Guys! Guys! This is the halfway point! Additionally, I am more than acutely aware how much of a jerk I am that it has taken so long to update. I have no excuse beyond laziness. I'm sorry. Moving on to the actual story now...this one's exciting, and comes with lots of new info. We'll finally get the first of many answers Liz and Harry have...good, fun times. Enjoy (and let me know what you think? :) )!
Chapter Four – The Next Logical Step
"So…explain to me which one's which again?"
With a chuckle, Harry leaned over and whispered while gesturing toward each as he spoke, "Bill's the oldest; he's home with his wife Fleur, who's on bed rest with their second child. Charlie's next – he's nearly always away in Romania for his job. Then there's Percy, the one in glasses, then George, Ron, and Ginny. Fred was George's twin."
She frowned, pushing a bit of food on her plate. "That's awful. I can't even imagine…" She'd heard the Weasleys' story before, not long after the war ended. With a son in the Golden Trio, it was inevitable that their tale would reach an ever news-seeking America. She'd felt terrible for the surviving twin as soon as she heard – now, after meeting George, the pity melted to admiration. The loss crushed the man, certainly, but he managed quite well regardless. The business he and his brother created thrived and grew, even with half of its owners gone, and he seemed relatively content considering. While she liked each family member she'd met thus far, the surviving twin quickly proved to be her favorite for various reasons.
After the arrival of George and Percy and a hurried yet unspecific explanation from Harry, Liz settled into the busyness of preparing dinner for a large group. Her fascination led her to observe everything with a strong interest; even before her parents' disappearance, her family had been a small one, and her living arrangements after that point did little to change that. Molly Weasley, meanwhile, thrived on the pressure of providing an excellent meal for an enormous mass of ravenous adults. With all of her children grown and out of the house, such opportunities grew increasingly slimmer, leaving her to relish the chances she received. The process fascinated Liz as much as it daunted her.
As family and friends continued to trickle in, Liz chose to situate herself slightly separate from the rest for most of the evening. She wasn't sure of her place here; while possibly related to Harry, who would inevitably become an official member of the family eventually, and friends with Hermione, the entire event was generally uncomfortable, and she was relieved when it came time to leave.
Ginny returned with them to Harry's flat, intent upon ensuring that everything was properly situated to make Liz comfortable. Eventually, after much fusing on Ginny's part, appreciative frustration on Liz's, and doting pleasure on Harry's, the two supposed relatives found themselves alone, somewhat uneasy in their sudden solitude. Settling on her newfound favorite position on his couch, she considered the hero of the wizarding world carefully.
"You know, I've known about all of this for months now, but…it's strange, isn't it?"
Choking out a laugh, Harry slumped down beside her. "Strange does not even begin to describe it. It really is Sirius all over again, but different. Sirius was family, true, but you – you're blood. You're the same as the Dursleys, but loads better. I…honestly don't know what to make of it."
Grinning shyly, Liz nodded in understanding. "I feel the same. I'd finally grown used to being alone, and suddenly Hermione's letters arrived. I was reluctant to hope, for obvious reasons."
Raising a brow, he replied, "Really? What's wrong with hoping?"
"Hope builds expectations; expectations bolster us without proof. Assumptions are made and, when they're inevitably broken, we're left with nothing but disappointment. We're better off remaining realistic and ending up pleasantly surprised when everything turns out right."
"That's an interesting way of looking at it," he mused. "Though I can't say that I agree. Hope can be an invaluable companion, particularly when you have little else. Better to have hope than to give up, right?"
Liz shot the wizard beside her an incredulous look, the ghost of a smile at her lips. "You are remarkable, Harry Potter. Remarkable. If I gain nothing else from all of this, at least I know I'll have an insightful new friend."
Barking a laugh, Harry agreed. "We should get to bed – we've got a lot to do tomorrow."
Liz followed as he led her to her room, calling out to him in curiosity. "Why? Where are we going tomorrow? And don't you have a job to go to, sir?"
"DeMeyers' given me the time off indefinitely, until all of this is sorted out. You want proof, don't you? We're going to find it – and Hogwarts is our best option."
"We're going to Hogwarts?" Liz gasped out, an expression of child-like enthusiasm on her face. "Seriously?"
Laughing, he gestured her to bed. "Yeah, seriously. We leave in the morning. Rest up – we've a meeting with the headmistress to get some answers."
"It's even better than I imagined…"
Liz and Harry stood before the entrance of Hogwarts, the wizard watching as his companion stood transfixed in awe. He understood the feeling; he'd felt much the same way each year he attended, the school never losing the wonder and escape from the world of living with the Dursleys it promised him. Not even the battle could alter his view – Hogwarts would always be his first home, and even visiting now, years later, he felt a wave of gratitude for the castle flooding through him. He allowed Liz a few more moments of gawking before leading her inside.
It took quite a few wizards and more than a handful of months to restore the school after the war, but it appeared much the same as it always had. There would always be marks retelling the story, places where the dark magic made an irreparable blemish, but these were the building's battle scars, the signs of what it fought against and triumphantly destroyed. They were something to take pride in, to boast of grandly, yet the steadfast fixture merely accepted them as inevitable and continued on with its purpose.
From the sounds coming from the Great Hall, Harry assumed that most of the school was still at breakfast. About to steer Liz into the room, he was interrupted by the booming yell of a woman.
"Grandits! Mahan! Isn't it a little early for your shenanigans to begin?"
The two turned to a trio of people: a short yet imposing middle-aged witch and a pair of boys, most likely in their third year. The boys smirked at one another before dashing off, leaving the witch to rid the corridor of the rather impressive succession of dung bombs awaiting release the moment anyone stepped out of the Great Hall. Giving a cry of, "Fifty points from Hufflepuff, gentlemen, and a week's detention each!" the witch banished the mess with a sigh before noticing her onlookers. She approached them, muttering as she did.
"Still having trouble with those blokes, Professor?" Harry asked when she reached them, sporting a broad grin. The professor let out a grunt in response.
"Aye, Mr. Potter – whoever claimed that Hufflepuffs aren't any bother obviously doesn't know any personally. They're quiet, but damn tricky." Taking in Liz, she extended a plump hand. "Ellie Gallogly, professor of Muggle Studies. What brings you to Hogwarts this time, Harry?"
Glancing briefly at Liz, he replied, "We've a meeting with McGonagall. There's some important business we need to discuss."
"Minerva's still in her office, the last I knew – the password's the same as last you visited. If you've a chance, stop by my office before you're off; I've a few new trinkets Arthur Weasley might like, if you don't mind becoming my delivery owl once again." With a nod and a wave, the witch retreated to the Great Hall, intent upon her meal.
Harry led an awestruck Liz through Hogwarts' twisting passageways, eventually reaching the headmistress' office. Having recited the password and reaching the closed door at the top of the stairs, Harry knocked, suddenly anxious about the reason why they had come. At McGonagall's faint, "Come in," Harry pushed through and brought Liz before his former professor.
McGonagall looked much as she did when Harry was a student: stern, hair pulled back in a tight bun, eyes studying them over her spectacles. The only sign of change showed in the additional, wearied lines etched near her eyes and mouth, consequences from the years fighting against the darkness. A spark of interest crossed her features when she spotted Liz, and she motioned them to a pair of chairs before her desk.
"I must admit to feeling a bit of surprise and more than my appropriate share of curiosity in regard to your owl last evening, Potter," she began as she set aside her quill. "May I ask who this young woman is?"
"Professor, this is Elizabeth Hogan," Harry introduced, choosing to use her American name until he could explain further. "Liz, this is Professor Minerva McGonagall."
As they shook hands, Liz fairly beamed in excitement. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Headmistress. I've heard so many amazing things about you."
McGonagall's eyebrows shot up at her accent. "An American, are you? This meeting becomes increasingly more puzzling by the moment." She paused, considering something briefly. "Elizabeth Hogan…you wouldn't happen to be the young woman who just received her mastery in Potions, would you?"
"I am," Liz affirmed, slightly astounded that the older witch had heard of her. McGonagall chuckled as she shuffled the parchments before her.
"You'll have to meet Maxwell Stanton, our current Potions professor. Though, based upon his work over the last year, I doubt he shall remain for long. Perhaps you might teach him something of his subject matter so that he, in turn, can teach his students."
At her claims, the younger witch frowned, her brows knit. "That's a dangerous subject for incompetence. Mixing potions is a serious matter, to be undertaken with the utmost care and consideration. More than just a failing grade is at risk in such an environment."
"You and Snape would have gotten on wonderfully," Harry interjected, shaking his head. "'I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.' The man was brilliant, and undoubtedly a hero, but honestly –"
"Do you realize how often you could have died in that class, Harry?" she countered, her voice furious. "All it takes is one mistake – the wrong ingredient, a turn too few, improper cutting or measuring – and you could be poisoned, cursed, or facing a disastrous explosion. Potions masters are strict because they have to be, not from choice."
"As enlightening a conversation this is, I suspect that it is not the reason for your call," the headmistress mused, a faint smile at her mouth. Harry and Liz shot each other a nervous glance as Harry responded.
"Er…no, Professor. It's a bit hard to explain…" Haltingly, Harry gave an account of events leading up to their visit, Liz interjecting when necessary. McGonagall remained stoic throughout, content to simply listen until they finished. As they sat awkwardly before her, she nodded once and rose to her feet.
"You are both adults, and this is hardly a topic to dance about even if you weren't. I did know about this spell of Albus', though only vaguely, no more than was allowed to Arthur and Molly, it seems. It was developed to act similarly to the Fidelius Charm, from what I can deduce, although it obviously encompasses so much more than a single being keeping a secret. There are ways for us to prove who you are regardless of the limitations, of course – even Muggles possess DNA testing, as you both are certainly aware. If that is what you came in search of, I am more than happy to do what I can to assist. If more knowledge of this spell, I am afraid you shall have to look elsewhere."
The two watched one another, each portraying an equally downcast expression. "Obviously, finding out if we're correct is a focus," Liz said slowly, turning back to McGonagall. "And if there isn't anything more you can tell us, we understand. But personally, I think we need to learn more. Without understanding what Dumbledore did, we have little hope of breaking the spell, and breaking it will be the best possible proof we can provide for the wizarding community at large." She paused, biting her lip slightly. "I, ah…also was hoping to learn what happened to my parents. I've no reason to believe there are any more answers here than there were at home, but it's worth a shot."
"I'll do everything in my power to lend my aid, Miss Hogan," McGonagall said smoothly as she motioned for them to follow her. "Come, let's find Poppy. She'll be able to perform the proper spells to discover if you're really a Potter."
Harry paced the hospital wing, unable to appreciate the fact that he was visiting it by choice for a change. Liz sat nearby, looking out one of the massive windows along the wall, her foot jiggling nervously over her crossed knee. Madam Pomfrey worked behind her closed office door, carefully studying the conjured images that resulted from her genetic spell. After seeing them to the mostly vacant hospital, McGonagall returned to her own office, insisting that once they were finished, Harry ought to show Liz the rest of the school. He'd nodded absentmindedly as Madam Pomfrey ushered them inside, pulling out her wand and gesturing at the two of them. Instantly, a pair of twirling figures, one green and the other deep silver, drifted from Harry and Liz's skins to float before the mediwitch. Indicating that they should wait outside, she guided the pair of double helixes inside, muttering to herself as she did. She had been gone for an hour before another sound came from the office.
Liz leapt to her feet as the door opened, bringing a beaming Madam Pomfrey back into the room at large. Harry came to Liz's side, his mouth a tight, thin line.
"Congratulations," she said, her gaze darting between the two. "We have a Potter."
Harry let out an incredulous laugh as Liz fell back into her seat. He bent toward her, concerned, and watched her run a shaking hand over her face. Neither spoke for a moment, simply staring at one another, before a small smile cracked her face.
"Potter…we're related," she breathed almost silently. She shook her head slowly before leaping for him, pulling him into a fierce hug. "I'm not alone!"