"Lestrange, did you say?" Harry chimed in.

"Yeah, I do believe that is what I said," I told him a little annoyed.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all looked down; it was as if they had grown mad and uncomfortable. I wasn't sure why, maybe it was what I said, but why did that matter? Then Mr. Weasly asked, "Harry, Hermione, Ron, would you all mind leaving?"

They all nodded and left looking relieved. Once they were out of ear shot Mr. Effacing said, "Arthur, she needs to understand. Scrimgeour would be better for the job, though. Maybe he even had a pensive. I'll go inform him."

Arthur smiled and with a pop Mr. Effacing was gone. "Mr. Weasly, would you mind explaining what the heck is going on," I asked a little annoyed that no on had informed me yet.

Mr. Weasly took a deep breath and then began. "Scrimgeour will go into more detail when you go, but I will begin. Everyone here is a witch or wizard, including you."

"What? I cannot be a witch! My dad's a banker and my mum's a teacher," I informed him matter-of-fact-ly.

"Yes, but what about your birth parents? I'm sorry to say that they were, are—"

POP! Mr. Effacing was back. "Parker, I need you to come with me," he told me.

"Mhmm," I said and stood up. He took my arm and then everything went black. I felt my body being pressed very hard from all angles. I couldn't breath; it was like wearing a shirt ten sizes too small. My eyes were forced back into their sockets; my ear drums kept getting closer and closer to my skull.

Then I could suddenly breathe again. I was in a pretty big room; the room was filled with gadgets and books. I went to the shelf and read some of the titles; they were A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions… The Dark Arts Outsmarted… Self-Defensive Spell Work.

"Miss Lestrange, my you look defiantly different. It has been sixteen years since the last time that I've seen you," said someone from behind me, whose voice for some reason, really freaked me out.

I turned around to see a man in his fifties? You could even compare him to an old lion if you wanted. I felt as if I had suddenly lost my voice for some reason. Then I went into a coughing attack, stupid allergies. I was better in a few minutes, though and I said, "I don't wish to be rude, but do you think it's possible for you to call me by my proper name, Cullen?"

He seemed a little taken back by my question, but he nodded. "Well, Miss Culled as you may or may not know you're a witch." He paused waiting to see it I'd say anything. But when I didn't he continued onward. "Your parents were what we call Death Eaters, they were horrible people. They were sent to prison about a year after you were born.

"We took you and gave you to a Muggle, non magical, family. They took you in lovingly. We gave them the option of either letting you grow up as a Muggle or when you were eleven to be sent to school."

He stopped for a moment. "And now I'll give you that choice. You can go back to living as a Muggle or you can live here as a witch."

My head was spinning. My heart was yelling for me to stay, but my head bas begging me to go home. It was hard to tell what was louder and more important. But then a thought occurred to me, what if he wasn't telling the truth. How do I truly know?

"Sir, I don't what to sound rude, but how do I know you're telling the truth?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

He said nothing just pulled a stick of wood out of his pocket. He pointed it at a cabinet across the room. It burst into flames. Yet he didn't seem worried at all. Then he removed his wand and the flames disappeared leaving the cabinet cleaner and shiner than before.

I had never seen anything so amazing yet confusing before. But now my head was spinning even more; my heart throbbing and beating at an insane pace. I had seriously no idea what to tell Mr. Whatever-his-name-is, who not to mention was looking annoyed and inpatient. But there was no way I could answer him now.

"OK, I think I know what I would like to do, for now that is. I'm wondering if I could have a 'trial run.' Would it be OK for the summer if I lived as a witch then, then I could decide?" I asked him.

He thought over everything, wondering if it was really a good idea. "I don't think that theirs anything wrong with that. I would advise you not to tell anyone about your heritage, especially Harry Potter. And—"

"But Harry already knows…" I cut in.

"Oh Lord, that's not a good thing. But yes back on subject, you're gonna need a tutor, McGonagall will help with that. But as for now I think it would be best if you stayed with Mr. Weasly."

I smiled; Mr. Weasly was really nice and understanding. I just hope that the rest of the family is the same. "But wait, what about my family?" I asked Mr. Whatsit, who was now writing a letter.

"Why yes, I'll need to inform them of your summer stay," he replied tying the letter to an owl. "I'll Apparate you back to the wedding and I'll talk to Mr. Weasly there."

He walked towards me and took my hand, which made me really uncomfortable. Then I felt the familiar sensation of being compressed again. But then once again I was able to breathe the sweet fresh air. We were back at the wedding, but it wasn't as crowded as some must have gone home.

Mr. Scrimgeour? was talking to Mr. Weasly, leaving me alone to explore. I walked around the open area. I saw Ron, Hermione, and Harry talking over yonder. I decided to join them. I skipped merrily over their, slowly gaining courage to say sorry. But then my thoughts were broken by an insane yelling bonanza.

"I can not believe McGonagall and Scrimgeour are making me teach her magic! But I couldn't possibly say no, they're letting me graduate without having to go to my seventh year, not that I would be anyways," Hermione kept on yelling. "But how am I supposed to teach her anything? She'll probably want to learn a bunch of dark magic that I can't and won't teach her.

"She disgusts me! And she has to stay with us over the summer but she is NOT—"