The Other Weasley
A Harry Potter Fan-Fic
Author's Note: I have been working on this story longer than I care to admit. So I am apt to change things as the idea expands and grows. I will let you know by author's note if I have updated. Enjoy! I do not own the world of Harry Potter, it belongs to J.K. Rowling.
PROLOGUE
Albus Dumbledore found the Minister of Magic sitting in his office, looking very much like he had just had been doused with cold water. He was clutching a letter in his hand. Fudge looked up, ignoring the tiny figure at Dumbledore's side.
"Dumbledore-what does this mean? How can—?"
Dumbledore quickly silenced Fudge with a look. He then smiled down at the small child at his side.
"My dear, this is Mr. Fudge, the Minister of Magic," he said kindly. The little girl looked shyly at Fudge and cocked her head, looking him over. Fudge smiled, despite himself, at the girl and waved awkwardly. The girl grinned and wiggled her fingertips at him. He could see a gap in her teeth, presumably where she had lost her front tooth. She clutched a stuffed animal, a very new-looking teddy bear.
"Hello, m'dear. What is your name?" Dumbledore shot Fudge a look that Fudge did not understand. The girl stopped grinning. She looked at Dumbledore and then at her feet before answering softly:
"I don't know."
Fudge was stunned. Glancing at Dumbledore, he was given a warning glare, which he disregarded.
"Don't know your own name? My dear?" he added hastily, not wanted to offend the girl. The girl continued to stare at the ground. The tips of her ears were a brilliant shade of red. Dumbledore opened his mouth to steer the conversation away from the obviously uncomfortable topic as Fudge stared at this rather, he was beginning to think, dim-witted child.
"They called me Weasel." This was quietly said; Fudge almost didn't hear it.
"Weasel, m'dear? Why on earth are you called Weasel?"
"She called me that first. She said I was too stupid to have a real name and that unless weasels were careful, snakes would eat me—err—them." The girl shuddered violently and clutched her bear. Fudge was given now a good chance to really look at the girl. She had vivid red hair and many freckles over pale skin that suggested that she had been kept indoors until recently. She was tall for her age which looked to be about five, and very skinny, and he could see a large bruise on her wrist and one on her leg.
Dumbledore placed his hand on the girl's shoulder but the girl took no notice, lost in her intent observation of her shoe. Fudge cleared his throat, wondering how to end this rather awkward moment. He was saved by the entrance by his secretary, with the mail. Spying the little girl, she offered to take her downstairs for a treat.
The little girl brightened and quickly followed the secretary, Miss Emily Knobbins, out the door in search of a cookie. Fudge noticed that the little girl walked slightly odd, as if it was painful to place her left leg on the ground.
"Well?" asked Dumbledore quietly.
Snapping his head to look at the Hogwarts headmaster, Fudge exclaimed, "This is the girl?"
Dumbledore conjured himself a chair and sank into it.
Annoyed, Fudge demanded, "Well? Is she? Is she the girl you wrote to me about?" He shook the letter in his friend's face. Dumbledore nodded slowly.
Fudge was incredulous. "That little girl? She looks like she's five years old! I ref—"
"—Seven."
"What?"
"She is seven years-old, not five," corrected Dumbledore.
"Fine. Seven. This seven-year-old girl is the one…"
"Cornelius, please. You are shouting. Some people might think it undignified for the Minister of Magic to be shouting."
Fudge glanced around the room. Dumbledore carefully got up and locked the door and then performed a silencing charm, so that no one would be able to hear what was being said. Both men were silent, remembering a time, not so long ago, where every conversation had to be in hushed tones behind locked and spelled doors.
Reseating himself, Dumbledore gazed at his fingertips. "If you have any questions, I would be grateful to hear them and happy to explain to the best of my ability and knowledge of the situation. But remember, I do not know the answers to your questions. My answers are based on my conclusions which rely entirely on what I observed and what the child told me."
"Who is she?"
Dumbledore sighed. "That is not of the utmost importance…yet." Fudge said nothing, searching for a question. Everything, he thought, revolved around the girl's identity.
"How and where did you find her?"
"She appeared in my fireplace."
Fudge was dumbstruck for a moment. He shook his head and stuck his fingers in his ears in an attempt to clean them out. "I beg your pardon. I could have sworn you just said that she was in your fireplace." Dumbledore nodded.
"Your hearing is still quite good, Cornelius."
Fudge almost fell out of his chair, "Your fireplace, Dumbledore?" Dumbledore smiled, amused.
"You sound, and do not take this as an insult, my dear Fudge, like a Muggle who is unused to magic. Yes, she was sent to my fireplace by Floo powder. Either she was sent to Hogwarts on purpose or was not clear when stating her destination, I do not know. The latter is more probable."
Fudge accepted this answer. "How does she not know her name?"
"Ah. That is very important. 'What's in a name?' William Shakespeare. Our 'Weasel' does not know her name. Odd, even for a child? Indeed. I have come to the conclusion that she was kidnapped shortly after birth. As you know, disappearances of young and old have not, unfortunately, been unusual in the past few years."
"Yes. Yes. You did say that in the letter. But by who?" broke out Fudge impatiently.
"Cornelius, please. I don't really know what happened. I have my ideas as to what...."
"Alright, Albus, what are your theories about little 'Weasel'?" Dumbledore sighed, looking over his fingertips at the Minister.
"My 'theories' are these: 'Weasel' was kidnapped shortly after her birth, by a Death Eater. This Death Eater raised her for only a couple years before either being captured, killed, or forced to flee. Then 'Weasel' was moved to several homes. I believe that she was sent to perhaps other Death Eaters, maybe members of the kidnapper's family."
Fudge stared at him. "You must have some clue about the kidnapper."
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "You know me, Cornelius. I always have my suppositions. It is obviously a female; hence the she 'Weasel' spoke of. And this she is obviously close to Voldemort, or was before his downfall."
"How do you know? You-Know-Who had many followers, plenty female, I'm sure."
"Simply by listening. 'Weasel' informed me of this without knowing she was telling me, and she also told you."
"What?!? When?"
"She said that she was told to be careful of snakes as she is a 'weasel.' I guessed that 'snake' referred to Voldemort. It was her warning to be careful around Voldemort, as he could easily 'eat' her."
"So, You-Know-Who knew about that little girl?" Fudge stared unabashedly at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore coolly continued, "It's quite logical. Elementary almost, my dear Fudge." Dumbledore chuckled to himself.
"What the devil is so funny, Dumbledore?"
"Please excuse me, Cornelius, " said Dumbledore, having got himself under control, "But you would make the perfect Watson, as in Dr. Watson from Sherlock Holmes, though I dare not fancy myself as admirable a detective as Holmes." To the confused Fudge, he added, "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur C. Doyle. A charming book, though being Muggle-written, I daresay you haven't heard of it."
"No." Not amused in the least by Sherlock Holmes, Fudge pressed on. "But please what do you mean by You-Know-Who knowing about the girl?"
Dumbledore sighed and explained kindly, "If she was kidnapped by one of Voldemort's closest supporters, he would know about her. No Death Eater does things without the Dark Lord knowing about it."
"But what Death Eater would kidnap a little girl?"
"That is what I am not sure of. But to set you at ease, the Death Eater we speak of, she is in Azkaban. Not for the crime of kidnapping but something much, much worse."
Fudge's eyes went round. Two and two were coming together in his head. The information Dumbledore had just given him now and in the letter now was making sense. Two and two equals four.
"You think…Bellatrix Lestrange …?"
Dumbledore inclined his head ever so slightly forward. Fudge sat back in his chair, trying to take this all in.
"Why are you telling me all this, Albus?"
Dumbledore sighed. "I need to find a suitable home for this girl. A Muggle home. She must be given as normal a childhood as is possible and I believe being away from magic will help her.
"Albus," said Fudge suddenly, "she's only seven years old and was at the mercy of You-Know-Who and his followers for most of that time!? How on earth did she survive?"
Smiling at the flabbergasted Minister, Dumbledore said, "You underestimate youth, Minister. Some have managed great feats at young ages. For example, Harry Potter."
Fudge was silent as both men remembered that night, All Hallow's Eve, 1981. That day was a triumph in wizard history, and a loss. More people felt the triumph of young Harry Potter over Voldemort more than they felt the terrible loss of James and Lily Potter.
"She has some unfortunate circumstances, like Harry. But she is not the 'Girl Who Lived.' By all means, she is simply an ordinary little girl who had some very terrible experiences. As to your question, how did she survive? She feigned a lack of intelligence."
"I beg your pardon."
"She pretended she was stupid."
Fudge just stared.
"She is intelligent. I suppose that she feigned stupidity, she tried it on me before I convinced her she was out of harm's way. But now, Minister, I need to find a place for her to stay. A non-wizarding family."
"Why Muggles, Albus? She's not a Muggle. And the information she could give us…in rounding up Death Eaters! Think of the possibilities!"
"No. She will not be interrogated now. She is too young. Let her have some good memories to help her with the bad ones."
Fudge said nothing. He called in his secretary who was more than happy to provide them with the address of her Muggle relatives.
Dumbledore stood, preparing to fetch the girl from under the watchful eye of the secretary. But Fudge stopped him.
"Albus, answer me one question, please. Who is she?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Cornelius, I am not a hundred percent sure. But when I am certain of her identity, I will send word."
Dumbledore then took his leave, taking the child by her hand and Apparating, leaving the Minister of Magic much to puzzle over.
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About a year later, Fudge was sitting in his parlor at home, thinking of nothing in particular when an owl swooped in. Startled, he spilled his tea all over his brocade dressing gown.
Swearing loudly, he tried to wipe off the tea with napkins but to no avail. The owl was persistent and seemed flighty and nervous. He untied the letter from the owl, which immediately flew away.
"Guess the fellow doesn't want a reply," grumbled Fudge as he opened the seal. Reading the contents, which were brief, he gaped. Heavily he sank back into his chair, the letter dropping from his fingers to the floor.
"I don't believe it!" he cried, jumping out of his seat to pace back and forth. It made sense, terrifyingly perfect sense.
Unfortunately, as he rounded about sharply to continue his pace down the room, he knocked over the teapot. Horrified, he looked down. The tea had spilt over the carpet and all over the letter. Only a few words here and there were legible on that fateful bit of parchment.
Tell me whether or not you would consider continuing reading this... :D