter.

Methinks I need to have something involved from their world, as opposed to just the Weasleys...and all the stuff the happened in Diagon Alley...Dumbledore's regular appearances and well...everything else vaguely magic...uh. I'll stop now.

I added some background information and circumstances on the kidnapping, cos I was in ramble mode, so you'll probably get bored fairly early on, so feel free to skim read. I'm warning you now!

Also, I know something happens with Evil-Amy in Series Six of Buffy, but I haven't seen it, so - like series four and five - I'm taking the character off on my own tangent :) Please don't eat me alive! I'm too chewy to be enjoyable!

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"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 mantle piece, 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 will 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. Seven and eleven-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."