And I Bleed When I Dream

Disclaimer: Don't own HP, own only Alanna. I'm not making any money and no infringement was intended. Please don't sue.

kinki: will do.

kimeko: I don't remember if it's invisible so much as people just don't see it. I don't remember though exactly.

katie west: I know the feeling. I'd like to shop in Diagon Alley too.

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chibi-chan: I'll try to update sooner. I know I don't do it very often. Sorry. '^_^

naomi: Your questions won't be answered right away but don't worry, they'll get there eventually. And thanks for asking, I do need to be reminded which parts stiff need clarifying.

As always, thanks, and enjoy! Reviews, questions, and constructive criticism welcome. And don't forget if you want to be notified by e-mail when I update, include your address in your review.

Chapter Three: Enchantment

Alanna spent the remaining week and a half hanging around with Mo Ghra. The two made friends with common patrons of the pub, as well as extensively exploring Diagon Alley. Alanna occupied herself a lot of the time in reading books which she purchased from Flourish and Blotts in her room upstairs.

The last day before the Hogwarts Express left, Alanna was sitting at a table in the Leaky Cauldron with 100 Magical Muggles, a book about famous muggles who had secretly been wizards as well. Mo Ghra was asleep in the room upstairs.

The front door opened and someone (or several someones, she couldn't tell and wasn't really paying attention) walked in, but she ignored them, as it was a fairly common happening at a pub. She turned the page and took another swallow of her butterbeer.

It was only when the someone walked over to her table that she took notice. She closed her book on her bookmark, and turned to see who it was.

It turned out to be a teenage boy, maybe a year or two younger than she, with unruly black hair and glasses. His piercing green eyes darted back and forth as if not entirely sure of himself, but he cleared his throat and spoke anyway, stopping a few feet from the table.

"Alanna Stalmer?" he asked, one eyebrow lifting in question.

She nodded. "And you are?"

"Harry Potter." He stuck out his hand almost as an afterthought.

Alanna shook it. "Would you like to sit down?" There was an empty chair across from her—though she hadn't planned on anyone using it at all—and she gestured to it.

He seemed to consider it but then said, "Er, no. It's just…Professor Dumbledore sent me and owl, well, he sent Mr Weasley an owl and…" He paused, obviously struggling with what he had to say. "Didn't you get one?"

She thought for a moment, but the only owl she'd gotten while here at the Leaky Cauldron was a brief letter from Dumbledore telling her that he would be sending someone to take her to the Hogwarts Express.

"Oh." She blushed, realizing how obviously it must have hit her.

Harry looked at her expectantly.

"Dumbledore sent you? But you're early." She frowned.

A look of relief washed over Harry's features. "For a moment there I thought no one had told you. Are you ready then?"

"Um, no?" she said uncertainly. This ignoring of her second statement bothered her. "The train leaves tomorrow. I assumed you would be here tomorrow. I was planning on packing tomorrow morning."

"Oh. Well, Mr Weasley got an owl from Dumbledore asking if he'd pick you up, but he couldn't do it. Last minute Ministry business and all, you understand."

She didn't, but she didn't see the point in interrupting. She nodded for him to continue.

"So since Mr Weasley himself couldn't come he sent me and Ron to bring you back to the Burrow," he explained, confusing her just a little more.

"The Burrow?" she asked shaking her head.

"The Weasleys' house. From there Mrs Weasley is going to take us all to Kings Cross tomorrow morning."

"Well then I'd better go pack," she said, happy to have the plan laid out, though how they were supposed to get from place to place was anyone's guess. "Would you like to come up with me?"

"Er, no. I've got to wait here for Ron. He went to get a book he forgot at Flourish and Blotts." He sat down on the other side of the table as she stood.

"Okay, well, I shouldn't be long." She went up to her room and walked inside to find Mo Ghra asleep on the bed. However, her entry disturbed the kitten, who stood, stretched, yawned, and then jumped down to greet her mistress.

"Hi love," Alanna said, reaching down to briefly pet the cat on the head. "We're leaving, so you'd better help me pack up." The kitten mewed.

Alanna laughed. "You lazy bum."

She began to put her things in her trunk; clothes, books, and various magical items she'd picked up in the last couple days. The last thing she picked up in the room was her wand. Unlike the witches and wizards whose world she was now in, she did not carry her wand with her every waking moment. She simply didn't need it, and if she had, she wouldn't know how to use it anyway. As she picked it up, she frowned slightly.

Well, for what it's worth, at least I know it worked in the shop.

She tucked it into her sleeve and went back downstairs pulling her trunk along. Mo Ghra rode on her shoulder. Down in the pub, Harry was still sitting at the table, but a redheaded boy with lots of freckles had moved into her old seat. Two butterbeers sat on the tabletop, mostly gone.

Alanna walked up to the table cautiously, making sure she wasn't interrupting anything important.

It couldn't have been too terribly important, because Harry did the interrupting for her. "Oh, Alanna. Alanna, this is Ron."

The two shook hands and exchanged greetings.

"Shall we get going?" Harry asked, standing.

"Sure," Ron agreed, standing as well. He looked at Alanna and paused. "Er, could I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure," she said shrugging.

"Did you do that to your hair yourself or is it natural?" he asked, blushing at asking such a question when he'd grown up in the wizarding world.

It was actually the first comment she'd received about it since leaving her home. In the wizarding world it was more than common, it was the norm, for people to look out of the ordinary.

Then again, sometimes curiosity wins out over normality.

Alanna blushed too. "My hair turned white when I got my powers from my mom, when she…after she…when she died." As the last words came from her mouth all three gazes fell to the floor.

"Sorry about your mum," Harry said sympathetically. "My mum died when I was little, before I knew her."

"I'm sorry," Ron said to Alanna. "I didn't mean to…" He trailed off, biting his lip.

"No, it's okay," she said shaking her head. "I didn't know her. My dad said her hair looked like mine."

There was an uncomfortable silence which none of them felt much like breaking. They stood for a moment without talking or meeting anyone else's eyes. Finally Harry braved the quiet.

"We really ought to get going now," Harry said, a bit hesitantly. "Mrs Weasley is probably wondering where we are by now."

The silence broken, Ron and Alanna followed Harry's lead to the fireplace set in the opposite wall. The flames were burning healthily and Alanna eyes them suspiciously. She grasped at reasons not to find out their plans for her.

"Wait, shouldn't I tell Andelore that I'm leaving now?" She stopped walking, eyes darting between the boys and the fire.

Harry shook his head. "We took care of that. I told him while you were packing your things."

"Oh. All right."

"Have you got the floo powder, Harry?" Ron asked, stepping a bit closer to the grate. Alanna watched, alarmed, thinking he was going to catch his robes on fire any minute now.

Harry produced a small, gray pouch from somewhere in his robes.

Ron turned back to face Alanna. "This is floo powder. You throw a pinch into the fire, step in, and state clearly where you want to go. Make sure you hold your elbows in so you don't hit them on the bricks." He eyed Mo Ghra. "Hold her close too."

"We'll send the luggage first," Harry said, motioning for her to shove her trunk up close. She did, still not entirely sure this was safe.

Harry threw a pinch of powder into the fire which instantly roared green. He pushed in the trunk and set Ron's book on top. Amazingly enough to Alanna, nothing caught fire.

Ron looked at the fireplace and said loudly and clearly, "The Burrow."

The flames roared louder and higher and when they subsided, the trunk-book combo was gone.

"A-are you sure this is safe?" she stammered.

"Perfectly," Ron replied. "Just make sure you enunciate." He stepped up and threw in his powder. He stepped into the flames, said, "The Burrow," and disappeared.

"You next," Harry said.

"Hold on, I've got to tell Mo Ghra what's happening. Like me, she doesn't take well to walking into fire."

"Make it quick," he replied, looking at her askew. "Ron'll get worried." He glanced worriedly at the fireplace.

But he only glanced once.

Alanna began to sing, calling up the magic within her where it slept. She wove into the sound the roar of flames and the feeling of benevolence. She also included 'trust me' and 'it will all be okay.' She stroked Mo Ghra softly as she sang, making sure the kitten knew that she really did know what she was talking—or singing, as the case may be—about.

Harry was mesmerized. He stood almost slack-jawed, staring at the white-haired girl. It was not a song directed at him, and had over him no hold, he simply could not tear his ears off her. It was the most beautiful form of magic he'd ever encountered before, and, he suspected, the most beautiful form he ever would encounter.

Indeed it was no spell for as the song ended and Harry's senses came back to his, he realized that the other patrons of the pub were taking hardly any notice of a girl singing to her cat. He quickly regained his composure, before she could turn around and see the look on his face.

When she did turn around, she smiled happily and said, "We're ready."

Harry could only nod and offer her the pouch.

* * *

They both made it through to the Burrow without incident, though Alanna catalogued it in her mind as one of the weirdest things he'd ever experienced, next to riding a thunderbird. As Ron's mother showed Alanna around her home, Harry pulled Ron aside to tell him of her magic.

"I tell you," Harry whispered urgently, taking his freckled friend by the arm. "It was amazing. It was like nothing I've ever heard before. It was beautiful."

Ron took this quite seriously, as his friend Harry Potter wasn't normally the type to describe things as 'beautiful.' "She's a veela," Ron said matter-of-factly, nodding, as he himself had had dealings in that area. "Definitely a veela."

Harry just stared at him for a moment and blinked. After a few moments of this he managed a skeptical, "A veela?"

Ron seemed taken aback that his suggestion was not immediately accepted as fact. "Of course. You saw her hair and from what you just told me of her singing, that's exactly what it sounds like to me."

Harry snorted. "Don't be absurd. I mean, she's pretty enough—" he glanced in her direction, "—but not exactly veela material. And plus, it's different. I've seen veela before. It wasn't the same."

Ron shrugged. "Whatever you say."

"Okay then."

* * *

Incongruously, every single member of the household was out on errands or some personal business, minus Mrs Weasley, Ron and Harry. This included Hermione, who was to travel to King's Cross with the Weasleys, Bill and Charlie, who were home from Egypt and Romania, respectively, and the twins who were usually to be found around the house laying traps for family members and concocting new practical jokes.

Mrs Weasley apologized, but she really had to get back to her cooking and Alanna's tour would have to wait until someone else could conduct it. While Harry and Ron went outside to do something called Quidditch—Alanna assured them she was fine on her own—Alanna herself took Mo Ghra outside to get some exercise.

She was sitting on the grass under a large, lonely maple tree, watching the kitten chase its own tail out in the sunshine. She gasped as something made a popping noise next to her, and a person appeared. The person, a girl who appeared around Harry and Ron's age, or so it seemed judging from her back, was facing the other way and as such didn't see Alanna. She hung what looked like a clothes hanger on a low branch and smoothed out her shirt.

Alanna didn't want to startle the girl, so she decided to wait until she'd moved away a bit before she said anything. This, however, was spoiled when the girl took a small step back., a step that landed directly on Alanna's hand.

They both jumped back from the other, in the other girl's case, also turning around to see who she'd just planted her foot on. Alanna was shaking her hand, and other girl had her mouth covered in surprise and embarrassment. Both began talking at once.

"I'm so terribly sorry. I didn't see you there at all—"

"I would have said something but I didn't—"

"or I certainly wouldn't have stepped on you. Are you—"

"want to scare you and I was shocked to see you—"

"okay?"

"appear."

They both stopped talking and looked at each other.

"You go first," Alanna said at last.

"Oh, no, you," the other girl insisted.

"All right. I was really surprised when you just popped up out of nowhere. I didn't want to startle you, but then you stepped back and I couldn't help screaming a little."

"I really am sorry about your hand," she said. As if triggered by the word 'hand,' she stuck out her own. "Hermione Granger, by the way."

"Alanna Stalmer," she said, shaking with her uninjured right hand.

"Oh, Alanna, yes. Nice to meet you. I guess no one told you. Though it makes a wonderful shade tree we don't usually use this maple as it's where this portkey is connected to."

At Alanna's questioning look she motioned towards the hanger. "Portkey."

"Let me guess," Alanna said. "Transportation."

Hermione nodded. "Right. Is anyone around? It seems so quiet for the Burrow."

"Harry and Ron are playing, um…quidditch…?" She said the word carefully, but when she was not corrected, moved on. "Mrs Weasley is cooking dinner. Mo Ghra, my kitten, and I are out here, and I was told everyone else was out on business.

She nodded again. "Yes, well, I suppose they are. Last day of freedom and all, at least for half of us."

Half? Alanna thought, for she hadn't been informed exactly how many people were staying at the precariously balanced building.

"Have you had a tour?" Hermione asked.

"No. Mrs Weasley tried, but had to go back to cooking."

"Well then I'd be happy to show you around."

"Great."

Alanna called Mo Ghra, and they went back inside the mismatched house, following Hermione.

She showed her quickly around the first floor, as Mrs Weasley had already shown her most of it. When they went upstairs, the first place they went was to the room of someone named Ginny.

"This is Ginny's room," Hermione said, pushing open the door. "There will be three of us in here, you, Ginny and me, but with twelve people in the house it's not that bad."

It was the first Alanna had heard the number. "There's twelve people here?" she couldn't help saying.

"Of course. Well, I'm fairly certain." She frowned and stuck out her hands, counting on her fingers. "Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry, you, me. Twelve."

"Wow."

"Definitely. Shall we continue?"

They toured the rest of the house and when they came back downstairs, a red-haired befreckled girl was sitting in the living room. She looked up as they entered the room."

"Hullo. I'm Ginny, the youngest of the Weasleys and the only girl." She thought about that. "Well, except my mum of course," she amended.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Alanna, but you probably already know that."

She nodded. "Yup. Father's terribly excited to hear about your American muggles. He has this hobby. He really likes muggles and their stuff."

Alanna nodded.

Within the hour, the rest of the family arrived and were introduced to Alanna, thought Fred and George never did decide which of them they wanted to be. Once everyone was there, they had a big, family dinner at a long table outside.

It was later that evening when everyone was inside doing something in the living room or their own room, before Harry got a chance to talk to Hermione privately about Alanna's magic.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what to think when Harry told her about the afternoon. Naturally she'd formed some guesses of her own, and naturally she kept them to herself. She had to look into them before she went around throwing out accusations and wild hypotheses.

As for Ron's idea about her being a veela, "A veela, honestly." She laughed. "Don't you think Dumbledore would've told us? And anyway, you said she didn't have the same effect on everyone there."

Harry nodded. "Good. I agree. But it still is strange."

"I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation."

"Perfectly good explanation," Harry echoed, but there was a trace of doubt in his green eyes.

The End