Chapter 2
Harry's days at the Burrow had settled into a pattern- get up, eat breakfast, catch up with the wizarding world, closet himself with Ron and Hermione trying to figure out what the Order was up to, and then give up. ("You think we'd have learned by now," said Ron in Harry's second week at the Burrow, "That when the Order doesn't want us to find out something, we don't find out about it.")
After Harry had settled in a little bit, he remembered his mother's letter and thought he'd better try to get some answers. He found a quiet moment and approached Lupin, who was looking slightly less shabby than usual. "Er, Professor Lupin-"
"Remus, Harry, please."
"I was wondering if I could have a word. . ." Harry told Lupin about his mother's letter, and added, "She said to tell you that she was the one that told Andromeda, and to say that she was sorry."
Lupin stared at Harry. "She said what?"
"She said-"
"No, I heard perfectly well what you said, Harry, I just. . . My God. . ." Lupin ran a hand through his hair. "I don't believe it. . .I don't believe it. . ." and wandered away, leaving Harry very much in the dark.
On Harry's ninth day at the Burrow, Mrs Weasley arrived with all their new things for Hogwarts from Diagon Alley, including new sets of robes for Ron and Harry who had each grown quite a bit, although Ron was still taller that Harry. Hermione had done her shopping on an outing with Ginny earlier. ("What is it with girls and shopping?" asked Ron)
Harry finished the rest of his homework (with some help from Hermione) on his tenth day there and so he was able to spend the rest of his time making up impossible theories about the Chamber of Secrets, and playing quidditch out back behind the Burrow. Presumably now that Umbridge had left the school, he would rejoin the Gryffindor quidditch team, and he really needed to practice- as did Ron and Ginny. Ginny, who wanted to try out for Chaser this year, was practicing scoring on Ron, with a rather beaten up quaffle. Fred and George came, and they as well as Charlie (who had arrived out of nowhere a few hours earlier) decided they could do with a break, and they organized a small game of three on three.
Hermione sat in the sunny grass below them, trying to read. This was rather difficult as the noise emanating from the impromptu quidditch pitch was of such a volume you wouldn't have believed it was only coming from six people.
"Will you please keep it down?" she shouted finally.
"Ah, come on Hermione go inside if you want to read."
"I suppose none of you cares that I was here first?"
"I suppose you don't care if we're playing quidditch?"
"No, I don't as a matter of fact," snapped Hermione.
"That's because you don't care about anything having to do with quidditch at all," said Ron, waspishly.
"Oh, Ron-" began Hermione, in a very condescending sort of tone, but she was interrupted.
"No," said Ron, "No, don't 'Oh, Ron' me. Everyone knows that the only reason you don't like quidditch is-"
"Is what, Ron?"
Harry could have told Ron to stop there, but Ron went on, "Is because you can't stand to be bad at anything!"
There was silence among the quidditch players. Rons ears were extroardinarily red. Hermione's lips were very thin. "Oh really, Ron?" said Hermione softly.
Ron quickly backed down. He had landed, and dismounted, and was now shifting anxiously on his feet. "I didn't mean it exactly like that-"
"Give me your broom."
"What?"
"I said give me your broom."
Ginny was hovering next to Harry. He glanced at her. She was gazing down at Ron and Hermione looking rather amused. Harry didn't think that there was anything particularly funny about Ron and Hermione rowing again. Fred and George were muttering to Charlie who grinned, and Harry suddenly had the feeling that he had missed out on something important.
Appearing to be a bit apprehensive, Ron handed over his broom. Hermione took it, and mounted, somewhat inexpertly. She hovered a few feet in the air. "Hermione," said Ron slowly, "what-"
"Shut up," said Hermione, who looked to be concentrating very hard on staying on the broom. Slowly she maneuvered herself in front of their makeshift goal posts that Charlie had conjured for them. "Ginny," she called, "throw that thing at the goals."
Ginny started. "What, the quaffle?"
"Yes, the quaffle."
Ginny flew forward, and gave the quaffle a little toss at the goals. Hermione caught it easily and threw it back, hard. "No, really," she said.
"Alright," said Ginny, "But you asked for it." Swiftly she swerved, left then right and threw it as hard as she could at the middle goalpost, and Hermione-
"She blocked it!" said George disbelievingly to Harry. "I don't believe it."
"Ickle Ronnie is going to have to make sure his place isn't taken by-"
"Here!" said Ron, shouting at Hermione from below. "Give me my broom back."
"Do you know, I don't think I will just yet. After all, you know how much I care about quidditch," said Hermione.
The back of Ron's neck was growing slowly redder, and who knows what might have happened had Mrs. Weasley not called out at that very moment that it was time for dinner and would everyone please come inside.
Two hours later everyone retired to their rooms, stuffed with Mrs Weasley's excellent cooking, and some of Harry's birthday cake with icing that said "Congratulations Prefect" and with the strains of a (belated) "Happy Birthday" still ringing in their ears, all fights quite forgotten.
A little over a week later, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all rushing to stuff their things into Mr. Weasley's new car. He was going to drive them to King's Cross, but they were all rather worried as it was already almost ten o'clock. "I can't wait until we learn to Apparate," said Ron, when they were all packed into the small car.
"We'll be learning this year," said Hermione brightly, "It's a Saturday course, in Hogsmeade."
"And poor wittle Ginnykins will have to wait-"
"Shut up, Ron," said Ginny wearily, as the car pulled out of the driveway.
They did, in the end, make it to King's Cross on time, although the train was almost full by the time they got there. They passed through the train, looking for an empty compartment. There was one compartment which contained only Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, but Harry hurried Ron and Hermione past. Cho Chang and her friends happened to be sitting in the compartment directly across from Neville's. Hermione shook her head, but they continued down the corridor without either her or Ron saying anything, for which Harry was greatful.
The train had departed from Platform 9 and 3/4, and they were beginning to tire of dragging their trunks up and down corridors in fruitless attempts to find a compartment, and Ron, for one, was getting ready to tell Harry to stuff it, and they'd go sit with Neville and Luna, when they saw an empty compartment. Hedwig hooted loudly from her cage. "Yes!" said Harry, and threw open the door, Ron and Hermione following quickly. The trouble was, the compartment wasn't empty.
A girl was sitting in the far corner, with a basket on her lap, gazing out the window as they left London behind. She turned around as the compartment door banged loudly against the wall. "Oh," said Harry, rather stupidly, "er, sorry, I er, didn't notice. . ." Behind him, he heard Ron mutter, "Good, one, mate," which made him go even redder. The girl, who appeared to be about their age, looked up, which motion caused her hood to fall back, and her hair to tumble down in long caramel waves. She easily had the longest hair Harry had ever seen- down to her waist, at least.
"It's okay," she said. "You can come in, there's no one else sitting here." It was immediately apparent that she had an American accent.
"Er, thanks," said Harry, and Ron and Hermione followed him inside. After they stowed their trunks they sat down, and Harry found himself sitting on the same side as the unknown girl, opposite Ron and Hermione.
"Are you new at Hogwarts?" asked Ron, leaning forward curiously.
"Ron!" hissed Hermione.
"What?" Ron complained, "I just-"
The girl laughed, and at that precise moment a ray of sunlight penetrated the gray day, and lit up the girl's hair behind, and it shone an unexpectedly brilliant gold. "It's okay," she said. "Yes, I'm new. I just moved to England over the summer actually, but my father spoke to Mr. Dumbledore, and everything's arranged."
Ron had choked at the 'Mr.' but a dig in the ribs from Hermione silenced him. Hermione gave a warm smile. "I'm Hermione," she said.
"I'm Emma," the girl said.
"Ron Weasley."
"Harry Potter."
"Nice to meet you," said Emma, calmly.
Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. Ron said, a little louder, "He said he's Harry Potter."
Emma looked at Ron, and back to Harry. "I heard," she said puzzled, "Not to be rude, but should that mean something to me?"
Hermione giggled. Ron's mouth was hanging open. Harry felt. . .strange. He had sort of automatically assumed that anyone in the wizarding world would know who he was immediately. That was of course rather egotistical as he thought about it now, in the face of this American's calm puzzlement, but. . .All of a sudden a strange sense of release came over him, and he didn't know why.
"Oh wait," said Emma suddenly, gazing at Harry, "I'm sorry, that was really stupid of me, wasn't it? I do read the papers – you're the one who was involved with ah, whats-his-name, Voldemort, at the end of last year, and oh!" She was staring intently at all three of them now (apparently not noticing the fact that they were all now staring at her, dumbstruck).
"I wonder, did any of you, well of course if you were involved in. . .I mean, well," she lowered her voice slightly, "Did any of you know a man called Sirius Black?"
Hermione's eyebrows rose so high they were in danger of disappearing off of her forehead and Ron dropped Pigwidgeon's cage, causing Pigwidgeon to create a racket of incredible proportions. No one was able to say anything until Pigwidgeon was quieted with some owl treats, while Hedwig hooted in a dignified way. Ron apologized over and over, Hermione rolled her eyes, and Emma hastened to reassure him that honestly, she didn't mind in the least.
Harry, meanwhile, was reeling. Who was this person who couldn't remember Voldemort's name, and then said it casually, but knew who Sirius Black was? The best conclusion Harry could come to was that she was American. That must be the problem.
Hermione was talking. "I'm sorry," she was saying to Emma, "But did you tell me your last name? I've forgotten." Harry couldn't believe it. Here was a complete stranger who knew Sirius, and Hermione was asking for the girl's last name? Even more astonishing was the girl's reaction to this question.
She flushed, glanced quickly around at all three of them, and then, looking very determinedly at Hermione, with bright spots of color in her cheeks, said, "It's Astor. I'm Emma Astor."
Hermione sat back, satisfied. "I see," she said, somewhat distantly.
"But I'm not," began Emma, "I mean, you can't possibly think- I'm not like that. We're not. . ."
Harry exchanged glances with Ron, who was clearly as bewildered as he was. Before he could find out was was going on, however, the compartment door slid open, to reveal the plump witch that rolled the food trolley. "Anything, dears?" she asked. They all declined, and she rolled on, telling them that she'd be at the front if they got later. Hermione seized this moment of distraction to whisper to Harry and Ron, "The Astors are the American equivalent of the Malfoys. Or the Blacks, for that matter."
When they had all sat back down Emma was looking at them helplessly. "Look," she said, "I know what the reputation is, okay? But I don't have anything against Muggles, alright? I don't care about purebloods, or anything like that."
Ron said sympathetically, "It's alright. We've known very nice people who come from family's like yours. Like, well, take Sirius."
"So you did know him," said Emma eagerly.
"Wait," said Harry, "How did you know him?"
Emma looked at them and said simply, "I didn't. But he was my cousin."
