A/N Anything you do not recognize from HP is mine, the rest is JK's . I own, Petra and her friends and the plot. That's about it.. At least for now. If you'd like to give me credit for my work, please e-mail me at adri_from_friesland@hotmail.com heh. Just kidding. I'm very sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up, but school's been keeping me very, very busy. I have rowing every day until six, and then I have homework, so I don't get in much time for my writing, which really sucks. I promise that this will have been the longest wait, you can expect a new chapter at the end of September.

~*~

Throughout her life, Petra would always remember that rainy afternoon in late August when Anne-Marie and Andrew were over very clearly. It had been the afternoon where she had almost given up hope, but hadn't. It had been a week since the last meeting, and a busy but boring one indeed. Anne-Marie and Petra figured that between them they'd made and delivered eight new identities, and three cases of wands. Andrew said that he'd been busy as well, but had been forbidden to tell with what. In fact, he mused, if he did, Remus had said he'd turn him into a hippopotamus, and Andrew then added that he didn't really care for being fat, so he wouldn't tell him.

There had always been an unofficial rule with them that when someone was being secretive about work for the DA, they stopped talking about it, no questions asked. However, when someone was being secretive about schools.

Anne-Marie still hadn't said anything about the school, and Petra had been trying very, very hard not to pester her about it, but Merlin knew she wasn't perfect. Sometime, okay, she already had, she was going to ask.

Andrew, who was lying on the floor looking at an old Quidditch magazine, looked up at the other two, who were concentrating on playing chess.

" It's a little depressing, isn't it? Last year we would have been getting ready for Hogwarts, excited about Quidditch and yet dreading exams. This year, we're only looking forward to the end, and that's not even in sight. If we don't have NEWT's, how are we going to get a job we want?" Andrew said.

" You two will do exactly what you were planning to do before. They're sure to bring back Quidditch at some point, so you can be a Quidditch player. Anne-Marie's a Pureblood and has high status, so she'll be able to do whatever she wants," Petra declared, watching her knight smash the white bishop's head.

" You can't play Quidditch your whole life. And you're a Pureblood as well," Andrew pointed out.

" Yes, but they didn't like my mum very much, did they?"

" It's funny isn't it, how we always-"

"Screech!"

Anne-Marie looked up, rudely interrupted by. an owl? Indeed, outside was two glossy black owls, pecking at the window to get in. They all stared for a moment until Anne-Marie stood up and opened the window and letting the owls fly in. They dropped the letters in front of Petra, knocking the pieces over. One of them gave a small, snobby hoot, then they flew out and left a different atmosphere in the room then the one they had arrived in. All three of them stared at the letters. Who would send them something by owl today?

" I know what that is," Anne-Marie said quietly. Well, at least one of them understood the situation. She'd sat back down and had curled up, staring at the two letters.

" One's for you," Petra said faintly, passing one two her. On it was written in black ink:

Anne-Marie MacNair The Bed Gairloch Norwich, England

The silence seemed deafening. It seemed as if the whole world were under a spell, because even the normally busy street was quiet. She couldn't stand it anymore and so she opened the envelope.

Dear Miss Fairweather, it read. Petra and Anne-Marie exchanged glances. Anne-Marie slowly opened hers.

Dear Miss Fairweather,

We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted into Serpensortia Academy, the newest wizarding school in Europe. We have been planning this for quite some time and have taken certain steps to ensure that we exceed Hogwarts in every fashion. Enclosed is a list of school supplies you shall need. Term begins on September 3rd, please arrive at Malfoy Manor at 8:00 am.

Sincerely,
Lucius Malfoy, Headmaster

Petra dropped the letter as if it burned. And, in a sense, it did. She stared at it, angry, and lost, and scared. What did this mean? She looked at Anne-Marie, and if she was looking for comfort she did not find it there. Anne-Marie was still curled up, and looked very sad. Instead of looking almost sixteen she looked. six. She appeared to not have even read the letter.

" What does it say?" Andrew asked, pushing the magazine aside. The two ignored him.

" So this is what you meant, when you let it slip, isn't it?" Petra asked quietly. Anne-Marie nodded and closed her eyes. She, if possible, felt worse at the sight of her best friend.

" I should have told you, but I-''

" What exactly is happening? Won't you two tell me anything?" Andrew said, standing up and taking the letter from Petra's hand. He read it over twice, and became twice as pale.

" So this- this Serpensortia stuff is-''

" For Purebloods only," said Anne-Marie, blushing.

" And that's why-''

" You didn't get a letter, yes. Now please, don't ask any more questions.," Anne-Marie said faintly.

" Well! Isn't this just wonderful!" Petra cried. Why did everything have to be so wrong? It wasn't fair. " First, they destroy my school and killed my mum! Then they kill my neighbors. But before that, they take away Quidditch, and our wands, and generally make our lives suck! Now they want me to go to their school so they can make sure I go to their side, and so they can probably watch us every second of the day! No! Oh, no! I'm not going!" she said, hitting the bed.

" Petra, do you really think you have a choice?" Anne-Marie said.

" I don't CARE! IF YOU THINK I'M GOING TO GO AND BE TAUGHT BY MURDERERS YOU WERE WRONG! THEY WERE WRONG! I'M NOT GOING TO GO! THEY KILLED- they killed my mum," she finished, her voice breaking.

Andrew came over and sat between them. They all sat there in silence, occasionally reading through the letter again.

" Maybe0maybe we should go tell somebody," Anne-Marie suggested finally.

" My dad's not here, and your parents already know, I'm sure, Andrew's parents' well, they're not really involved really. Who else can we really talk to?" Petra said, still wanting to think about her mum. Anne-Marie stood up and looked at them intently.

" I-I think we should go tell Mrs. Weasley."

~*~

This house collects dust like Arthur collects plugs, Molly Weasley thought, wiping her dustcloth across the mantelpiece. She had had a long day, she'd been organizing all the children who would be undergoing Fidelius, and now she was catching up on the housework. The old house, although very grand and large indeed, had a very imminent coldness to it. She missed the Burrow; missed the homeyness of all the rooms, missed the brightness of the kitchen, missed the childrens' rooms. She missed being able to simply open the door of her child's room, which gave off strong impacts of their personality, and remember a million different memories about them. Molly Weasley missed her children, through and through, and couldn't help but hope that she would soon have two other girls here in the house.

They had only been planning on four kids. But then the twins were born, and that brought them up to five, all boys. By then, Molly wanted a girl. So they'd had Ron. Another boy. By this time, she thought she would never have anything but boys, and she loved them all dearly. Her boys, they were. She had also figured that six was a good number. A nice even one, that she could easily boast about. I have six children, she used to say. Six rolled so easily off her tongue, it sounded so nice, so she didn't even think about the times when she'd so badly wanted a girl. That is, until one month after her and Arthur had a holiday in the south of France. Until she got her girl.

Until she got her Ginny.

~*~

Her name was Heather. Of course, that probably wasn't her real name Ro immediately thought after reading the information.

Go to 14 Rose Court. Ask for Heather. She'll take you and the parcels to the place. Cast the spell and then walk away, don't turn back. You can take a Muggle train home. Hopefully I'll see you sometime soon, Ron. I think it's going to be safe enough for us to come visit you. Visit you. Ron, don't come here. No matter when, don't come here. Your mother says hello.

Best, Muggle

So he was to do Fidelius. He'd done it before on Harry, but only that once. Ron wasn't really sure about this plan. After all, hiding them once had been hard enough. but again? His brain was telling him that it was too dangerous, that too many things could go wrong. After all, the two main creators in this idea had been Tonks and the youngest member, a girl named Petra. Merlin help us, he thought.

The girl reminded him of Sirius, without the sense of humour. In looks and in personality, she reminded him of the man who'd done reckless things. As much as Ron had liked Sirius, he couldn't help but remember that Sirius had said it was the danger in things that made them fun.

And what happens when it's not fun anymore? He asked himself. What happens when there is no more thrill in the chase? When I was 15 I felt it; I don't anymore. It's an awful felling now. It always seems as if they went about their day, planning or worrying about something. It seemed as if everything had a purpose, that everything counted. Nothing could be, nothing was. It wasn't fun anymore.

Ron had reached Rose Court. It was dark out. And the windows glowed with a happy, yellow light. And here I am, saving the Muggles' butts and they don't even know it. He caught sight of a little boy in a window, playing with a model airplane, already in his pajamas.

" I want to play too," he whined, then laughed at the sound of his voice. Over the months, Ron had gotten comfort pretending that his friends were here with him. He would have conversations with them, planning out carefully their reactions. He pretended his friends were here now.

" Yeah, mummy, we want to plaaaaay," Harry would say, and maybe pull on Hermione's sleeve. Hermione would roll her eyes and say something along the lines of " Honestly" or " Boys"

" Men," Ron corrected, the dream ending. Number 14 blended in perfectly. Light was coming from its windows, a porch in front of the house had two chairs and a table looking out into the garden. He reached up and rang the doorbell. You would have thought a herd of elephants lived there instead of humans, by the noise he heard.

The door opened a crack and Ron saw two sets of big blue eyes peering out. The shortest gasped and slammed the door. Although muffled, her heard their voices.

" It's him!" a girl said.

" So what? Open the door, he's here to help me!" a boy answered.

" And me!"

"No, not you. They don't know you're magical yet. You're sort of safe."

" No, mummy and daddy said I was like you!"

" Children, what is it?" A woman's voice was added. That must have been Heather.

" He's here," the little girl said.

" And Chloe slammed the door in his face!" The sounds of people whispering followed and then the door opened. A woman in her mid-twenties stood in the doorway, dishcloth in hand. Ron smiled in an embarrassed sort of way.

" You're early," the lady stated. Ron looked at his watch.

" I wasn't told a time," he explained.

" Oh well, come in," she told him, stepping aside to make room. Ron entered the house and looked at the two children. The oldest, a boy, was standing next to his sister. He had curly brown hair and blue eyes, with a light sprinkle of freckles across his nose. The little girl at his side was holding a stuffed dragon in her arms. Her long brown hair was tied in two plaits, and she looked about six.

" I'm Heather," the lady said. " And this is Chloe and Michael," she added.

" Hello," Ron said. The girl was looking at him with curiosity all over her face.

" You're young," she said simply. Ron laughed. She was cute, even if she had slammed the door in his face.

" How old did you expect me to be?" he asked. The girl considered for a moment.

" Old," she decided. Ron looked at Heather and smiled. He got his first good look at her and almost dropped his bag. She looked like Hermione.

His heart lurched suddenly. It was painful to see someone that looked so like her, almost as if she was here herself. It was as if someone was teasing him with her, as if to say, I know you want her, but guess what mate? You can't have her!

" I'm sorry, but I wasn't told your name." Heather spoke to him. Ron shook his head and closed his gaping mouth.

" Uh." he cleared his throat, " You can call me -Viktor?"

Viktor? Wait, Ron my friend where did that come from? Your code name isn't Viktor, its Leopard! That bloody git. he's closer to Hermione than I am right now!

" All-right," the lady agreed, looking at him strangely. Ron found himself thinking alternate universe thoughts. If you were Hermione, he felt like asking, and I was Viktor, would you be glad to see me? Or would you rather see Ron? This is ridiculous, he decided. Jealous over a boyfriend she had back in fourth year. And it's ridiculous that I'm having the kind of thoughts in my head. It's time to get down to business.

" Do the children have their stuff packed? We should be leaving soon," Ron said. As the children gathered their things, and Heather turned off the lights, a strong feeling came over the group. Ron couldn't really tell what it was, but everyone else looked serious and was quiet. They must be feeling the same type of feeling that I am.

So, with knots in their stomachs, and hope in their hearts, the group set out to a farm just outside the city.

~*~