Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter so don't sue. The only character I own is Ethwyn Willows.
Chapter 2
"Ethwyn Willows," Harry repeated softly to himself while everyone else introduced themselves. He then grabbed her outstretched hand and shook it firmly. "I'm Harry Potter."
"I could have sworn I recognized you from somewhere." With a twinkle in her eye, she reached inside a bag no one had realized was there and pulled out what appeared to be a very small picture frame.
Upon closer inspection, the boy knew it instantly to be the same picture Sirius had in his home, of the original Order of the Phoenix. His parents were standing in dead center, waving and smiling up at him, with Sirius beside Lupin a little too the right. Everyone looked so much younger and so alive it almost pained him to have to lay eyes on it again.
"My mother told me you looked just like James."
He looked back at her to find her watching him with a sympathetic expression. Half expecting her to say something more, he stood in anticipation and was met with more muscle-clenching, uncomfortable silence.
The girl – who was surprisingly average height – simply smiled again before replacing the photograph back into her bag, ending the moment.
The back door flung open and in popped Lupin and Tonks, both a little winded from the climb up to the house.
"Hi, Molly, got some good–" He stopped speaking so suddenly he nearly bit his own tong off. Looking in shock at the amber haired girl, a small smile began to form across his face. "Ethwyn?"
Smiling brilliantly, she bowed her head slowly in front of him. "Yes, Remus."
"Ethwyn Willows, my God!" He rushed forward and picked the girl up in a tight, loving embrace.
"I never thought I'd see you again," she stated, a definite amount of relief in her tone.
He placed her back on the ground and suddenly looked at her with concern and sadness. "I heard about your mother."
Her happy expression changed dramatically to one of indifference and she nodded her head nonchalantly. Something seemed to pass between the two and he looked over at Mrs. Weasley, who was shaking her head ever so slightly.
"Ginny, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley began, ushering the two girls forward, "why don't you two show Ethwyn up to your room. I've rearranged everything to fit the three of you."
They agreed and hastened up the narrow stairwell, Ethwyn turning before disappearing behind the corner, flashing Remus another brilliant smile.
"It really is wonderful to see you again, Remus."
And with that, she was gone, the voice of the Weasley daughter ranting over how Fred and George's room – which was far superior in size to hers – should be considered the "girl's room" as there were now three of them compared to the two twins.
The redhead leading the way and a few paces in front of them, Hermione turned to look at the other girl with curious eyes.
"So, where was your mother in the picture?"
"My mother actually wasn't in the picture. She was away on assignment."
"Oh."
"Yeah, not many people in the Order actually knew her."
"Really?" Hermione – the shorter girl – looked a little stunned.
"Dumbledore chose to keep my mother's position a secret from everyone, actually."
The blood rushed out of Hermione's cheeks at the mention of the fallen Headmaster and she suddenly looked very sad.
She didn't want to continue prying, but Ethwyn continued slowly nonetheless. "Were you there when he died?"
Ginny opened the bedroom door and entered, flopping onto one of the cots. Hermione and Ethwyn continued to stand in the doorway, both unconsciously leaning against the wall. The redhead stayed quiet while the two older girls continued their discussion.
"I was around. I didn't see it happen if that's what you mean. Harry was the only one who saw it exactly."
"Do you know who did it?"
"Severus Snape." Her tone was harsh and cold as if the mere thought of the man was painful.
The honey haired girl nodded and knew she should stop her line of questioning before making an enemy of her. She had enough information for the time being anyway.
Ginny let out a long sigh. "Ethwyn, how old are you?"
"Not quite seventeen."
"Do you attend a different magical school? I don't think I've ever seen you."
"Um...no. I was home schooled." She meandered over to the cot nearest the bedroom door and sat down comfortably, feeling the soft mattress under her sore and tired body. She hadn't stopped walking since she set her house on fire three days before and, needless to say, needed to rest.
"Your birthday's soon then?"
"End of the month."
"If it's around the thirty-first, we can throw two parties." Hermione went over to her bed and pulled her trunk out from under it. Flipping it open, she pulled out a fair-sized, unlabeled box and handed it to Ginny. "Harry's birthday is at the end of the month, too. The thirty-first, actually. I got him a first-edition book about Quidditch. I thought he might like it."
The redhead's eyes nearly popped out of her head as she began to flip through the book. "Do you know what this is?"
Hermione shrugged. "Not really. I found it when I was looking for Ron's present and knew he would like it."
Ethwyn smiled. "That's interesting." Lying backward, she stared up at the ceiling and sighed deeply. She wanted to simply close her eyes and go to sleep for the rest of the day; dream of times when she spent morning to dusk with her mother on the porch drinking special-blended tea and reading aloud to each other...
Unfortunately, she knew she couldn't so settled on making patterns with the popcorn ceiling.
Harry and Ron watched as the three girls wandered up the stairs as Lupin and Tonks went into the living room and Fleur, Fred, and George bustled into the kitchen...well, Fleur came bustling in, Fred and George more so just trudged behind carrying what appeared to be the longest veil in the history of veils.
"'ary! How wonderful to zee you!" She landed a perfectly-shaped, strawberry-scented imprint of lips on his cheek and he couldn't help but blush.
"Did you have any luck finding the tiara?" Mrs. Weasley asked quickly, a look of excitement on her face.
In response to her question, the beautiful, tall woman turned away from them all, did something with her head, and then turned back, sparkling eyes to match the diamonds in the headdress.
"Oh, Fleur!" the older witch began, gasping in surprise, "you look radiant!"
"Thank you," she declared, motioning for Fred and George to bring over the enlarged piece of gossamer.
Fred looked over to Harry and nodded his head in hello. The sweat beading off of his forehead was explanation enough.
"Hello, Harry," George murmured, he, too, displaying the same defeated expression.
"Where did you end up finding it?" their mother asked as she and the bride-to-be examined the intricate detail of the tiara.
"We looked upstairs," Fred began slowly.
"And then downstairs," George continued.
"And then outside in the back where you and Dad keep all of the family heirlooms and Christmas presents."
"But finally found it in an invisible pocket in the shed next to the gardening tools and lawn chairs."
"It was very difficult to find."
"How do you find an invisible pocket?" Ron inquired curiously.
Fred and George paled. "Don't ask."
"Oh, yes, that's right," Mrs. Weasley started, a hand covering her mouth in a foolish pose; "I hid it in there two summers ago when we were spending out time at Grimauld Place."
The old house brought back a painful reminder to Harry that he still hadn't been there since Sirius's death and needed to collect the family items he would have wanted his godson to possess.
I'll do it before we leave, he thought to himself, trying very hard to put on a good face for everyone. If Mrs. Weasley thought he was still very upset, the chances of her letting him, Ron, and Hermione leave for the summer were very remote.
Ron looked at his mother and groaned. "Is that what happened to my golden pocket watch?"
"No, you lost that all on your own," George commented, the twins getting a good snicker out of it.
"So have you been practicing for your Apparating license?" the other began, a hint of a mocking tone in his voice.
"Yeah, I mean, you wouldn't want to fail again; loose another half an eyebrow."
"You know, George, I don't even think they'll let him take it a third time."
"You might be right, Fred."
"Boyz!" Fleur exclaimed gaining all the attention of the room. "Leave Ron alone. Eet iz not 'iz fault."
His face matched his hair by the time she planted a kiss on his cheek as she had done to Harry earlier.
Harry looked around, realizing that a few key players weren't there. "Where's Mr. Weasley and Bill? What about Charlie and...uh...Percy?"
"Dad had to take Bill back to St. Mungo's," Ron explained. "His arm isn't healing all that well so they want to take another look at it. Make sure everything's okay."
"Oh..."
Mrs. Weasley began attaching the veil to the tiara with Fleur, turning her back to the four boys.
"Charlie's heading some smaller Order out in Romania and couldn't make it back. Percy's...well...he wasn't invited."
Oh, how they all longed for a distraction. Every time someone opened their mouth, it resulted in someone becoming very uncomfortable.
Right at that very moment the three girls that wandered upstairs earlier appeared at the doorway again, cackling over something apparently hilarious.
"So did he ever find out the truth?" Ginny asked after calming herself down a little. She waved hello to everyone in the kitchen and went over to the backdoor.
"Are you joking?" Ethwyn raised her hood over her head until it framed her face and continued laughing. "As far as he knows, I'm still a bloody Muggle living in Liverpool with lots of cats."
"Oh that's wonderful," Hermione beamed.
"Liverpool?" Ron commented, cocking an eyebrow.
"Don't ask," Ginny responded, waving her hand as almost a dismissal of the question. "You wouldn't understand."
Hermione looked over at Harry and Ron and motioned with her finger for the two to follow them.
They obliged without question or hesitation, finding this an easy out of the kitchen and wedding preparations.
Once outside, Ginny looked back at the four older teenagers and looked slightly embarrassed. "I think I should go help Mom and Fleur. I'll see you guys later."
Avoiding Harry's eyes, she rushed by them and into the house quite unexpectedly.
Ron and Hermione exchanged looks while both Harry and Ethwyn continued in their perplexity.
"Is she okay?" Ethwyn asked Hermione softly.
"It's kind of a long story."
"Pretty much," Ron simplified, not catching Hermione's eye that said Not now!, "she and Harry were together during the end of this past year."
"Were together?" She looked inquiringly at the boy in question and caught his eye. "What happened?"
Harry didn't want to tell her; he didn't know her. The fact that she was very easy to talk to only made it harder for him and he scratched the back of his neck nervously, giving Ron and Hermione a sideways pleading glance.
"It just didn't work out," the redhead stated flatly and the other two could have shot him.
Ethwyn knew it wasn't the real reason but decided against further questioning of the subject.
The wedding was in less than twelve hours and yet Harry couldn't make himself sleep even if he wanted to. He kept thinking about everything that had happened and his mind wouldn't allow him to rest. So instead, he laid in the small cot just beside the bedroom door in Fred and George's room and stared at the ceiling – Ron sleeping not five feet away in another cot. (Mrs. Weasley had placed Fleur in Ron's room because of some silly superstition about the groom not being allowed to see the bride before the wedding.)
After a solid hour of doing this and the ability to fall asleep becoming more and more distant, he decided on getting himself something to eat and slid out of the bed easily and soundlessly. Luckily, the Weasley boys were known to be very heavy sleepers and he was already near the doorway. It was a matter of minutes before he was tip-toeing through the hallway leading to the narrow stairwell.
He passed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's closed door and was thankful to hear the occasional snore or grunt rather than hushed and fervent conversation. The next door was Bill's room, which was partially open, but he knew that the man was very weak from being at the hospital all day and was sound asleep. The only other room on that floor was Ginny's and he paused in front of it. Inside, he could hear the distinct sounds of someone who wasn't sleeping. There was serious movement going on behind that door and he was a tad curious to see what it was.
Pressing his ear against the wood, he strained himself to hear voices. Nothing. However, he definitely heard one of the old cots creaking from someone rolling around uncomfortably.
"Oh this is no use," he heard softly before the noises stopped altogether.
The door opened and the boy fell inside, head first, into the girl standing behind it. Immediately, she pressed her hand over his mouth and looked over at the other two sleeping figures. After a few minutes of nothing, she released his face and looked at him with a bright smile and a finger across her lips. It was here that Harry realized he had landed directed on top of a girl he had met only hours beforehand.
"Sorry," he murmured as quietly as he could manage, lifting himself up and then holding out a hand to help her.
She excepted his hand and pulled herself up, motioning for him to follow her outside into the hall. He did so and she clicked the door shut silently.
"Let's go downstairs," she suggested in a whisper, wrapping her arms across her body. She was only wearing a thin nightgown that went no farther than her knees but cut low across her chest. "Might I borrow that sweatshirt you're wearing first?"
Looking suddenly very red, the boy tore it off over his head and handed it her, the gray shirt he was wearing underneath nearly coming off with the sweatshirt.
"Thanks."
He nodded his head quickly and began leading her downstairs. As soon as they were sure no one had heard them, they sat down at the kitchen table and picked at the bowl of fruits sitting in front of them.
It only took her a moment to bring it up.
"Okay, I hate uncomfortable silences. You can just ask me."
"Ask you what?"
She raised her eyebrow at him and he cleared his throat.
"Did you light that house on fire?"
"Well," she began, peeling an orange and popping a slice into her mouth, "that house on the end of the street was mine. So yes, I did light my house on fire."
"I didn't think anyone lived in that house." He took a large bite out of an apple before continuing. "Why have I never seen you before?"
"Let's just say that my mother and I enjoyed keeping to ourselves." She toyed with the discarded orange peel with her left index finger and her eyes trailed off towards Mrs. Weasley's special clock. Tilting her head to the side, a smaller smile spread across her candle-lit face.
"It's how she keeps track of her family when they're not home and she doesn't know where they are."
"Cleaver."
"Yeah," he continued, "I'm pretty sure if I spend much more time here she's going to put my name and picture up there, too."
"Sounds wonderful."
He stared at her quizzically and she stood up from the table and went over to examine the magical clock more closely, tracing a finger over the spoons and faces. "Voldemort attacked and killed my mother three weeks ago."
Harry's face drained of all coloring and he leapt out of his seat. He had known the girl for no longer than half a day and she was bestowing upon him a great deal of personal knowledge. Her sincere ability to trust in strangers gave him the same feelings of warmth and comfort he received around Dumbledore.
"Why?" he whispered, trying desperately to keep his voice level.
She turned to look back at him and actually gave a small, mischievous smile. "Probably because of her ties with Albus Dumbledore, if you want to know the truth. He, more often than not, had her going off on very strange – very confidential – assignments for the Order."
Ethwyn wandered back over to the table and took her seat again. "You understand I offer my sincerest condolences to you. I imagine you two were closer than usual students and Headmasters."
He sat down across from her and stared deeply into her face, painting a picture of how she looked in the back of his mind. "I suppose so." He paused a moment before continuing. "What sort of...assignments did your mother do?"
"I never knew the details of most of them." She looked slightly confused for a moment and looked out the window. "There was one thing though...Have you ever heard of the Compass of Time?"
He shook his head no. "Hermione would probably. Why?"
"Well, that was one of her last assignments. It's supposed to be a very dangerous, Dark object that the Ministry supposedly destroyed fifty years ago. He wanted her to find it or something."
"If it was destroyed, why would Dumbledore want you mother to find it?"
She turned back and looked him straight in the eye. "Good question. I've been trying to find out about it but every person I've asked has just told me to not worry my 'pretty little head' about such Dark magic." She scoffed and blew her bangs out of her eyes.
"Well, maybe Hermione will know something about it. We can ask her tomorrow if you'd like."
"That's okay." She quickly shook the idea away with her head. "I'm sure Remus will tell me now if I ask him."
"Speaking of Lupin, how do you know him anyway?"
"My father died shortly after my mother became pregnant with me and he was the one Dumbledore asked to help her through the pregnancy. He was there when I was born, actually."
"Really?" Harry smiled. "I can see Professor Lupin doing something like that."
"Yeah. He's been the closest thing I've ever had to a fatherly figure."
"I know the feeling."
And so, he told her about Sirius and how he treated Harry as a son up until the moment he died. He also shared with her the wonderful feeling of love he got from Dumbledore, especially the year leading up to now. She sat across from him, playing unconsciously with the discarded orange peels; her eyes staying on him the entire time. Admittedly, it was probably about four o'clock in the morning before they meandered back up to their individual bedrooms, but he actually felt better talking to someone about the good times he had forgotten about. He lied down with a grin spread across his face and as soon as his head grazed the top of the pillow, he was sound asleep.