Chapter 2: A Twist of Fate

Janieve's eyes snapped open and she saw ten eager faces peering down at her. She let out a soft yelp and all ten faces sprang back in surprise.

"How are you feeling?" asked a man with red hair.

"Who are you people?" Janieve asked jerkily, ignoring the man's question.

"I am Arthur Weasley," he replied politely, and motioned at a plump woman with the same red hair, "this is my wife Molly. And here, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. The red heads are my children, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny… And this is Harry and Hermione."

Janieve sat up and immediately regretted it as a wave of giddiness overwhelmed her. She shut her eyes for a moment to regain her sanity. And then she remembered. Her boyfriend, hit by the jet of red light.

"Will!" she snapped her eyes opened. "Is he – is he…dead?" she asked fearfully. The pale man named Lupin nodded his head solemnly.

Janieve felt her body went numb as if all her feelings had been sucked out from her in one instant. She felt the plump woman pressed a cup of tea into her palms and she took a sip gratefully. But worse thoughts came to her mind.

"I – My parents!" she shrieked hysterically. "They… Did they get them too? The hooded figures… Who were they?"

"Miss Walker, I think what you need now is some sleep," said Lupin soothingly, "and when you awake, Professor Dumbledore should be here to answer all your questions."

Janieve did not want to sleep. She wanted to know what happened. NOW! How did they know her name? Who in the world is this Professor Dumbledore? Where was she? Who are these people and what do they want with her? All these questions buzzed noisily in her head but she did not argue as she felt her eyelids fluttered close. Everything, every sense within her felt peaceful once again as she slipped back into a deep merciful slumber.

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When Janieve awoke, she found herself in the company of an old man with white hair and white goatee that reached his chest. He was gazing intently at her through his half-moon spectacles.

"Good afternoon, Janieve," said the old man, "I see the tea had served you well."

"Who are you?" Janieve asked bluntly.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, School of Wizardry and Witchcraft."

Had she heard him correctly? What the fuck is this nutter raving on about? Wizard and witches, was that what he said?

"Ah… Indeed it is hard for you to understand something like this, when you had been leading your life as a nonmagic person for sixteen years of your life," he went on sympathetically. Janieve just looked at him blankly.

"Haven't you ever experience anything remotely unnatural in the sixteen years of your existence?" he asked knowingly.

And she remembered. She remembered she had nearly drowned five years ago and when she thought she had drank enough seawater, she was suddenly propelled upwards with an unseen force, and the current had miraculously carried her to the safety of the shore. However, they could very have been her hallucination during that near-death encounter.

Strange things had happened too, in the following five years. Sometimes when she was taking a shower, she could see odd shapes forming from the puddles of water on the bathroom floor. But that too, had been cast aside as unfounded imagination due to her phobia of water.

She did not know why all of a sudden, these foolish illusions did not seem so foolish anymore. She looked up at Professor Dumbledore, thunderstruck.

"Yes, you are a witch, and that is a knowledge that your parents knew not of. And that was what had cost them their life." There was a sharp intake of breath by Janieve, then Dumbledore went on, "The rise of a dark wizard, a very evil man, I shall add, hated all muggles, which are non-wizard people like your parents. And he especially hated those who had suppressed the magical powers of a witch like you, whether intentionally or not. That I guessed, had led him to the murders of your parents."

At first Janieve merely stared stonily at the wall ahead of her. Her head leaded with questions and thoughts but none of which made sense or stood out.

"I don't believe you," she said finally.

"All I have to do is to flick my wand, and you'll believe me immediately," Dumbledore replied with an air of surreal calm, "but that is not necessary. What you need, is time. And you have one week of that. After which, I may have to throw you into a magic school, regretfully."

Janieve looked away defiantly as Dumbledore swept out of the room. After he had closed the door behind him, she curled up on her bed as a single tear fell silently onto the soft cotton pillow.

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The Order of the Phoenix refused to divulge anything more than the fact that Janieve Walker, whose family had been attacked by Death Eaters, was going to be joining Hogwarts in sixth year with Ron, Harry and Hermione.

However, Harry had been able to piece together the puzzles from bits of conversation and Harry's own speculation from what he had seen last night. Apparently, Janieve was one of the witches of muggle parentage who had stood in the way of Voldermort's cleansing activities.

The girl had not come down ever since she woke up. She had blatantly refused Mrs. Weasley's offer of food even when the food had been sent right under her nose. Harry understood the grief she must feel over her losses but by going on a hunger strike was not going to bring her parents back and Harry understood that more than anyone else. She was going to push herself into health problems at this rate.

Hence, Harry had made up his mind to talk some sense into this girl. He excused himself early during dinner and with a big plate of turkey sandwiches and chicken pies held in front of him, he crept upstairs quietly, afraid to wake up the portrait of Mrs. Black.

"Hi," said Harry when he was in the semi-dark room, "want some sandwiches?"

Silence.

"Pies?" Harry prompted.

Silence.

Harry sat down on the big arm chair next to her bed. "You can't do without eating anything."

There was another long pause of silence before she finally spoke. "Why do you care?" she said bitterly.

"Look, I know how you feel. Withdrawing yourself from the rest of the world isn't going to make them go away," Harry said.

"Like you would know," came her reply.

Harry scratched at the back of his head irately. He knew that she had probably sounded like a prat because she was hurting. But her cold cynical reply was not making his job any easier.

"You know, you are not the only one with a fucked up life," Harry said angrily.

She snorted derisively. "Oh yeah? Do you know how it feels? To have your parents killed, to see your boyfriend drop dead right before your very eyes, to be kidnapped to an unfamiliar place and then be told that you're actually a witch, with a Dark Wizard after your life? The fact that your parents probably died because of you? Do you even remotely know that feeling?"

Harry was quiet for a very long time. It was almost like she had just thrown his life story back at him. Then, he spoke in a surprisingly calm manner, "as a matter of fact, I do."

Silence.

"You know what?" Harry said finally, "forget it. I don't even know why I bothered." With that he stood up abruptly and stalked out of the room.

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Janieve Walker woke up the following morning feeling utterly refreshed. The little talk she had with the boy had surprisingly calmed her down. There was no crying over spilt milk now and the best way to repay her parents was to live her life to the fullest. Even though, she had no idea what that would mean to her in the foreign world that she had been thrown so cruelly into.

She felt her appetite came back as she sat across the vanity desk, brushing her long silky hair. Her usually bright eyes looked dull from all the crying but Janieve felt so much better than she looked. With a newfound purpose, she braced herself as she stepped out of the room she had inhabited for the first time in the past three days.

She was weaker than she thought as she leaned heavily on the wooden banister that will lead her downstairs. When she reached the top of the stairs, she lost a footing and slipped about twenty steps down with a loud crash. A searing pain shot up from the tail of her spine. Ouch.

"Filthy rascals! Mudblood! Traitors! Don't know what's good for you! Ugly half-breeds! Mutants! By-product of vile-"

Janieve turned her head to locate the source of the screeching and nearly jumped out of her skin when she did. A vicious-looking woman sitting in the portrait to her left was yelling dirty language at Janieve. Janieve thought she had lost her mind right there when she suddenly recalled, unpleasantly, that everything in her life now had been everything but normal.

"Hey!" a voice called tentatively. Janieve saw a boy around her age with red hair tugged the curtain close over the portrait and the woman immediately went quiet.

"Hey," Janieve called back weakly.

The boy came over and hoisted her up. "You alright?" he asked, his slightly freckled face lined with panicky concern.

Janieve nodded.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he said, thrusting out his long arms to shake her hands.

"Janieve Walker," Janieve supplied.

"You looked really pale. Do you want something to eat?" Ron asked.

"Maybe she was just frightened by the way you look!" An older boy with the same red hair yelled and grinned at her from behind Ron. There was another red head standing beside him with an identical grin and Janieve presumed, without a doubt that they are twins.

"Fred Weasley," offered the first twin.

"George Weasley," said the second, "though we would rather you ignored the fact that we shared the same last name." He was gesturing at Ron as he said that. "We would prefer to deny the fact that we're actually related, right Fred?"

Fred nodded furiously and added, "Not exactly a wise thing to acknowledge."

Janieve stifled a laugh, which was the wrong thing to do because it only aggravated her already weak physique and caused a series of dry cough to rack her being.

"Hey!" another surprised voice.

Janieve turned and saw the boy that had talked to her last night. In the daylight, she could see his chiselled face more clearly. His startling emerald eyes met her black ones and she nearly shuddered at the greenness. There was a hint of surprise in his eyes no doubt but he was smiling nonetheless.

"Harry Potter," he said.

Janieve reached out her hand to shake his outstretched one as a wave of darkness engulfed her and she felt herself slipping… slipping… and all she managed to grasp was thin air.