Yet another HP story that I'm starting because the idea will not go away. This one will be a bit different from my other two, but will still largely feature Harry and Sev (as if I could leave them out, especially Sev grin ). However there will be an OC who will be intergal as well and who the first chapter is mostly about. Not every chapter will be so oc oriented of course, but this is for background purposes. I hope everyone enjoys the new foray into a total AU.
My special thanks to TrustSnape for being an idea/title generator/brainstormer and to all my readers and reviewers out there. Thanks so very much for all your kind, encouraging words. They keep me keeping on. :)
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A house is made of brick and stone, a home is made of love alone.
Under New Management
Fiona O'Reilly read over the letter again and then stared out the window of the cab into the driving rain. "Well, Nana, you were right it seems," the young thirty-one year old commented softly.
"What was that, miss?" the cabbie inquired.
"Oh. . .nothing," Fiona replied, jerked out of her thoughts by the other voice. "How much longer?"
"'Bout half an hour. Might be a bit more in this rain," the man answered. "You picked a rough day to be traveling these back roads. Ain't been anyone other than locals down this way in years as I can recall."
"I would imagine not," the young woman answered, more to herself than to the driver.
The cabbie shook his head. Young folks these days had some strange ideas. Especially foreigners like this one. What else could explain a young woman, alone, insisting that she had to get to some remote little village when she could have spent the night in a comfortable motel in the city. Heather Glen was a small, simple place and nothing of any note there for tourists. The man had thought about asking if his passenger had family there but refrained.
Returning her gaze to the passing sodden landscape, Fiona tried to decide if any of it was the slightest bit familiar to her. She had been fourteen when she left to start her new life in the new world as Nana had said. The dark haired young woman swallowed against a lump in her throat. She could still picture the day as if it were yesterday.
"I'll miss you so, Nana," the young teen whispered as she held onto the old woman.
"And I will miss you being this close, child," Samantha McCool answered. "But we will still be with each other in our hearts and spirits, even an ocean apart."
Fiona sighed. "It's not the same as being here with you though."
"No, but considering how stubborn your father is, we will have to make do," the girl's grandmother had stated. "And you will be back, my little Fi. This much I know. You will come home one day. Not in my time, but this house will be here when you have need and it will know the laughter of young ones again."
"What are you babbling about now?" a male voice cut in.
Samantha McCool regarded her son-in-law with bright blue eyes whose sharpness was not dimmed with age. "Fiona and I were merely talking, John. About things you would never understand." Just as you never understood Amanda, the old woman added to herself. And just as you never will understand my granddaughter.
Fiona's father had snorted and shaken his head. "You have five minutes, girl," he said to Fiona. "I don't plan to be late for our flight."
Girl and woman had exchanged a look, Fiona trying to fight back tears at leaving. Samantha placed a gentle hand under the young chin and looked deep into the hazel eyes. "Never forget what I said, my lass. This is home and your roots will call you back. When you least expect it you will have a surprise to change your life."
"I'll remember, Nana," Fiona had vowed even though she didn't understand. Then again a good deal of the odd things her nana said seemed to happen.
"Good." The woman smiled. "Now go to your new life, my dear one. And never lose your fire. Despite what your father thinks or the name you got from him, you're a McCool and more special than you know."
And now here she was. Back after all these years. Just as nana had said. How she could have possibly known was beyond Fiona's comprehension, but then again her grandmother had always seemed to have some uncanny abilities. When she was a child she had almost believed they were magic. Now she knew better. There was no almost involved. Magic was real.
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"You're certain sure, miss?" the inn keeper asked for the fifth time. "The old McCool place hasn't been used in years."
"It is going to be now," Fiona answered firmly. "I intend to live there." She had had the cab drop her off here at the inn in Heather Glen rather than carry her all the way to the manor. It was dark and the rain showed no signs of letting up and who knew what she would find at the house considering her nana had passed away some four years ago. It would be better to wait till morning.
"And just what might you be planning to do with it?" the man questioned. "Turn it into one of them fancy lodges for tourists? We don't need any foreigners round here. And how did you end up with it at all? I hadn't heard it was for sale." The grey eyes bored into Fiona's hazel ones.
"It wasn't. I didn't buy it. I merely came back to claim what was mine." Fiona held out her hand. "Fiona O'Reilly, sir. My grandmother was Samantha McCool."
"Merciful heavens!" came a cry from the back room and a woman came out, her apron dirty and hair no longer pinned as neatly as it had likely been when the day started. "Joseph, it's the little lost one!"
Fiona blinked and offered the woman a smile before finding herself in a hug. "Welcome home, deary. You mustn't mind Joe here. He's gotten ornery in his old age." She glanced over at the man. "I'm Peggy Cleary. Do you remember me, lass?"
Fiona studied the woman before her. Cleary. . .Cleary. . .she turned the name over in her mind. Then it hit her. "Barbara Cleary?" she questioned, remembering one of her old playmates from her summers here.
The blond woman smiled and nodded. "That's right. I'm Barbara's mum. Haven't seen you since you were a wee thing and use to visit your Gran. But Samantha never forgot you, lass. She spoke of you often, right up till she slipped away from us."
Forcing back the lump in her throat at the though of her Nana, Fiona nodded. "Well, I'm back to stay now. I had planned to go on to the manor tonight, but with the rain and everything, I thought it might be best to stop off here at the inn instead."
"Wise idea," Joseph spoke up again. "And you should have just told us right out who ye were, lass. I'd have never turned away Samantha's granddaughter."
Fiona gave the older man a look thinking he shouldn't be turning anyone away, but she didn't voice her opinion. Instead she questioned, "How bad is the house? I don't suppose it's been kept up."
Joe snorted. "You suppose wrong. Carlton has tended it faithfully the last few years. Loves puttering around in the gardens especially. And I know for a fact the main floor is about like it always was. Now them upper floors, I daresay are full of dust and whatnot. Carlton don't manage stairs as well as he once did. But he's been a right good caretaker since your grandmother passed on. The manor will be livable with no problem. Just need to make the calls to get all the utilities sorted and you should be set. Mighty nice set up if you ask me. Samantha made all the arrangements to have it ready if you ever decided to set foot here again."
"Now, Joe, you stop being so hard on the lass," Peggy scolded. "T'ain't her fault her da drug her off to America. And likely refused to let her come back," the last was added quieter than the rest, but Fiona heard it.
The look Joe gave the two women said that he didn't think much of the excuse since Fiona was clearly an adult now and could have returned had she wanted, but the man said nothing other than. "Room at the top of the stairs and three down on the left oughta suit you."
"Come along, dear," Peggy put an arm around Fiona and led her toward the stairs.
Fiona allowed herself to be guided to a nice room. It was rather plain by some standards, but the young woman found the quaintness refreshing and homey. And it had all the necessary items; bed, chest of drawers, wardrobe, and an adjoining bath. "Thank you, Mrs. Cleary. It's lovely."
"Oh call me Peggy, dear," the woman bustled around turning down the bedcovers. "I'm sure we'll be seeing a good bit of each other now that you are back among us. Now then," she patted the bed, "all ready for you. And I've no doubt you need a good night's sleep after all your travels."
Smiling at the friendly woman, Fiona was reminded of a feeling of closeness and caring that she hadn't experienced in years. "Thank you. And yes, a rest in a soft bed sounds heavenly."
Peggy smiled back. "If you need anything, just let me know. And in the morning I'll see to rounding up Carlton and we can start getting you all settled back at the manor."
"Oh you don't have to do that," Fiona protested. "I can see to things on my own."
"Nonsense, dear. You're home now and we look after our own," Peggy stated firmly as she went to the door and stepped into the hall. "Good night and sleep well."
"Good night," Fiona replied with another smile. Despite Joe's gruffness and seeming disapproval of her, Peggy was the welcoming force that Fiona recalled from her childhood here. Heather Glen had always been a close knit little village, with everyone caring for and looking out for their neighbors. With a soft sigh, she opened her suitcase and took out her night clothes. Carrying them to the bathroom, Fiona smiled to herself. Regardless of how long it had taken or what was going to happen next due to the letter, it was nice to be back.
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The dazzling morning sun beamed down on things after the night of heavy rain. Things were a bit sodden as yet, but to the young woman striding along the road, her life seemed to be as clean and fresh as the newly washed earth and air. A new start, Fiona thought as she continued the quarter mile trek that would lead her to her home.
She had persuaded Peggy and Carlton King, the caretaker whom Peggy had somehow already alerted and who had been waiting at the inn for her when she appeared downstairs, to allow her to go alone to the manor first. Now armed with the house key and one small travel bag slung over her shoulder, Fiona rounded the bend and saw for the first time in many a year the stone pillars that marked the gateway to her Nana's house. The trees were thicker than she had remembered them but the stone drive was the same. Her pace unconsciously quickened as she made her way along the cool, tree-lined entranceway, memories of a young girl running up this same drive flooding back.
And there it was. McCool Manor. The stately building looked so very much the same as in Fiona's memories that she half expected to see Charlie, the groundskeeper, or Robert, the stable hand who had been her friend. But those people were long gone. Charlie was likely died by now as he had been well past fifty and what Fiona considered ancient when she had last been here. And Robert, well, he was younger, but could have moved away. Peggy had told her at breakfast her own daughter Barbara had left Heather Glen when she married and Fiona had wondered then how many of the people she had known were left.
For the moment though all thought of the villagers was pushed aside as she gazed at the house. The house where she had spent so many summers. The place she had been so happy. The one place she had always felt safe and at home and as if she belonged. Tears filled her eyes. How could she have stayed away so long? WHY did she? Chiding herself that she could not turn back the past, Fiona vowed that she was here to stay now.
Continuing up the front walkway to the solid wooden doors, she took out the key and unlocked them, pushing them open. Stepping inside, the hazel eyes looked around at the familiar things. Joe had been right, the house had been kept up well by Carlton. There was only a vague hint of mustiness in the air and no sheet draped furniture, at least not in the immediate area. Fiona could have sworn that things were as they had always been and she had merely arrived back from visiting some of her friends in the village. With a slightly tearful smile, the young woman called out in the manner of the old days, "Nana! I'm home!" And somehow, Fiona knew that Samantha McCool heard her.
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It had taken the vast part of the day and the uncomplaining help of Peggy Cleary, but together the two women had set to rights two of the four second floor bedrooms and baths, as well as tidied up the main floor. Her luggage had arrived and the most needed things unpacked. Arrangements had been made for grocery delivery, the lights, water, gas, and phone been seen to, and all was progressing better than Fiona could have hoped.
Peggy had cheerfully filled Fiona in on all the happenings of the village until the younger woman's mind was awhirl with it all. But there were plenty of names she had recognized even though it had been years since she had heard them spoken or thought of them. The motherly blond woman had told Fiona that word had already spread of Fiona's homecoming. Not that it took much to figure out how it had spread, Fiona had thought with a grin. But she was grateful that Peggy had informed everyone that Fiona wasn't receiving guests as yet.
When they had stopped work on cleaning for lunch, Carlton had joined them in the kitchen and insisted that 'Miss Fiona' come outside and see the grounds. So a good hour of the afternoon had been spent walking the flowery paths and enjoying the gardens of her childhood. The trees she had climbed as a child were now huge, and mentally Fiona was already placing a swing in one of them since it would be more dignified than shinning up the trunk now.
Fiona was delighted to find the old carriage house and stables were still intact and had announced her intentions of cleaning them and getting a couple of horses. After all, five acres without any animals was not what she wanted!
Now though Peggy and Carlton had returned to their own homes and Fiona was relaxing in a chair in the sitting room, lost in her memories and plans for the future. What did the future hold? She had many ideas of what she wished to do concerning her home, but what about the letter she had received? What about this boy that she had never heard of before? How was he to change her life? The letter had stated that all her questions would be answered once she was settled. But how would the man, the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, know when she had arrived?
As if in answer to her wonderings, a knock sounded on the front door. Puzzled as to who it could be, Fiona rose and went to find an old man that she had never laid eyes on.
"Good evening, Miss O'Reilly," the silver haired man smiled and Fiona was captivated by the twinkle in the blue eyes. "I believe you have some questions that need answering?"
Fiona was stunned and blinked at the greeting. "Um. . .well, yes. That is. . .good evening to you as well, sir. I presume that you are Mister, um, that is to say Professor Dumbledore. Or do you prefer Headmaster?"
The old wizard chuckled. "Albus is fine, child," he replied.
"Oh. . .yes, sir. . .Albus." Fiona wondered why she was suddenly reduced to a stammering idiot. Not much of a first impression, Fi, she thought to herself. "Won't you come in and have a seat?"
"Thank you." Entering the house and following Fiona to the sitting room, Dumbledore took a seat in the comfortable looking armchair and observed the young woman before him. She was average height and weight and her hair was a dark brown, but he could detect auburn highlights and smiled. That would be Samantha's contribution. Along with the hazel eyes flecked with gold and green.
Fiona flushed slightly under the intense scrutiny of the sharp gaze. She felt as if she were being examined and wondered briefly if she would measure up. Though why precisely she wanted to have this stranger's approval she wasn't sure.
"Your grandmother would be glad to see you back here," Dumbledore commented.
"My gr. . .You knew Nana??" Fiona was puzzled by the comment. She had never heard this man mentioned in her life, had not even known of his existence until she received the letter.
The silver head nodded. "Indeed I did. She was a kind and gracious woman, though she had a fiery temper when provoked." He smiled as if at some memory before looking directly at Fiona. "Samantha McCool was also a very powerful witch. I count myself privileged to have been called her friend."
"Sir, not to be rude, but. . .well, Nana never spoke of you," Fiona stated.
"Did she not? Yes, well, I suppose that is just as well," Albus mused.
Feeling more confused by the moment, Fiona questioned, "And why is that? Surely if you were her friend she would have let others know."
The blue eyes regarded the young woman. "I have no doubt your grandmother would have told you all if she could have, child. I know that she wanted to. But she had given her word."
"Given her word about what? Told me what? I'm sorry, but you are making no sense, mister. . .Albus."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Perhaps I should start at the beginning. But I find a conversation is improved with a spot of tea." Here the old wizard withdrew his wand and casually flicked it. A well decked out tea tray with two cups, a pot of tea, and a plate of hot scones, half cheese and half simply buttered, appeared.
Fiona blinked. "That. . .that's much quicker than I could do it for sure," she commented.
Laughing, Albus handed a cup to the young woman and motioned toward the plate.
Helping herself to a cheese scone, Fiona thanked him and then burst out laughing. "This is just totally backwards. You are MY guest and yet here you are providing the refreshments!"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You may fix the food in your own way for my next visit if you wish," he smiled.
Wondering if the visits would be a normal occurrence now, Fiona merely nodded and took a sip of tea.
"Now, my dear, as you have found out your grandmother was more than she appeared. And magic is very real."
Fiona nodded. "Yes, sir. Though I'm still not entirely sure what that has to do with the letter you sent me about the boy and the school and the war you mentioned."
Holding up his hand, the man smiled. "Patience, child. I will attempt to clear some things up for you. First of all the school, of which I happen to be the current headmaster, is called Hogwarts. It is Britain's only school for witchcraft and wizardry. And where you would have gone had not things been different."
"Excuse me?" Fiona had been listening quietly to the first part of what she was sure was to be a lengthy explanation. The comment about the school and herself, however, threw her. "I'm not a witch."
Dumbledore sighed and shook his head sadly. "Alas, no, not now. But you were destined to be one." Seeing the wide eyed look of shock on the young woman's face, he continued. "Every wizarding child's name is recorded in a book at Hogwart's as soon as the child is born. There are some wizarding families where, for some reason, the wizarding gene skips a generation in the immediate family. Such is the case in yours. Your grandmother was a witch. Your mother, Amanda was the skipped one. A lovely girl, but without an ounce of magical talent. And then there was. . ."
"Me," Fiona breathed, having trouble taking all this in.
"Yes, child, you." Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I can recall when your mother was carrying you. I happened to be here when she came for a visit to Samantha's. Your grandmother and I both felt the aura of magic surrounding you in the womb. We knew that you were going to be quite a little witch."
"Then what happened?" Fiona asked perplexed.
Dumbledore studied Fiona a moment before revealing the answer. "Your father happened, my dear."
"My. . .my father?"
"He knew what Samantha was, knew the possibility of his child being born with magical talents. He swore that he would not have it. He abhorred magic, yet he had to relay on it in order to accomplish his evil plan. He found a dark wizard and procured a potion from him. A potion that when mixed with a drink would be tasteless and never detected by most. A potion that would render any magic null and void."
Fiona gasped. "He made me drink it?" She had no memory of anything like that, but then again, there was no way she could have known apparently.
"No, child," Dumbledore's voice was sad and angry at the same time. "He did much worse. He gave it to your mother." At the stricken look, the wizard reassured Fiona, "She never knew what she was drinking, what she was doing not only to you, but to herself. But the potion effectively took away not only your magic abilities but killed the spark of magic in your mother's blood, ensuring that any future children she had would be. . .'normal', by your father's standards. Of course it backfired and caused problems that resulted in Amanda never having any more children."
"Damn him," Fiona said softly, but vehemently, tears glistening in her eyes. Then her emotions took over and she rose from the couch, her voice growing stronger. "DAMN HIM!!! How could he??? No wonder Nana always hated him!!! She knew!!! YOU knew!!!" Here Fiona whirled on Dumbledore, tears spilling down her cheeks. "How did you know??"
The wizard sat sadly watching this young woman discover things that had been hidden all her life. Hard things. To find out that she could have had a totally different life and that option was denied her.
Sighing, Albus related, "Amanda went into premature labor because of the potion. Samantha went to your parents' home to be there for her daughter when she returned from the hospital. She found the mug your father had used. He had not washed it and the residue was still in the bottom. Samantha knew it was a form of potion and called me. Unfortunately, I was able to identify it but not counteract it. I have not much expertise in the potion making art and most especially not in the more ancient of the darkest potions."
"Samantha was heartbroken to know what had been done, but after talking with me about it, it was decided that it would be best not to reveal the matter and simply allow you to live your life. That is why she never told you and likely way she never spoke of me. Bringing the wizarding world to your attention would have only caused problems for you with your father."
Fiona was in shock, confused and hurt more than she ever could remember being. Her father, her very own father, had deliberately done something to change her life irrevocably. Not only that, he had caused her mother, whether he meant to or not, to never have the children she had wanted, magical or otherwise. And it had been the fourth miscarriage that had also claimed her mother's life. He had done that. John O'Reilly. Her father.
Dumbledore set aside his tea cup and crossed the room to where Fiona stood beside the fireplace, gazing down at the brass andirons. Placing a hand on her shoulder, the wizard spoke. "I am sorry to have put all this on you at once, my dear. Perhaps it would be best if I go now and let you have some time alone. We can talk more about the other things another day."
"No." Fiona came out of her trance-like state and looked up at the kindly old man. "No, I need to find out about the rest. About Harry and why you wrote to me. There has to be something good in all this."
Nodding, Dumbledore led Fiona back over to the couch, this time taking a seat beside her. He could see that the young woman was fighting for control of her emotions. "Your mother had an uncle, Samantha's brother, who was a wizard. That uncle, Henry Potter, in turn had a son who was a wizard. He was the only son and was born when his parents were older and thus very much doted upon. His name was James Potter. He was Harry's father. So you see, Harry is your distant cousin."
Fiona took a moment to follow Albus links to her family tree but then she nodded. "And Harry is the reason you tracked me down."
"Yes." Albus responded and then proceeded to give the young woman an abridged version of Harry's life and the war that the wizarding world was engaged in. "I had not given much thought to distant relatives, I'm sorry to say, until recently. In fact, it took me quite a bit of doing to find out just what had become of any remaining members of Henry's family."
"And I'm it," Fiona concluded. "I'm the results of that search."
"Indeed, yes, a search that took me across the ocean to America," the old wizard smiled.
"Not to be rude, but just what makes you think that this teenager will just openly accept someone that he's never heard about, let alone laid eyes on?" the young woman questioned.
"You know nothing of Harry either, my dear. Yet you answered the letter." Dumbledore chuckled. "What made you leave your home and come here?"
Hazel eyes regarded the man a moment before Fiona answered bluntly, "My father's luxurious mansion was never home. It was cold and distant, just like he was. I spent more time away at boarding school than there. And my apartment, well it was comfortable, but I had no real ties to the place. After my father died last year, I could have cared less what became of his things. It was no hardship to sell everything and come here. This," she waved an arm around the room, "THIS house, my Nana's house, is home, sir. That's why I came back. Just. . ." Fiona stopped.
Dumbledore cocked his head. "Just?"
"Just like Nana said I would," Fiona said softly. She looked from the picture of her beloved grandmother on the mantle to the silver haired man with twinkling eyes sitting on the other end of the couch. "She knew. Somehow. . .she knew."
"I would not doubt it, child," Albus smiled.
Fiona looked at the old man and smiled back. Then she questioned further. "Why is it that you think I would make a good guardian for a fifteen year old?"
"As I told you, Sirius Black, Harry's godfather who Harry had planned to spend most of the summer holidays with, is now dead due to an attack by the enemy. Of course it could have been avoided had Sirius obeyed orders and stayed where he was supposed to, but he never was the most obedient," Dumbledore explained, shaking his head as he thought about the events of several months ago. "And as Harry's aunt and uncle have made it plain that he is no longer welcome in their home, it would be risky in more ways than one to send him back there. Not only would they mistreat him even more, but he would not be protected."
"He was protected there before? I thought you said they were neglectful and even abusive to him?" Fiona wondered how on earth that was protective.
Dumbledore nodded. "He was protected by magic. Wards were in place around the house which kept out those who would harm him. But now with the unwillingness to house the boy and the hatred, something that our enemy feeds on, the wards would be weakened at best and even the blood bond would be all but negated."
Fiona listened thoughtfully, trying to make sense of it. "Would there be a blood tie with me, even though I'm only a distant cousin? Would Harry be safe here?"
"Indeed there would," the wizard smiled. "And yes, with the family tie and the wards that your grandmother had on this place, you and Harry will both be safe here. Probably more so as Voldermort knows nothing whatsoever about you."
"Wards? You mean Nana had spells on this house?"
Albus chuckled. "That she did, child. Quite a few. And they are still here. In fact," the wizard rose from the couch, "several magical aspects are still very much here." He walked over to the fireplace and took down a small jar.
"This is floo powder," he informed her. "Now that you will be living here, you may submit a request to the Ministry of Magic to restore this house to the floo network, which I will of course support and help speed through the necessary channels." He winked at Fiona.
"Floo powder? The floo network? What. . .?" Fiona shook her head. "I can remember as a child climbing up and taking that container down. I threw some of the powder in the fire and it blazed up with green flames. Nana told me it wasn't to play with, no matter how pretty I thought the flames were, and after that I didn't see the jar on any more visits. She hid it somewhere."
Dumbledore chuckled. "I doubt that you would have discovered how to really use it, but I can understand Samantha not wanting to risk it. Or waste the floo powder by having you randomly throw it on the fire. The floo network is made up of different fireplaces in the wizarding world, all connected, and thus allowing travel from one destination to another. One simply has to toss in a handful of floo powder, step into the flames, and state where they wish to go in a clear voice. Then they are automatically sent there."
Fiona blinked. "Step into the flames?"
Albus nodded. "The floo powder acts a shield against the regular flames. You will not be harmed."
"I have to say, things seem to be easier and quicker in the wizarding world," Fiona commented with a bemused smile. "Toss a bit of powder in the fire and zap yourself to where you want to go. No walking, bus, car, or plane for you guys."
Dumbledore laughed merrily at the young woman's observations. "True, my dear, true. We do have many shortcuts to things. But once you are listed on the floo network, you will be able to 'zap' to places as well. Which will make visiting people and places much easier. And it will allow Harry to come and visit you."
"Provided he wants to. Have you even told him about me?" Fiona questioned.
"No, I planned to do that in a day or so and then we will both return to visit with you," the Headmaster responded.
Fiona nodded. "I suppose the sooner the better, so if things don't work out, you will have time before the summer to make other arrangements."
"Oh, I have every confidence that this will work out," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Now, I brought along a paper for you to sign about the floo network. . ."
The next several minutes were spent in getting things organized a bit more and then Dumbledore took his leave, stating that he would be back in three days time with Harry.
Once the old man was gone, Fiona collapsed on the couch. "Well this was sure a heck of a homecoming," the young woman stated to herself.
