Dear Ori,

I hope this letter finds you well. I think it's odd how everyone always starts their letters off like this, as if the letter was ever lost to begin with, and not something we send out with intention. But it'll do for now until I find a better greeting to say.

Things have been quiet for me at home, which is just the way I like it. I visited my island today and foraged some shells for you. I hope the sand dollars stay put together. They can be rather fickle in transport. And as I'm sure you've noticed, my owl is a bit of a dunce, which certainly doesn't help. Let me know if they come damaged, I'll take care to pack them better next time.

Anyway, I've heard the World Cup is coming up some time this week. Calista's already sent me twenty letters going bonkers about you going with Diggory. I should remind you to please send her letters after the event. Personally, I don't want to deal with the headache of her trying to rip your arm off about it when we get to Hogwarts.

This will probably be the last letter I send for some time. I imagine you'll be busy with the quidditch match and all, and we should be seeing one another later this week anyway. Thank you for keeping me company over the holiday. I can't wait to see you again.

Sincerely,

Charlie

Charlotte Hawthorne's letter had arrived the day before, but Oriane couldn't help but catch herself looking at it over and over again. The shells she had handpicked were beautiful, and fortunately stayed in good condition, despite her owl's plunder. She had taken the liberty of lining them up against the photos on the mantle. They looked out of place, being a fair distance from the beach, yet Oriane thought their sandy browns went perfect with the rest of the interior.

However, despite the fact that it was her first time ever seeing a seashell in person, there was something far more interesting that Charlotte had sent; something she hadn't mentioned in her letter.

A small piece of parchment was included as a gift along with the shells. It was a drawing that Oriane could only assume Charlotte had done herself. Graphite coated the paper as a beautiful scene of an ocean was depicted. Despite the fact there was no color, the sun seemed to reflect so brightly against the dark color of the waves. Off in the distance a small island peeked out of the water, where tufts of grass poked out of the sand. Soft and fluffy clouds floated in the skyline. She had gotten every detail so perfect it was almost as if it were a black and white photo.

The chiming of the clock interrupted Oriane's viewing, forcing her eyes away from the drawing and onto the time. Five o'clock, the time Molly Weasley said she would arrive at the cottage.

The girl rushed off down the hallway and into her room to store away the letter from her friend. Once the letter was carefully placed on her dresser, she turned her attention to her bed. Her large, dark brown school trunk weighed the mattress down heavily as it stored everything she would need for her upcoming year at Hogwarts. Next to her trunk was a small, green pack full of clothes to last her for the few days she would be spending with the Weasleys.

Hoisting the items into her hands, she began to rush down the hallway once more, stopping once she reached the living room. Her attention returned back to the clock, which at that point read two past five. Yet the very moment the minute hand moved to three minutes, a roaring sound began to echo in the fireplace behind her.

Green flames lit the room as a woman exited the fireplace. She was a plump woman, with the Weasley's signature red hair. Once the flames were extinguished, the woman gave her a warm and bright smile.

"Hello dear," Molly Weasley greeted, dusting the soot off of her apron. "I apologize for being late! I got caught up in cooking supper. Lost track of time."

Oriane couldn't help but smile back at her. There was a certain aura exuding from the woman. The kind expression on her face, coupled with her soothing voice made Molly Weasley someone Oriane felt she could put her full trust in.

"It's no problem at all. I had only just gathered my bags," she assured her.

At the mention of her luggage, Mrs. Weasley held her hands out and gently scooped the items from Oriane's hands. "Here, I'll take those for you, dear. It'll make your travel much easier through the Floo network if you're not carrying them."

Unsure, Oriane let Mrs. Weasley take her items. "Won't taking them both at once be a bit much for you as well? I can at least take my bag."

Molly let out a sweet laugh as she continued to gather Oriane's items. "You're too sweet. I'll just apparate back to The Burrow. No need to worry about me!"

The woman then paused as she looked around for a moment. Her eyes had been so occupied in looking at Oriane she hadn't taken a moment to actually look around her.

"Is your aunt around?" she asked, looking back to Oriane.

The girl shook her head. "No, she left early this morning for work. She's a healer at St. Mungo's, so she's busy with their preparations for the game."

"Ah, what a shame. I'll just have to catch her next time then!" she exclaimed as she straightened herself. "Alright then! I must get back before the potatoes start to boil over!"

Taking the hint, Oriane made her way closer to the fireplace where she grabbed a handful of ash-like Floo powder from a small container next to the hearth. She ducked into the slightly too small fireplace, shoes digging into the old soot.

"What address am I saying?" she asked, ducking her head lower in an attempt to look at Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, just say The Burrow! The network will know where to take you from there," she chimed.

There were very few modes of magical transportation Oriane enjoyed, and Floo Powder was not one of them. In fact, the last time she had even used it was several years prior to go to St. Mungo's with Esme. She had nearly vomited. Still, she straightened herself up in order to ensure little injury would occur before shouting "The Burrow!" and dropping the Floo Powder at her feet.

More green flames erupted in the fireplace as she suddenly began to shoot downwards. It was almost as if she were on a slide, watching as various other fireplaces zoomed past her. Feeling that same twisting feeling in her stomach as last time, Oriane closed her eyes in an attempt to aid in her nausea.

Eventually her torment ended, and she found herself being suddenly shoved forward. If it weren't for the body standing right in front of her, she was certain she would have flown forward and landed on her face. However, the body she collided with didn't seem all too thrilled to have been Oriane's personal cushion, and they turned around with a groan.

"Hullo, Ori," Harry greeted her.

His hair had gotten longer and more unruly over the summer, yet he still wore those same, circular rimmed glasses. His clothes looked just about as dusty as Oriane's were, which told her he had probably just used Floo Powder as well.

"Hiya, Harry," she chuckled as she straightened herself out.

It was then that Oriane realized just how many people were in the room with her. She had always been told that the Weasley's were a large family with many children, yet she didn't realize exactly how many of them there were until they were all in the same room. Of course she recognized Ron and his twin brothers, as they were the three she had interacted with most throughout the previous year, albeit rarely. Then there was Ginny, who was looking much better than their first encounter after dealing with the dementors on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione, who obviously wasn't a Weasley but was at least a familiar face, stood next to Ginny.

That's where the recognition ended. There was an older, tall, and somewhat balding, man who Oriane assumed to be the father of the Weasleys due to his age. He looked a bit upset, his anger of course pointed at the twins as they had what appeared to be a heated conversation. Then there were two other boys, who were much older than Oriane yet very much still quite young.

One of them was shorter and stockier than the other, with a strong face. Several scars seemed to peek out on his body, including a large burn mark on his arm. He seemed to get more sun than his siblings did as he was so freckled you'd nearly think he was tan. Then there was another brother, who was quite tall with long red hair that he wore pulled back in a ponytail. His attire was rather interesting, compared to that of his siblings. Moody dark clothes finished with a pair of dragon hide boots.

"Ori, was it?" the boy with the ponytail spoke, reaching his hand out. "Pleasure. Name's Bill."

"Charlie," his brother spoke up with a smile.

Oriane reached out her hand, giving Bill's a firm shake. Yet, before anyone could pick up a conversation, the frustrated voice of Mr. Weasley cut through the crowd.

"It isn't funny!" the man roared. "That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons-"

"We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle," Fred interrupted.

"We gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," George finished. "Isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, he is Mr. Weasley."

"That's not the point! You wait until I tell your mother-"

A loud snapping sound interrupted Mr. Weasley midway through his yelling at the boys. Mrs. Weasley had returned with Oriane's luggage, and though she had expected to see a bright smile on the woman's face, she instead noticed a rather confused one.

"Tell me what?" she asked curiously.

"Why don't we show Ori where she's sleeping?" Hermione asked as she gently slid Oriane's bags from Mrs. Weasley's hands.

Oriane, quickly catching onto Hermione's plan piped up, "I'd love that!"

"Yeah, we'll come too," George said, attempting to make a run for it.

"You stay right where you are!" Mrs. Weasley bursted, suddenly becoming a very different version of herself.

Uninterested in hearing anymore arguing that week, Oriane quickly took off with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The house was much larger than she had expected, and extremely tall. Though, she supposed it made sense with how many people they had to house. They made their way up a flight of rickety stairs before they stopped by Ginny's room.

"You'll be staying here with Hermione and I," Ginny explained as she opened the door to her room.

Ginny's room was small, but very bright as the setting sun illuminated the area around them. Hermione's items were already stacked on one side of the room, and Hermione made sure to set Oriane's items close by. She was rather intrigued to notice how much quidditch memorabilia there seemed to be in posters around her room. For some reason, Ginny had never struck Oriane as the type to be interested in that game.

"Brilliant. We'll be taking off then," Ron interjected as he began to push Ginny further into her room, cutting her off from the others.

"What?" Ginny asked, throwing the others a wild look.

"We've got some catching up to do, and we'd prefer to do it without you, if you don't mind," Ron said, muffling Ginny's groan with the closing of her bedroom door.

"A bit rude, don't you think?" Hermione asked as Ron continued up to the floor above them.

"Figured we'd want some privacy. You know… if we wanted to talk about a certain Azkaban escapee," Ron explained.

Oriane followed close behind, though she couldn't help but throw a glance back at Ginny's door. "I couldn't imagine being rude to a sibling. I mean, you're living together, why antagonize them?"

"Easy for you to say. Try being stuck in a house with six of them. You'd go mad, too."

Eventually the small group made their way to the very top of the house where Ron's room sat. Compared to Ginny's decor, their style was actually quite similar, although Ron's certainly had a bit more of a boyish touch. She couldn't help but eye the old fish tank on his windowsill which housed a rather large and fat frog.

When the door closed behind them, it was almost as if a certain tension released. Between Ron's parents chastising the twins, and the very obvious topic hanging over their heads, the moment that door closed felt as if Oriane could finally breathe. She put her face in her hands and let out a heavy sigh, attempting to let all the stress leave her body.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked carefully as Ron set Harry's bags next to his bed.

Oriane wiped at her eyes some, attempting to get rid of the fatigue she was certain was evident. "Yes, it's just… Well, I've had a very strange week."

And she hated it. Hated that her exhaustion and repressed emotions were finally starting to barge out of her, but she couldn't help it. Those three were the first physical contact she had with anyone her age in months. Honestly, she wasn't sure how she was able to go so long without anyone her age nearby before. How had she managed to keep so much in for so long when it was just her and Esme?

"I don't mean to be brash," Hermione spoke up timidly, "but does it have anything to do with what was in the paper yesterday?"

Harry glanced between Hermione and Oriane. "What was in the paper?"

Hermione looked to Oriane warily, almost as if begging for her to answer the question. Though it was a bit uncomfortable, really all it was was just another thing for her and Harry to bond over. Some strange dark wizard attempting to kill her and the rest of her family.

"Some extended family of mine was murdered in France," she explained. "I didn't know they existed until Sirius read the paper."

"Sirius?" Harry repeated earnestly. "You saw him?"

Normally, that would in fact be a good thing, seeing Sirius Black. However, after the events of the previous day, Oriane could only grimace.

"Yes, he came along unannounced when Remus came to visit Esme and I… I guess I never got to tell you that Sirius and Esme were engaged before he was sent off to Azkaban. She wasn't exactly thrilled to see him at our cottage," she sighed.

"They were engaged?" Harry repeated.

"She wasn't mad at him, was she?" Ron asked, upset. "We cleared his name! Certainly she understands that."

"It's not really that simple," Oriane explained carefully. "Esme thought Sirius was a traitor and murderer for over a decade. Someone she deeply loved and cared for, and she thought he murdered her friends. That anger and feeling of betrayal was festering for years."

"Yeah, but you and Harry were able to forgive him almost instantly," Ron retorted.

"That's different. Harry and I had only known about that lie about Sirius for a few months. It was almost easy and natural to forgive him. As for my aunt, that anger can't just vanish. It has to go somewhere."

Things fell silent for a moment as the trio soaked in her words. Really it had been the first time Oriane had really thought about it. Esme had drilled it into her head to be scared of Sirius, that he was someone to fear, and yet he had visited her yesterday and it was as if she had known him all her life.

"What about your family in France?" Harry spoke, changing the subject.

"Sirius and I talked a little about it yesterday. He was there right before my father was killed by a maskless Death Eater. Sirius said he didn't recognize him, but apparently my father did. He's certain whoever killed my father killed Jean and Anais in France." She paused for a moment as she let out a sour chuckle. "Sounds like I have more than just You-Know-Who to worry about, now."

"Voldemort," Harry said, almost as if correcting her. "If he's going to come after us, you might as well say his name."

Voldemort. The terrible wizard responsible for the war that killed her parents. The man who killed her mother, and the man trying to kill her friend. People had gotten so used to being afraid of him they would refer to him by anything other than his actual name, as if the name itself would curse them.

But if Harry was being brave, then maybe she could be, too.

"At least the killer's in France for now," Ron said uncomfortably.

It wasn't exactly the smartest thing for the boy to say, but Oriane appreciated it nonetheless. Realistically, France wasn't all too terribly far away from England, but her family's secret killer wouldn't have an easy time finding her either. Even if Peter were to tell him about her powers, she was certain that wouldn't aid him in finding her exact location.

"We ought to go down for supper, shouldn't we?" Oriane excused, motioning to the door behind her.

Sharing glances between one another, the four children quickly left Ron's room and traveled back down the rickety set of staircases. Most of the Weasley family was outside helping to set up tables that were large enough to easily seat all of them with room to spare for the food. After aiding Mrs. Weasley in bringing out the dishes and silverware, they sat at the table as the adults and older siblings brought out the food.

The sky was a deep, rich blue color by the time everyone had settled in. Oriane was surprised that the table didn't collapse under the countless plates of food in front of her. Potatoes, pie, roasted pork and countless other items covered the table. The scent of fresh food mixed with the sweet aroma of the nearby flowers was enough to make her mouth water.

Everyone began to dig in, and conversation exploded with it. Oriane sat and listened to the splinters of conversation she could pick up on as she began to stuff her mouth full of food. Percy Weasley, whom Oriane remembered as being the Gryffindor Prefect and Head Boy the year previously, was talking his fathers ear off about some Ministry business. Then there was Mrs. Weasley, who was chastising her son, Bill, about the length of his hair and style of his clothes. And then there were the twins, who were debating with their older brother, Charlie, about who would win the World Cup.

And there she sat, in the midst of it all, hearing it all at once yet hardly retaining any of it. She was too busy enjoying the first bit of conversation she could hear that didn't include any serious arguing. A place of such peace and comfort with a happy buzz in the air.

"So, Ori," Charlie spoke up, apparently having finished his debate with Fred and George. He motioned to her arm and asked, "how'd you get those?"

She looked down at her arm as if she had forgotten the glaringly obvious scars that spanned the length of her forearm. Though they weren't in her vision, she could feel the gaze of Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they too awaited her answer.

"Oh, uh, it's sort of a long story," she stumbled. "I just got hit with a minor spell from Sirius Black when he broke into Hogwarts last year, that's all."

The tips of Charlie's ears turned about as red as his hair was. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It just looked similar to the scars a few of my mates have from wrangling dragons. I was hoping you had a similar beast-like story."

"Like surviving the wrath of Sirius Black isn't a neat enough story for you?" Fred asked.

It felt even more odd using Sirius as a scapegoat then than it felt at the end of the semester. Especially after their conversation from yesterday. Her lies always seemed good enough to trick everyone else around her, but it wasn't enough to trick her stomach out of that twisting feeling.

"Look at the time!" Mrs. Weasley spoke up suddenly, staring at her wristwatch. "The whole lot of you ought to be in bed! You'll have to get up at the crack of dawn in order to make it to the Cup on time."

Muttering to one another, everyone began to stand from the table as the oldest of the Weasley siblings began to help their mother pack everything away. The younger lot of them were quickly ushered off to their rooms to sleep for the night.

Being the only girls, Hermione and Oriane quickly settled into Ginny's room where they helped one another lay their bedding on the floor. It was well past dark by the time the three girls settled in under the blankets. Everything was warm and soft, and she couldn't help but listen to the sounds of breathing coming from Ginny and Hermione. It was almost as if she were back in her dorm; back with Charlotte, Calista and Emerald.

It wasn't until that moment that she realized just how much she missed her roommates. No, her friends. All of them. Calista's creativity, Charlotte's odd expressions of love, Emerald's playful teasing, Cedric's laugh. She couldn't help but think of their faces as she slowly fell asleep.