George stepped out of his car, and mentally thanking his mother for the ridiculously warm jumpers she knitted each year, he entered the gates of the cemetery. Although the sleet had stopped, it was completely empty but for a smallish figure in a black coat and ludicrously pink beanie who was sitting on a gravestone near Fred's.
Somewhat glad to see that he wasn't the only person braving the crappy English weather to visit a dead loved one, George made his way towards Fred's grave. As he silently approached (years of playing pranks with Fred had taught them to be able to walk silently in any situation so as to maintain the element of surprise), a sudden gust of wind blew the beanie off the head of the girl (he had seen the beanie and his brain had jumped to conclusions), showing that she was bald. George winced in sympathy – it had to be crappy being out in this weather without insulating your head. The string of expletives he heard confirmed that the figure was, in fact, a girl, and a rather eloquent one at that.
As he quickened his pace to reach the beanie – if nothing else, it would be good for him to meet someone new, someone who didn't know the whole gory tale – he saw her reach out her hand in the general direction of the beanie, and in a rather Darth Vader-esque fashion, cause the beanie to fly back to her. Feeling it, she muttered 'oh bugger', before conjuring up what looked like a ball of light from the reflection on the numerous puddles. Whatever that ball of light was supposed to do, it did, because a moment later the beanie was back on her head.
George was impressed. Not only was this clearly wandless magic, it was being done by someone who didn't seem older than about fifteen, and most amazingly, the ministry didn't seem to have picked up on it. And wandless magic was complex stuff. Only the most inordinately skilled wizards ever managed it, and even then it was with nowhere near the ease that this girl was doing it with. Only about ten metres away, George merely said "Impressive."
The girl somewhat overreacted. Jumping down, she spun around to face George, a ball of blue-grey fire growing in each hand. Oh joy. Thought George. Another paranoid witch. Deciding he should do something to diffuse the situation before she started flinging magical fire at him, he then said "That's not entirely friendly, is it."
She looked confused. George indicated her hands, and the now large-ish fireballs. She followed his line of sight, uttered another expletive, and then closed her hands into fists, enclosing the fire within them. She looked a little scared. She then relaxed her hands, and the balls of fire reappeared, bigger this time. Going even paler than she already was, she tried enclosing the fire again. And again it reappeared. By now she was beginning to panic as far as George could see.
"How do I stop this?" she cried out, frustrated and scared.
"I have no idea." Replied George. "I've never seen anyone conjure wandless fireballs."
"Shit." In her panic, the fireballs began to increase in size and brightness.
George could see that this was involuntary. Now beginning to be rather worried, he ensured that his wand, tucked up his sleeve, was in easy reach. "Try to calm down. You're entirely safe."
She merged the fireballs, and floating them in the air, gradually shrunk the one ball of fire into non-existence. George had to admit it was really cool to watch. Looking up at him, she said "You took that far too calmly. What gives? I mean just how much did you see prior to the fire stuff?"
"You did a Darth Vader-like thing with your hand to make your beanie come back, and then something involving a ball of light. And then the fire stuff. I've never even heard of wandless magic that powerful."
"What's with all the oblique references to wands?" she asked.
"You're joking." George said, more or less to himself. She must be a muggle, not having any knowledge of wands, but muggles couldn't do magic. Deciding to check, he picked up a stone from the ground, pulled his wand out of his sleeve, noticing the raised eyebrow on her behalf, and transfigured the rock into a stick before transfiguring it back again. "Wand." He said.
Her reaction confirmed his suspicion. She was a muggle who happened to be able to do magic. Either that or Hogwarts had really fucked up somewhere along the line. Stowing his wand in his sleeve, he walked over to the dumbfounded girl (she couldn't be older than Ginny) and offered his hand. "I'm George Weasley."
"Caitlin West." She responded automatically, shaking his hand.
"What the hell did you just to that rock?"
"Magic. You really have no idea about the magical world, do you?" he asked.
"Not in the sense in which I think you mean it, no."
"How long have you been able to…" he wiggle his fingers.
"About three weeks. How long have you been able to…" she mimed something that greatly resembled conducting an orchestra, but what George assumed meant magic.
"About nine years. I went to magic school and such."
Caitlin's eyes widened considerably. She seemed to be having trouble adjusting to the idea of magic actually existing.
"There's such thing as magic school?"
"As forward as this may seem," began George, "I'm pretty sure my parents would be better at explaining this than me."
"That sounds like a good idea." Was her still somewhat shocked reply.
