Disclaimer: Characters and symbols of this story are property of JK Rowling, the very loser who created Harry Potter. For this I am grateful to her.

CHAPTER ONE: Ron Returns

Ron Weasley had not been to Hogwarts in years, and returning was like greeting an old friend from his childhood that had remained in the corners of his memory.

As he stood on the grounds between the lake and the forbidden forest, staring at the dark silhouette of the castle in the winter dusk, he attempted to keep every part of him that wanted to think about the last time he had been here shoved away from his thoughts. Instead he started up the grounds to the front doors, sweeping his cloak further around himself to block out the cold. A light frost coated the grass, and Ron could see the sinking sun on the reflection of the half-frozen lake.

As he slipped through the great oak front doors, he thought about what he was about to do. Part of him felt excited… it wasn't every day you got to meet your Goddaughter for the first time. But he was also… nervous.

Had he mentioned that?

Yes, he was nervous. He wasn't sure why. He felt old and responsible, though he honestly didn't know why he was worrying. It wasn't as though he was Spanish. It probably wouldn't be that big of a deal, being a Godfather. In fact, it would probably be easy.

'It'll be simple,' Ron told Professor Mcgonnagal a few minutes later. He was in the headmaster's office, or rather, it was now a headmistress office. It had changed only a very little over the past ten years. There was still a huge oak desk. Now much neater than it had been back in Dumbledore's day, but instead of Fawkes the phoenix sitting on his old perch, there was an enormous Golden Eagle with beady eyes. He was wearing metallic gray spiked collar with a gilded ID tag in the shape of a snitch. There were no silver instruments, but the Penseive was now in plain sight on top of a white and silver cabinet. The sorting was perched on top of a wardrobe overlooking the office, surrounded by the many sleeping portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistress's. Sitting in a case with frosted glass shelves was the old ruby encrusted sword Ron remembered so well, right underneath a golden Time turner that he recognized as the one Hermione had used in her third year, and when she and Harry had gone off together. It was sitting on a purple cushion next to a blue and gray skeleton key diary Ron didn't recognize, and on a shelf underneath that was a silver bladed dagger with a gleaming black hilt in the shape of an angel. From where Ron sat in one of two armchairs in front of Mcgonagall's desk, he could see her Order of Merlin First Class mounted on her desk next to her nameplate.

'I'll just win the kid over with one of my charming grins. We'll be buddies in no time. I'll take her out for tea and the rest is history.' Ron continued.

'Well, you're in for a rude awakening Weasley.' the Professor said dryly.

Ron narrowed his eyes. 'What are you saying?'

'I'm afraid it's not that simple with teenagers.'

'It…isn't?'

'Weasley, you can't expect this to be easy. You were the one who wanted to come and see the child…'

Ron spread his hands, palms up. 'I can't ignore her… she's Harry's daughter.' He hesitated and then said; 'Does she know I'm here, that I'm coming?'

'I'm afraid not, Weasley, I--' The knocker on the outside of the door pounded. 'Enter,' Mcgonnagal said quickly.

The huge door flew open and a girl in black Griffindor uniform robes rushed in. She had dirty blonde hair that was wrapped up in a tight French braid. It beat wildly against her freckled neck as she ranted on in an emotional state, gesturing manicly with her arms. She was gibbling so fast it took a moment for Ron to realize she was speaking French.

'Bloody hell!' he cried. 'She's bilingual!'

The girl turned to Ron and cocked her head at him, her pale eyes shining with concern. She shook her head, speaking in slowly in French as though she expected him to understand.

'I'd prefer it if you spoke in English love,' Ron said, marveling at how kind and caring he sounded. 'It's the only language I know, you see.'

The girl simply stared.

'She can't speak English yet.'

Ron turned around saw another girl in the doorway. She was relatively small for her age, and pale, with a rounded nose sprinkled with freckles. Her thick, dark brown hair was long and pulled back in a butterfly clip. Her eyes were emerald green, and her ears were double pierced. Ron could tell she was in Ravenclaw, because the linings of her robes were blue, but he somehow felt as though he'd met her before.

He smiled. 'Are you a friend of hers then?'

She nodded. 'More or less. Mcgonnagal put me in charge of her.'

'Ah…' Ron said, confused. 'Well, I've never met her before, and I… well, my name is Ron Weasley and… I'm her godfather. Could you translate that to her for me?'

The Ravenclaw girl said a sentence or two of French to the blonde girl, whose eyes widened as she quickly shook her head and gibbled a reply.

'She says she already knows her godparents,' the Ravenclaw told him. 'She would also like to inform you that she always travels in groups.'

Ron scratched his head, utterly bemused. 'What did you say her name was?'

'Her name's Joelle.'

'Joelle? You mean her name isn't Cerasi Potter?'

The Ravenclaw raised her eyebrows. 'Her? No, she isn't Cerasi. I am.'

Ron gaped at the girl. He looked her up and down, astonished. 'You…you are aren't you? You're… Cerasi Potter. My best mate's daughter.'

When Cerasi offered no reply, he continued, 'You're in Ravenclaw? I wonder what your dad would say… Blimey, if you didn't look just like your mother, I… I wouldn't believe you…'

Cerasi still said nothing, just looked at Professor Mcgonnagal and her friend, as though she expected one of them to leap out at her and yell, "April fools!"

'You have an accent,' he continued.

Cerasi returned her gaze to him. 'Well, I grew up in the United States. I came up here when mom died.'

'You look like your mum. Almost exactly like her,' Ron told her dazedly.

'You mentioned that.' The girl named Cerasi said dryly.

'Don't just stand there in the doorway, you silly girl!' Mcgonnagal said irritably. 'Come in here and speak to him!'

Cerasi scowled and shoved her hands in her pockets. She descended on the Professor's desk with her shoulders slumped. As she sat in one of the chairs beside Ron, her friend Joelle leaned forward and muttered something in French in her ear. Cerasi turned to Ron and said, 'Not that I care about this, but Joelle just told me that she thinks it's awful that you're my godfather and this is the first time you've met me. She says it's a bit late to be playing dad, considering I just turned fourteen.'

Ron frowned. 'I thought she couldn't speak English yet?'

Cerasi's nose turned red. 'Umm, well she—she, uh, she understands it, but… she, uh, can't speak it.'

Ron nodded, 'Well, English or no, she has a point. It is late to be playing dad. I'm not your dad. I never will be. But I just found out about you a year ago. I never knew… never knew about…about how my best friends…'

'Got busy?' Cerasi offered casually.

Ron's ears turned bright red. 'Potter, what have I told you about saying inappropriate things?' Professor Mcgonnagal exploded furiously.

Joelle turned around and said something to the professor in French. 'What was that Marigold?' Mcgonnagal growled, as though daring her to say something else.

'I said, it's none of your business!' Joelle said in perfect English. Seconds after she said it her eyes became as wide as eight balls and she clapped her hand over her mouth. 'Oops,' she squeaked.

'Joelle!' Cerasi groaned.

'And what has happened to your charming accent Marigold?' Mcgonnagal said sharply.

Cerasi and Joelle looked at each other guiltily.

The professor rounded furiously on Cerasi. 'I should have known! I should have known not to put you in charge of Joelle you stupid girl!'

Cerasi scowled at her. The professor ranted on, 'What on earth was I thinking? Now you have undoubtedly polluted this child's mind with your idiotic schemes and your immature japes!'

Cerasi threw up her hands in exasperation. 'I put a "For Sale" sign on the school grounds one time--'

'SILENCE!' Mcgonnagal yelled, and both girls jumped. 'It has become clear to me, Miss Potter, that forcing you to participate in the Hogwarts Foreign Exchange Program and making you get involved in Hogwarts Musical Department activities has stillnot occupied enough of your time. From now on, you will be the new Chaser for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.'

'What? How? Ravenclaw already has three perfectly pathetic Chasers!'

'Not anymore,' the professor said triumphantly. 'Toot has been forced to quit due to an unfortunate incident involving a doughnut and his peer Thompson. The Ravencaw team needs a new chaser and I think you will fit in with them very nicely. Or else!'Cerasi's eye was twitching unpleasantly.Ron's enthusiasm, however, had returned. 'Excellent!' he said happily. 'I'll come to all of your matches! It'll be brilliant!'

Cerasi looked as though she was about to say something rude to him when Mcgonnagal said, 'Your parents would be so ashamed…'

The latter didn't look at all phased by this, she merely gave the Professor a bored look. Ron wanted to talk to her some more, but Mcgonnagal made the two of them leave after that, shouting punishments after them as Cerasi discretely flipped her the bird before shutting the office door.

'And don't think I didn't see that Potter!' Mcgonnagal yelled.

'Since when does Hogwarts have a foreign exchange program?' Ron asked her quickly. He thought it might be beneficial to Cerasi if he kept Professor Mcgonnagal distracted for a bit.

'About four or five years ago, the school board discovered that Hogwarts' conduct of sticking to traditional ways was making our educational quality suffer, especially in comparison to newer schools. Many school ministries from other nations went so far as to say our conduct is—was—biased. You may have noticed we changed the uniforms…'

'I noticed,' Ron said, 'Cerasi and Joelle were wearing uniforms, but it looked like they were designed by Cindy Crawford. Zip up jackets, silk blouses, flow skirts…'

'Yes,' said the Professor through clenched teeth. 'And you may have noticed that the boys are wearing leather pants. Courtesy of Cerasi's ridiculous friend Marco Deitman…'

'What do you mean?' Ron asked.

Mcgonnagal frowned grumpily, 'That little fool you call a goddaughter formed an anonymous petition in the school newspaper. A petition saying that… forcing girls to wear ties is sexist and an insult to female ingenuity or some such rubbish. Unfortunately, so may students signed the bloody thing I was forced to use some of the Quidditch funds to change the entire attire. And of course, the school planning committee, that's what we call prefects and heads these days, chose the new attire… all due to Cerasi's further meddling… she convinced the school board… I believe she put eye contact solution in her eyes to make it look as though she was crying when she did this… that "It was only democratic and civilized that the elected members and representatives of the student body should make the informed decisions on the new dress code." Obviously the little thief learned her manipulative skills from her mother.'

'I'll say… Blimey, why didn't I think of that when I was in school? Cerasi is… a genius practically.' Ron said, amazed. 'What else have you done to this old place?'

'Well, as I've said we've added a foreign exchange program. About twenty five or thirty new students from other countries come in here every year. The program Cerasi is in helps the students adapt to this school, culture, language, and sometimes offers them English lessons. We have also improved our teachings of the wizard arts. You know, music and painting and so on. We have a wider array of classes available to students, such as Dueling, Astrology, and Magical Sports to name a few. We have created a school newspaper called Frog Warts. We have built a Quadpot stadium. And we have Quadpot teams for all of the houses.'

'Quadpot?' Ron asked disgustedly.

'The sport is foolish but it does have its merits'

There was a moment of silence in which Ron gazed at Godric Griffindor's ruby encrusted sword again. He said slowly, 'Cerasi is beautiful… If only Harry could see her.'

'Now is not the time to dwell on what is done, Weasley.' The Professor told him. But even as she said it, she looked sad, and very old.