Snapshots
That summer was the best Raven had ever had since her parents died. Molly and Arthur’s grown up children visited frequently, and welcomed Raven into the fold with a bit of hazing and a lot of Quidditch. Raven was used to people treating her differently because of her bad knee, but no one ever mentioned it except for George.
“You fit right in here, we all have our scars and injuries,” he said, pulling back his hair to show her what was left of one of his ears. “Some of them are just easy to see,” he said grimly, “And mine makes it hard to hear!”
“George!” Raven said, laughing helplessly, “that’s awful!”
“Don’t tell mum,” George whispered conspiratorially, “I’ll get an earful!”
And indeed, Raven could see that all of the Weasleys, and their friends, had scars. She saw it when Molly glanced at her clock and a shadow crossed her face as she counted the hands. She saw it when Ginny brought her fiancé Harry for dinner and he compulsively flattened the fringe across his forehead as he first met her. She saw it when one of the boys started telling a story and choked on the name of a classmate they had lost in the war. But she didn’t mention it, and she didn’t draw attention to it. She had her own wounds, after all. But it was nice to be with people who understood.
So the summer passed, and Raven learned about this new world that had reached out to claim her. She got her wand with Harry and Ginny in Diagon Alley, got beat at Wizard’s Chess by Ron (only barely, but still), and accepted the gift of a black raven from a gently smiling George, who only messed up her hair when she tried to say thank you.
“You’ve got to have some way to tell me about all the trouble you get in,” he said, grinning. “Just keep an eye on her, she likes to steal shiny things.”
Raven grinned broadly as the raven cawed from her shoulder and buried its soft head in her hair.