1995
1995
It takes Sirius a half an hour to convince me he’s real. Ten more minutes to convince me to sit down.
An hour for me to believe what he is saying.
I have been locked inside of that tiny wooden box for over thirteen years.
None of my questions get the right answers.
“Where is James? Lily? Eddie? Dead. Dead. Dead.
I start coming up with alternate explanations in my head.
A dream?
Another reality?
An elaborate and cruel prank?
A hallucination?
Lestrange’s new tactic to gain information?
“Connie?” Sirius offers me a cup of tea.
I take it, staring at the pale skin of his hands.
“How did you get me out?” I shift my eyeline to the box. My prison.
“Opened it. Molly told me it was a reckless idea, but I didn’t want to waste time checking every artifact in the house anymore.”
“Molly Weasley?”
He nods.
I’ve missed out on a lot. So much has happened.
“I’ll need a wand,” I push past all of the information I don’t have to focus on the things I can solve.
“There was a presumption of death. You’ll have to be declared alive by the ministry.”
Right.
“Although I suppose Ollivander would have no problem helping you find a new wand before then.”
I smile at him, grateful for the positive attitude.
He’s very different.
His light has dimmed. Although I suppose all of us were losing our shine in the war.
“Fancy a trip to Diagon?” I ask.
“Can’t. It’s a rather long story actually,” he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, his long hair falling around his jaw.
“Perhaps you could write it all down for me. Like the study guides I used to make for you,” I suggest not wanting to push.
He nods and then stands.
“Come on, there is someone you need to meet,” he offers a hand. I finish my tea and take his hand.
We walk out of the study and into an equally dark hallway.
When the kitchen door opens, I take in six faces.
Only one of them makes my eyes water.
James. Lily.
“Harry,” I swallow, frustrated at how weak my voice sounds.
He is standing amongst a sea of redheads.
“Hello,” he smiles. Kindness like Lily. Crooked nose like James. Not hereditary, just a result of mischief I’d guess.
“I’m Connie,” I step into the room. He walks around the table and I frown.
He’s wafer-thin.
“Sirius told us what happened,” he says, staring at my bell bottom jeans and bright green jumper.
“Do you think-? Would you mind-? Sorry, could I hug you?” I stammer.
He nods and I let tears fall down my cheeks.
We hug for too long. The rest of the room falls into silence but I can’t bring myself to let him go until Sirius taps my shoulder.
“Let the boy go, he can barely breathe,” he says.
Pulling away, I look at Lily’s eyes and know that this is all real.
“You must be hungry,” a voice says from behind me. I turn and am shocked to see Molly Weasley holding an entire tray of pastries. She looks so different. Her cropped red hair has grown past her shoulders. Deep worry lines etched into her face.
My mouth waters.
I haven’t eaten in days. No, years.
“Why are you laughing?” Harry asks.
I didn’t realize I was.
“I’m so hungry, I feel like I haven’t eaten in years,” I joke
The smile he cracks isn’t exactly happy, but it will do for now.
“Molly Weasley, I take it you are responsible for the rest of the children in this room?” I ask.
She nods and pushes me into a chair. Wonderfully, Harry sits right beside me. Sirius sits on his other side and the many redheads find their seats.
There is a brunette girl I hadn’t noticed before.
She has hair like Dorcas.
Dorcas. Alive? Dead? Ask Sirius later.
“How did you know my parents?” Harry asks before I have a chance to introduce myself to anyone else.
I look past him at Sirius. He’s ignoring me. Of course, he didn’t talk about me.
“Well there were other students at Hogwarts besides the Marauders,” I say pointedly.
Two of the redheads, identical twins, look at me alarmed.
“Did you just say Marauders?” They both ask in sync.
“Yes, but I won’t be talking about them now. Harry, I was your mother’s best friend. We were the top two witches in our year. She beat me out for Headgirl though,” I smile, remembering her face when she had gotten the letter. We had all been together on an end of Summer trip to the lake.
“Only because you didn’t go back to school for your Seventh year,” Sirius tattles on me.
“You didn’t?” Nearly every teen in the room asks.
I laugh, thinking how similar they are to me. I suppose I have more in common with them than the people I had attended Hogwarts with. They’ve all grown up.
“I was already embedded with the Death Eaters. It was more important than NEWTS.”
The brunette gasps, seemingly offended from my insinuation.
“I didn’t know Mum had female friends at Hogwarts,” Harry reminds me of where the conversation began.
He also reminds me to jinx Sirius later.
“That’s because your Godfather is too James obsessed to remember anyone else. There was Dorcas Meadows and Marlene McKinnon, her housemates. And Emmeline and Alice. Most importantly, there was me.”
“You weren’t in Gryffindor?” The brunette girl asks.
“Slytherin,” Sirius answers for me. “And yes, we absolutely held it against her. That is until she gave a bunch of third-year snakes donkey ears for picking on Lily.”
“We definitely don’t need to get into that, Black,” I stuff a pastry in my mouth.
“So why didn’t you age?” A redheaded boy with crumbs all down his front asks around the food in his mouth.
“The box was likely a kind of freezing charm, intended to preserve the inhabitant for as long as necessary,” the brunette says smartly.
“What’s your name? I ask. “What are all of your names, actually? It’s probably a good place for me to start so far as acclimating.”
“I’m Hermione Granger,” the brunette says. She is quite poised. From the way the boy next to her is looking at her, she is brilliant as well. She nods her head at him and he swallows his food.
“Ron. Weasley.”
“Obviously,” I joke.
Everyone laughs and I relax a little. I will be okay here. In this time. I hope.
“I’m Fred.”
“And I’m George.”
I look between them and search for something to tell them apart.
It takes a long time, but eventually, they turn to look at each other with smirks on their faces and then back at me. Fred has two large freckles below his right ear, George does not.
“I’m Bill,” the oldest looking one smiles.
He’s rather handsome. Sharp eyes and a chiseled jawline. Definitely out of Hogwarts. Single? I’ll ask Sirius later.
“And I’m Ginny. The last of the Weasley bunch,” a beautiful young witch says from across the table.
“And of course I already know Molly and Sirius. I’m Connie Fawley. Very happily the last of a pureblood line. Are you all Gryffindors?” I ask, taking note of the grotesque amount of red in the room, on top of all of the red hair.
They all confirm my fear. Lions. The lot of them.
“Have you got any friends outside of Gryffindor?” I ask Harry.
He shrugs and shakes his head.
House pride has only succeeded at separating them all further.
“Perhaps give it a go next year. I’d prefer not to spend all of my time in a lion den by myself,” I say lightly.
He nods.
I’ll count that as a success.