A loud crash echoes across the room as Shannon's teacup slips from her hand and shatters at her feet, its contents splashing across her sandals and chilling her toes.
Shannon has always considered herself rather adaptable, very go-with-the-flow given the laid back environment in which she had been raised. Obviously, the events leading up to this moment have been overwhelming, even for someone of her disposition, but with the aid of a calming draught, she has so far been able to face her new reality head on.
But time travel?
That might be a bit much, even for her.
"Twenty two years," Shannon whispers in bewilderment, a hint of panic beginning to bubble in her stomach as her voice steadily builds. "You're saying that on top of becoming a child again that I'm not even in the same year that I'm supposed to be? I wasn't even born yet in 1991! My parents weren't even married! And – and the internet! There's no internet – or, or cellphones – oh my god, 90's cell phones are enormous and you can't even text on them! And music – when did cassettes change to CD's? Do I have to use walkmans? A boombox? Is Apple even a thing yet? Oh my god this can't be happening. . . I won't ever be able to see my parents again. . . my friends. . . why is this happening. . ." She quiets down again and mutters as tears begin to fall from her eyes.
A worried expression falls over Eliza's face at the sudden change in Shannon's demeanour as she charms the shattered pieces of the tea cup together again.
"Oh dear, it seems the calming drought may not have been strong enough," the woman comments, shifting in her seat in agitation as she struggles for a resolution. "We should have had another two hours at least. . . I'd give you another, but having too much can dull the senses. . . perhaps a cheering charm? No, no, the last thing we need is it being too strong. . . I was never the greatest with cheering charms – always had my partner falling into hysterics. . . "
As Eliza muses her options aloud, Shannon begins to process her emotions more fully, her earlier calmness leaving her and the severity of her situation setting in. The girl trembles suddenly as conflicting emotions fall over her: joy and sorrow, anxiety and anticipation. A thrilling fear builds within her when she realises the implication of the time she has been transported back to.
"Oh my god. . . the books. . . that's why you said I know the future," Shannon states, turning to Eliza again as her tears falter. "This is the beginning – the year Harry gets his letter and the stone and – it's the start of everything – that means that I – that I'm here for all of it. . . oh my god, I'm going to be sick. . ."
Shannon's outburst pulls Eliza from her thoughts and she quickly transfigures the pillow beside her into a trashcan and hands it to the somewhat green girl. As Shannon struggles to compose herself, the woman considers the girl with intrigue and concern.
Eliza sighs, watching as Shannon's green hue begins to lighten as she takes deep breaths before replying. "You can see now why I was so curious about what J.K. Rowling wrote regarding the poor Potter boy – it's quite prevalent, as you can see, especially as I have no idea how our magic will affect a prophecy made in the Disenchanted. I have to wonder if her presence in the Disenchanted is one of the reasons you were chosen to be brought back to this time specifically."
Shannon's stomach churns as she looks up at Eliza, a stony feeling in her chest.
"Does that mean that – that if she hadn't been – if she hadn't come to the Disenchanted – or – or written about Harry Potter – then I wouldn't have – that I wouldn't be here right now? Or – or if I had just stayed in America?"
Eliza sighs. "Unfortunately we can't be sure, but if I'm speaking honestly, I doubt it. The mirror chooses heirs based on the magic in our blood – our essence so to say, and sends those of us with strong magic to a time that we are needed, where we can thrive. Not every daughter of the Logan bloodline in the Disenchanted is chosen to return and your prior knowledge of this world makes no difference. You were always meant to be brought home, just as we all were; it was merely a matter of when the mirror drew you to it, and it would have brought you to it by any means, I promise you – in fact, you are a great example considering you are American. . . How did you come across the mirror, may I ask?"
Shannon frowns, fighting nausea as she responds. "My dad got a transfer to London for work. . . and we were visiting family. . ." The girl trails off as a realisation hits her, her thoughts moving to consider the woman before her. "We were visiting my dad's Aunt Carol and – and Uncle Vincent."
At Shannon's words, Eliza stiffens, her eyes flashing with mixed emotion. A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips as she turns away, her gaze shifting to the orb seated atop the coffee table.
"I see," she replies, her thoughts far away as Shannon watches her with deep curiosity. To her surprise, the woman seems almost relieved, if not a bit forlorn. "I assumed you knew Carol considering you mistook me for her, but I hadn't expected. . . Well I'll be. . ."
"So you know – er, knew my dad's Aunt Carol?" The girl asks, feeling stunned.
Eliza leans back with a sigh, a small smile playing on her lips. "Of course – how could I not? She's my twin sister."
"My dad's Great Aunt Carol is your sister?!" Shannon practically shouts as her nausea falls away, only to be replaced with astonishment so strong it dries her teary eyes.
"Oh yes," Eliza reaffirms, her smile growing with fondness. "My younger sister by four minutes. She was a wiley one, too, always getting into mischief. . . I have to say, when you first called me Carol I was a bit surprised, but I never thought. . . It's been a lifetime since the last time I was mistaken for her."
Shannon blinks, her emotions once more chaotic as she struggles to warp her mind around the facts laid before her.
"Is – you said that you were engaged to uh, Vincent? . ." Shannon trails off, feeling a bit awkward. Eliza must sense this because she gives the girl a smile, her gaze filled with affection and forlorn grief.
"Yes, I can only assume that my sister married my fiance in my absence – not that they should have any memory of me. . ." She trails off, her smile growing somewhat. "I have to say though, I find that I am quite glad at that. Vincent was a good, patient man and would be able to temper Carol's. . . well, let's just call it stubbornness. Are they – did they seem happy?"
Eliza's question appears fraught with meaning, most of which Shannon is unable to read as she considers how to respond.
". . . I didn't really know them for too long, but from what I can tell, they love each other a lot and are very happy," the girl eventually states, a smile on her lips at the memory of Carol and Vincent's interactions. "They are quite affectionate with one another and full of life, especially considering their age – Aunt Carol especially."
A content expression falls over Eliza's face.
"I see. . . That's good then. I always worried about how she ended up and what happened to Vincent after I was gone. I don't think I'd have it any other way."
Shannon considers the woman before her in a new light, a feeling of comradery growing in her chest. Eliza has been through exactly what she has and has experienced deep loss and worry – even more so considering she had left behind a significant other and a sibling with whom she shared an irreplaceable bond. Shannon had no such tethers, just her parents and friends, which while to her were irreplaceable, were not as significant as Eliza's. Shannon's life had yet to start, but Eliza's had been about to begin – she had found the person she wanted to spend her life with only to be whisked away and made to start her life all over again.
Affection swells in Shannon's chest, dulling the ache in her chest and the nausea in her stomach. Sensing the girl's eyes on her, Eliza turns and catches her gaze, placing her hand on hers and giving the young girl a small smile.
"I have to say though, I never thought that I'd get to mentor my great great niece," she states with a wink. "And if Carol is your dad's Great Aunt, then I assume then that you are Virginia's great granddaughter?"
Shannon blinks in surprise, a bit stunned. "Yes, I am. Is she –"
"Oh yes," Eliza grins widely, her hazel eyes flashing. "She's mine and Carol's younger sister by about twelve years, a bit of an accident on our parents' part as you can imagine. She was just a young thing when I left – eight years old if I remember. To think the little tinker-doodle is a great grandmother! Oh my goodness, I never thought I'd see the day!" She states, clapping her hands together happily. "Carol always swore she'd never have kids because of how much she drove us mad. She was a spoiled little thing. . ."
Filled with astonishment, Shannon listens quietly as Eliza rambles on, filled with what appears to be relief that her siblings have had happy lives in her absence, occasionally throwing questions Shannon's way and then continuing on once she got her answer.
It's in the midst of this that the two are interrupted by the roaring of a wild green fire stemming from the fireplace behind them, pausing Eliza midsentance as she turns to the sound expectantly. Shannon, on the other hand, is not nearly as composed as she nearly jumps out of her skin, almost falling off the couch in her surprise, unable to properly right herself given her lack of equilibrium in her younger body.
Gripping the edge of the couch, the girl turns to watch as the vibrant green flames cast eerie shadows in the once empty fireplace, the eerie tendrils licking the mantle. The next moment, a tall, handsome, arabic man appears, dressed in burgundy robes with his hair slicked back to frame his face in a way that accentuates his firm jawline and deep brown eyes. Beside him, hand in hand, is a small boy around nine years old in a navy jumper who bears a stunning resemblance to the man, save for his hazel, gold-green eyes and the dirt smudged around his nose and roughly dishevelled hair.
"Mum! You won't believe what –" The small child calls out excitedly as he rushes forward, dragging the man with him as he exits the fireplace, only to falter when he sees the unfamiliar girl sitting upon the coach beside Eliza.
"Andrew, what have I said about – oh. . ." The man begins with a slight french accent, trailing off when he too realises that Eliza is not alone. "Mon chérie, who is this? I wasn't aware we were expecting company."
Said woman quickly rises to her feet and steps around the couch, a rueful smile pulling at her lips as she greets the man with a chaste caress of the cheek.
"Sorry love, I wasn't either," she replies with a meaningful look as she leans down and hugs the boy, whose eyes are wide with intrigue as he studies the fellow child who sits stunned on the couch. "Andrew, sweetheart, how was your time with Ronald? Did you have fun?"
The boy frowns, looking between Shannon and his mother before responding with a ghost of giddiness in his voice.
"It was brilliant – we borrowed his older brother's brooms and played hide and seek. I won by hiding in the garden with the gnomes."
"Smashing," Eliza states with a proud grin before turning back to her husband. "Henry, Andrew, as you can see, we have a new addition to the family," she begins, turning back to smile at Shannon. "This is Shannon Hale – or rather, Logan-Hale. She will be a formal member of our family starting today. She's joined us from the Disenchanted, just as I did."
Shannon stares stupefied at the woman's declaration, wondering what she means – and stunned by the fact that Andrew has apparently been playing with another boy by the name of Ronald – as the man and boy turn to her with bewilderment. Immediately, she shrinks a bit under their combined gaze, still struggling to wrap her head around her current situation.
Henry stares at the girl with wide eyes, studying her a moment before turning to his wife.
"She's a true Logan? An heir like yourself? But I thought –"
"So did I," Eliza cuts him off, a wry smile on her lips. "Shannon dear, this is my husband Henry and my son, Andrew."
"It's a pleasure," Henry states as he steps forward with a sorrowful look in his eye, taking the girl's hand in his and placing a chaste kiss on its back. "Welcome to the family. I'm sorry about the circumstance, but we will do our utmost to make your transition à l'aise."
A blush forms on Shannon's cheeks, unsure of the man's words but smiling softly in response.
"Thank you. It's nice to meet you," she replies, looking between him and the boy, whose brows have raised in disbelief.
"She's American!" Andrew cries, looking between his father and mother, the former of whom seems just as bewildered as his son.
"She's family," Eliza replies firmly, glaring at the boy with an expression that reminds the girl of her own mother. "She's my niece of sorts and will be staying with us from now on so you will treat her as such. Go on, now, introduce yourself."
Andrew frowns and considers the reeling girl for a moment before stepping forward and holding out his hand for her to shake.
"Andrew Logan, nine years old. Pleasure," he states, his hazel eyes searching Shannon's with an undertone of curiosity. The fact that his last name is 'Logan' and not 'Smith' is not lost on the girl, but the apparent fault in traditional surname continuity is overshadowed by Eliza's prior statement.
Taking the boy's hand, Shannon considers the small family before her: Eliza, a woman from her own world related to her grandmother and who has been through exactly what Shannon herself is going through now; Henry, her husband, who seems stunned by her sudden appearance but accepting and pitying all the same; and their son, Andrew, who seems a bit ruffled and untrusting of the apparent new addition to the family, as though unsure what to make of the girl.
"Nice to meet you," Shannon mutters, feeling a bit numb from all of the waves of emotion that have crashed over her in such a short period of time. In her opinion, the lack of feeling is an improvement compared to the turmoil she had been feeling a mere ten minutes before, although who is to tell if it really is.
Before silence can fall over them, Andrew pulls his hand away and considers the girl with childlike wariness.
"How old are you?" The boy asks, the question quite apropo for a child of his age. "Mum says it's a secret that people like you and her are older than you look – does that mean you're actually ancient like mum?"
Shannon frowns, unsure of how to answer the question as Eliza cuffs the back of his head.
"Be more delicate. I've told you it's not nice to question a woman's age," the woman snaps, giving Shannon a wink as her son sends his mother a glare and Henry chuckles under his breath.
The scene before her helps relax the girl and she gives the boy a smile.
"I'm seventeen. . . although, I'm not sure about now," she tells the boy, considering him gently. The boy's eyes widen at her words but he quickly controls his expression, nodding as though expecting the revelation. Beside him, Henry frowns, turning to his wife in confusion.
"You haven't checked, then?" The man questions, his eyes flickering to the coffee table where the mysterious orb lays, light from the fire flickering through its glass and casting shimmering reflections onto the walls.
"Not yet," Eliza admits, shaking her head and moving to sit back down beside Shannon, pulling the tray forward. "I was explaining a few things to Shannon first and we got a bit distracted. There's a lot of peculiarities with this one and it's only been an hour or so since I found her. It takes a while to process and I really wasn't prepared, and to top it all off the blood– I mean, the calming drought wore off too quickly. It's been a right mess."
Henry's brow furrows as a worried look forms on his handsome features. "It wasn't the one that Dora made, was it? The ones she replaced in the study? Because you know her potions –"
"What were Nymphadora's potions doing in the aid chest?" Eliza cuts her husband off, her face set in an expression of disbelief.
The man sighs, shaking his head. "She knocked the chest over a few months ago and shattered half the potions," Henry explains with a wry smile. "She's been stopping by and replacing the ones she broke ever since. I think she's about caught up now after her last visit."
"And you let her?!" Eliza cries in exasperation, slumping a bit in her seat. "I would have replaced them myself had I known –"
"I thought you knew," the man states with an amused glint in his eye. "And what does it matter – she's an adult and a fully qualified witch after all. I would have thought you'd take it as a good challenge for the girl. You are always telling her to have more confidence in herself."
Before Eliza can respond (or rather erupt by the look of things), Shannon interjects, her eyes alight.
"Do you mean Nymphadora Tonks?" She asks, a spark of recognition and anticipation budding in her heart.
All eyes turn to her in surprise, including those of the young boy who had been watching on curiously.
"You know Aunty Tonks?" Andrew asks, some of the stiffness falling from his shoulders.
"Not personally," Shannon admits, turning to Eliza with a meaningful expression. "But yeah, I know of her – and her family."
The boy's brows furrow, not understanding how the girl before him could have heard of said woman, as does the boy's father, who turns to his wife for an explanation.
"How –" he begins, but Eliza cuts him off, something Shannon has begun to realise is quite a common occurrence and one that Henry seems to take with grace.
"Well it seems as though there is a chance that Seer Rowling has somehow managed to cross over to the Disenchanted," Eliza explains, her lips pursed. "She seems to have made quite a name for herself as an author regarding a certain prophecy surrounding the young Harry Potter and You Know Who." Both Henry and Andrew's eyes widen at the woman's words as she continues. "Because of that, Shannon here seems to have a significantly better understanding of our world than I did when I came over – which is a bit of a relief for me if I'm being completely honest."
Once more the two males look between Shannon and Eliza with expressions of dumbfounded astonishment.
"Granny is going to have a fit," Henry mutters under his breath, running his hand through his hair. "She and that woman never got along, did they?"
Eliza nods, a tired look in her eye as her son steps forward, looking a bit more curious as he considers the girl before him.
"So then she knows about magic, then?" Andrew asks, assessing Shannon with a less wary expression.
The boy's words cause a smile to grow on the girl's lips as she nods, feeling a bit proud that she is not ignorant of the community she is set to be joining. At her affirmation, Andrew's expression morphs to be both relieved and somewhat excited as he turns to his mother eagerly.
"Mum, does that mean I can go out on my own if she comes with me?" The boy asks, an eager smile on his face. "She's technically an adult after all!"
"Andrew Theodore Smith Logan!" Eliza scolds the boy, her hands on her hips as she glowers at her son. "Shannon is not your babysitter! She may be an adult mentally but she is still new to our world – there is still so much for her to learn and grow accustomed to. I will not have you dragging her around on a whim!"
Andrew's expression falls, a frown pulling at his lips.
"Your mother is right," Henry adds on, giving his son a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Shannon is now a young girl as well. Even if she is mature enough, it's not a good idea for her to be running around on her own, let alone chasing after you. Besides, we don't even know how old she is physically."
"Speaking of which," Eliza interjects, refocusing her attention on the young girl and the orb sitting on the coffee table. "I've still much to discuss with Shannon and I'd like to finish having her affirmed before Granny gets here."
"Affirmed?" Shannon interjects from her seat, nervousness prickling in her chest. "What do you mean?"
Eliza gives the girl a small smile and assures the girl, who is now on edge and considering the woman dubiously. "The process is completely painless and actually quite exciting. Henry, would you. . ." Eliza trails off, looking to her husband.
Catching her fraught gaze, Henry seems to understand his wife's unspoken words and squeezes his son's shoulder pointedly.
"Come, Andrew. Let's leave your mother and Shannon to themselves," he says, urging his son from the room, the latter of whom bristles in annoyance, apparently intent on staying as he digs in his heels.
"Awe, come on! Can't I watch?" Andrew whines, looking between his parents. "I've never seen –"
"Andy," his mother warns him, a stern look in her eye that stops the young boy short. "This is an important moment for Shannon. Besides, Granny Logan should be here soon and you need to wash up. You know how she is."
The boy's expression stiffens at the mention of Granny Logan and he immediately turns on his heel.
"I'm taking a bath!" He cries as he exits the room at a sprint, leaving Shannon in a state of confusion and his parents with humoured expressions.
"I'll see to him then," Henry states with a seemingly frustrated smile pulling at his lips. "If Granny Logan is coming I might as well freshen up as well. The last time we met she spent an hour lecturing me on the importance of maintaining a 'manicured appearance in every situation.' She does understand that I'm the head of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, yes? It's not like I'm always going to be able to be presentable. . ."
With those words, Henry follows after his son, muttering under his breath about Granny Logan's standards.
Once he is gone, Eliza takes a breath and turns back to Shannon, who seems a bit stunned by this point, the happenings before her solidifying the realisation that she truly is in her favourite fantasy world.
"Alright then," she begins, pulling the tray with the orb closer to Shannon and herself. "Now I'm sure you have lots of questions still – actually, I know you do, but first," she pauses, her gaze moving from Shannon to the orb, its light casting iridescent reflections across the wall in the late afternoon light. "I think it's time we have you affirmed."
Shannon's expression falls slightly at the woman's words, eyeing the orb with intrigue. "What do you mean? I thought you said that the orb showed uh, magical talent?"
"Well, yes, but it does so much more than that," Eliza begins, appearing to organise her thoughts. "When the Founder sent Catherine to the Disenchanted, it was with the understanding that whoever was to return would go through unique physiological changes in order to have time to adapt to this world," the woman explains, an air of anticipation in her voice as she brings the orb closer to the girl. "With that in mind, the Founder left us the Essencia Orb as a way of identifying not only the strength of the ancient magic in one's soul and their subsequent talents, but also those changes – such as your age."
Shannon's eyes grow wide as her eyes focus on the orb with wonder, its significance increasing her eyes as Eliza continues.
"In addition, the ancient magic cast upon our family is especially unique in the sense that it leaves its mark on specific individuals – specific heirs of the direct line. In order to cast it, the Founder took the blood of four of the most prolific witches and wizards of the time – herself included. Because of that, female members of the direct line and heirs from the Disenchanted are often – but not always – graced with certain qualities and proficiencies that the four were known for, which are also identified by the orb."
The girl stares at the orb, her heart beating with anticipation.
"So it's like the Sorting Hat. . ." She breathes, a smile pulling at her lips as she looks to Eliza with anticipation. "Except it tells you your age and any talents?"
Eliza's brow raises in surprise as a soft laugh escapes her lips.
"Of course you know about the Sorting Hat," she states, apparently not even surprised by this point as she watches Shannon closely. "Then I assume you know its history? About the men and women who created it?"
The girl nods eagerly. "Of course! Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin created the Sorting Hat after the founding of Hogwarts to sort students into their houses. It used to belong to Godric Gryffindor himself before it was enchanted."
Eliza smiles. "That is correct, and actually extremely prevalent to our circumstance," she begins, placing her hand at the base of the orb. "You see, the Essencia Orb is not only similar to the Sorting Hat in its abilities, but also in origin. This Orb once belonged to our Founder, the one who chose our family to hold the ancient magic – and who happens to be one of the founders of Hogwarts as well: Helga Hufflepuff."
Eliza pauses for effect before continuing, watching with amusement as Shannon gasps in surprise, her mouth opening to form a soft 'o' as she reels.
Yes – this all might be a bit much, even for Shannon.