CHAPTER FOUR: The Burrow
The next morning Roxanne woke with yet another hangover and five nasty purple marks on her throat where Lucius Malfoy's fingers had tried to crush it. A hot shower and an extra-strong pot of black coffee had gotten rid of the headache, but the bruises looked worse than ever as she made her way to the kitchen for breakfast.
Tom stopped her as she skirted behind the bar.
"Them are some nasty bruises. Ye'd have done better to not make an enemy of Lucius Malfoy," he said gravely lifting her chin to examine her neck more closely.
"Him? He's nothing but a bully, Tom!"
"That very well may be true, but he's a bully with power-a powerful dark wizard, that one," he whispered with a shudder and a fearful sweep of the Leaky Cauldron's dark corners.
"But, Tom-"
"You listen to me," he said, his voice rising to a strained pitch. "What you started last night didn't end last night. Mark my words. Lucius Malfoy won't be done with you-nor me, I reckon."
Tom's eyes darted around the empty pub again, and his voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "It's for the best that you'll be leaving today."
"Today?"
"Get your things packed. I'd prefer it if you left now. You can wait for Hagrid in Diagon Alley."
"You're afraid of him!"
"Lucius Malfoy? You're damned straight I'm afraid of him!" Tom thundered. "And if you had anything in your head besides my best whiskey, you'd be the same!"
**********
Roxanne packed slowly, mulling over Tom's words and the fear she had seen in his face. Maybe, no certainly, she'd acted too rashly. The leftovers of the previous night's hard drinking had clouded her judgment. But her father was not here to sweep up the mess she'd made or smooth things over with Mr. Malfoy. And no amount of regret would pour those drinks back into the glasses or pick up the upset table, or remove the bruises from her throat-let alone take the fear from Tom's eyes.
But she'd never backed down to bullies. Long years as a tormented freak had taught her it was pointless-they always backed off when you stood up to them; at least when she stood up to them. But Tom's words kept flickering in her mind: 'What you started last night didn't end last night. . .Lucius Malfoy won't be done with you!'
She dropped her wand on top of the other things in the trunk, then thinking it might be best to keep it with her, tucked it into her pocket. She clicked her trunk shut, picked it up, still surprised by its lightness, and left the Leaky Cauldron mumbling an embarrassed apology to Tom.
**********
The day was bright on Diagon Alley. Roxanne wandered for a while until the delicious smells coming from a small restaurant reminded her that in all the morning's friction, she'd completely missed breakfast. It was now well past. She reached in her pocket and pulled out a few small coins-not much, but enough to get a little something.
She ordered a roast beef sandwich, wrapped up to go, and a bottle of ale, paying out enough to leave a much smaller pile of coins in her pocket. She went back outside and found a bench in the sun near the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron to wait for Hagrid. Tom spoke of him as if she ought to know who he was, and the only description she had gathered was, 'Hagrid? You'll know him when you see him.' So she waited, her feet propped up on her trunk and her beer balanced on the arm of the bench, scanning the passing crowds for someone unusual enough to be unable to escape notice.
There were many to fit this general description-at least by muggle standards. She still hadn't quite gotten used to the odd assortment of characters who frequented Diagon Alley. She still hadn't really gotten used to considering herself one of the magic people who surrounded her every waking moment now. But the figures who swept past her as the day passed were really quite ordinary by wizard standards. She thought she must have spotted him once when she saw a tall hat with a stuffed vulture perched on top coming towards her. But it had turned out to be an elderly, sour-faced witch.
**********
Roxanne passed the time reading "A History of Magic," and peering into shop windows, checking the painfully slow passage of time on her watch, wondering when Hagrid would show up. Was it really today? Or was Tom just getting rid of her?
Dinnertime approached. She realized she didn't have enough money for another meal, so she settled for another bottle of ale, sipping it slowly, not sure when she'd eat again.
Hearing the sound of someone emerging from the Leaky Cauldron for the umpteenth time that day, she glanced lazily toward the entrance, thoroughly unprepared for what met her gaze. There stood an enormous man, nearly twice as tall as she, and broad as a Redwood tree. Hair seemed to tangle its way from every square inch of his head and neck, and two bright black eyes stared down at her.
"Ye'd be Roxanne then?" he asked.
Scrambling to her feet and knocking her half-drunk bottle to the cobblestones, Roxanne nearly fell over her trunk, stammering, "Wh-Who wants to know?"
"Well, I'm Hagrid, of course. Rubeus Hagrid at yer' service," he said cheerfully. "You are Roxanne Stewart, aren't ye?"
"Sorry, I mean, yes. You're just. . ."
"Late? Sorry bou' that. Got to chattin' with a chap at the station. I 'spect we'll have to stay at the Leaky Cauldron tonight. The shops'll be closin' up soon and we'll need to get yer supplies tommora'," and he gestured toward the door behind him.
Roxanne let her eyes drop. "I don't think Tom will let me back in," she said jamming her hands into her pockets.
"Won' let ye back in? We'll see 'bout tha'." And before Roxanne could explain Hagrid turned and disappeared inside.
Several minutes later he returned, walking slowly, his bushy eyebrows twitching. "You poured a drink on Lucius Malfoy?"
Roxanne steadied herself for an onslaught similar to the one she'd gotten from Tom. But it didn't come. Instead Hagrid laughed out loud, slapping his knee. "I wish I'd been there to see it. But," he said, finally bringing his laughter under control, "I can see how tha' might be a problem fer ol' Tom."
"And I don't have any money to pay to stay somewhere else," she said apologetically.
"Well, we'll hafta see wha' we can do," he said, and disappeared inside the Leaky Cauldron again.
It was nearly 20 minutes before Hagrid returned.
"Talked to Dumbledore," he said. "He's very interested in hearing the whole story tomorra.' Daresay it'll give him a bi' of a chuckle as well. He suggested I try the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley's mor'n willin' but ye may find the accommodations a bit cramped. D'ye mind?"
"No!" Roxanne blurted, relieved just to have someplace to sleep besides a cold stone bench.
"We'll have te travel by floo powder. Come on," he said grasping her trunk. "I reckon Tom'll let us use his fireplace."
**********
Feeling slightly queasy from the spinning ride through the fireplace, Roxanne stumbled into a cluttered but warm kitchen. A plump red-haired woman hastily helped her to her feet and brushed soot off her clothes.
"Well done, dear!" she said cheerily. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"N-no, thank you," Roxanne mumbled reaching for the nearest solid object to lean on.
"It's a bit of a start, your first time through. But you'll get used to it." She steered Roxanne into an empty chair at the kitchen table. "Have some toast dear. It'll help settle your stomach," she said pointing to a plate in the middle of the table.
At that moment a fizzing noise announced Hagrid's arrival who came stooping out of the nearly-too-small fireplace. "Evenin' Molly," he said. "Where are the children?"
"They've all gone outside. We've just finished dinner. Are you hungry?"
"I've already had," said Hagrid. "Bu' I think Miss Stewart might stan' fer summat. Eh, Roxanne?"
The toast had done wonders to stop her head from spinning and her stomach from lurching. And she was very hungry.
"Yes, please, I mean, thank you." She winced at her obvious lack of ease with polite conversation. "Hagrid," she began eyeing the fireplace apprehensively, "do we have to go back that way tomorrow?"
"I'm afraid so. It migh' be best if we wait on breakfast until we get back to Diagon Alley," he said, looking her over and noting the slight green tinge lingering on her face. "Oh, by the way Molly. Have ye got anythin' fer these?" he asked, pointing to the bruises on Roxanne's throat.
Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened. "Oh, my! How ever did you get those?" she said examining them carefully. Roxanne winced as Mrs. Weasley pressed on the bruises. She hadn't really paid attention to how much they hurt until now.
"It's kind of a long story," she said quietly.
"Lucius Malfoy, that's where," cut in Hagrid. "Them's what she got from him at the Leaky Cauldron yesterday."
"You're lucky to have your head if you made him angry enough to do this to you," Mrs. Weasley tutted. "Could you fetch my Medi-kit, Hagrid? It's there by the sink." She gestured across the kitchen where, Roxanne noticed for the first time, the dishes were happily scrubbing themselves. As Mrs. Weasley swabbed her neck with a thick yellowish liquid, Roxanne glanced around the room some more, fascinated by her first venture into a wizard home.
There was a pile of brooms standing in a corner near the door. By the look of them Roxanne guessed they weren't the type used for sweeping. A large, ruffled looking owl stood on a perch by the window, another sat on the banister, a third very small one flitted around the room and zoomed in and out of the open window. A large cauldron bubbled over a small fire on the large iron stovetop.
"Molly," a voice called from the direction of the door, "are they here yet?"
"Yes, Arthur dear. We're in the kitchen."
The room became suddenly much noisier as a clamoring group of people-all with flaming red hair-came storming into the room. Hagrid rose to shake hands all around, greeting a young boy and girl with stifling bear hugs that swallowed them in the folds of his coat.
"Hello, Hagrid," gasped the boy, newly freed.
"Everyone!" called Mrs. Weasley above the din, placing her hands on Roxanne's shoulders. "This is Roxanne Stewart. Roxanne, this is my husband, Arthur-" A tall thin man with thinning red hair stepped forward and shook her hand. "-and our children Charlie, Ron, Ginny-"
"She's the baby," interjected Charlie, affectionately tousling her hair.
"-the twins-Fred and George-"
"Good luck keeping them straight," said Ron with a roll of the eyes.
"-and Percy and Bill are away at work. I expect Bill home late tonight. You can meet him in the morning," Mrs. Weasley said, pointing to each as they smiled and waved.
Charlie, a stocky, handsome wizard with rough hands, sat in the chair across the table from Roxanne. "You're going to Hogwarts, are you?" he said accepting a cup of tea from his mother, who whispered, "Roxanne, your dinner's just warming in the oven, dear."
"Thanks," she said to her before turning back to Charlie. "Yes. I thought I'd be there by now. I've actually been in Britain for nearly two weeks. I've been staying at the Leaky Cauldron waiting for Hagrid to come for me."
Charlie started. "You're American?"
Roxanne nodded. "I'm from Montana."
"Are you a cowboy-I mean cowgirl?" asked Ron, fascinated.
Roxanne rolled her eyes. "No. I'm really just a suburban brat. There are a few towns in Montana big enough to have suburbs, you know."
Charlie chuckled.
"What will you be teaching?" asked Fred or George.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts, I expect," said George or Fred. Ron was right. She'd never figure out which was which.
"No. I'm not teaching," she said with a quiet laugh.
"Roxanne'll be startin' at Hogwarts," said Hagrid, as proudly as a mother hen.
"You mean, a student?" exclaimed Fred or George. "You're a bit old!"
"George!" scolded Mrs. Weasley. So that one was George.
"I'm not that old!" retorted Roxanne.
"Yes, but you're not eleven then, are you. You're certainly older than I am," George pointed out.
"Well that's fairly obvious," said Charlie. "No offense."
"None taken. I'm twenty-five," Roxanne explained. "My Hogwarts letter was late."
"Late! You call fourteen years late?" scoffed Fred.
"It's a long story."
"So tell it then," demanded Fred and George together.
Roxanne laughed, but all eyes in the room were upon her now, eager to hear. She explained about her freakish childhood-never seeming to fit in or find other children she could relate to-and her parents' deaths, and the will- reading, and the late night in the seedy motel room. Ginny giggled shyly at the thought of a filthy bed nearly smashing Roxanne. The boys, including Mr. Weasley and Hagrid laughed out loud.
"You just left it there?" gasped Ron, nearly in tears.
"My father neglected to tell me about the 'Reducio' charm in his letter," she chuckled comfortably. She was enjoying the Weasleys. They were friendly and open and held nothing against her for her stupidity, but laughed warmly with her. She liked the feeling of a family around her. Her memories of her own family being like this were dim, but pleasant.
Too soon, Mrs. Weasley shooed the children off to bed and the adults gathered round the fireplace talking well into the night. Now it was Roxanne's turn to ask questions-mostly about Hogwarts. The Weasleys and Hagrid answered them all. Just past midnight another red head strode through the door. "Hello! Hagrid, how are you!"
"Evenin' Bill," said Hagrid clapping him on the back.
"Bill," said Mrs. Weasley, bringing him a cup of tea, "this is Roxanne Stewart. She's just come from America to start at Hogwarts."
"Yes, mum. I know." Everyone looked at him surprised. "I've just come from the Leaky Cauldron. Tom's in a regular snit over your treatment of Lucius Malfoy," he said, reaching to shake Roxanne's hand. "I for one am honored to know anyone who could make Lucius Malfoy that angry and live to tell about it."
Everyone chuckled softly-except Roxanne who was feeling a bit unnerved by the increasing number of 'You're lucky to be alive,' comments.
"Yes, but she's certainly managed to make a dangerous enemy early on," said Mr. Weasley gravely. "I think it's best to tell Dumbledore."
"'S been done, Arthur," said Hagrid. "I spoke to 'im soon as I heard."
"Will he be angry?" Roxanne asked apprehensively. She wasn't keen on being expelled this soon, after coming so far.
"Angry?" said Mr. Weasley. "No, not angry. Not at you anyway."
"I expect he'll get a good laugh out of it as well," said Charlie. "Then he'll do what he can to help you protect yourself."
"This Malfoy character is really that bad?" she asked.
Arthur looked at Hagrid questioningly. Hagrid nodded.
"He's really that bad-a powerful dark wizard," said Mr. Weasley. "A Slytherin to the core-ambitious, manipulative, malicious, pretentious. Malfoy has a son at Hogwarts-you'll have to watch out for him. And it gets worse."
"Worse? Worse how?"
Arthur sighed. "I'm afraid you've come at a difficult time. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure at the wisdom of allowing you to come right now at all. We live in dangerous times. And Malfoy's right in the middle of it- I'll eat my broom if he's not."
"Ye'll be safe at Hogwarts, though, long as Dumbledore's around," assured Hagrid.
"True. The safest place to be right now."
"What exactly is a 'Slytherin?'" asked Roxanne.
"Your first day at Hogwarts, as thousands of witches and wizards before you, you will be sorted into one of four houses. Your house becomes your family of sorts. You dine, sleep, study, and play together. Members of each house share common character traits-Gryffindors-the lions-(we're all from Gryffindor house) are known for courage; Ravenclaw-the Ravens-for their sharp minds; Hufflepuffs-badgers -for loyalty and hard work; Slytherins-aptly symbolized by the snake-for ambition."
"I suppose I'll be in Hufflepuff-my father said he was a Hufflepuff in his letter."
"It's likely, but not certain," said Bill.
"He also said his parents were dark wizards-does that mean they were Slytherins?"
"Are you sure? He said they were dark wizards?" asked Mr. Weasley.
"Yes. And my chess box-it's covered with snakes."
Mr. Weasley sat back, thinking hard and staring into the fire. "Your grandfather-is his name Arriman Stewart?"
"I-I don't know. I've never met him. I don't even know if he's alive." Roxanne was unsettled by the expression on Mr. Weasley's face. "But my father's middle name was Arriman."
Mr. Weasley sat back, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Arriman Stewart was suspected of being a Death Eater, but no one could ever prove anything."
"A Death Eater?" asked Roxanne, saying the words as if they tasted sour.
"A follower of You-know-who."
"No. I don't know who."
The room fell into grim silence.
Finally, Hagrid spoke. "It's best that she know-b'fore she goes any further."
Roxanne sat in stunned silence as the story of Voldemort unfolded. His swift rise to power, his loyal followers and the path of terror they slashed through the muggle and wizard worlds, the murder and torture. Then the happy day when, it seemed, he had been defeated by the innocence of a child. Nothing was said of the boy's identity, and Roxanne was too wrapped up in the story to think to ask. And now, after so many years, it seemed clear that Voldemort had risen again-more powerful than ever-with his fury bent on absolute power and control.
The story was not unfamiliar-she'd heard similar tales from her father. But the evil was always vanquished. Here, the story seemed to have no end. The evil, she learned, had risen from the ashes again-like a phoenix, she thought-a great black phoenix rising to destroy, rather than resurrect, hope.
"You'll need to decide," said Hagrid. "Tonight'll be yer last chance to walk away. I'll see to it that ye get safely back home-if that's what ye decide. But Dumbledore'd never have invited ye if he thought ye were coming fer nothin'."
Roxanne sat silent, blinking at the firelight. She nodded numbly at Hagrid's words. She could go back to the U.S.--wander off into the wilderness, get by waiting tables the rest of her life, always standing on the inside looking out at what she could have had. She'd rather be dead.
"I'm staying," she said determinedly. "So, someone give me odds on which house I'll be sorted into."
Charlie looked at her with a wry smile. "I figure your odds at 50-50- Slytherin or Hufflepuff."
"Although," said Arthur, "I've never known of a Slytherin who didn't want to be one."
********
After a restless night, disturbed by thoughts of Lucius Malfoy and the bangings of the Weasley's family ghoul, Roxanne and Hagrid headed back to Diagon Alley. Her second trip by floo powder was just as unpleasant as the first. She was glad she'd skipped the delicious breakfast Mrs. Weasley had been preparing when they left. She was sure it would have ended up on the sidewalk. Hagrid retrieved her money pouch from Tom as she made her way quickly to the street. She thought it best not to make things worse with Tom by vomiting on his floor.
Hagrid followed and pulled a long list of supplies she'd need from one of his huge pockets and began reading it aloud to her as Roxanne nibbled on the piece of dry toast Mrs. Weasley had wrapped and stuffed into her pocket. They walked through Diagon Alley, Roxanne following through the crowds in Hagrid's slipstream as he waded easily along. He stopped at a small café, set down her trunk next to a table and pulled a chair out for her.
"Order us up some brea'fast. I'll be back in a tick," said Hagrid, then walked off and disappeared around a corner.
When the waiter apparated at Roxanne's table she eagerly ordered nearly everything on the menu. Seeing the waiter's eyebrows rise higher and higher with each additional dish she quickly explained, "It's not all for me. I have a friend joining me in a minute."
"Just one?" he asked, looking at her oddly.
"Well, he's a big friend. Ah," she said, pointing down the street. "Here he is."
Hagrid was swimming toward her, his head rising high above the stream of morning shoppers, a tightly wrapped package tucked under one arm.
"What's that, Hagrid?" she asked pointing to the package.
"Just a little somethin' fer a lady I know," he answered cryptically.
**********
The shopping went smoothly. Hagrid had a detailed list from Professor Dumbledore. And after double-checking that they had everything and stowing it all in her trunk, which still fairly floated in her grip, they made their way out into the streets of London. Hagrid hailed a passing cab (whose driver had stopped despite having thought better of carrying such an enormous, frightening-looking passenger), and sped toward King's Cross Station.
"Ye'll be takin' the Hogwarts Express to the station at Hogsmeade," Hagrid explained. "The engineer's waitin' fer ye-just brought the students back to London for summer vacation."
Roxanne found the magical portal onto Platform 9 ¾ fascinating and stepped back and forth through it several times, careful to go unnoticed by the muggles milling about the station, while she waited for Hagrid to check with the engineer.
"Ye'll be off in a few minutes," he called. "We'd best get ye' on board."
"Aren't you coming, Hagrid?" she asked apprehensively.
"I'm afraid not. I've got an errand to attend to. I'll be seein' ye back at Hogwarts in the fall-perhaps sooner," he said placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. Seeing the slightly panicked look on her face, he explained, "Don't worry. There'll be someone ta meet ye at the Hogsmeade station." He stowed her trunk and settled her into a compartment, then gave her a large sack which turned out to be full of snacks, a couple of books for reading, and a large bottle of ale. "Don't ferget te put on yer robes before ye get there!" he called as the train pulled away.
**********
The trip northward was Roxanne's first opportunity to see the English countryside. Diagon Alley had consumed her time in London. She'd missed out on the Royal palaces and historic sights. But that sort of thing really held little fascination for her. She found the farther north the train sped, the more wild and beautiful the scenery became. 'A lot like home,' she thought, gazing at the mountains that seemed to crawl slowly higher out of the rolling landscape, like great razor-backed dragons bursting out of the earth. Home was so far away-a distance that seemed both comforting and lonely. But there was nothing there for her now.
This wasn't really so much like home, she decided. This was all new-a new day, a new life, a fresh start. But a stabbing jolt in her stomach reminded her that, through Lucius Malfoy, she may have already spoiled everything.
She reached into the sack and pulled out a book-"Dragons of the Northern Hemisphere"-and the bottle of ale. She found comfort in the bottle and distraction in the book as the Hogwarts Express sped on.
The next morning Roxanne woke with yet another hangover and five nasty purple marks on her throat where Lucius Malfoy's fingers had tried to crush it. A hot shower and an extra-strong pot of black coffee had gotten rid of the headache, but the bruises looked worse than ever as she made her way to the kitchen for breakfast.
Tom stopped her as she skirted behind the bar.
"Them are some nasty bruises. Ye'd have done better to not make an enemy of Lucius Malfoy," he said gravely lifting her chin to examine her neck more closely.
"Him? He's nothing but a bully, Tom!"
"That very well may be true, but he's a bully with power-a powerful dark wizard, that one," he whispered with a shudder and a fearful sweep of the Leaky Cauldron's dark corners.
"But, Tom-"
"You listen to me," he said, his voice rising to a strained pitch. "What you started last night didn't end last night. Mark my words. Lucius Malfoy won't be done with you-nor me, I reckon."
Tom's eyes darted around the empty pub again, and his voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "It's for the best that you'll be leaving today."
"Today?"
"Get your things packed. I'd prefer it if you left now. You can wait for Hagrid in Diagon Alley."
"You're afraid of him!"
"Lucius Malfoy? You're damned straight I'm afraid of him!" Tom thundered. "And if you had anything in your head besides my best whiskey, you'd be the same!"
**********
Roxanne packed slowly, mulling over Tom's words and the fear she had seen in his face. Maybe, no certainly, she'd acted too rashly. The leftovers of the previous night's hard drinking had clouded her judgment. But her father was not here to sweep up the mess she'd made or smooth things over with Mr. Malfoy. And no amount of regret would pour those drinks back into the glasses or pick up the upset table, or remove the bruises from her throat-let alone take the fear from Tom's eyes.
But she'd never backed down to bullies. Long years as a tormented freak had taught her it was pointless-they always backed off when you stood up to them; at least when she stood up to them. But Tom's words kept flickering in her mind: 'What you started last night didn't end last night. . .Lucius Malfoy won't be done with you!'
She dropped her wand on top of the other things in the trunk, then thinking it might be best to keep it with her, tucked it into her pocket. She clicked her trunk shut, picked it up, still surprised by its lightness, and left the Leaky Cauldron mumbling an embarrassed apology to Tom.
**********
The day was bright on Diagon Alley. Roxanne wandered for a while until the delicious smells coming from a small restaurant reminded her that in all the morning's friction, she'd completely missed breakfast. It was now well past. She reached in her pocket and pulled out a few small coins-not much, but enough to get a little something.
She ordered a roast beef sandwich, wrapped up to go, and a bottle of ale, paying out enough to leave a much smaller pile of coins in her pocket. She went back outside and found a bench in the sun near the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron to wait for Hagrid. Tom spoke of him as if she ought to know who he was, and the only description she had gathered was, 'Hagrid? You'll know him when you see him.' So she waited, her feet propped up on her trunk and her beer balanced on the arm of the bench, scanning the passing crowds for someone unusual enough to be unable to escape notice.
There were many to fit this general description-at least by muggle standards. She still hadn't quite gotten used to the odd assortment of characters who frequented Diagon Alley. She still hadn't really gotten used to considering herself one of the magic people who surrounded her every waking moment now. But the figures who swept past her as the day passed were really quite ordinary by wizard standards. She thought she must have spotted him once when she saw a tall hat with a stuffed vulture perched on top coming towards her. But it had turned out to be an elderly, sour-faced witch.
**********
Roxanne passed the time reading "A History of Magic," and peering into shop windows, checking the painfully slow passage of time on her watch, wondering when Hagrid would show up. Was it really today? Or was Tom just getting rid of her?
Dinnertime approached. She realized she didn't have enough money for another meal, so she settled for another bottle of ale, sipping it slowly, not sure when she'd eat again.
Hearing the sound of someone emerging from the Leaky Cauldron for the umpteenth time that day, she glanced lazily toward the entrance, thoroughly unprepared for what met her gaze. There stood an enormous man, nearly twice as tall as she, and broad as a Redwood tree. Hair seemed to tangle its way from every square inch of his head and neck, and two bright black eyes stared down at her.
"Ye'd be Roxanne then?" he asked.
Scrambling to her feet and knocking her half-drunk bottle to the cobblestones, Roxanne nearly fell over her trunk, stammering, "Wh-Who wants to know?"
"Well, I'm Hagrid, of course. Rubeus Hagrid at yer' service," he said cheerfully. "You are Roxanne Stewart, aren't ye?"
"Sorry, I mean, yes. You're just. . ."
"Late? Sorry bou' that. Got to chattin' with a chap at the station. I 'spect we'll have to stay at the Leaky Cauldron tonight. The shops'll be closin' up soon and we'll need to get yer supplies tommora'," and he gestured toward the door behind him.
Roxanne let her eyes drop. "I don't think Tom will let me back in," she said jamming her hands into her pockets.
"Won' let ye back in? We'll see 'bout tha'." And before Roxanne could explain Hagrid turned and disappeared inside.
Several minutes later he returned, walking slowly, his bushy eyebrows twitching. "You poured a drink on Lucius Malfoy?"
Roxanne steadied herself for an onslaught similar to the one she'd gotten from Tom. But it didn't come. Instead Hagrid laughed out loud, slapping his knee. "I wish I'd been there to see it. But," he said, finally bringing his laughter under control, "I can see how tha' might be a problem fer ol' Tom."
"And I don't have any money to pay to stay somewhere else," she said apologetically.
"Well, we'll hafta see wha' we can do," he said, and disappeared inside the Leaky Cauldron again.
It was nearly 20 minutes before Hagrid returned.
"Talked to Dumbledore," he said. "He's very interested in hearing the whole story tomorra.' Daresay it'll give him a bi' of a chuckle as well. He suggested I try the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley's mor'n willin' but ye may find the accommodations a bit cramped. D'ye mind?"
"No!" Roxanne blurted, relieved just to have someplace to sleep besides a cold stone bench.
"We'll have te travel by floo powder. Come on," he said grasping her trunk. "I reckon Tom'll let us use his fireplace."
**********
Feeling slightly queasy from the spinning ride through the fireplace, Roxanne stumbled into a cluttered but warm kitchen. A plump red-haired woman hastily helped her to her feet and brushed soot off her clothes.
"Well done, dear!" she said cheerily. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"N-no, thank you," Roxanne mumbled reaching for the nearest solid object to lean on.
"It's a bit of a start, your first time through. But you'll get used to it." She steered Roxanne into an empty chair at the kitchen table. "Have some toast dear. It'll help settle your stomach," she said pointing to a plate in the middle of the table.
At that moment a fizzing noise announced Hagrid's arrival who came stooping out of the nearly-too-small fireplace. "Evenin' Molly," he said. "Where are the children?"
"They've all gone outside. We've just finished dinner. Are you hungry?"
"I've already had," said Hagrid. "Bu' I think Miss Stewart might stan' fer summat. Eh, Roxanne?"
The toast had done wonders to stop her head from spinning and her stomach from lurching. And she was very hungry.
"Yes, please, I mean, thank you." She winced at her obvious lack of ease with polite conversation. "Hagrid," she began eyeing the fireplace apprehensively, "do we have to go back that way tomorrow?"
"I'm afraid so. It migh' be best if we wait on breakfast until we get back to Diagon Alley," he said, looking her over and noting the slight green tinge lingering on her face. "Oh, by the way Molly. Have ye got anythin' fer these?" he asked, pointing to the bruises on Roxanne's throat.
Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened. "Oh, my! How ever did you get those?" she said examining them carefully. Roxanne winced as Mrs. Weasley pressed on the bruises. She hadn't really paid attention to how much they hurt until now.
"It's kind of a long story," she said quietly.
"Lucius Malfoy, that's where," cut in Hagrid. "Them's what she got from him at the Leaky Cauldron yesterday."
"You're lucky to have your head if you made him angry enough to do this to you," Mrs. Weasley tutted. "Could you fetch my Medi-kit, Hagrid? It's there by the sink." She gestured across the kitchen where, Roxanne noticed for the first time, the dishes were happily scrubbing themselves. As Mrs. Weasley swabbed her neck with a thick yellowish liquid, Roxanne glanced around the room some more, fascinated by her first venture into a wizard home.
There was a pile of brooms standing in a corner near the door. By the look of them Roxanne guessed they weren't the type used for sweeping. A large, ruffled looking owl stood on a perch by the window, another sat on the banister, a third very small one flitted around the room and zoomed in and out of the open window. A large cauldron bubbled over a small fire on the large iron stovetop.
"Molly," a voice called from the direction of the door, "are they here yet?"
"Yes, Arthur dear. We're in the kitchen."
The room became suddenly much noisier as a clamoring group of people-all with flaming red hair-came storming into the room. Hagrid rose to shake hands all around, greeting a young boy and girl with stifling bear hugs that swallowed them in the folds of his coat.
"Hello, Hagrid," gasped the boy, newly freed.
"Everyone!" called Mrs. Weasley above the din, placing her hands on Roxanne's shoulders. "This is Roxanne Stewart. Roxanne, this is my husband, Arthur-" A tall thin man with thinning red hair stepped forward and shook her hand. "-and our children Charlie, Ron, Ginny-"
"She's the baby," interjected Charlie, affectionately tousling her hair.
"-the twins-Fred and George-"
"Good luck keeping them straight," said Ron with a roll of the eyes.
"-and Percy and Bill are away at work. I expect Bill home late tonight. You can meet him in the morning," Mrs. Weasley said, pointing to each as they smiled and waved.
Charlie, a stocky, handsome wizard with rough hands, sat in the chair across the table from Roxanne. "You're going to Hogwarts, are you?" he said accepting a cup of tea from his mother, who whispered, "Roxanne, your dinner's just warming in the oven, dear."
"Thanks," she said to her before turning back to Charlie. "Yes. I thought I'd be there by now. I've actually been in Britain for nearly two weeks. I've been staying at the Leaky Cauldron waiting for Hagrid to come for me."
Charlie started. "You're American?"
Roxanne nodded. "I'm from Montana."
"Are you a cowboy-I mean cowgirl?" asked Ron, fascinated.
Roxanne rolled her eyes. "No. I'm really just a suburban brat. There are a few towns in Montana big enough to have suburbs, you know."
Charlie chuckled.
"What will you be teaching?" asked Fred or George.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts, I expect," said George or Fred. Ron was right. She'd never figure out which was which.
"No. I'm not teaching," she said with a quiet laugh.
"Roxanne'll be startin' at Hogwarts," said Hagrid, as proudly as a mother hen.
"You mean, a student?" exclaimed Fred or George. "You're a bit old!"
"George!" scolded Mrs. Weasley. So that one was George.
"I'm not that old!" retorted Roxanne.
"Yes, but you're not eleven then, are you. You're certainly older than I am," George pointed out.
"Well that's fairly obvious," said Charlie. "No offense."
"None taken. I'm twenty-five," Roxanne explained. "My Hogwarts letter was late."
"Late! You call fourteen years late?" scoffed Fred.
"It's a long story."
"So tell it then," demanded Fred and George together.
Roxanne laughed, but all eyes in the room were upon her now, eager to hear. She explained about her freakish childhood-never seeming to fit in or find other children she could relate to-and her parents' deaths, and the will- reading, and the late night in the seedy motel room. Ginny giggled shyly at the thought of a filthy bed nearly smashing Roxanne. The boys, including Mr. Weasley and Hagrid laughed out loud.
"You just left it there?" gasped Ron, nearly in tears.
"My father neglected to tell me about the 'Reducio' charm in his letter," she chuckled comfortably. She was enjoying the Weasleys. They were friendly and open and held nothing against her for her stupidity, but laughed warmly with her. She liked the feeling of a family around her. Her memories of her own family being like this were dim, but pleasant.
Too soon, Mrs. Weasley shooed the children off to bed and the adults gathered round the fireplace talking well into the night. Now it was Roxanne's turn to ask questions-mostly about Hogwarts. The Weasleys and Hagrid answered them all. Just past midnight another red head strode through the door. "Hello! Hagrid, how are you!"
"Evenin' Bill," said Hagrid clapping him on the back.
"Bill," said Mrs. Weasley, bringing him a cup of tea, "this is Roxanne Stewart. She's just come from America to start at Hogwarts."
"Yes, mum. I know." Everyone looked at him surprised. "I've just come from the Leaky Cauldron. Tom's in a regular snit over your treatment of Lucius Malfoy," he said, reaching to shake Roxanne's hand. "I for one am honored to know anyone who could make Lucius Malfoy that angry and live to tell about it."
Everyone chuckled softly-except Roxanne who was feeling a bit unnerved by the increasing number of 'You're lucky to be alive,' comments.
"Yes, but she's certainly managed to make a dangerous enemy early on," said Mr. Weasley gravely. "I think it's best to tell Dumbledore."
"'S been done, Arthur," said Hagrid. "I spoke to 'im soon as I heard."
"Will he be angry?" Roxanne asked apprehensively. She wasn't keen on being expelled this soon, after coming so far.
"Angry?" said Mr. Weasley. "No, not angry. Not at you anyway."
"I expect he'll get a good laugh out of it as well," said Charlie. "Then he'll do what he can to help you protect yourself."
"This Malfoy character is really that bad?" she asked.
Arthur looked at Hagrid questioningly. Hagrid nodded.
"He's really that bad-a powerful dark wizard," said Mr. Weasley. "A Slytherin to the core-ambitious, manipulative, malicious, pretentious. Malfoy has a son at Hogwarts-you'll have to watch out for him. And it gets worse."
"Worse? Worse how?"
Arthur sighed. "I'm afraid you've come at a difficult time. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure at the wisdom of allowing you to come right now at all. We live in dangerous times. And Malfoy's right in the middle of it- I'll eat my broom if he's not."
"Ye'll be safe at Hogwarts, though, long as Dumbledore's around," assured Hagrid.
"True. The safest place to be right now."
"What exactly is a 'Slytherin?'" asked Roxanne.
"Your first day at Hogwarts, as thousands of witches and wizards before you, you will be sorted into one of four houses. Your house becomes your family of sorts. You dine, sleep, study, and play together. Members of each house share common character traits-Gryffindors-the lions-(we're all from Gryffindor house) are known for courage; Ravenclaw-the Ravens-for their sharp minds; Hufflepuffs-badgers -for loyalty and hard work; Slytherins-aptly symbolized by the snake-for ambition."
"I suppose I'll be in Hufflepuff-my father said he was a Hufflepuff in his letter."
"It's likely, but not certain," said Bill.
"He also said his parents were dark wizards-does that mean they were Slytherins?"
"Are you sure? He said they were dark wizards?" asked Mr. Weasley.
"Yes. And my chess box-it's covered with snakes."
Mr. Weasley sat back, thinking hard and staring into the fire. "Your grandfather-is his name Arriman Stewart?"
"I-I don't know. I've never met him. I don't even know if he's alive." Roxanne was unsettled by the expression on Mr. Weasley's face. "But my father's middle name was Arriman."
Mr. Weasley sat back, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Arriman Stewart was suspected of being a Death Eater, but no one could ever prove anything."
"A Death Eater?" asked Roxanne, saying the words as if they tasted sour.
"A follower of You-know-who."
"No. I don't know who."
The room fell into grim silence.
Finally, Hagrid spoke. "It's best that she know-b'fore she goes any further."
Roxanne sat in stunned silence as the story of Voldemort unfolded. His swift rise to power, his loyal followers and the path of terror they slashed through the muggle and wizard worlds, the murder and torture. Then the happy day when, it seemed, he had been defeated by the innocence of a child. Nothing was said of the boy's identity, and Roxanne was too wrapped up in the story to think to ask. And now, after so many years, it seemed clear that Voldemort had risen again-more powerful than ever-with his fury bent on absolute power and control.
The story was not unfamiliar-she'd heard similar tales from her father. But the evil was always vanquished. Here, the story seemed to have no end. The evil, she learned, had risen from the ashes again-like a phoenix, she thought-a great black phoenix rising to destroy, rather than resurrect, hope.
"You'll need to decide," said Hagrid. "Tonight'll be yer last chance to walk away. I'll see to it that ye get safely back home-if that's what ye decide. But Dumbledore'd never have invited ye if he thought ye were coming fer nothin'."
Roxanne sat silent, blinking at the firelight. She nodded numbly at Hagrid's words. She could go back to the U.S.--wander off into the wilderness, get by waiting tables the rest of her life, always standing on the inside looking out at what she could have had. She'd rather be dead.
"I'm staying," she said determinedly. "So, someone give me odds on which house I'll be sorted into."
Charlie looked at her with a wry smile. "I figure your odds at 50-50- Slytherin or Hufflepuff."
"Although," said Arthur, "I've never known of a Slytherin who didn't want to be one."
********
After a restless night, disturbed by thoughts of Lucius Malfoy and the bangings of the Weasley's family ghoul, Roxanne and Hagrid headed back to Diagon Alley. Her second trip by floo powder was just as unpleasant as the first. She was glad she'd skipped the delicious breakfast Mrs. Weasley had been preparing when they left. She was sure it would have ended up on the sidewalk. Hagrid retrieved her money pouch from Tom as she made her way quickly to the street. She thought it best not to make things worse with Tom by vomiting on his floor.
Hagrid followed and pulled a long list of supplies she'd need from one of his huge pockets and began reading it aloud to her as Roxanne nibbled on the piece of dry toast Mrs. Weasley had wrapped and stuffed into her pocket. They walked through Diagon Alley, Roxanne following through the crowds in Hagrid's slipstream as he waded easily along. He stopped at a small café, set down her trunk next to a table and pulled a chair out for her.
"Order us up some brea'fast. I'll be back in a tick," said Hagrid, then walked off and disappeared around a corner.
When the waiter apparated at Roxanne's table she eagerly ordered nearly everything on the menu. Seeing the waiter's eyebrows rise higher and higher with each additional dish she quickly explained, "It's not all for me. I have a friend joining me in a minute."
"Just one?" he asked, looking at her oddly.
"Well, he's a big friend. Ah," she said, pointing down the street. "Here he is."
Hagrid was swimming toward her, his head rising high above the stream of morning shoppers, a tightly wrapped package tucked under one arm.
"What's that, Hagrid?" she asked pointing to the package.
"Just a little somethin' fer a lady I know," he answered cryptically.
**********
The shopping went smoothly. Hagrid had a detailed list from Professor Dumbledore. And after double-checking that they had everything and stowing it all in her trunk, which still fairly floated in her grip, they made their way out into the streets of London. Hagrid hailed a passing cab (whose driver had stopped despite having thought better of carrying such an enormous, frightening-looking passenger), and sped toward King's Cross Station.
"Ye'll be takin' the Hogwarts Express to the station at Hogsmeade," Hagrid explained. "The engineer's waitin' fer ye-just brought the students back to London for summer vacation."
Roxanne found the magical portal onto Platform 9 ¾ fascinating and stepped back and forth through it several times, careful to go unnoticed by the muggles milling about the station, while she waited for Hagrid to check with the engineer.
"Ye'll be off in a few minutes," he called. "We'd best get ye' on board."
"Aren't you coming, Hagrid?" she asked apprehensively.
"I'm afraid not. I've got an errand to attend to. I'll be seein' ye back at Hogwarts in the fall-perhaps sooner," he said placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. Seeing the slightly panicked look on her face, he explained, "Don't worry. There'll be someone ta meet ye at the Hogsmeade station." He stowed her trunk and settled her into a compartment, then gave her a large sack which turned out to be full of snacks, a couple of books for reading, and a large bottle of ale. "Don't ferget te put on yer robes before ye get there!" he called as the train pulled away.
**********
The trip northward was Roxanne's first opportunity to see the English countryside. Diagon Alley had consumed her time in London. She'd missed out on the Royal palaces and historic sights. But that sort of thing really held little fascination for her. She found the farther north the train sped, the more wild and beautiful the scenery became. 'A lot like home,' she thought, gazing at the mountains that seemed to crawl slowly higher out of the rolling landscape, like great razor-backed dragons bursting out of the earth. Home was so far away-a distance that seemed both comforting and lonely. But there was nothing there for her now.
This wasn't really so much like home, she decided. This was all new-a new day, a new life, a fresh start. But a stabbing jolt in her stomach reminded her that, through Lucius Malfoy, she may have already spoiled everything.
She reached into the sack and pulled out a book-"Dragons of the Northern Hemisphere"-and the bottle of ale. She found comfort in the bottle and distraction in the book as the Hogwarts Express sped on.
