Seeing Red

First off, I want to thank you for reading this story. And secondly, I regret to inform you that as much as I wish I owned Harry Potter, the story and characters (apart from Esmerelda) belong to J.K. Rowling, as I'm sure you are all aware.

Prologue

In life, sometimes there are days when you wake up knowing that no matter how the day pans out, it is going to be a momentous one. That is how Esmerelda felt when she woke up on the morning of the 1st of September five years ago. As she rolled out of bed she was instantly filled with excitement, anticipation, and fear in realising that the next time she slept it would be in a completely different place, and that she would be sharing a dormitory with people she had yet to meet.

As she arrived at Kings Cross Station, she realised that for the last few hours her brain had been in a fog and that she hadn't really registered leaving her home in the muggle town where she lived. Or that the two-hour-long car journey had also passed in a blur. But now, her brain had cleared, and she was suddenly very aware of her surroundings. They were standing in front of Platform 9 and ¾ and her parents were waiting, grinning expectantly at her.

Growing up, she had known that she was a witch. It wasn't kept a secret. But living in a muggle town, and having one muggle parent, meant that she had grown up slightly removed from the wizarding world and all that entailed. Esmerelda's mum was a witch. She came from a wizarding family called the Broadmoors, who weren't particularly famous for much - they certainly weren't in the Sacred 28, but a respectable wizarding family all the same. Despite being a witch, her mum didn't often use her magic and it took until the age of about 7 or 8 for Esmerelda to even realise that her mum was slightly different to the other mums at her primary school. Her friends certainly thought she was a bit mental after she asked them why their mums bothered washing their school uniforms when they could just get the uniforms to wash themselves. Her dad, on the other hand, was a muggle, plain and simple. She didn't actually know much about his family either. He had a couple of sisters once upon a time, but he hadn't seen them in decades. Esmerelda supposed that with the muggle population of Britain being a lot larger than the magical population, it was probably a lot easier to lose track of people if you wanted to.

Esmerelda stepped onto the platform, and her eyes widened as she took in her surroundings. Everywhere she looked, the contrast to the muggle station she had left behind was apparent. Where the station before had been shades of beige and grey, what she saw in front of her was the bold maroon of a steam train, and the colours of the robes of the wizards and witches that flitted about the station. She bid her parents goodbye and, after a great deal of fussing on their part, stepped onto the Hogwarts Express.

Finding the nearest empty carriage, she sat down. Minutes later, a boy with dark hair and glasses peered in.

"Excuse me, I hope you don't mind but all the other carriages are full," the boy said as he sat down opposite her.

"Not at all," she replied, already tucking into the Jammy Dodgers her dad had packed for her. "Fancy one?" she offered him. But before he could take one, they were interrupted as another boy entered the carriage.

"D'you mind?" the boy asked, gesturing to the benches.

"Nah, of course not," Esmerelda replied, offering the biscuits in his general direction too as he sat down. "Want one?"

"What are they?" The red-headed boy asked.

"Have you never had a Jammy Dodger before?" exclaimed the dark-haired boy incredulously. Another half-blood or muggle-born, Esmerelda wondered.

"No I haven't," he managed to splutter out as he shoved a biscuit into his mouth. "But they're bloody delicious!"

"Another red head I see." The ginger boy motioned at her once his mouth was no longer full.

"Oh, yeah," she replied as she twirled her red hair through her fingers. "No idea where I've got it from though. Although my dad says one of his sisters had red hair, I've never met them." she shrugged.

"My whole family has red hair. It's quite annoying really," he muttered. "Can't get away with anything. Everyone always knows you're a Weasley."

"I've just realised, it's really quite rude of me, but I've forgotten to actually ask you your names," she announced.

"Well, I'm Ron Weasley," the red-headed boy replied through another mouthful of Jammy Dodger.

"And I'm Harry Potter."

The boy named Ron stared open mouthed as he asked Harry about his scar. She'd heard of Harry Potter of course. Everyone had. But she didn't want to come across as rude so merely nodded along as he recounted his story.

"And what's your name?" Harry enquired once Ron had gotten over his immediate shock.

"Esmerelda," she replied. "Esmerelda Evans."

They talked and ate for the next few hours without difficulty, but as they were nearing Hogwarts, their conversation was interrupted when the door to the compartment slid open and a girl their age, looking as though she was on a mission, stepped in.

"You haven't seen a toad, have you? A boy named Neville's lost his?"

They shook their heads and assured her that they hadn't but that they'd keep an eye out for any escaped toads roaming the Hogwarts Express. Less than an hour - and a few semi-disastrous spell attempts later, including an attempt to turn a rat yellow - they were approaching the train's destination.

The journey to the castle was unusual to say the least, but as soon as she glimpsed a view of the castle from the boat on the lake below, Esmerelda knew it was as magical as she had been told it would be. Even meeting presumably the most horrid boy in existence, a one Draco Malfoy, didn't put a dampener on the joy and excitement she was feeling.

The first years lined up, making their way into the Great Hall, ready to be sorted. Her mum had been a Ravenclaw when she was at Hogwarts, but had told Esmerelda that she didn't mind in the slightest what house she was sorted into. She honestly hadn't given the sorting ceremony too much thought over the past couple of hours, but upon standing there in the Great Hall with hundreds of pairs of eyes boring holes in the back of her head, she was feeling like she was going to be sick. McGonagall cleared her throat and unfurled her scroll of names, bringing her back to reality.

"HANNAH ABBOTT" she bellowed. A girl, presumably Hannah, walked up to the sorting hat apprehensively and placed it on her head. Moments later the hat shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" and Hannah proudly wandered over to the Hufflepuff table and sat down with her house.

"SUSAN BONES" came next and was swiftly sorted into Hufflepuff alongside Hannah.

The hat rattled off names, and Esmerelda caught some of them but as it got closer and closer to her name the more nervous she was growing. Then eventually her name was being called. Bollocks, she thought to herself.

"ESMERELDA EVANS"

She walked over to the stool where the hat lay and tried her best to look confident and not as though she were about to pass out at any moment, which was how she felt. She twirled her hair in between her fingers nervously as she looked up. She scanned the crowd for familiar faces and spotted Ron and Harry and smiled. She continued to look around and saw the girl from the train who'd come looking for the lost toad. Hermione was it? Next to Hermione however, a pair of steely grey eyes locked with hers and the emotion in them confused her. Was it fear? Hatred? From what she knew about the Malfoys it could well have been. She was a half-blood after all. Certainly not the type of witch he would want to be making friends with. She tore her eyes away from his and turned her attention to her feet, which she continued to stare at for what felt like hours. Inside her head, or rather, inside the hat, she could hear its voice speaking to her as it deliberated on its decision.

"Hmmm.." it said. "Interesting. You are a difficult one I must admit. On one hand, you have courage, integrity and loyalty….but I can also see determination and ambition, and a thirst to prove yourself. You have a fierce protectiveness there too and a longing to be loved and accepted. I think that you could do well in Slytherin...but that you would perhaps be better suited to…

GRYFFINDOR!"

Esmerelda barely heard the claps and shouts of glee from the Gryffindor table as she plonked herself down on the end of the bench and people budged up to give a bit of room. She watched the rest of the sorting ceremony and once she had managed to relax a bit, really enjoyed it. She was relieved to see that both Harry and Ron had also been sorted into Gryffindor. It would be nice to have some friendly faces around the common room and in classes. As she smiled down the row to Harry and Ron, she caught Harry's eye and noticed a familiar glint as he smiled back at her. It had reminded her of someone, but with the overwhelming atmosphere of celebration, the thought escaped her.

Esmerelda had heard from her mother about the food at Hogwarts, particularly the feasts. But she felt now that she had somehow failed to convey the true level of deliciousness that was the welcome feast. As she wandered out of the Great Hall an hour later, full to the brim and feeling ready to collapse into her four-poster bed, she was startled when Professor McGonagall caught her attention and beckoned her over.

"Miss Evans," she started. "Would you please meet me here after your lessons tomorrow? About 4?" She looked at Esmerelda's face and seeing the confusion and slight hint of concern added, "Nothing to worry about of course. There's just something that I need to bring to your attention."

"What was that all about?" Ron had caught up to her as she re-joined the throng of students heading up to their dormitories.

"I have no bloody idea," Esmerelda replied. "I guess I'll find out tomorrow

She woke up the next morning and took in her surroundings. It took a few seconds to remember why she was not in her bedroom at home and why she was, in fact, surrounded by velvet bed hangings and the sound of four other girls breathing heavily as they slept. She lay there for a few moments, collecting her thoughts and processing everything that had happened yesterday. Had she really been lying in bed at home only 24 hours ago? She remembered her conversation with Professor McGonagall last night. She doubted she'd be able to focus much today with the anticipation of their meeting weighing heavy on her mind. Swinging her legs out of bed she suddenly realised how cold the castle was in the morning. This was something she'd have to get used to.

Before she knew it, Esmerelda was on her way to her first lesson. McGonagall had stopped by the Gryffindor table during breakfast and handed out the timetables for this year. Today was Monday which meant: Transfiguration first thing, followed by Charms, and then after lunch, Potions. She was slightly apprehensive about Potions. It had always been something that she had taken an interest in, but she had heard some very uncomplimentary things about the Potions teacher. Mum had gone to school with Snape years ago and although she wouldn't tell Esmerelda all of the details - which she found extremely unfair - she had said that he had been involved in some fairly dodgy goings on. She'd also overheard Ron's older brothers telling Harry about him at dinner last night and she thought it was safe to say they weren't fans.

Hours later, Esmerelda found herself sitting between Harry and Parvati Patil, surrounded by potions ingredients and with her pewter cauldron on the table in front of her. Snape had asked the class to make a Cure for Boils potion as their first lesson, and from what she could see, most people's attempts were not going well….at all. Esmerelda glanced over to Ron, who looked sheepishly into his cauldron and then back at the book, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Over on the other side of the dungeon classroom she could see the boy who yesterday had lost his toad. He had managed to burn a hole into the side of his cauldron through which his potion was currently seeping out and onto the floor. Snape sneered as he walked around the room assessing their potions. He stopped in front of the Malfoy boy. Draco looked into his cauldron and beamed with pride as Snape gave him some sort of praise. Snape continued his prowling. Minutes later, he stopped in front of Esmerelda's cauldron.

"Miss..."

"Evans," she responded. Snape's eyebrow twitched, and she briefly caught a hint of confusion before he moved on.

"How many times did you stir your potion after you had added the porcupine quills?"

"Umm, five." Esmerelda replied.

"Your potion looks the proper colour and consistency. Not bad for a first attempt." She thought that Snape appeared somewhat disappointed at the inability to criticise her potion.

Harry looked impressed but Ron, on the other hand, looked thoroughly shocked.

"I think that was a compliment you know...I mean as good as you'll get from Snape. I can't wait to tell Fred and George. They won't believe me."

As she left the dungeon half an hour later with Ron and Harry in tow, she had almost forgotten about her imminent meeting with McGonagall. But, as she rounded the corner into the Great Hall, McGonagall caught her attention and called over.

"Potter, Evans. If you wouldn't mind joining me for a while."

Esmerelda turned to Harry. "I didn't realise she'd asked you too Harry. Did she tell you what this was going to be about?"

"Not a clue," Harry replied as he shrugged and they headed over to where McGonagall was standing.

"Barley Sugars."

The doorway in front of them suddenly sprang to life and the gargoyle revealed a staircase, turning upwards. The two children were led up the staircase by McGonagall. That feeling in Esmerelda's stomach was worsening and she was worried that she might be sick, here, all over this lovely stone staircase. She hadn't realised this meeting would be with Professor Dumbledore. They reached the top and McGonagall turned to them.

"In you go, Dumbledore's waiting for you." She gestured them forwards, through the door at the top of the stairs with an encouraging smile, and then headed off back down the stairs, leaving Harry and Esmerelda alone.

She knocked on the door and heard a voice call out, "Enter." They pushed the door open and stepped in sheepishly, worried about what it was that the headmaster would want to talk to two first year students about on the first day of term.

Dumbledore must have seen this in their faces because he said, "There's no need to worry, you've done nothing wrong. There's simply a matter I need to discuss with the both of you. It is a bit of a complicated story so bear with me. Why don't you sit down." He continued. The two nervous first years sat down in the plush armchairs that the headmaster had conjured for them.

Looking into the faces of the young witch and wizard in front of him, Dumbledore continued. "I suppose I'd better explain to you both why you're here then," he stated.

"Harry, as you are no doubt aware by now, your mother Lily and your father, James, were a witch and wizard."

Harry nodded.

"But your Aunt Petunia, who is your mother's sister, and who you have been living with for the past eleven years, does not have any magical ability."

Harry nodded again.

"You see Harry, it has recently come to light that your mother Lily and her sister Petunia also have an older brother, a muggle too like Petunia."

At this point, Harry was looking very confused.

"As far as we can tell, he was estranged from the family decades ago and had not been in contact with his sisters or parents since."

"So, I have an uncle out there somewhere then?" asked Harry. "A muggle uncle, who's still alive?"

"It appears so." Dumbledore replied. "In the wizarding world we have access to the family tree of all wizarding families, which makes it easy for us to trace the history of the witches and wizards around today. However, we have no such thing for muggle families. And although your mother was a witch, Harry, she was born into a muggle family."

Harry sat quiet for a minute, taking in what Dumbledore had told him.

"I'm sorry, headmaster," Esmerelda interjected, "but why have I been asked to see you today? I'm a little bit confused."

Dumbledore looked at her and smiled. He then turned back to Harry.

"Harry, did your aunt ever tell you her maiden name? This would have also been the maiden name of your mother before she married your father."

Harry thought. "No, I don't think that she did."

Dumbledore's gaze turned to Esmerelda and then back to Harry. "Evans," he said. "That was your mother's name. Lily Evans."

"So, that means, if I'm understanding you right Professor, that Harry and I are somehow related? I'm sorry if I'm being a bit thick here, but I still don't quite understand how it all ties together."

Dumbledore smirked. "Well Miss Evans, from what I have managed to gather from my muggle sources, the estranged brother of Harry's mother and aunt is a man called Christopher Evans. I'm assuming you can now make that final connection as to how you are involved in Mr. Potter's story."

Harry was looking at her expectantly as she processed this information. "Dad," Esmerelda said. "Christopher Evans is my dad." She turned to the confused boy sat in the armchair next to her.

"Harry, you and I, we're cousins."