Chapter 9
It was difficult for her to believe that she and Harry Potter had been together for a year already.
“We haven’t seen him here in a long time.” Yor said, when the subject came up over breakfast.
“You’re not sneaking up to London to see him, are you?”
“I’m not sneaking anywhere.” Anya said, annoyed. “I tell you every time I go.”
“But you have gone by yourself.” Loid pointed out.
Anya groaned and looked down at her oatmeal. She was now fourteen and really starting to feel as if her Father was becoming a tad bit overbearing.
This summer she had seen less of Harry than she had since she had met him. He had, as he had planned, not returned to Privet Drive, instead returning to Number 12: Grimmauld Place, which was in London. It wasn’t terribly far, but they had grown up together on Privet Drive. And since Harry had very good reason to want to stay away from Privet Drive, Anya found herself travelling up to Grimmauld Place on her own every weekend.
Her Father had given her very strict instructions to never stay overnight, and had told Sirius that he wouldn’t allow Anya to come if she did, so she had to take the trip there and back every day she wanted to go down there. It was wearing her out.
Sirius was very kind to her, and extremely appreciative of what she had done to bring Peter Pettigrew to justice. Yet she felt a strange sense of isolation whenever she joined he and Harry for dinner. They were becoming a family. A family that she was not really a part of.
She found herself thinking about that a lot as she travelled back and forth from Privet Drive to Grimmauld Place. Harry and Sirius had no secrets between each other. They talked about everything, and already were growing rather close. Her own family lied to each other constantly for one reason or another, and only she had ever really picked up on it.
Her parents had gotten married out of a sense of duty and obligation. It had been a convenience for them. They had no trust in each other to be honest about who they really were and what they wanted to accomplish with their lives. As a child Anya had simply rolled with it: she had been satisfied with the simple feeling of having parents who looked after her. But these days she began to feel as if things were about to fall apart. She was spending more and more time out of the house, and without her, the one thing that kept her parents together in spite of often being on opposite sides of any given conflict…. Things might never be the same again.
She didn’t talk about her problems with Harry. She didn’t want to ruin what was likely the happiest time in his life by talking about her problems. She sat up in his room, the door firmly closed, while he talked incessantly about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. She had never seen him so excited.
“I hope you have fun.” She said warmly. He cast her a look.
“You’re coming too.”
Anya was completely taken aback.
“But I’m a Muggle.”
“My friend Ron’s Dad works at the Ministry.” Harry said. “We have it all cleared out, don’t worry. “
She leapt back, distraught.
“But I haven’t asked for permission!”
She had been certain that her Father would say no, but to her very great surprise he acquiesced, on the condition that he meet with Mr. Weasley first. Anya found herself a little bit nervous when Mr. Weasley arrived at her door. She was surprised to see how well they got along.
“Yes yes, I have a little girl myself.” Arthur said, giving Anya a fond look. “I understand exactly how you feel. Yes, we’ll take very good care of her…”
It seemed that Loid felt more comfortable at the idea that Anya would be spending time with Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley during her stay, rather than Harry Potter. Upon making her promise that she wouldn’t do anything that she would regret later in life, he agreed to allow her to go.
And so she found herself heading off to Number 12 Grimmauld Place with her suitcase in tow, feeling an odd mix of excitement and concern. She was happy that she had been invited, of course… but a part of her feared that she wouldn’t fit in. Harry had told her about how much of a culture shock it had been for him to go from the muggle world into the magical one, and Anya knew that she would likely feel much the same way.
And unlike Harry, she didn’t belong there.
“Hi Harry.” She said, when he greeted her at the door.
“Anya!”
She was surprised to find that Mr. Weasley had beaten her there. He came up from behind Harry, beaming, and touched her shoulder.
“Trip go alright.”
“Yes sir.” Anya said politely.
“Good,good.” Mr. Weasley said. “I know how slow muggle transit can be… and we couldn’t have your parents see any magical methods of transport. I hope you understand.”
“I do.” Anya said. Her trip had not even really begun and she was already being singled out.
“Excellent.” Arthur beamed. “We’ll be going by floo powder… you’re small enough to come with me.”
Harry took her bags and she followed Mr. Weasley to the fireplace. Sirius was sitting in an armchair, reading a muggle motorcycles magazine. He looked up as they approached.
“Hello Anya.” He said warmly, as he set the magazine aside. “How’s your mum?”
“Excellent.” She said. She generally liked Sirius, but his pretty open interest in her Mother had always gotten on her nerves.
“Oh, I wish I could go.” Sirius said, sighing, as he gazed longingly into the fire. “But I can’t justify it when so many people still believe I’m a murderer.”
He was thinking instead about how he would be spending his weekend alone, buying a new motorcycle and trying to pick up muggle chicks. Anya had to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she turned to Arthur Weasley.
“What is Floo powder?”
He showed her how it was done. She found herself wedged in the fire with him, suitcase clasped tightly to her chest.
“The Burrow!” Mr. Weasley called. And then the flames consumed them.
Anya stayed completely still until they stopped spinning. Eventually she found herself tumbling out of the fireplace, gasping .
“Yes, it is quite rough when you’re not used to it.” Arthur said brightly, as he stepped out after her. “Hello, Molly.”
She was introduced to Mrs. Weasley, who immediately called her adorable, but before she could ask questions about how she met Harry the fireplace burst alive again, and Harry Potter stepped through.
“Hello Mrs. Weasley!” He said brightly, as he walked up to her. Anya was surprised at how fond of her he was… his thoughts indicated nothing but affection.”
“I was just speaking to Anya.” Mrs. Weasley beamed. “How is your godfather?”
They chatted amicably for an hour after that. Ron and Hermione were there as well, and soon enough the four of them were chatting happily at the kitchen table as Mrs. Weasley bustled around, preparing them breakfast. Anya found herself very pleased with the food, and wished that her own Mother could cook as well.
“You and Hermione will be rooming with Ginny.” Mrs. Weasley told her. “I’m sorry that we don’t have more space, but…”
“I think it’ll be fine.” Anya assured her, casting a glance at Hermione. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Hermione beamed at her.
She led her up to their room and Anya found herself struggling to find room to even put her suitcase. She found herself simply removing what she needed and placing it downstairs.
She spent the rest of the day meeting the rest of the family. Fred and George took a liking to her immediately, considering she was so quick on the uptake when it came to her humor. Arthur Weasley kept asking her about her parent’s work and their life as muggles, and she did her best to answer. Percy Weasley seemed to disapprove of a muggle being in his family’s house, and refused to give her the time of day.
“I still haven’t met Ginny.” Anya said to Hermione.
“She might be in her room.” Hermione told her. “Why don’t you go see?”
Anya found herself trudging up back to her room, her mind awhirl with thoughts and feelings. So this was what a normal family was like. No wonder Harry was so fond of them.
So fond, in fact, that if he had to choose between them and her…
She was so distracted that she hardly noticed the thoughts drifting into her head as she reached for the door.
Here she comes!
Anya stopped, frowning.
Why’d she stop? Can she smell the dungbomb?
Anya wasn’t sure what a dungbomb was, but she for sure didn’t want to find out. Instead of reaching for the handle, she knocked instead.
“Ginny?” She called. “May I come in?”
She stopped, waiting. As she had expected, there was no answer from the other side of the room. Her thoughts, however, were running wild.
If I open the door the Dungbomb will go off in my face. She has open the door herself.”
“Come in!” Ginny called.
Anya pulled the handle and stepped back down the stairs. There was some kind of explosion, and Anya found herself gagging: The rancid scent was quite terrible even from this distance.
“Oh no, I’m sorry!” Ginny’s voice said from the top of the stairs. “There was a dungbomb and-“
She stopped. She seemed to have noticed that Anya wasn’t where she was supposed to be.
“I’m okay!” Anya called up to her. “I saw it fall.”
“Oh!” Ginny said. “That’s good.”
Her mind was still whirling. How could she have possibly had time…?
Ginny stepped out of the room, holding her nose as she stepped down the stairs towards her.
“So you’re Anya.” Ginny said. Her eyes ran over her briefly, and although her tone was polite, she did not smile. And what was more, Anya could tell what she was really thinking.
So this is her, huh?
“And you’re Ginny.” Anya said brightly, smiling radiantly. She had seen her Father at work long enough to know that it wasn’t a good idea for the enemy to know what you knew. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Same.”
What does he see in her…?
Anya had always suspected that Hermione Granger might have harbored feelings for Harry, but those suspicions had been quickly dashed once she had actually met her. What she had not realized, however, was that the girl that Harry Potter had rescued from the Chamber of Secrets had become madly in love with him.
She really should have seen this coming, but Harry’s letters rarely mentioned Ginny, and usually simply as Ron’s sister. He barely seemed to even register that she existed, even after saving her life. Anya made a mental note to herself that Harry was terrible at piecing together how girls worked.
“Do you need help getting the smell out?” Anya asked, concerned.
“I’ll have Mum do it before bed.” Ginny said. She seemed to realize what she had just said made her look bad, so she quickly amended her statement. “I can’t use magic outside of school… It’ll be easier if Mum does it.”
“It must be nice to be a witch.” Anya offered. She had meant it as a peace offering, but Ginny seemed to sense weakness.
“It is!” She said brightly. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a muggle. You can’t do anything that we can.”
Anya tried to bury her annoyance behind a façade of amity, but she couldn’t help but feel that Harry had done her a disservice. Nowhere in his letters had he ever described Ginny Weasley as being a complete BITCH.