Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.
A/N: I told you there'd be another story! This isn't exactly a chronological one. I suppose it can be looked at as a loosely connected series of one-shots. But I knew I needed to follow my favorite family even further into the future to see if they lived up to the promise I left for them in Still Left Behind. So far so good…
Bill's memory … aka… Victoire Goes to Hogwarts
There was a loud thump and muffling cursing from the back of the cottage, and the 11-year-old girl flinched and looked up from her seat on the couch, her forehead creasing in worry. Fleur smiled wearily at her daughter.
"Do not worry, dear," she said quietly. "Your things will be fine. Your father knows ze magic. 'E just doesn't want to use it. I think 'e thinks zat if it takes 'im longer to 'elp you, you might miss ze train. I don't think 'e ees ready for you to leave."
Now Victoire smiled. "Daddy's going to miss me, isn't he?" Her voice held a hint of smugness, and Fleur gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper.
"And you will miss 'im," she said pointedly, looking directly at her daughter. Victoire nodded casually, and Fleur had to bite back another retort. She'd been told too many times how much Victoire reminded everyone of what she'd been like at her age, but she couldn't quite believe she'd ever been so self-involved.
Moments later, Bill emerged from the direction of his daughter's bedroom. His red hair was frazzled, and he looked as though he wished this whole ordeal were over. It was far from over, though. They still had to get to King's Cross and Platform 9 and ¾. His eyes locked with Fleur's, and he knew she was dreading the moment of departure just as much as he was.
"Are we ready?" he asked, trying to inject a note of cheer into his voice, and his daughter bounded to her feet.
"I am!" she exclaimed, and she rushed out the door. Fleur shook her head and looked at Bill.
"I will get Frédéric if you will meet 'er at ze auto," she said, and he nodded, making his way out the door. He shook his head in amusement as he caught sight of his daughter already sitting in the backseat. She was clearly ready to go –whether they were or not.
He took his seat behind the wheel and then examined his daughter in the rearview mirror. He often did this when he was driving. It was the only chance he had to look at his kids and not have them think he was a nutter. This time, though, Victoire caught his eye and pulled a face.
"Where's Mama? We'll never make it!" she cried in frustration.
Bill twisted in his seat to look at her. "Calm down," he said quietly. "She went to get your brother. We'll make it in plenty of time. There are hours until the train leaves."
Victoire pursed her lips and pouted. "But I want to go now," she whined. "I've been waiting for this for ever so long."
Bill's lips twitched. He always found it amusing how his daughter alternated so effortlessly between the English and French phrasings.
"You've waited eleven years," he told her, trying to control his amusement, knowing it would only frustrate her further. "I'm sure you can make it another couple of hours."
Victoire shook her head. "I'm sure I can't," she informed him. "Aunt Hermione was telling me about Hogwarts, Dad. I want to see the sorting hat and the great hall. And I want to see the boats that will take us to the castle, and maybe I'll even get to see the thestrals. I will get to see them, won't I?"
Bill's eyes clouded over as he looked at his child. "I hope you never get to see them," he said, and the serious tone in his voice punctured her swelling balloon of indignation.
"Why not?" she asked, and now she was staring at him intently, and he swallowed hard and had to glance away.
"It means," he started and found that he had to clear his throat. "It means that you've seen someone die, sweetheart. That's something I never want you to see."
Victoire's mouth fell open slightly. "Can you see them?" she asked, and he nodded. There was a silence. "Who –" she started and then stopped. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.
"It was in the Battle of Hogwarts," her father answered anyway, his voice even softer. "It was no one I knew, but it was enough to make me see them."
The silence that fell now became even more strained, and Bill knew he'd need to lighten the conversation. This was supposed to be his daughter's happiest day.
"Did I ever tell you about the year that my younger brothers started at Hogwarts?"
Victoire looked up, relieved for the subject change. "Which ones?" she asked, and Bill laughed.
"Fair question. The twins. Did I ever tell you about what happened on their first day at the castle?"
"No!" Victoire said eagerly. "But if it was Uncle George, it had to be something good."
Bill smiled at her gently. "Uncle George and Uncle Fred, sweetheart. You do remember that I told you that they were always together, don't you?"
Victoire nodded and stared down at her lap. She'd only said George because she didn't want to make her father sad. He always seemed to be a little sadder when he talked about the … the twins, as he called them. And she did love these stories, more than any others, pretty much, but she hated when her father was sad. He was – well, he was her father. He wasn't supposed to have feelings.
But if he were willing to tell this story, then she had no objections to hearing it.
"Well," he began, "one thing you should know about the twins is that they never ever wanted anyone to think they were scared, so they were laughing and joking the whole way to Hogwarts on the train."
Victoire nodded. She understood that. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she might have even been a little bit like her uncles.
"So we got there, and then we had the sorting ceremony. Of course, they were sorted into Gryffindor."
Victoire nodded again. "Of course," she echoed. Everyone knew that Weasleys were always in Gryffindor. There was no braver family than the Weasleys.
"So after the sorting, we went to the dormitory, and everyone already knew that they would be the newest troublemakers in Hogwarts. They'd already lost us points for throwing food and tormenting Mrs. Norris."
"Mrs. Norris?" Victoire asked, confused. "Aunt Hermione didn't mention any professors named Mrs. Norris."
Bill snorted. "Mrs. Norris isn't… well, you'll see. Can't give everything away before you get there."
Victoire scowled, but she knew from the look on her father's face that there was no point in arguing. "Well, is that the whole story?" she asked waspishly, and her father shook his head.
"No, as a matter of fact, it isn't. Now I'm going to tell you something that I bet your Uncle George will wish I hadn't, but now that you are going to Hogwarts, you are allowed to know the truth: the twins weren't nearly as brave as they wanted everyone to think they were. You know how Uncle George can make a joke out of everything?"
Victoire nodded, giggling. "Remember the time he gave Frédéric the hat that made his head disappear? I thought Mama was going to kill him."
Bill smiled too. "Well, if you think he's funny now, imagine what it was like when there were two of him. Because believe me when I tell you, sweetheart, that Uncle Fred was every bit as funny as Uncle George – maybe even funnier. He usually lead them into trouble. Uncle George mostly followed along."
Victoire's eyes widened. She couldn't imagine it, but she knew it had to be true.
"Well," her father continued, "the night they got to Hogwarts was one of the times that reminded me that Uncle George and Uncle Fred weren't as big and brave as they always wanted everyone to think."
He paused, remembering, and Victoire waited impatiently until she couldn't wait anymore.
"What happened?" she demanded, and Bill smiled sadly.
"Lee Jordan found me. You remember Lee, right? He's Uncle George's best friend."
She nodded, and he continued. "Well, he came to my bed, looking very worried, and he brought me back to their room. As soon as I got in the door, I heard sniffling, and I followed the noise. I pulled back the hangings on the bed, and there were Uncle Fred and Uncle George. They wouldn't look at me, but they were sitting side by side in the bed, tears running down their faces, and they just looked miserable. It turned out they were homesick. They actually missed your grandmother – even though I don't think she ever found about that," he added as an aside.
Victoire let out a breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding.
"Uncle – Uncle George and Uncle Fred were homesick?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant, and Bill nodded, deliberately looking into his daughter's eyes. He knew why she was asking, and he sensed her relief.
They were silent for a moment when they both noticed Fleur and Frédéric hurrying out to meet them.
"Well, it looks like we're ready to go," Bill said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
"Yeah," Victoire said thoughtfully. She was thinking. Maybe she was going to miss her family a little, but maybe that was also ok. If her cool uncles could be homesick, then anyone could. She realized her father was watching her in the mirror again, and she smiled.
"Don't worry about me, Papa," she said, the confidence returning to her voice. "I can be brave like Uncle George and Uncle Fred. I mean look how far they came from that first night, right?"
Bill swallowed hard over the lump in his throat and tried to smile at his daughter. "They certainly did," he managed to say and was relieved when his wife and son opened their respective doors. Sometimes it was still hard.