The next few hours were a whirlwind of running around, buying things, and getting measured. I came out of Madam Malkin’s with two school uniforms, as well as a cauldron, a cage with an owl inside, a broom (I told Tonks about it and she said go for it, so I bought a Cleansweep, nothing special) and two or three bags of books and potions ingredients from previous stores. We had a nice charade going”I called her Grandma, and she called me Lisa. (Unoriginal, and I told her so. She merely laughed and told me to ‘stop talking like an American’. Kind of hard to do, considering my British accent sucks.)
“Are we almost done, Grandma?” I groaned as we came out of Ollivander’s wand shop.
“Just about, we’re meeting the others outside Flourish and Blotts,” Tonks said, with the wavering old woman’s voice nailed.
“You better listen to me--”
I halted, trying to listen. When Tonks looked back, about to scold me for slowing down, I put a finger to my lips.
“Don’t say no, this is an easy first mission! Watch the girl, make friends with her”He needs her. Easier than what I first got.” One male voice. He sounded like an older man, middle-aged, I’d guess.
“What if I don’t want to? She’s a stupid Mudblood, what does He want with her? And besides, I don’t have to listen to you, you aren’t my father!” Definitely a younger voice, but also male.
“Haven’t you been listening, or have you got rocks inside that empty skull? She’s not had a moment of magical teaching in her life”think for once! And I’m in charge of this.”
“Come on, Lisa, dear,” I heard Tonks say, rather loudly. The talking stopped abruptly. “Your grandfather’s going to be wondering where we got to!” She started to pull me down the street, preventing me from seeing who was talking.
“But, Grandma, I wasn’t finished tying my shoe--”
“We’re already late enough, young lady!” she snapped at me. She pulled me closer to say, without her lips moving one bit, “We’ll follow up later, when we can tell everyone!”
I grumbled, but said nothing. Tonks knew best.
*~*~*~*
The hot water felt soothing on my skin as it ran from the showerhead. Almost unconsciously I scrubbed shampoo into my hair, and then conditioner. It took me longer to rub soap over my body. As always, I stopped to stare at the almost-invisible line that crossed from my armpit to the top of my shoulder. The scar from the surgery to remove a bullet from my shoulder remained.
I ran my finger along it, felt the ridges where the stitches used to be. It was barely there now, after nine years of marking that horrible night. Anger made me scowl at it. My dad had no right to do that to Mom or me. He killed her”he had gotten drunk and he killed her. Then he turned around and shot me. I was only five”had it been so long ago?
As soon as all the soap was down the drain, I turned the knob and pulled back the curtains. I stepped over the side of the tub and wrapped a towel around my body, then another around my hair. I rooted around in the drawers of the counter, looking for my brush. “Where are you, you stupid thing?” I mumbled. “Aha, there you are!” I took the damp towel off my head and brushed out my wet locks.
Back in my room, I just stared up at the ceiling. It was late”I should be asleep. But I couldn’t convince my mind to settle down. Thoughts about today still chased each other around in my brain. Mr. Ollivander, for one”he was a strange character, and he seemed much too interested in my wand. I had ended up with a shorter one, a mixture of oak and reed with a phoenix core. It seems that not many people get mixed wands, and then he went on to lecture me about the greatness of those with phoenix cores. (Harry and Voldemort among them)
Unfortunately, my day didn’t end there: as soon as we were back at Grimmauld Place (under the same security measures as when we had left) Harry and Ginny whisked me off to start with Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was suppertime by the time they were done with me, and I barely ate, as much from exhaustion as from worrying about what I had heard. I now know Expelliarmus, a disarming charm that Harry points out had saved his life the summer before (which was entirely true) and how to turn a bird (provided by Crookshanks) into a teacup. A little bit advanced, Ginny said (its second year, for Pete’s sake! I can handle that!) but she thought I was ready. I don’t expect any essays coming from her, though with Hermione it was one after the other.
Then there was that conversation I had heard today. One voice was commanding, so it had to be an older man with experience, and the other voice was younger, more plaintive. Like a boy being ordered to do something he saw as hopeless. I kind of guessed whom they were talking about: me. Who had not a moment of magical teaching? Me. And who wanted me?
Voldemort.
It had been on my mind ever since Dumbledore had told me he had wanted me, but he didn’t know why. I had not a clue, and I’m sure he did, but that’s Dumbledore for you”makes you figure out things for yourself instead of giving you the answer outright.
There had been a meeting of all the Order members able to come, including uptight Professor McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, one of the Aurors from the Ministry, Moody, Lupin, Tonks, Dumbledore, and Severus Snape. I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of him running away from Buckbeak, and one look from his greasy-hair gob silenced me. I don’t like the look he gave me, either”more like a lion stalking an antelope, and anticipating a good meal, than mere curiosity, like the others displayed. Fred and George waited until everyone was down in the kitchen, including Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, before dropping fleshy ropes down over the staircase.
“What are you doing?” hissed Hermione.
“Well, if we can’t join in on the meetings,” started Fred.
“The least we could do is listen,” finished George. They explained that the fleshy ropes had ears on either end, so that they could eavesdrop. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and I joined in eagerly. I was soon bored and left”they were just going over what the two men had been talking about and how to ‘further protect the key’.
“It’s like there’s a chest somewhere I’ll be able to open with magic!” I complained to Ginny later on. “There’s only so much I can be protected from without doing something myself.”
“Adults.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “They think all of us are children. There’s a war just around the corner, they can’t protect us anymore!”
That was when Mrs. Weasley sent us to bed. I woke early the next morning, with the usual disorientation of ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Why is this bed so damn hard?’ before I realized that I wasn’t home anymore. Spotty was curled up at the bottom of the bed, nonplussed and snoring. I poked her and she snorted, making me smile.
Phineas was snoring, too, leaning against his frame. When I flicked the canvas he woke with a start and a shake of his head. “Whosawhattaoohwant?” he mumbled sleepily. I rolled my eyes. Really, you’d think a portrait wouldn’t need to sleep!
I dressed as quietly as I could in yesterday’s jeans and a knitted sweater and made my way downstairs to the kitchen for a private breakfast. As I was rooting through the pantry, looking for bread or something that I could toast with a new spell I had read about (completely forgetting the ‘no use of your wand if it isn’t schoolwork’ and having an excuse prepared when I remembered it) I heard a small voice coming from the main room. Happy someone else might be up, I stepped out with a bag of bread and a jar of jam in each hand, wand between my teeth.
I groaned at what I saw. It wasn’t a person, but the pile of rags I had seen before”Kreacher, had it been called? Hermione had told me he was a house elf, a wizard servant bound to a family until they died, and particularly proud of soon being added to the heads of house elves on the wall. (That right there is a tad freaky.) He was as crazy as the painting Sirius called ‘Mother’. He was quite the disturbing little creature, not at all like Dobby (who used to work for the Malfoys but now worked for Hogwarts in the kitchens) who was nice and helpful. I would rather ignore Kreacher and get some food into me, as my stomach now reminded me, but he noticed me.
“Filthy little intruder, blood traitor,” I heard him mumble as I set down my bread and jam. “All of them, trying to destroy Mistress’ beautiful home…”
“Oh, shut it, you dusty old mop,” I growled at him. “I don’t know what Hermione sees in you.”
“The intruder is talking to Kreacher,” he said to himself, completely ignoring me. “Maybe if Kreacher says nothing she’ll go away.” With a snap of his long, discoloured fingers, he was gone in a puff of smoke.
That was when Ron came down. There goes my private breakfast. “Morning, Lara,” he said sleepily. He yawned, creating a chain reaction with me. I put a hand to my mouth to cover it.
“Morning, Ron.” I took a seat and sighed. No wand tricks in front of him. “Hey, have you got a toaster somewhere?” I asked.
Ron looked at me like my eyeball had just popped out of my head. “A toaster?”
“Never mind.” I leaned my head back. Sometimes life at Grimmauld place sucked. How long had I been here? A week, tops? And I still couldn’t get a decent breakfast by myself.
When I looked down, Ron had his wand under a piece of bread. “What are you doing?” I sat up straight.
Ron smiled crookedly. “You aren’t the only one who knows a good spell or two by now,” he said. “Pyrrhusa.”
I watched as his wand glowed red and the bread started to darken and harden. When the edges started to burn, Ron dropped it onto the table with a gasp and waved his fingers about. I put my hand up to my mouth and giggled.
Wait”I don’t giggle!
I shook my head and recomposed myself as he looked up. “What’s so funny?” he said through his hand as he sucked on his fingers.
“You! You could’ve put it on a cutting board first. Here.” I went to the counter and brought it out, then started to toast another piece of bread with my own wand. “You need to be more careful.” Why was I lecturing him? What…was this feeling in my stomach?
Again I shook it off. Ron was already chowing down on the toast I had prepared”it was probably something I ate.
Then I reminded myself I hadn’t eaten anything yet. Why was everything always so hard?
“Come on.” Ron stood, swallowing the last of his toast. “We can start on your charms lesson”I heard my parents waking up, so my mum will be making breakfast soon.”
“Okay.” I made some toast for myself and followed him upstairs. My mind was busy puzzling out the feeling in my stomach. Why was it so knotty? Were those…butterflies?
This was way too weird.
*~*~*~*
“Try again!”
I groaned at the feather on the table before me. Ron was trying to teach me Wingardium Leviosa down in the kitchen, but it just wasn’t coming out of my mouth right. It was almost a week after Diagon Alley, towards the end of June. I had quenched down those feelings I had felt before; I was consumed in my work, as I had gone through almost two years of studying the key concepts in most areas. Except for charms.
“Can we stop?” I pleaded for the thousandth time.
“No,” Ron said sternly. “Not until you get it right, Lara. Now try again! We have to be done soon for your Runes lesson.”
I groaned again. Why was I subjected to the torture that was that stupid class? It was even more useless than math, and that’s saying something!
For the umpteenth time I waved my wand the way Ron had shown me, swish and flick. “Wingardium Leviosa!!” I said strongly.
To my great surprise, the feather began to float. It rose five inches above the worn tabletop before someone shrieked, producing one from Mrs. Black, and I lost my concentration. I looked at the door as Spotty slipped, Crookshanks right behind. A very hassled Mrs. Weasley stumbled soon after. I caught a glimpse of Sirius and Harry trying to control the painting’s screams before the door closed.
“Those”those animals!” she gasped. “Doing it in my bedroom”ugh!” She shivered visibly, wiping her hands on her skirt.
I couldn’t help it; a peal of laughter escaped my mouth. Ron started to laugh, too. Mrs. Weasley glared at us.
“Now, see here, Lara, Ronald--”
“S’ok, Mrs. Weasley,” I told her after my laughter had subsided. “They’re just cats, and besides, I never did get Spotty fixed.” The possibility that Spotty was pregnant crossed my mind, but I would never know for sure until she told me she was, so I shooed that thought away.
“I still think that it’s rather disgusting!” Mrs. Weasley shivered again. “Oh, and Hermione’s ready for you, dear. She has everything ready for your Runes lesson upstairs in her room.” Still looking disgusted, she left the kitchen.
“That was very good!” Ron congratulated me when she had left. “Next time, say the spell just as strongly.”
“Thanks,” I said quietly, and hurried upstairs.
There it was again! That feeling that gave me such a buzz that was so deep down, I could barely feel it. It made me excited and scared at the same time; it made me happy to learn a simple spell from him. It wasn’t until I was right outside Hermione’s door that I realized:
Was I falling for Ron Weasley?
Muggles can't be Witches! by Wand_Waver2006
Chapter Notes: Well, well, here we are! Chapter Six already? The usual thanks to KateH for being a wonderful betaing job, and to Snape's Talon for joining the team and helping out as well! You guys are in for a surprise at the end, but I won't spoil it. Enjoy!