Good news, ladies and gents - the rough draft is officially complete! That means that things should really start coming along quickly now! I just need to finish typing it up and editing, so look forward to this being posted much sooner. Anyway, about the actual chapter...I'm not super happy with it, I'll admit. Let me know what you think.
Chapter Three – Confronting the Weasleys
As fascinating as the concept of the Floo Network was to the American, Liz loathed it. The sensation turned her stomach violently, leaving her with the sensation of taking off in a plane stuck in a tailspin. When they arrived at Harry's flat, she collapsed on the nearby couch, eyes screwed shut as she attempted to right herself. Eventually, the twisting sensation settled so she could look about her. His flat was surprisingly simple, colored mostly in light earth tones and sparsely decorated, predominantly with photographs. A small table beside the armrest she propped herself against held a simple black frame. The photo inside was of Harry and a young woman in what seemed to be sports robes. Her vibrant red hair was tied back in a braid along her back, and her bright face was flushed from exertion. Harry's arm rested on her shoulders and both beamed widely at her as they waved.
"That was right after her first match with the Holyhead Harpies," Harry stated as he reentered the room, a glass of water in his hand. With a shy smile, he sat down beside her, passing her the drink. She nodded in thanks, sipping it as she turned back to the photo.
"The Holyhead Harpies…that's the all-female Quidditch team, right? Who is she, anyway?"
"Ginny Weasley," he answered, leaning back into the cushion. "My girlfriend, the youngest Weasley sibling, and the only girl besides Molly. She's a damn good Chaser, but she's decent at Seeking too. She's beat me to the Snitch more than once."
"I'll pretend I have any idea what you're talking about," Liz replied with a snort. "Quidditch is more of a British thing – we play it back home, of course, but not with the same amount of enthusiasm. Not that I would understand it regardless; I'm not exactly known for my athleticism. Toying with potions will always be my area of specialty."
Harry chuckled in response. "My potions skills are limited, to put it lightly. Severus Snape may have been one of the bravest men I've ever known, but his teaching style was lacking, at least for me."
"That's right, Snape was your Potions teacher, wasn't he?" she asked enthusiastically, eyes widening in excitement. "He was brilliant. I would've loved the chance to work under him."
"He was," Harry agreed, the shadow of a smile on his face. "Unfortunately I didn't take advantage of his intelligence before it was too late." Shaking himself slightly, his smile turned genuine again. "Enough about Snape, I want to know more about you. Where did you go to school? What's your shop for? What's America like?"
Setting her cup aside, Liz tucked her feet beneath her and considered his questions. "I attended Atholwood, in rural Vermont. My house was Bailey, which has a large focus on charms and Potions in particular. When I was in my third year, I started my tentative apprenticeship with John Crawford, a Potions master who's close friends with our regular teacher. Crawford's the only reason I'm already a mistress – he agreed to help me, God knows why, and was able to work around my normal school schedule in order to get the mastery going sooner than most. As for my shop…I brew and sell specialized potions, unsurprisingly. I opened it two years ago and took on my assistant, Alex Faulkner, last year, after he graduated. Having him around is fantastic – it lets me actually concentrate on the brewing and experimenting side of it while he handles most of the business end. He's running the shop while I'm here."
Before Harry could respond, the front door burst open, revealing the same redheaded woman from the photo. She spotted Liz instantly and rushed forward, pulling her to her feet and into a massive hug. Startled but amused, Liz awkwardly hugged her back.
Chortling, Harry pried his girlfriend away from Liz. "Give her air, Gin, you haven't even officially met yet! Ginny, this is Liz. Liz, my…enthusiastic girlfriend."
Ginny lightly punched his arm before kissing his cheek. "Arse. Liz, it's amazing to meet you. I went to Hermione's as soon as practice was over and she explained everything. I can hardly believe it."
Liz smiled at the younger woman, liking her instantly. "Neither did I at first, but Hermione is persistent. It became increasingly clear that it was worth investigating, so here I am."
"Speaking of investigating…" Harry interrupted, a frown at his brow. "Gin, are your parents home?"
Ginny's face clouded as she replied, "Mom is, but Dad was still at work when I stopped by to change. They're expecting you for dinner tonight anyway; just don't do anything stupid. They must have kept it from you for a reason, Harry."
Harry grunted, pulling Liz toward the fireplace. "I'll do my best. Come on, Liz."
"Hold it – we're not using the Floo again, are we?" Liz frowned, eyeing the fire warily. "That was quite possibly the worst experience of my life – I'd rather not repeat it less than an hour after my first go."
"We can Side-Along this time," Harry replied, attempting to hide his amusement. "We'll have to walk a bit to get past the wards, but if that's what you'd prefer…"
"Definitely. I'll study the powder, but beyond that I'd rather not touch the stuff for at least another day or two. Or forever."
Laughing, Harry held her arm, pecked Ginny on the lips, and vanished with Liz with a resounding crack.
The Burrow was in view long before they reached it. The building was quirky, a mass of bizarre shapes and protruding angles that highly intrigued Liz. For the most part, the two were silent as they made the trek to the house, Harry attempting to collect himself while Liz let him. He seemed much calmer as they made for a back door, entering the kitchen where a sweet looking older woman greeted Harry eagerly. After encasing him in a hug, she turned her bright gaze on Liz, a curious confusion crossing her face.
"Molly Weasley, dear," she said, holding a hand out for Liz to shake. "Are you a friend of Harry's?"
Liz glanced at Harry, her astonishment echoed in his own. "Um…kind of. You mean you don't know me?"
"Should I?" Mrs. Weasley asked, frowning slightly at the wizard beside her. Just as he was about to respond, the door burst open, revealing a tall, slightly balding gentleman with bulging eyes behind his glasses. He searched the room for his wife, darting forward to grab her by the shoulders.
"Molly! You'll never believe…" Abruptly, he realized she was not alone. Noticing Harry and the unknown woman at his side, he gasped, releasing Mrs. Weasley and taking a single step in Liz's direction. Turning to Harry, he whispered, "Is this…her?"
As Harry nodded solemnly, Mrs. Weasley grew increasingly more frustrated. Crossing her arms, she glared at her husband. "Arthur, what is going on? Who is this young woman?"
"My name is Elizabeth, Liz to most," Liz interjected, gaining everyone's attention. "My parents were Andrew and Olivia Hogan…but we're pretty sure they originally went by a different name."
A dawning of understanding spread over Mrs. Weasley's face as she took in Liz's appearance more carefully. Reaching behind her, she sat down hard in a chair, a combined expression of horror and delight peeking around the hand that covered her mouth. Mr. Weasley, meanwhile, pursed his lips in a thin line as he leaned against the counter.
"Elizabeth…" Mrs. Weasley breathed, hints of tears appearing at the edges of her eyes. "I had no idea…Andrew and Olivia had a child?"
"Merlin," Mr. Weasley muttered as he sat down as well. "If we'd only known…"
"You mean…you didn't?" Harry asked, his anger gone in their obvious alarm. He had been prepared for a defending but strong pair of Weasleys; the fact that they were just as surprised as he was easily forced the fight from him. The last time he had seen them this shaken, it was immediately after the war.
"No," stated Mr. Weasley firmly, meeting Harry's eyes. "Once Andrew and Olivia left, we never heard from them again. There was no way to know they had had a child – it was part of the spell Dumbledore cast. It was as though they'd never existed."
"Harry." Her voice was soft, fear etched in the tone. "We never wanted to keep this from you. And had we known…spell or not, you ought to have been told. I'm so sorry."
Turning to Liz, Harry grinned meekly. "It seems as though everyone's apologizing to me today."
Shrugging, Liz grinned back. "Apparently, and for good reason too. No one hides from the Chosen One."
Mrs. Weasley let out a wet sob and lunged for Liz, quickly dissolving into tears on her shoulder. Stunned and not entirely certain what to do, Liz patted the woman's shoulder, sending Harry entreating glances. Without a word, he turned and began to prepare a pot of tea. Once the beverage was made, he placed a steaming cup in front of Mr. Weasley and pried Mrs. Weasley off enough to give her one as well. Soon the couple sat side-by-side, hands grasped tightly around their mugs.
"What is it with you people and tea?" Liz asked as Harry passed her one as well. He took a sip of his own before replying.
"Habit, I suppose. When in doubt, make tea."
Sipping slightly, she grimaced. "It isn't even that good…"
As Harry snorted into his cup, the elder Weasleys considered. The two got on so easily – it was as though they had always known each other, rather than just met. The more they watched her, the more obvious it all became. She had the Potter hair and face, the Page eyes and build. She even sounded like her mother, their inflections identical. Such observations did little to alleviate their guilt, however.
"Elizabeth, I believe you deserve an apology just as much as Harry does," Mr. Weasley stated, standing to face her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he sighed deeply. "I wish we had known. I wish we could have done something. All the time you've lost…"
"It doesn't matter," she replied smoothly, smiling up at him as she attempted to reassure him. "We're here now, aren't we? Might as well deal with the now properly rather than consider the might have beens."
"Remarkable," the man breathed out. "You're the image of Andrew Potter, words and all. I've not a single doubt you're his child."
Blushing slightly, Liz attempted to brush it off. "Dad always used to say I was Mom's miniature, but she agreed with you. When it went up as us against her, she had little chance and knew it. Dad and I would inevitably win."
"What happened to them?" Mrs. Weasley asked quietly. Liz's mood instantly darkened as she replied.
"I was eight. They were out of town on business – they both worked for the same company – and something happened. I still don't know all of the details. I was staying with a neighbor, Mrs. Thibault, who ended up taking me in after it all happened. I wish I could tell you more." Glimpsing down at her tea, her voice softened further. "I don't even know if they're really dead or not. It's like they…vanished." Startled, her large silver eyes fell on the others. "You don't think – "
"They would never do that to you, my dear," Mrs. Weasley interrupted firmly, reaching to grasp her hand. "The reason they left was to protect one another, and you, so it seems. They would never turn you away, I am certain. No parent could be that cruel, particularly a Potter."
The conversation came to a halt as voices from the other end of the house echoed toward the kitchen. Soon, two more redheaded men, one missing an ear, appeared in the doorway, wearing equally baffled expressions as they studied the scene they encountered. Rising to her feet, Mrs. Weasley immediately bustled about, continuing her previously interrupted preparations.
"You're staying for dinner, of course, Liz dear?" she asked from amid an array of dishes. Liz looked over at Harry, who stood laughing by the new arrivals.
"You're in for it now," he said with a half grin. "Once Molly Weasley's caught hold of you, there's no going back."
