1. All You Need Is Love

**Chapter One: All You Need Is Love**

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><p>Willow Danielle Rosenberg ran as fast as her little eleven-year old legs would carry her from Sunnydale Elementary School back to her house. The school year was almost over, but that didn't stop Cordelia Chase and her evil band of Cordettes from making her life even more hellish than usual. Harmony Kendall had reduced Xander to tears while battering him verbally about his very un-nice parents, and kept him isolated in a corner while Cordelia herself came after Willow.<p>

Willow knew that Xander's parents weren't that nice, and Jesse's weren't that much better. Willow's mom and dad were okay by comparison, but they left her alone so much that sometimes she had a sneaking, nasty little feeling that they didn't really love her. And Cordelia had teased her and preyed on those insecurities until she couldn't take it anymore and fled as if her life depended on it.

Right now, Willow just wanted to run into her mommy's arms and cry until she couldn't cry anymore. Her mom was smart and knew a lot about kids. She had to know this stuff for her work, which was very important. Willow often had to be reminded just how important her mom and dad's work was whenever she got uppity and tried to get them to stick around when they couldn't.

By the time Willow got home, she was out of breath and stopped to breathe after running for so long. The adrenaline rush was gone, and now she was just a little girl on her parent's stoop. She fumbled as she uprooted a potted plant to get the hidden spare key and put it in the door. Right now, she just needed her mom and dad to tell her that everything Cordelia said was not true at all. She just needed to hear them say, 'We love you, Willow.'

"Mommy! Daddy!" she called at the top of her lungs. But nobody answered her. Willow sniffled as she began to investigate the house. They had been here when she'd left for school. It was a bit of a distance, but they insisted that she walk instead of being driven to and from school. They wanted their little girl to grow up to be an independent young woman, and even if it had been painful, Willow couldn't deny that her parents' hands-off approach had paid off. She knew how to cook for herself and clean up the house and keep everything in order so that when her parents got back, the house was just as they left it.

She went to the kitchen to see if there was a note on the refrigerator door. That was where her mom and dad usually left her notes when they went out. They didn't usually go very far. The furthest they'd ever gone was New York, and they had a good long distance plan for their house phone, so Willow could always contact them.

But there was no note on the door this time. Panicking, Willow looked on the kitchen table, in the living room, and finally in her parents' bedroom, where she never entered unless it was to clean while they were away. As much as she looked, Willow could find nothing telling her where her mommy and daddy had gone.

There was one way that she could think of to find her parents, but the only way she knew about it at all was because her daddy had told her to never, ever look into such things. But being a curious girl who loved to read, Willow had snooped around until she'd found some books that dealt with diagrams and symbols and words in languages that Willow knew about but didn't understand.

Ira Rosenberg, besides being an exceptional accountant, was very Jewish and very proud of it. He wouldn't have his daughter exploring any sort of 'alternative' religious or lifestyle paths. He was very strict about it, but he was _especially_tough when it came to anything resembling 'magic.' It went against everything that Judaism stood for, he said. By putting power in the hands of humans, or even pretending that such power could exist, it took faith away from God.

Willow wasn't sure what to make of God, personally. She had a funny feeling that there was something out there looking out for the world, but she didn't know if it was God or something else entirely. And even if God was real, surely He would understand Willow wanting to find her parents? Wasn't this part of honoring her father and mother, just like the Ten Commandments told her to?

Taking a heavy atlas off the bookshelf, Willow turned to a map of the entire world, spread out flat. She then put the magic book a bit ahead of her so she could read it and do the simple spell to locate her parents. But the spell told her to talk to a different God to try to find them! Was this okay? _It has to be okay! I have to know if they really love me!_

"Hermes, God of Travelers: I beseech thee. Show me the treaded paths of those I seek."

A little bead of light showed up on the atlas, starting in southwestern North America, which Willow guessed was Sunnydale. The light traveled eastward across the country until it stopped in what looked like New England. But then it continued across the Atlantic Ocean! Her parents were going out of the country! Willow didn't know how to talk to them when they weren't in the United States! She knew that different rules applied, and she was scared.

The bead of light stopped midway between New England and the British Isles. At first, Willow thought that there must be some mistake. The ocean was really big, and so maybe they were still in the airplane. She would keep her eyes on the map. It might take a few hours, but the plane would keep moving so that she could see where it landed.

But it didn't move again. Willow looked back at the magic book. "Hermes: God of Travelers: I beseech thee. Show me the end of the path of those I seek."

The bead of light shined brightly in the middle of the ocean, and Willow realized that the plane must have either landed on an island or else… No! They couldn't be! Her mommy and daddy could _not_be dead! She still needed to know that they loved her!

"No, don't! Don't be dead," she whined. "Come back to me, mom! Dad! Come back! Show me where they're going to be next!"

The light shot upwards out of the atlas book and struck the ceiling with a great force that spread out to every other room in the house. Willow screamed and ducked for cover as the walls of her house began to catch fire. She couldn't see the pillar of light shooting upwards into the infinite reaches of the sky, showing where her parents had gone. All she knew was that her parents had left her, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn't remember them telling her that they loved her!

Willow screamed again, a primal cry of fear and rage, and the house exploded in a ball of fire and ash.

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><p>Arthur Weasley was having a most splendid day at the office. A poor Muggle woman had accidentally come into possession of a tome that she couldn't stop reading, and Arthur and Perkins had had to set things right. They had confiscated a few other books that looked suspicious, just to be on the safe side. Careful examination showed nothing inherently magical about them, but the content was quite fascinating all the same. Why, this chapter alone was filled with instructions on how to invoke the Four Elements for protection, among other things. Utter gibberish when compared to <em>real<em>magic, but it was always interesting to see how Muggles viewed such things.

"Hey, Arthur!" Perkins said from the cubicle next to his.

"Hm? Yes, what is it?"

"Just got a memo. The Minister wants to see you in his office."

Arthur gasped. "The Minister himself? Really? Let me see that!" Arthur was well aware that his office was seen as something of a joke among many Ministry personnel, and that he himself was seen as a bit of an oddball. He didn't understand the attitudes, personally: he served an important function, even if it wasn't terribly glorious. His job was quite fulfilling in his own right, and he feared that the Minister was about to disband the two-person Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

Sighing resignedly, Arthur straightened out his robes and headed to the lift that would take him to the upper Ministerial offices. Several employees with far fancier robes looked at Arthur as though they couldn't imagine why he was staying on the lift all the way up to Level One.

Ignoring his silent, patronizing coworkers, Arthur disembarked at the top level and headed to the Minister's office. A secretary waited outside.

"Um, yes. Arthur Weasley. I just heard that the Minister asked to see me?"

The young witch behind the desk smiled compassionately. "Of course, sir. I'll let him know you're here."

_Well, at least not everyone on this level is impossible to deal with._Not that there weren't plenty of entirely pleasant people all throughout the Ministry. But sometimes prejudices and stereotypes developed whether one wanted to or not.

The young witch at the desk tapped her wand to a small bronze device and said, "Arthur Weasley to see you, Minister." After a few seconds, the bronze thing started to glow. "The Minister will see you now," she said with a smile.

"Thank you very much, Miss…"

"Aerora Maclay, Mister Weasley," the blonde woman said with a warm smile.

Smiling himself, Arthur bowed. "Thank you, Miss Maclay," he said before heading in to see the Minister.

Cornelius Fudge had gotten up from his desk and was coming forward to greet him. "Arthur, Arthur. Please, have a seat. Would you care for some tea? Or perhaps something a bit stronger?"

Arthur was quite puzzled. "No, but thank you, Minister. I must confess, I-I'm not entirely sure as to the purpose of this meeting."

"Hm. No, I don't expect you would be. But my offer of a drink still stands, mind you, should this news become too much for you."

The room seemed very cold all of a sudden. "What's happened, Minister? Is my family in any sort of trouble?"

Fudge began to fidget with the rim of his bowler hat. "Well, I suppose that depends on how you look at it, Arthur. Let me fill you in from the beginning," he said as he sat down at his own desk and put his hands together.

"Last afternoon, on the Pacific Coast of the Americas, the American Ministry of Magic detected a very powerful use of underage magic. A little girl burned down her home and seems to be under the impression that her parents are dead. All indications so far lead us to believe that the girl in question is a Muggle-born witch, though her family has been under the scrutiny of the American Ministry just in case of such an incident."

Of all the things to be dragged into the Minister's office for, the tragedy of a poor American girl was not anywhere near the top of the list. "That's an incredibly sad tale, Minister, but I'm afraid I don't understand what it has to do with me."

"Ah, of course. Forgive me, Arthur. Well, it seems that the girl's father is not exactly a Muggle, but a Squib. Well, he _was_a Squib, I suppose I should say, as we have confirmed that the man and his wife did in fact die when their aeroplane crashed into the Atlantic Ocean. But, that's beside the point. The point is that the man, Ira Rosenberg, was adopted by his Muggle parents at the age of twelve, after it was clear he was a Squib, and his true family did not know how to properly care for him.

"The rest of Ira Rosenberg's blood family in the States was slaughtered by American zealots who were planning to join You-Know-Who before he was defeated. Those deaths were from the Prewett family, Arthur."

Now it all made sense. Arthur couldn't help but be terrified by the prospect of an aeroplane going down over the ocean. They were supposed to hold tens if not hundreds of people. So many innocents drowning like that because of who-knows-what just seemed so random and cruel. But, as sad as he was to admit it, the Minister was right when he said that for the moment, that was beside the point.

"So, this little orphan girl is actually a long-lost Weasley?"

"It would seem that way, Arthur. By our laws, you and your wife are now the legal guardians of one Willow Danielle Rosenberg." Fudge picked a folder off of his desk and handed it to Arthur. "This is what we have on her at the moment. She's currently being held at a facility in Salem. We felt that it was safer than leaving her closer to her hometown."

"Why is that?" Arthur asked.

Fudge sighed and gave a small smile. "Unfortunately, that's not something I'm at liberty to discuss, even if I did know anything about it. Apparently, Sunnydale, California is a matter for the Department of Mysteries. A team of Unspeakables has been dispatched to the town to make sure of, well, whatever it is they're making sure of. Even I don't have full authority over that particular branch.

"But in spite of this tragedy, there is one spark of good news for you and your family. It seems that Ira and Shelia Rosenberg were both quite successful in their respective careers, and lived a comfortable, if not wealthy, life in the United States. Their estate and fortunes have passed to their daughter, but only when she comes of age. Until then, the money of the Rosenbergs is now that of the Weasleys."

Arthur was too numb to take any sort of gratification from the Minister's half-assed attempt at reassurance. So what if he and his family didn't have the most money? That didn't matter one wit to him or to Molly. They got by on their own just fine. It shouldn't take some poor girl's tragedy to make their lives any easier. Not that Arthur had any intention of taking one knut of this girl's inheritance away from her in any event.

"I imagine that this girl, Willow, must be scared out of her mind," Arthur said softly. "I'll talk to Molly and the kids and see if we can arrange a trip to Salem to meet her."

"Of course, of course, Arthur! You have my permission to take some paid leave, and to use the intercontinental Floo for as long as it takes to settle this matter. I'm sorry it had to happen like this, but in a way, it is a good thing. Miss Rosenberg is Hogwarts age, Arthur, and given the display of magic the Americans described… Well, let's just say that this girl needs and deserves the best magical education she can get. Isn't one of your own children starting there in a few weeks?"

Arthur nodded dumbly. "Yes, Ron is going to be starting his first year in September. I-I don't mean to be rude, Minister, but I think I need to go home and talk to Molly about all this. Get things settled at home."

"Oh, by all means! Consider yourself on vacation as of right now, Arthur. The Ministry looks after its own, of course. I'm sure that you'll do an excellent job with young Willow."

"Hm. Yes, Minister. Thank you. Well, I must be off, but thank you for taking time out of your day, sir."

"Oh, think nothing of it. And don't forget her file," Fudge said, handing the envelope to Arthur.

"Yes, thank you Minister. Good day, sir."

Exiting the office, Arthur leaned against the wall and breathed slowly, trying to wrap his mind around everything that had changed since he entered the Minister's office. He was going to be a father for the eighth time! Only this child knew nothing about magic, save that she'd just burned down her home after learning that her parents had died. The poor girl must be a terrible mess.

"Is everything all right, Mister Weasley?"

Arthur looked up to see Aerora Maclay looking at him with kind eyes from her desk. "No, I don't think it is. I hope it will be, but I think I need some time."

Maclay blushed and bowed her head. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to pry."

"Oh, no! No, you weren't prying. I appreciate your concern, I really do." Arthur paused. "Would you care to have lunch some time with my wife and I? I mean, I'd have to talk to Molly first, but I haven't seen you around here before, and I'd hate for you to not feel at home."

Aerora smiled. "You're very thoughtful, Mister Weasley. I'm sure my husband and I would love to meet your family."

He smiled. "Please, call me Arthur."

She smiled back. "Thank you, Arthur. I'm Aerora."

Arthur bowed to her. "Well, Aerora, I need to talk with my family, and we'll probably be busy for the foreseeable future. But perhaps sometime in September, after the kids are off at Hogwarts?"

"That sounds quite nice," the blonde woman said with a soft smile. "Have a good day, Arthur."

"And you as well, Aerora," Arthur said as he made his way to the lift. Really it was quite nice to run into someone on Level One who was as kind and well-mannered as Ms. Maclay. Did she have any children at Hogwarts, he wondered.

But thoughts of new friends could wait. Right now, there was a terrified cousin of his that needed his help. And Arthur Weasley was going to do everything in his power to help poor young Willow Rosenberg.

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><p>I don't own Buffy or Harry Potter. I'm just playing with the toys they let me borrow.<p>

Thanks for reading! I hope you like this story. ^_^


	2. Family

**Chapter Two: Family**

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><p>Willow sat alone in the strange office, her head a roiling storm of fear and curiosity vying for dominance. She had blown up her house! It had gone up in fire and smoke and had collapsed on her. But somehow, she'd been fine. Willow knew enough about science to know that she should be dead. She also knew that the cause of the explosion had been something that she couldn't explain with science. It was scary to have that kind of power, but it was also kind of nice.<p>

Before she could even crawl her way out of the debris of her old house, strange men in cloaks had appeared out of nowhere and taken her to where she was now. She thought she heard someone say she was in Salem, which she knew was in Massachusetts on the other side of the country, but how had they all gotten so far so fast? One moment they had been outside of her house, and the next, they were here.

It had been two days since the explosion, and she just wanted to go home. It hadn't yet sunk in that she didn't really have a home to go to. All she knew is that Xander and Jesse would see the house and think that Willow was dead. She had to find them and let them know that she was okay, but the stupid grown-ups wouldn't let her go anywhere.

"It's for your own good," they kept saying, but what did they know? What did _anyone_know about her? These people were all strangers, and they kept telling her that 'things are being worked out' and 'everything will be okay soon.' They didn't seem to care that her mom and dad were dead, and even though Willow tried to mourn them, she found that she wasn't sure how much she cared that they were gone.

_They never told me they loved me. Well, they probably did, but I don't remember it. And they left without saying goodbye, or even leaving a note. And they were leaving the country! Why would they do that?_

Willow thought about all the times her dad had told her to stay away from anything close to magic, and Willow could understand why. She'd blown up the house! But a niggling little voice in the back of her head was telling her, 'Your daddy knew all along that you had this power, and that's why he never loved you. Your mom was just the same. They all knew what you could do, and they were afraid of you.'

She had to keep shaking her head and telling the voice to go away, that it wasn't true at all. But if she had used magic to blow up her house, didn't that prove that magic was evil? And it had taken her away from Xander and Jesse. She was being punished, she knew it. God was telling her that she'd been bad, and that now she had to pay for what she'd done.

But another voice inside her head whispered to her, 'This power is a good thing. You can use it to become stronger. Your parents saw you and thought you were too weak to love. If you had been stronger, they would have loved you more. And what about Cordelia? I bet that she wouldn't be so bossy and mean if she knew that you could blow her up.'

Willow smirked when that little voice told her that. No, Cordy Chase would be nothing next to such power. If only she could learn to control it… Didn't all the other people around here use strange powers to go to and from places? Were they all magicians, too? If they could learn to do such things, then maybe she could, too!

A while later, the woman whose office Willow was in returned with two other adults. There was a balding man and a plump woman who both had red hair.

"I'll leave you be for now," the black-haired woman said, leaving the three redheads alone in her office.

Willow curled up in her chair, suddenly nervous at being left alone with two strangers.

The man and woman looked at her with strange looks on their faces. Willow hadn't seen such faces before. It was like they were smiling at her while also trying to keep from crying. Why were they looking at her like that?

"Hello there," the woman said. She talked funny, like she was from another country. "My name is Molly, and this is my husband, Arthur. We're cousins of your father's."

They were family? Willow had family on her mother's side that lived far closer than Massachusetts. Why hadn't they come for her? "I… I don't know you. I want to go home!"

The man – Arthur – kept up that strange sad smile. "You want to go back to Sunnydale?"

"Y-yeah! Xander's there, and so is Jesse! I miss them. A-and their parents aren't nice at all, and they get to spend time at my parents' house so they don't get hurt. Oh, and I wasn't supposed to talk about that. B-but they'll be all worried! 'Cause my house went all boom and stuff. And I didn't mean to do it! It just happened! All I wanted was to find my mom and dad!"

The woman, Molly, came closer and wrapped Willow in a hug as she started to sob. Too tired to fight it, Willow just leaned into the woman's shoulder and let out her tears. Molly was soft and warm. It felt good.

"W-why… Why are you doing this?" she asked pitifully. "H-holding me, I mean."

Molly held Willow gently and looked her in the eye. "Didn't your mother ever hold you like this when you were sad?"

Willow shook her head. "Nuh-uh. If I depended too much on others, then I wouldn't grow up to be independent. It's important to be independent," she recited, just as her parents had told her so many times.

Arthur came closer and crouched next to his wife. "It's all right to let other people in, Willow. I bet you liked it when your friends were around with you."

This was entirely the wrong thing to say. "How do you know my name? Y-you want to take me away from Xander and Jesse, don't you? They need me, and I need them! Let me go!"

Bursting out of her chair, the little girl burst for the door and tried to get out, but the door wouldn't budge. "Let! Me! Out!"

Molly placed a hand on Willow's shoulder after she had spent some energy on the door. "Some people who are in charge of helping others told us about you. We're your family, and well, we'd like you to come live with us."

"L-live with you?" Willow was curious now. Why did these people want her to live with them? "I don't know you. You don't know me. How do you know it'd be okay?"

"You're family, Willow," Arthur said softly. He spoke so gently. It felt like a soft feather against her ears. "And we're like you."

"What do you mean, like me?" Willow asked suspiciously.

Molly smiled kindly. "Well, Arthur is a wizard, and I'm a witch. Just like you."

Willow's face paled. "No. No, I'm not a witch. Witches are evil and are against God. Witches sent my father away, and God struck them down for their sins." Her eyes narrowed. "You sent my dad away. You took away his family!"

Molly recoiled as if struck. Willow looked up at her and felt bad all of a sudden. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you. Honest! D-daddy always said that he was almost a wizard, but when he wasn't, they took him to the orphanage and left him there. He said that witches and wizards were bad people, and that magic was evil.

"A-and, I guess that means that I'm evil, too."

Arthur looked rather scared himself. "Well, Willow, I can imagine your father must have been very upset, but you have to understand that magic isn't evil. It doesn't just hurt people. Did you know that you can help people with magic?"

Willow shifted nervously. "I guess. I mean, I tried to find my parents with magic. Looking for people isn't evil, is it?"

"No, of course it isn't!" Molly said softly. "You were scared and alone, and that made your magic burst out of you by accident. You can't cut yourself off from it, Willow. It's a part of who you are, and you can't just make it go away. But you can learn about it and use it to help people."

"Y-you can teach me to use my power?" If she learned how to do magic, then she could go back to Sunnydale and make everything okay for Xander and Jesse!

"Well, not us, exactly," Arthur said. "You'd have to go to school. A school for magic. They teach you all sorts of things there. How to turn one thing into another, how to brew potions, how to study the stars, and so much more."

"So," Willow said, thinking very quickly, "there are other kids like me?"

"Plenty!" Arthur said happily. "We have seven children of our own, and all of us can use magic. One of them is your age, and another is just a year younger."

"I could have brothers and sisters?" Willow lit up like a Christmas Tree at the news. She'd always wanted a sibling. When Xander and Jesse weren't around, and her parents were busy, it got awfully lonely. And a brother or sister would love her, wouldn't they?

"Well, one sister and six brothers," Molly said with a weak smile. "Ginny is the youngest, but Ron is just your age. He'll be starting at Hogwarts this year, along with you."

"Hogwarts?" Willow wrinkled her nose. "That sounds really gross. What is it?"

Arthur chuckled. "That's the name of the magic school you'd be going to, Willow."

"Oooh. Is it… Is it far away?"

"Well, yes. It's in Britain, along with our house. You'd be moving in with us for the summer and for vacations, but you'd spend most of the year at school."

"A boarding school?" Willow was liking this less and less.

"Oh, it's really quite amazing. I don't know what Muggle boarding schools are like, but Hogwarts is one of the most amazing places in the world."

Willow cocked her head to one side, confused. "What's a Muggle?"

"Oh, that's just our word for non-magical people," Arthur said airily.

Willow frowned. "Sounds pretty racist to me. So, what does that make me?"

"You'd be a Muggle-born witch, Willow," Molly said gently.

"You judge people by their race? What are you? Nazis?"

Molly shook her head. "I don't know what a 'Nazi' is, Willow. It sounds rather awful."

"It is!" Willow said, eager to tell two adults something she knew that they didn't. "A long time ago, when my grandparents were kids, there was a bad man in charge of Germany. He tried to take over the world, and he started by trying to kill all the Jews in the world. If you had any Jewish blood in you, then you could be taken away to a death camp. My grandma's parents didn't make it out in time," she said softly, looking at the floor.

Molly and Arthur shared a look, as if they were talking without words. Finally, they nodded. "Willow, there's something you need to know about us. Well, not us personally, but about our world and its history."

"D-did you have a Holocaust, too?"

"In a way, we did," Arthur said softly. "Many witches and wizards want nothing more than to help people and go about their lives. But there was one wizard who went bad. He became evil. He thought that the only wizards worth having were the ones whose families had always been magical. He and his followers would kill Muggles for fun, and they would kill any wizards who tried to help them."

"Magic Hitler!" Willow gasped.

"That wasn't his name," Arthur said.

"Arthur! You don't mean to…"

"She has to know, Molly!"

"What? What do I have to know?"

Arthur sighed. "This wizard was so evil that people were afraid to speak his name. But you need to know. His name was… Voldemort."

Molly and Arthur both winced and shuddered as they said his name.

"Voldemort," Willow repeated, going over it in her head. "Vol, fly, flight. De, of, from. Mort, death. Flight from death! He was immortal?"

"No one knows," Arthur said softly. "People say that he tried, but he was defeated ten years ago. There was a family, the Potters. He killed James and Lily Potter, and then he tried to kill their son, Harry. He was only one year old at the time."

Willow paled. "He tried to kill a baby? Why?"

"No one knows," Arthur repeated. "But he couldn't. Somehow, little Harry Potter survived the curse that no one else could. And what's more, the curse rebounded back on You-Know-Who and stopped him. He hasn't been seen or heard from since."

"Wow! Harry Potter must be really powerful." Willow wanted to meet this Harry Potter very much. She could learn so much from him! Enough to make Cordy Chase wish she'd never been born!

"Maybe," Arthur conceded. "It's a mystery. No one really knows how it all happened. But there you have it. That's the tale of one of the darkest chapters in our history."

"I see," Willow said, her mind working quickly. "And what if a bad witch shows up near us? How do I protect myself?"

"They teach you that at Hogwarts," Molly said softly. "There's an entire class dedicated to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Wow!" If she could learn how to protect people, then she could go back to Sunnydale and help Xander and Jesse. "And if I go back with you… Will you be my mom and dad?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Molly said. "We could never replace your parents, dear."

"Why not?" Willow protested. "They never loved me, but you're family, right? Can't you love me instead?"

"Oh, Willow!" Suddenly, Molly had engulfed Willow in a great warm hug.

Willow gasped, but soon found that it was a nice feeling, and she relaxed into Molly's embrace. "So this is what love feels like," she whispered softly, closing her eyes.

Molly rocked Willow back and forth gently until Willow had fallen asleep in her arms.

Picking her up in both arms, Molly nodded to Arthur. "Let's go home, Arthur. It's time this poor girl had a proper family."

* * *

><p>Ron and his siblings sat at the table in the kitchen watching the clock for any changes. Mum and dad had told them all very briefly about what had happened. They had a cousin somewhere whose folks had died, and she might be living with them. <em>Just great,<em> Ron thought. _Someone else who I need to work past to get noticed around here._

Right now, the hands of the clock had all of the Weasley children's hands – save for Bill and Charlie – pointing at 'Home.' Their mum and dad were pointed at 'Overseas.'

"Guys! Look! Look at the clock!" Ginny said excitedly.

Next to 'Arthur' and 'Molly,' a third hand shimmered into being, labeled 'Willow,' and it too was pointing at 'Overseas.'

"Willow?" Ron said, confused. "Sounds old."

"Don't be a dingbat, Ron," Fred said.

"Yeah," George chimed in. "I mean, she's got a wand wood name."

"Well, I for one am perfectly willing to welcome our cousin with all the respect and dignity that she deserves," Percy said proudly, puffing out his chest.

"You do that, Perce," Fred and George said together.

"Oh, look! They're on their way back," Ginny said, as the three other hands went from 'Overseas' to 'Traveling.' Finally, the hands began to turn towards 'Home.'

Fred, George, Percy, and Ginny hurried to the front door to wait for their long lost cousin, but Ron couldn't bring himself to go over. Part of him wanted to say that she would be just like the rest of his siblings and torment him mercilessly. But another voice in his head scolded him and told him that he didn't know her at all, and he hadn't grown up with her.

Swallowing his fear, Ron moved to the living room to greet the mysterious Willow.

After what seemed like ages, their parents came through the front door. Their mum was holding someone's hand, and that someone seemed to be hiding behind her.

"I see you're all eager to meet your new, well, I don't know if we should call her your cousin or your adopted sister," their dad said. He looked behind their mum. "It's okay, Willow. They won't bite, I promise."

"Um, okay," a shy voice said from behind Ron's mum, surprising him greatly. She sounded not just shy, but scared! Maybe she wouldn't be so bad after all.

Finally, a small girl who looked a bit like Ginny peeked out from behind their parents. She did look a lot like Ron's sister, only her face was a bit more round and pixie-like than Ginny's. She was also paler and seemed rather fragile.

"Everyone, this is Willow," their mum said. "Willow, this is Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny."

"Uh, h-hi," Willow said nervously.

Ron felt suddenly sorry for Willow, not to mention feeling like an idiot himself. Unfortunately for Willow, Percy chose that moment to be his usual idiot self and step forward all bold and proud.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Willow!" Percy said with as much pride as he could muster. "I'm Percy, and I'm the eldest of us here. Oh, there's also Bill and Charlie, but they're not here right now. They've graduated and are working, which makes me the Senior Weasley at Hogwarts. You'll be attending, won't you? If you have any trouble, you can come to me. I'm a prefect, you see?"

Ron resisted the urge to bang his head into the nearest wall. For her part, Willow stood her ground while mum and dad looked at Percy with something between wrath and pity.

"Um, okay," Willow said. "W-what's a prefect?"

"Don't ask," Fred intervened. "Unless you want to be bored for hours and hours about things you couldn't care less about."

"This handsome git next to me is Fred, and I'm George," the other twin said.

"That's right," Fred said. "I am the handsome one. That's how you can tell us apart, you see? If you see the ugly one, you know it's George."

Ron rolled his eyes, but Willow giggled. "Maybe I'll just call you Fredngeorge. You know, like Samneric?"

The twins looked at each other with something akin to surprise and wonder. "Did you just make up one name for the both of us?" they said as one.

"Yup. Sure did."

"Well don't just stand out there," Ginny said. "Come inside!" she said, taking Willow by the hand.

Ron held back as they all moved to the living area. He wasn't quite sure what to say.

"Ginny, right?" Willow asked, sitting down next to her.

"Yeah. And that's Ron over there."

"Oh. H-hi. I'm sorry if I'm kinda quiet. It's just strange, moving in with a new family. A-and you're a family of wizards and witches. And you don't seem evil. You all seem really nice. Which I guess makes my dad wrong about magic being evil. But I guess he was wrong about a lot of things. Not that you would know about that, since you never met him. At least, I don't think you did. He was really angry at you, but I don't think you deserve to die just because he grew up all crummy."

Before Ron or any of his siblings could respond to that, their dad spoke up. "Willow was raised by non-magical parents. One of them was from Molly's side of the family who was put up for adoption when they discovered he didn't have any magic."

Willow looked up at him and smiled. "Thanks, dad."

Ron's eyes widened. _Did she just call him 'dad?'_

He just smiled. "For what, Willow?"

"For not saying 'Muggle' or 'Squib.'" She replied.

Percy decided to be an arse yet again. "Oh, there's nothing wrong with classifying people with simple terms like that. Otherwise, how would we be able to speak plainly about which people are what without our conversations going over so long that they'd become pointless?"

Willow's eyes narrowed as she affixed Percy with a cold stare that Ron swore he _never_wanted directed at him. "Shut up," she hissed softly. It sounded like a threat.

"Wow," Fred said. "I'm impressed," he said. "Only a few minutes here, and already you can tell that Percy is a first class prat."

"Fred!" his mother scolded him.

"It's okay," Willow said. "He's the handsome twin, right? Doesn't that mean he gets to be right sometimes?"

"Oh, no. What have you done?" George said in shock.

Percy opened his mouth to protest this new development, but no words came out.

"What are you trying to say, Percy?" Willow said, sounding annoyed. "Speak up."

"…am _not_a prat!"

Ron blinked, putting two and two together. "Uh, Willow," he asked gently.

"Hm?" she asked, turning to him. "Oh! Sorry, Ron! Is everything okay?"

"I dunno. I think you just made Percy shut up, and then you made him speak up again."

"I did?" She looked to their parents. "Did I do that? Can I even do that at all?"

Percy cleared his throat. "Well, some witches and wizards are able to use magic without a wand without meaning to. Of course, to do so intentionally is far rarer, and is surely the sign of…"

"Shut up, Percy."

"…"

Ron's jaw hung open as Willow giggled a bit. "Wow! That was neat!" she said.

"Wicked!" Fred and George said together.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Ron said enthusiastically. "I've wanted to do that for so many years!"

"Be that as it may," their father said, clearly trying to hide a smile, "that was not something you should be doing, Willow. There's a right and a wrong way to use magic."

"Oh. Sorry," she said, and she really looked like she meant it. "Um, sorry, Percy. Uh, speak up again?"

Percy visibly relaxed and opened his mouth again. No sound came out.

"Oh no!" Willow looked panicky. "Speak up, Percy! Speak up! Speak UP!"

Nothing happened.

"I'll take care of this," Ron's mum said, grabbing Percy gently and leading him away from the living room.

The rest of them laughed, save for their dad, who was trying to keep up a respectable front. Ginny pulled her sister up to her feet with both hands. "Welcome to the family, sis."

"Yeah! Welcome!" Fred and George said.

Ron stepped forward, liking his new sister despite himself. "Uh, welcome to the family, Willow."

She surprised them all by grabbing them all and holding them close. She spoke softly, but Ron could have sworn her heard her say, "So this is what family feels like."


	3. London

**Chapter Three: London**

* * *

><p>"Well, it's finally done!" Molly said to the assembled Weasleys at the breakfast table.<p>

"What's done, mom?" Ginny asked.

"Willow's paperwork is done, and she's definitely going to Hogwarts!"

"I am?" Willow wasn't sure what to think. "That's good, I guess. But I still want to go back and tell Xander and Jesse that I'm okay. They haven't seen me in a month!"

"Yeah, why can't Willow go and see her friends?" Fred asked hotly. "All you and dad will say is 'it's complicated.'"

"And that's not a good enough answer," George agreed quickly.

Willow smiled brightly at the twins, who had been very kind to her when she'd first arrived. Their first practical joke had made her cry, but they had been quick to realize that they couldn't tease Willow as ruthlessly as they did their other siblings. They might be jokers and pranksters, but they were nice about it, and they often did things to Percy to try and make her laugh.

"The Ministry doesn't do anything without a very good reason," Percy said with certainty as though it settled the matter. "We have to rest assured that they know best."

Willow's face scrunched up in anger at Percy's insistence that the Ministry was always right.

"Willow!" Molly warned.

She blushed in realization that she had, indeed, been about to use her magic to make Percy shut up. Again. It had become her trademark in a way, when their parents weren't around. "Sorry, mom."

"Hm. Well, now that you'll definitely be going to Hogwarts, Willow, we should probably get school things for you and for Ron. The list of books you need arrived last week, so we should be set."

"All right!" Ron seemed rather excited. He had confided in Willow that he felt rather inadequate next to all of his relatively accomplished siblings, but having her around made him feel less lonely, since she didn't know much about magic at all. Willow had gotten upset at first because it felt like Ron had been making fun of her, but she realized that he was kind of like her, in that he felt out of place. After a week or so of avoiding each other, they'd finally gotten over their differences and become quite close.

"Can I come too, mum?" Ginny asked.

Willow smiled at Ginny, who was quite an awesome little sister. She was so full of energy and didn't seem to mind when Willow went on one of her babble-fests about life back home.

Molly smiled patiently. "I'm afraid not, Ginny. Willow's even newer to London than you are, so you'll have to stay here until we get back. Percy, you're in charge."

"Thank you, mum," Percy said haughtily as the Ginny and the twins stifled their groans.

"How long a drive is it to London?" Willow asked. She knew that it was a long drive, but she had never seen any of the Weasleys use the blue Ford Anglia in the shed outside.

"We'll be taking the Floo, Willow."

"We're gonna get sick?"

"No," Ron said, laughing. "Floo powder. You know? The green fire?"

"Oooh." That made more sense, now that she had a name to put to the weird way of talking and getting around in the Wizarding world. Still, the name was funny. "So, are we gonna go see Big Ben? A-and can we visit the Museum, too?"

Molly looked a bit awkward. "Well, Willow, those places are in Muggle – sorry, dear – non-magical London. We're going to a part of London made just for us."

"Oh." Willow started to sulk. It seemed more and more that the people in the 'Wizarding world' didn't have much at all to do with the 'Muggles' that they seemed to look down on. Even though magic was kind of neat, sometimes Willow felt ashamed to be a witch. "Are they far apart?"

"Well, no, not really. You just need to pass through the Leaky Cauldron, and-"

"Can we, mom?" Willow asked, putting on her bright face and pouting lips that she had seen some of the girls back in Sunnydale use on their parents. "Pretty please? I promise I'll be good. I've just always wanted to see a real city in another country, and I've read a lot about London. Only, I've just read about regular London. It'd be really nice to see it!"

Molly looked quite unprepared for the fervor of Willow's request, and seemed to give it some serious thought. "Hm. Well, Ron? Would you like to see the other side of London, too?"

Willow looked at Ron but didn't beg and plead with him. She figured he'd only resent it if he felt she was dragging him into it. "I… I don't want to make you unhappy, Ron," she said meekly.

Ron looked rather petrified all of a sudden. Apparently, he wasn't used to being put on the spot like this. "Um… Well, why don't we wait until the weekend and let dad take us? Y'know, all of us. I mean, he knows more about this stuff than the rest of us, right?"

"Good thinking, Ron!" their mom said proudly. "So, what do the rest of you think? Family trip to London this weekend?"

"Sounds great, mum!" Ginny said happily.

"Sure, why not?" Fredngeorge agreed. "Could be fun."

"Well, I think it's an excellent opportunity to learn more about the Muggles we work so hard to protect from rogue elements of Wizarding society."

Willow glared briefly at Percy before running over to hug Molly. "Thank you, mom!"

Molly hugged her newest daughter back. "Think nothing of it. Just let me go talk to your father and make sure that this weekend works for him."

"All right. But, um…" Willow hesitated. "You're not gonna all go dressed in robes and cloaks, are you? In the regular world, I mean?"

Molly looked at Willow patiently, and Willow felt as though her new mom was upset with her. It didn't occur to her that thinking of her new home as 'irregular' was a bad thing. "No, Willow. Arthur sometimes has to dress up as a Mu… As a non-magical person for work. I'll make sure he picks out some things for us."

"We have to dress like you?" Ron asked, eyes going wide as he looked at Willow, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt as opposed to the robes that the rest of the family wore.

"Well, not exactly," Willow said, blushing. "And what's wrong with how I dress?"

"Well," Ginny said a bit awkwardly, "what you call 'regular' is weird for us. I'm guessing our 'normal' is weird for you, too."

"Oh. Sorry. I never thought of that."

"Don't worry about it, Will," Fredngeorge said together. She liked that they were comfortable enough to shorten her name, and she felt at ease with it. "It could be fun," they said, though they didn't sound too sure about it.

"It will be!" Willow said with all the certainty of an earnest eleven-year old girl.

* * *

><p>They decided to visit downtown London first before stopping by Diagon Alley so that they wouldn't have to carry their shopping bags and draw suspicion. It was a strange name for a place, but Willow still couldn't wait to see it.<p>

It had taken a little while before they had gotten out of the house, since Willow's new dad didn't really know how normal people dressed. Willow had to convince him that people would look at him strangely if he went out wearing a tank top and short shorts, and that only she and Ginny could get away with such an outfit. For her part, Ginny didn't understand it either, but she swapped her own baggy pants and button-up shirt with the clothes her dad had picked out for himself. Molly had re-sized them with magic, but had refused to let Ginny go out looking like she did in the clothes that Arthur had traded her, and she had convinced Willow to loan her some of her own clothes.

Even before they got to Diagon Alley, regular London was amazing all on its own. Other than being foreign, it was still a huge city, and Willow had only ever been to Los Angeles once or twice that she could remember. Everything was so different. The clouds, the trees, the people. It was also a lot colder here than it was back home. But it was the summer, so it was nice outside.

They were currently walking through the British Museum, and Willow was completely fascinated by the sheer volume of tangible human history surrounding her. The knowledge in this place was more than she had ever seen! It made the library back in Sunnydale look like a joke!

"Mom! Dad! Over here!" she cried from across the hall as she found herself looking at the Rosetta Stone itself.

"Please, miss, keep your voice down," a man said to her. He looked to be her dad's age, and wore glasses and a tweed suit.

"Oh. Sorry, Mister… Um... Sorry, sir," she decided upon. "But it's the Rosetta Stone! I read about it back home! The amount of knowledge in this place, the history!"

"It's quite exciting, I agree," the man said, wiping his glasses. "Where are your parents, Miss?"

"Oh! I'm Willow Rosenberg. At least, I think it's Rosenberg. I just got new parents. My old ones died," she said quietly.

"Dear Lord! I'm so sorry, Willow," he said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, but thank you, sir. I don't think they really loved me. But my new parents do! They're way better than the ones I had back in Sunnydale."

"I'm sure they are," he said kindly. "Did you just say you grew up in Sunnydale, California?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hm. I see." The tweed-clad man began to mutter under his breath, and Willow couldn't make out what he was saying. Finally, he spoke up again. "Do you know where your parents are? Your, um, well, your current parents?"

"Yeah. They're right… Huh. They were there just a moment ago. Uh oh. I think I might be lost."

"Uh oh, indeed," the tweed-clad man said half-nervously. "Well, why don't I help you find them, Willow? I'm Rupert."

"Rupert?" That was strange. "I'm sorry, sir. My parents – my old parents that is – they told me that I shouldn't call adults by their first names."

"Well, I give you permission to use my first name if it makes you feel better, Willow. But if you'd rather be more formal, you can call me Mister Giles."

Willow smiled and held out her hand. "Thank you, Mister Giles!" she said happily.

"You're quite welcome," he said politely as he led her to a small security kiosk. The guard there showed Mister Giles quite a bit of respect as they talked briefly. The man at the kiosk then spoke into a microphone. "Would the Weasley family please come to the security desk by the Rosetta Stone exhibit. I repeat: would the Weasley family please come to the security desk by the Rosetta Stone exhibit. Thank you."

Willow was scared that her family would be angry at her for wandering off like she had. She had just been so caught up in it all that she must have rushed ahead and gotten lost in the crowd, she figured. Her old parents would surely have scolded her harshly. Were all parents like that when such things happened?

Finally, a sea of red hair appeared, and Willow waved to them. "Over here!"

"Willow, keep your voice down," Mister Giles chided her gently.

"Oh. Sorry, sir."

Molly rushed forward and bent down to hug Willow fiercely. "Oh, dear! You're all right! I was so worried about you! How could you run off like that?"

"I'm sorry, mom! Really! I just got so excited by all the exhibits that I had to… Uh, you're not mad, are you?"

"No, of course not!" Arthur said. "Just don't scare us like that again. We thought we'd lost you."

Mister Giles just cleared his throat and polished his glasses. "Well, I'm certainly glad that everything worked out all right. Your daughter here has quite the inquisitive mind. I'm certain she'll go quite far in life if she continues to push herself."

"I will, Mister Giles! I promise!" Willow said eagerly.

"Thank you for looking after her, Mister Giles, was it?" her new dad said. "Arthur Weasley. You have no idea how much this means to us."

"Y-yes, well I'm only too glad to help. And Willow?"

"Yes, Mister Giles?"

"If anything strange happens to you, or to someone you know from back home, I want you to call me. Take this card," he said, handing her a small business card. "This has my telephone number and office address if you need to contact me."

Willow took the card and looked at it suspiciously. "Why're you helping me like this?" she asked. "Does everyone here get your card?"

"N-no. Quite the opposite, actually. It's just that the Museum has recently taken an interest in the area surrounding your former hometown, and I would personally like to help you in any way I can if something should come up."

"Oh." Willow wasn't sure what to say to that. There wasn't anything special about Sunnydale, was there? "Actually, there is something you can do to help me," she said.

"Willow," her new mom said. "I'm sure that Mister Giles has far more important things to do than-"

"No, ma'am, I assure you, it's quite all right. You were saying, Willow?"

"Well, I have some friends back home, and they probably think I'm dead. My house exploded and I never got to tell them that I'm okay. I was hoping you could tell them that I'm okay and give them my address, so they can send me letters."

Willow looked to her parents. "Is that okay, dad? I know you don't want me going there, but I don't know why. So, we can write to each other, can't we? A-and maybe we can get a telephone because, you know, they don't have special fireplaces?"

"Willow, not here, not now," Arthur said in a hushed voice. "And yes, you can most certainly write and receive letters."

"Thank you! So, um, Mister Giles, their names are Alexander Harris, but he goes by Xander, and Jesse McNally. I'll write down their addresses for you, or I can just give you their telephone numbers."

"Of course," Mister Giles said as he pulled a small pad of paper and a pen out of his shirt pocket

Willow quickly wrote down the pertinent information as neatly as she could and handed it back to him. "Thank you so much, Mister Giles!" she said before hugging him around the waist.

"Oh, uh, yes. Well, you're quite welcome."

"Willow, dear," her mom said, "we need to get going now."

"Oh, okay. Bye, Mister Giles! Thanks again!"

"Do take care," he said to them as the family left the museum.

Once they were outside, her new dad pulled her aside while her mom held the other kids back. "Willow, there's something you need to know. You can't tell non-magical people about magic."

"What? Why not? I didn't say anything bad, did I?"

"No, Willow, not that time. But you see, there are laws about these things. Muggles aren't supposed to know about magic, ever. That means that you can't tell your friends back home about being a witch."

"What? That's stupid! And you just called them Muggles! Why can't I tell them about the real me?"

"Fear, Willow. A lot of our kind doesn't want the rest of the world to know about us because they are afraid of what would happen. Everyone would want magic, and when only a few people in the world can use it, it would cause people to start fighting."

"But I don't wanna tell the whole world! Just my friends."

"I know you don't, Willow. But this is one of the most serious laws in the world. It also means that you can never use magic in front of a non-magical person, unless someone's life depends on it."

Willow recoiled as if struck. If she couldn't use magic to help Xander and Jesse, then what could she do for them? She couldn't be there for them when she was thousands of miles away. She could write to them, but she would have to keep secrets. All because of some stupid law.

"I _will_ see them again," she said with cold fury. "I don't care if there's a law saying I can't, and I don't care if you don't want me to go back to Sunnydale. I don't care how long it takes before I see them again, but I will _not_ abandon my friends. I will _not_be like my old parents. I swear it."

Arthur looked at his new daughter with a look she hadn't seen on him before. "Willow," he said carefully, "do your eyes hurt at all?"

"No," she pouted. "Why?"

"Sorry," he said. "I just thought you might be, well… It's okay if you want to cry, you know."

Willow sighed, but she didn't cry. "Thanks, dad. I just need some time."

"Hm, yes. Well, we still need to get your school things. I hope you'll cheer up when you see Diagon Alley. That's our next stop."

* * *

><p>Willow walked between her parents and beside her siblings as they entered the Leaky Cauldron. They'd been here briefly before going into normal London, as this had been where they'd gotten out of the fireplace. Willow didn't know where they were going to next, but her parents did not take her back towards the fireplace again.<p>

"How're we getting to Diagonally?"

"Diagon Alley," her mother corrected her. "And like this."

Molly stepped into a little brick alcove and tapped a few bricks in a certain order. The bricks then all started to wriggle and move aside until they parted to reveal…

"Wow!"

It was amazing! Diagon Alley was full of all sorts of amazing colors and sounds and smells. Every which way Willow looked, there was something new and exciting to tickle her fancy. There was a pet shop that sold frogs and toads – _Ew! Scary!_– but also cats and owls. Why anyone would want an owl as a pet, Willow wondered.

Next to that there was an apothecary who sold all sorts of strange things that her parents told her she would need for potions. There were also shops for cauldrons, spell books, flying broomsticks, and everything a young witch could imagine!

"First things first," her dad said. "Gringotts. The bank," he said to help Willow understand. "We need to take out money for your school things. They'll be expensive."

"Oh. Can't you use a credit card?"

"Credit card? What's that?"

"I guess it's just a non-magical thing. It's a little plastic card you carry, and it has numbers that only your card has and no one else's does. You go to a store and you use the card instead of cash, and it automatically takes the money out of your bank account. I think that's how it works, anyway. A-and you sign your name so that the store there's a record and so they can make sure that it's really you paying for it and not somebody who stole your card?"

"Is that so?" Arthur said. "Ingenious!" he said with undisguised glee. "I'm going to have to have a talk with your brother, Bill, about possibly putting such a system into place at Gringotts. The time and hassle that could be saved. Brilliant!"

"Thanks, I guess," Willow said modestly. Her earlier anger was gone after seeing so many wondrous things all around her.

They came to a great building made out of white stone, and then when they walked inside…

"It's all right, Willow," her mother said. "Gringotts is run by Goblins. They won't hurt you."

"Okay. I-if you say so."

They walked up to a desk and talked to a well-dressed Goblin. He did look rather civilized to Willow's eye. "We'd like to visit the Weasley and Rosenberg vaults, please," her mother said.

"You get your own vault, Willow?" Ron asked with wide eyes.

"Her parents' savings passed to her when they died," her father chided gently.

"But we're a family now," Willow said. "Shouldn't we share?"

Molly smiled and ran a hand through her daughter's hair. "That's very sweet of you, dear. But we'll be fine."

"B-but…"

"No buts, young lady," Molly scolded kindly.

Willow sulked. If she couldn't share things with her family, then did they even see her as family at all?

The thought of her family not being quite as accepting as she'd hoped kept her unfocused on the rapid cart ride through caverns that she took no notice of.

"Vault 1138: Willow Rosenberg," the Goblin announced.

Her dad handed her a key, which she turned in the lock, and was amazed to find piles of gold, silver, and bronze coins in strange shapes and sizes. "This is all mine?" she whispered disbelievingly.

"And it will belong to your descendants years from now," the Goblin said tonelessly.

Willow looked to her mom. "How much do I need? I mean, I'm not gonna spend this all today, right? Maybe not ever. Can you help me figure out how much I need?"

The Goblin nodded to them both as Molly looked to him for permission to enter what technically wasn't her vault. They scooped up several coins into a large pouch and then went back to the cart.

Willow was thrown for a loop by how much money she had. She didn't know what it was worth, but it looked like a lot.

"Vault 518: Weasley Family," the Goblin announced after another cart ride that Willow missed entirely, her thoughts on her fortune.

Willow's heart sunk like a heavy stone when she saw how tiny her family's vault was compared to her own. There was barely anything in it, and they wouldn't let her share with them! "Mom," she began.

"No buts," Molly repeated more sternly this time.

Willow hung her head sadly. The Weasleys were nice, but they had different rules for things than she was used to. Was the entire magical world like this?

The thoughts haunted her as they got her spell books, her cauldron, scales, and ingredients. It wasn't until they got to Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions that Willow snapped out of her reverie. Her siblings had been giving her a wide berth after the visit to Gringotts, and Ron was trying on robes on the other side of the shop.

"First year at Hogwarts, dear?" a woman who had to be Madam Malkin asked.

Willow just nodded timidly.

The woman smiled. "Right this way. I'm assisting another young lady as well. I'll be right with you."

Willow followed Madam Malkin, wondering what other sorts of clothes wizards wore. They didn't like pants, it seemed. Willow passed a rack of robes on hangers and saw a very pretty blonde girl about her own age trying on a set of black robes.

"Wow," Willow said breathlessly, not focusing on the clothes at all, but on their wearer. She had the softest face and the kindest blue eyes.

The blonde girl looked at Willow a bit shyly. "Hi."

"Oh! Uh, hi!" Willow said, snapping out of her brief haze. "I'm Willow."

"Tara," the blonde girl said quietly.

"Um, you look really pretty," Willow said, suddenly embarrassed.

"Yes, you do, dear," Madam Malkin said as she finished fitting the robes. "How do they feel?"

"They… They feel good," Tara said, though her eyes didn't leave Willow. "So, uh, Willow, you're starting at Hogwarts too?"

"Yup! But, I don't know if I'll be any good. I didn't know I was a witch until about a month ago."

"Oh, that's okay," Tara said. "My mom was a witch, but my dad wasn't. When my mom died, my aunt Aerora and Uncle Liam took me in."

"Oh." Willow got the feeling that there was something about her dad that she didn't want to talk about. Tara excused herself to change back into her regular clothes, and Willow was delighted to see that she was wearing normal clothes.

"Hey! You're not wearing a funny cloak!"

Tara giggled a bit. "No. I guess growing up with my… Wi-without using magic," she said carefully, "I suppose I just like it this way."

"Same here," Willow said, not sure why she felt so strange around this girl. "So, maybe I'll see you at school?"

"Yeah, I hope so," Tara said shyly, looking briefly at the ground. Her eyes flickered upward to look at Willow though. "I… I need to go. It was good meeting you."

"Yeah! You too!" Willow said, waving after the nice, pretty blonde as she left with her aunt and uncle.

"All right, dear," Madam Malkin said. "Now, let's see if we can find some good fits for you."

"Okay," Willow said, her mind not really registering the cloth on her skin. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

* * *

><p>As they exited the robes shop, Willow took full notice of her siblings for the first time, and she noticed that her own shopping bags were far fuller than Ron's. "Hey, mom! Did we forget to get some things for Ron?"<p>

"Oh, of course not, Willow," her mother reassured her. "We're just going to borrow some older things from Bill and Charlie and let Ron use them."

"Oh. Okay." Willow realized that they were trying to save as much money as possible, since it was clear that her new family was not very wealthy at all. And they wouldn't even let her help buy her own brother his own things! Wasn't it her money? Still, she hadn't been paying attention. Ron probably hated her now. Indeed, he was standing off to the side, closer to Percy than to her. _He must be really mad to stand by Percy._

"Here we are," Arthur said. "Last and most important stop: Ollivanders."

Willow looked up at the shop with a sign that read, 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.' When they went inside, the shop looked rather empty. There was a small waiting area up front with a desk, behind which were shelves upon shelves full of long boxes.

But the humble sight was very different from what Willow felt. "There's so much power here," she gasped.

An old, strange looking man popped out from behind a shelf. "Indeed there is, Willow Rosenberg."

Willow took a step back. "H-how do you know my name?"

"Oh, there's been quite the hubbub about you from places a lot of people don't tend to look in. There's a special magic to wands all their own. The fact that you can feel it says something about you. But I wonder how much of it has to do with where you are from."

Willow paled. "Everyone keeps saying things about Sunnydale. What's so special about it?"

"I cannot say," the man she assumed was Ollivander said. "I have heard tell of strange things from the Valley of the Sun, but the ones I believe are hardly for children's ears. Now, will you please raise your wand arm?"

"Uh, okay," Willow said as she raised her right arm.

Mister Ollivander began to take measurements with a roll of tape that seemed to move all on its own, even when the shopkeeper wasn't holding it anymore.

Indeed, Ollivander seemed to have disappeared, but he returned shortly with a stack of boxes. Willow realized that each one must contain its own wand. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magic substance. We use phoenix tail feathers, unicorn hairs, and dragon heartstrings. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two phoenixes, unicorns, or dragons are the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another witch's wand."

Willow sensed more than heard her family shuffling awkwardly behind her. She turned and saw Ron looking quite red in the face. It then hit her. "You were going to give Ron one of his brothers' wands!"

"Wands are very expensive, Willow," her new dad said patiently. "We have to-"

"You heard what Mister Ollivander said. It wouldn't be the same. And don't his brothers need their wands? I don't care if you won't accept my money, but you're not Ron! I can give my brother a present whenever I want, can't I?"

The entire family recoiled at the ferocity of her words. Indeed, Willow felt a power behind her voice, as though the power she felt from the shelves behind her was coursing through her and coming out of her mouth.

Finally, Ron stood up. "You mean it, Willow? You'll get me my own wand?"

"Of course I mean it, doofus," she said a bit huffily. "It'd be pretty stupid to have you use a wand that isn't yours, right?"

"Wow." Ron seemed far more moved by her gesture than she had expected. "My own wand."

"Mm, yes," Ollivander said. "A wand is very telling of its wizard. The wand chooses, you see. You can tell something of yourself from your wand, just as your wand draws its own power from you far more than it will from anyone else.

"Now, Miss Rosenberg, hold out your wand arm."

Willow put her right hand back up.

"Try this one. Ash and phoenix feather. Eleven and a half inches. Quite springy."

Willow took the wand in her hand and felt something there, but she didn't bother waving it before handing it back. "Not this one."

"Ah, yes. I can see it in your eyes: you have a very keen sensitivity to magic. You can tell what's what, can't you? I've had very few customers like you in my years, but here now. Close your eyes, Miss Rosenberg."

Willow looked back to her family, who seemed just as confused as she was. She sighed and closed her eyes.

"Try to relax. Breathe in slowly, breathe out slowly."

Willow started to relax her mind, and as she did so, the power in the shop became clearer, and she began to sense the differences in it all, began to see without seeing what made each wand what it was.

She began to walk without being told to do so, keeping her eyes closed. It was like walking through a hall of faceless faces, if such a thing could exist. There were several personalities out there, each calling out, searching for the right person to claim them as the companion they were meant to have.

Willow looked at each wand she passed without opening her eyes. Some bowed politely, some snarled, some stuck out their tongues peevishly, but none called to her and said, 'I'm yours.'

After a period of time that she couldn't determine, Willow found herself back at the front desk, and she opened her eyes. "None of them were mine," she said softly.

Everyone in the room gasped, causing Willow to wince. "None, my dear?" Ollivander said quietly.

"No. They all said things, they all had their own faces, but none were mine."

She turned around and stared at the shelves feeling rejected. It felt as though the shop was laughing at her, like none of the hundreds of wands in the shop loved her. She could hear Cordelia Chase's voice mocking her. 'No one loves you,' the cruel voice said in her mind.

"Not true," Willow said coldly. "You don't want me, do you?" she said to the room. "You haven't met me yet. All of you: come and meet me, at least. Now!"

A wind whipped up in the store and the lids of every box in the shop hovered open as hundreds of wands flew throughout the store in a line that passed right in front of Willow's outstretched hand. None of the wands stayed put, and after a flurry of wind, the wands all settled back into their boxes, which closed themselves and left a heavy silence in the store.

Finally, Mister Ollivander cleared his throat. "Well, Miss Rosenberg," he said carefully, almost fearfully, "a wand is really a conduit more than anything else: a tool to channel and focus magical energies. But you, Miss Rosenberg, seem to be suited, quite possibly uniquely so, to channeling this power through your own body. You are, basically, your own wand."

"Oh." Willow didn't know why this was so shocking to him. Sure, he just got robbed of a sale, but he seemed to be taking it very badly. "I'm sorry none of the wands fit. I'll still pay for Ron's, though."

"Yes, yes, of course. Mister Weasley, if you would step up here, and I'll take your measurements."

Willow could feel Ron's anxiety as he stepped forward, even though she didn't get a clear look at his face. Her parents and her other siblings, though, wore faces of disbelief.

"Did I do something bad?" she asked timidly.

Arthur recovered first. "No, Willow. Nothing bad. Just unusual."

Willow didn't notice her dad looking off into a distance that only he seemed to see. "Very unusual."


	4. The Hogwarts Express

**Chapter Four: The Hogwarts Express**

* * *

><p>The trip back home had been very quiet, and Willow had the distinct feeling that the rest of her family was avoiding her. Her new parents seemed to be trying to keep them all together, but except for Ron, none of them seemed to want to be anywhere near her. Willow thought they looked scared, but she couldn't imagine why.<p>

After a trip through the green fire, they were back at home. Ginny immediately went upstairs to her room, and Fredngeorge went after her, calling her name to get her to come back. Percy regarded Willow briefly before quietly heading upstairs as well.

As for Ron, he simply looked a bit strange for a while, but he sat down in the kitchen and took out his new wand.

Willow joined Ron in the kitchen when she was sure he wouldn't leave, and their dad came to sit with them as well while their mom went upstairs to talk with the others.

"Dad," Willow began, "I know you said I didn't do anything bad, but why was everyone else acting all scared and being so quiet?"

Arthur sighed and pulled up a chair. "Ron," he said, "would you mind giving us a bit of time?"

"No!" Willow protested. "Please don't make him go!" She turned to Ron. "I'm sorry for whatever I did. Really, I am. Everything here is new, and I don't know the rules, and it's all so strange, and everyone's acting like I'm evil. But you're not, Ron. Y-you're still here. A-and I don't want to be alone."

Willow sniffled as she looked at her brother with teary eyes. "Please don't leave me," she pleaded softly.

"Willow," Ron said quietly after a moment, "you got me my own wand. I never thought I'd have my own wand. And that you don't need one… It's just so... You have no idea what this means to me. I can't be mad at you after you got me my own wand."

Willow smiled a tiny little smile. "Thanks, Ron. But, I don't get it. What's so special about a wand? Is it bad that none of them wanted me? They didn't seem like they were mad at me, but none of them wanted to be mine. Well, it's not like they didn't want to be mine. More like they weren't supposed to be mine, I guess."

Willow looked from her dad to her brother, and was shocked to see Ron's face sink. "Oh, no! Ron, did I say something bad? I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I promise!"

"No, Willow," Ron said. "It's just… Everyone else in the family is special in some way, and I'm just me. Back at the wand shop, you did something that nobody's supposed to be able to do. And I don't think many people can talk to wands like you can. Right, dad?"

Willow looked to her new dad, who was looking very thoughtful. "Well, I think I need to explain to you, Willow, what a wand really is. It's not _just_a tool, you know. It means far more than, say, a spatula. They're both tools, so to speak, but what they stand for is totally different."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Willow, you have to understand that Wizarding society is incredibly different from Mug… From non-magical society. You remember Diagon Alley from earlier today, and you remember the trip to the museum. Do you think the people in one of those areas would really be able to understand the people from the other?"

"I was," Willow said defensively, but she knew that wasn't entirely true. She was far more comfortable in the world of the British Museum than she was in the world of Diagon Alley.

"That may be," Arthur said. "But you have one foot in each world, so to speak. Tell me, Willow. Is there one thing that Muggles – sorry, non-magical people – absolutely could not do without? That if you lost it, you wouldn't know what to do?"

That was easy. "Electricity," she said without blinking. "When the power goes out, we have to change everything until it comes back on."

"Eclectricity," Arthur repeated clumsily. "That's the thing that makes all of those neat little gadgets keep going, right? What plugs help with?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Well, magic is for us what eclectricity is for you. And for almost every single witch or wizard, the only way to use magic is with a wand. That's why they are so important. A wand isn't just a tool, Willow. It's a symbol for our very way of life. 'Wandless' is a bad word that some people use to be mean to those who can't do magic."

"And you got me my wand!" Ron said. "I'm a real wizard now, Willow, and I wouldn't be one without you! And Charlie gets to keep his wand, so he can keep on doing his job with dragons in Romania."

Now it made sense. Willow had done more than buy Ron a tool. She'd basically given him his key to his entire world. And it was a key that Willow couldn't use! "But _I'm _wandless, dad! That's a bad thing, isn't it? How am I gonna be a real witch without a wand?"

Arthur surprised her by chuckling gently. "Oh, Willow, dear. You're going in the opposite direction. There have been wandless witches and wizards in the past, but they've been very rare. You see, Willow, if you lose your wand, or if – Merlin forbid – it were to break, then you would be without any way to use your magic. Well, not you, but most wizards.

"But you, Willow, have no such weakness. You can use your magic without any help from a wand. It may make learning how to control your magic a tad more difficult, but if you work and study hard, then you'll come out ahead."

So Willow was special. She felt very bad for Ron now, and she turned to face him. "Y-you're not mad, are you?" she asked softly. "I mean, you always told me about how you felt bad because your brothers were doing stuff that you felt you had to live up to. A-and you were afraid at first that I was gonna be like them when I first got here. And now I'm here with this weird power that I don't understand but that everyone else does, and I don't want you to hate me, Ron!"

Arthur sighed and looked at his son with sympathy. "Ron, is this true. That you've been under this pressure all this time to live up to everything your brothers have done?"

Ron was suddenly maroon in the face, and Willow felt terrible. "Well, uh, yeah," he said quietly. "But I'm not upset with you, Willow. I mean, sure it was kinda scary seeing you with all that power back in Ollivanders. But you seem far more freaked out than I am. And you got me my wand! That's enough to make me never be able to hate you."

Willow got up from her seat and walked over to hug her brother. She felt Ron squirm a bit underneath her, but he chuckled a bit. "Uh, thanks, Willow. But could you let go for a bit?"

"Oh! Sorry, Ron."

"No, s'okay. Just that I'm not used to that from people other than mum and dad."

"Oh." Willow blushed. "Jesse and Xander and me used to hug a lot. O-our parents didn't really give us much of that." She hoped that Mister Giles had given her friends back home a way to contact her. If only the Weasleys had a telephone.

"Well," Arthur said, "it's been a long day, so why don't I get your mother down here so that we can get supper ready."

"Sounds good, dad," Willow said, though her mind was far away from food.

* * *

><p>The morning of September 1st finally arrived, and Willow was awake before anyone else in the Burrow. She was too eager to start leaning her magic to go back to sleep for even a few minutes. While she waited for her new mom to make breakfast, she pulled out some of her school books and began to look through them.<p>

The books with defensive spells interested her the most. She wanted to be able to go back to Sunnydale so she could protect Xander and Jesse from their parents, not to mention whatever else might try to hurt them, including but not limited to Cordelia Chase and other assorted bullies.

Willow looked at the defensive spells, but they all looked a bit too complicated for her to try on her own. So she switched to her Charms textbook. There was a spell to make light that seemed useful. Nights in Sunnydale seemed a lot darker than they did here in Britain for some reason, so learning how to make light could only be good.

Willow then pulled out her most beloved possession: her wand. Not that it was a real wand, but Fredngeorge hadn't been nearly as upset at her as she'd thought at first. They'd been a bit unnerved, but then they'd gone to the trouble to carve out a fake wand for her so that she could pretend to be like everyone else.

But her twin brothers had done more than just carve it with magic. They'd also made it shine as if it was fresh out of the box, and they'd put a spell on it so that it wouldn't break without a LOT of effort. They'd told her that such spells wouldn't work on a real wand, but they could do a lot with a fake one since there was no magic inside to get in the way.

Willow squinted to read the words in the book in the faint light of the rising sun, but she was finally able to memorize the simple words and wand movements for the spell. Willow picked up her wand and held it steady as she tried the spell. _"Lumos."_

Nothing happened.

Willow looked at her wand, then back at the book, and she shrugged and tried the spell again. And again, nothing happened.

This was an entirely new experience for Willow. Not magic, although that was certainly new, but learning about something new and failing to grasp it on the first try. Willow had always prided herself on her intelligence, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by her siblings and new parents. She was very smart for her age, and failing at something was just unacceptable. Her old parents would have scolded her something fierce if she had failed so miserably back home.

She could practically hear her mom's voice in her head now. 'I thought we raised you better than this, Willow Danielle Rosenberg,' the voice in her mind said nastily. 'I thought you were an independent young woman. But you're nothing. And you wonder why your father and I never loved you.'

Willow would have broken down in tears if her old mom had actually said that. But that woman was dead, and Willow didn't clam up and cry like she would have at one point. She got angry, and it felt good. She got angry and let her rage build up inside her until she closed her eyes without meaning to and let her wand slip through her hand.

"Light."

It was a good thing that Willow had her eyes closed, or else she might have been blinded by the bright light that appeared in her outstretched palm. As it was, her eyelids blocked out most of the light, but she knew that she had gone above and beyond the intent of the spell. Shock kicked in and she realized that she had to get the light under control. She didn't want to blow up this house like she had her old one.

Willow began to breathe more steadily, like back in the wand shop. "Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out." As she calmed down, she found herself able to focus more on the light in her hand. She could feel the power flowing through her body and into the ball of light. With her eyes closed, she could almost see it in a way that wasn't quite seeing. Eventually, in her mind's eye, she could tell that the light was just where she wanted it.

Willow opened her eyes. The light in her hand was just enough to illuminate the room. "Wow." She looked at the light in her hand and could feel its beauty. It was more than just a ball of light. It was energy of the purest and rawest kind. Willow didn't know how she knew this, but it just felt right. She could tell that this power, the magic, was more than just energy. It was alive in its own way. Like the Force from _Star Wars_, she figured, it was a part of nature that could be manipulated, but it was more like a partner than a tool.

Willow was wondering how to go about this next step. "So, um, ball of light? Can you please go up in the air a bit? I kind of need to move my hand without accidentally burning the pages."

She felt the ball of light respond, as if it could hear her, but she could tell that it didn't understand.

"Okay," she told herself. "Concentrate, Rosenberg. If magic is like the Force, then you need to clear your head. You gotta be steady and really mean what you say."

She looked at the ball of light again, and she focused on what she wanted it to do. She raised her palm above her head as she closed her eyes and focused on the spell. "Up."

The light floated up gently out of her hand and held steady near the center of the ceiling of the room.

"Wow," Willow said breathlessly. "Thank you," she said to the light, and she felt something in return. Not appreciation, but understanding of a sort.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Willow didn't try any other spells, but she went over the light spell for a while. Sometimes she talked to the ball of light, even if it didn't respond in a way she understood.

After another half hour, she heard her mom get up and start to make breakfast. "Gotta go," she said to the light as she packed up her books. Once she was sure her trunk was all packed and ready to go, she looked back up at the ceiling. After her experience getting the spell to work, she had a feeling that the traditional spell for darkness wouldn't work.

"Lights out." The ball of light floated back down to her hand and winked out of existence. Satisfied with her success, Willow headed down to breakfast.

* * *

><p>After breakfast and a long car-ride in the Weasleys' enchanted Ford Anglia – which was bigger on the inside – Willow and her new family arrived at King's Cross station in London. The place was packed, and Willow had to be constantly aware of everyone around her to keep from running her massive trunk into anyone else.<p>

She heard her mom sigh. "Sometimes I think it's a mistake to always have the train leave on the same day at the same time. The station workers are bound to notice something. And it's always packed with Muggles, of course, so the chance for someone to find something out…"

"Is nonexistent in this crowd, mum," Fred said to appease her. Willow scowled a bit at Molly's use of the word 'Muggle,' but other she was too busy looking where she was going to turn back and berate her.

"Now, what's the platform number?" Molly quizzed them.

"Nine and three-quarters!" Ginny said eagerly from her spot beside Molly. "Mom, can't I go?"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first," their mom said in an attempt to restore some order to her family in the midst of the packed station.

Willow didn't know how there could be a Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. There was a barrier clearly separating Platforms Nine and Ten. But there was something about that barrier… Willow could feel the magic coming from it. It called to her. And sure enough, Percy walked right up to the barrier, and then he walked through it!

"Fred, you next."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," Willow's twin said in what seemed to be his favorite pastime. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? can't you _tell_I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred." Willow giggled as Fred, followed closely by George, went up to and through the barrier.

"Excuse me."

Willow turned to see a boy standing next to them who she hadn't seen before. He had messy black hair and green eyes, and he was dressed, like Willow, in regular clothing. But he did have a trunk with him, and an owl in a cage, like Percy.

"Hello, dear," their mom said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron and Willow are new, too," Molly said, gesturing to Willow and her brother.

Willow gave the boy a small wave. "Hi," she said with a nervous smile on her face.

The boy nodded back, but seemed worried. He looked back up at their mom. "Yes. The thing is… The thing is, I don't know how to-"

"How to get onto the platform?" Molly asked kindly, and Willow felt a wave of warm pride in her chest for her new mom. She was far nicer than her old mom would ever have been. "Not to worry. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Don't stop, and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron and Willow."

The black-haired boy rushed off towards the barrier, not slowing down, and then he was gone.

"All right, then. Ron, you go next," Molly said.

Ron turned to Willow and grinned. "Just do it like mom just said. You'll be fine." Her youngest brother then took off for the barrier and disappeared like all the others.

"Willow," her new mom asked, "are you ready?"

"Yeah. I think so." Without waiting for any other signal, Willow walked ahead with a confidence she hadn't felt in a long time. The magic barrier was calling to her, and it was speaking so clearly. She just had to walk up to it like she was now, and then pass through, and there!

She emerged on the other side to see a whole new platform, like a train station within a train station, and it was clearly packed with wizards and witches as far as the eye could see.

A man on the platform ushered her out of the way so that others wouldn't bump into her, and a second later, Ginny and her mom appeared behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fredngeorge helping the black-haired boy with his trunk, which made Willow smile. They might be pranksters and cause their mom a lot of grief, but they were good people. They reminded her of Xander sometimes.

While some of the station employees – the Wizarding ones, at least – helped Willow and a bunch of other kids with their luggage, Molly looked around. "Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, mom," they answered, and shortly thereafter they appeared again. While they were disembarking, Molly started fussing with Ron. "Ron, you've got something on your nose."

Ron tried to get away, but Molly had him in her grasp, and he wasn't about to get out of it anytime soon.

"Mom! Geroff," he said in a muffled voice. To Willow's surprise, he managed to get free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" George teased.

"Shut up," Ron said quietly. Willow said nothing, but she sympathized with Ron.

"Where's Percy?"

"He's coming now," Willow said, pointing to her eldest brother – that she'd met so far – come down to meet them. He was wearing his school uniform.

"Can't stay long, mother," he said. "I'm up front. The prefects have got two compartments to themselves-"

"Oh, are you a _prefect,_Percy," Fred said as if surprised. "You should have said something. We had no idea."

"Hang on, George said. "I think I remember him saying something about it once."

"Or twice."

"A minute."

"All summer."

"Oh, shut up," Percy said, causing Willow to restrain herself from using her own magic to make Percy shut up. He might be her brother, but he was a real snob. He reminded Willow of her old parents in some ways.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" George complained.

"Because he's a _prefect,_" Molly said proudly. Willow still wasn't sure what a prefect was, but she thought it was something between a student and a teacher. Maybe something like a hall monitor?

After kissing Percy fondly, Molly turned to Fredngeorge. "Now, you two: this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've… you've blown up a toilet or-"

"Blown up a toilet?" Fred said innocently. "We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea, though," George said with a straight face. "Thanks, mom."

"It's _not funny_," she scolded them as Willow and Ginny held in their giggles. "And look after Ron and Willow."

"Don't worry," Fred said. "Ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"And so're you, Willow," George said more fondly, looking at her kindly.

"Shut up," Ron said. Willow would try to talk to the twins about teasing Ron too much. She wasn't sure they realized how much they got to him.

"Hey, mom, guess what?" Fred said with a lot more enthusiasm. "Guess who we just met on the train? You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

Willow's curiosity was piqued. "Who?" she asked.

_"Harry Potter!"_

Willow could have sworn she felt eyes on her family at that moment, and she looked up towards a window on the train. Was someone there, listening? No, it was just her imagination, Willow told herself.

Ginny seemed quite excited. "Oh, mom, can I go on the train and see him? Mom, oh please?"

"You've already seen him, Ginny," their mom scolded her. "And the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo." Willow remembered that Harry Potter had lost both of his parents as well, and he had only been a baby at the time. "Is he really, Fred?" her new mom continued. "How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there: like lightning."

"Poor _dear!_No wonder he was alone. I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked to get onto the platform." Willow felt suddenly sorry for Harry Potter. Here was everyone, talking about him like he was, as her mom had said, something you goggle at in a zoo. He did seem really quiet when he was trying to get onto the platform earlier.

"Never mind that," Fred said. "Do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred!" Molly said very harshly. "No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on," Willow's brother protested.

"Shut up, Fred," Willow said coldly.

Everyone looked at Willow, then at Fred. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He then smiled at Willow and ruffled her hair. Willow tried to keep her face stern, but she was having a hard time at it. "Okay, fine. Speak up again."

"Thanks, Will."

Just then, a whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" Molly said, and they all scurried onto the train, save for Ginny. They all leaned out the window so that their mom could kiss them good-bye. Poor Ginny began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny," Fred said. "We'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, mom."

"I'll write to you too, Ginny," Willow said. "I promise."

Willow waved goodbye to her mother and sister until the train had disappeared from the station entirely. When she turned around and looked down the corridor, she thought she caught the sight of a familiar head of blonde hair. A warm feeling of something she couldn't identify rose up inside of Willow.

"Hey, Ron, I'm gonna go and explore a bit. A-are you gonna be okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure. I'll just be around here somewhere."

"Okay. Thanks, Ron!" she said, beaming, before taking off down the corridor.

Willow had to make sure not to run into anyone. Everyone was looking for a place to sit, and it was all very crowded.

At the end of the car, there was a compartment with two people sitting in it: an unfamiliar boy and a familiar girl. Willow knocked and slid the door open. "Hey there," she said. "Um, is it okay if I sit in here with you?"

"Oh. Sure," the girl said before looking up. "Oh! Willow! Hi there!"

"Hey, Tara," Willow said to the girl who gave her a strange feeling in her stomach.

The boy was looking under one of the seats for something. "Is everything okay?" Willow asked.

"Huh? Ow!" the boy said as he bumped his head into the seat.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Willow bent down to help him up into a seat. "A-are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," he said. "Sorry about that. I can't find Trevor. My pet toad," he explained.

Willow shivered. "Scary," she whimpered.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked kindly.

"Y-yeah," Willow said quietly. "Just that toads and frogs scare me," she said with a nervous giggle. "Weird phobia, I know. But it's mine."

"Oh." The boy didn't seem to know what to say to that. "Well, I'll try to keep him away from you when I find him. I-I'm Neville, by the way."

"Hi, Neville. I'm Willow. A-and this is Tara."

"We've met," Neville said with a smile. "My gran is friends with her aunt and uncle."

"Neville's really nice," Tara put in. "E-even if you don't like toads. Not that I don't like them. J-just that you wouldn't want to not be friends because of a pet, right?"

"No!" Willow protested. "I'm not gonna leave just because of your pet, Neville. I might hide and run away for a little while, maybe. But I'm not gonna stop being friends with someone because of their pet. That would be kinda stupid."

"Oh. Well, thanks," Neville said, looking relieved. "It's just that I haven't… Well, I haven't always had the easiest time making friends."

"Why not?" Tara asked.

"I dunno," Neville answered honestly. "I guess gran's always been really harsh about me living up to my family legacy. Doing right by my parents and such, and I get nervous that I'll let them all down."

"My brother's like that," Willow said. "Ron's a great guy, but he has a bunch of older brothers who he feels like he has to be better than, or else he's a failure. And it's not fair, because he's really nice.

"What about you, Tara? What's your family like?"

Tara looked suddenly nervous. "W-well, my mom's side of the family goes back a while, and th-they've been doing magic for years. My aunt and uncle have been really supportive, but I don't… I mean, I'm just a bit…"

"Hey," Willow said softly, putting a hand on Tara's arm. "Is everything okay? I didn't mean to upset you or anything."

"S-sorry," Tara said nervously, but she didn't pull away from Willow. "I-it's just that for the longest time, I had to be convinced that my magic wasn't e-evil. That my mom w-wasn't a d-demon."

Willow paled as her eyes widened. "I-I thought that I was evil too, at first. I blew up my old house, and I thought God was punishing me."

"That's silly," Neville said. "There's nothing evil about magic," he said with certainty. "Y-you can do all sorts of good with it. I want to be a Healer when I'm done with Hogwarts. Help mend injuries. Treat people who have nowhere else to go. Or maybe an Auror would be nice."

"What's an Auror?" Willow asked.

"Dark wizard catcher," Neville said. "They protect us from anyone out there who might try to hurt us. My dad was one," he said quietly.  
>Willow got the distinct impression that it would be a bad idea to ask further about Neville's dad right now. "So, um," she began hesitantly. "Have there been any really big, bad dark wizards since Voldemort?"<p>

Neville gasped and Tara's eyes widened in fear.

"Sorry!" Willow said immediately. "Did I do something wrong?"

"N-no. Not exactly," Tara said. "It's just that the name is really frightening," she explained. "Most people don't use it because they're too scared. They just say 'You-Know-Who' or else 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'"

"Huh. Well that's kinda stupid," Willow said. "I mean, it's just a name, right? What's so bad about saying Voldemort?"

She noticed that Neville flinched, and that Tara had started to shiver.

"Oh. I… I thought that you were making up that fear stuff. Or that maybe you were exaggerating it. I'm not trying to scare you. I just never knew it was bad to say the name."

Willow started to sulk. "I don't know much at all about this world. Everything is so much simpler back in the normal world."

"You're Muggle-born?" Neville asked.

Willow scowled. "Why do you have to use that word? It's insulting. And my parents weren't magical, if that's what you mean."

"Sorry," Neville said shyly. "There's nothing wrong with it or anything. I mean, my family has been all wizards for a long time, but for a while, we all thought I didn't have any magic at all."

"Well," Tara said, "m-my dad wasn't magical, but my mom was. I guess I've sort of gotten used to both worlds. They're both normal to me. In their own ways, I mean. Like, I've gotten used to the difference between wizard photos and movies."

Willow and Neville both looked at Tara strangely.

"Oh. Well, you see, Wizards develop their photographs in a certain solution that makes it so that they move. But in the non-magical world, they take a bunch of photos one right after the other and shine light through them and add sound to make a movie, and it usually tells a story for an hour or two."

"Wow." Willow and Neville both spoke together, each amazed at what was normal for the other.

The three new friends spent the rest of the train ride talking enthusiastically about the differences between the worlds they lived in.

When it started to get dark, they all changed into their school robes, though Willow kept a pair of pants on underneath so she wouldn't start to feel cold.

Once the train came to a stop, they found a huge man with a great bushy beard directing them over to a lakeside. "Firs' years over here! Firs' years, this way!" he called.

Willow, Tara, and Neville found a small boat that they all climbed into together which moved forward along the water with a bunch of other similar boats at the large man's command. But Willow's eyes weren't on the boat, the lake, or her new friends. She was transfixed by the grand castle they were approaching. It was like something out of a fairy tale.

They passed under a curtain of ivy, then through a stone tunnel, and docked at a small stone harbor. The giant man walked up to a large door and knocked three times.

* * *

><p><em>NOTE: Some dialogue from this chapter is lifted verbatim from Chapter Six: The Journey From Platform Nine and Three-Quarters from the novel 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher'sSorcerer's Stone.'_


	5. Sorted

**Chapter Five: Sorted**

* * *

><p>After the big man knocked on the great wooden doors, they swung open almost instantly. On the other side was a tall woman in green robes with black hair. She had a very strict look on her face that reminded Willow of some of her teachers back home in Sunnydale.<p>

She heard a small croak off to one side, and she saw that Neville seemed to have found his pet toad. It took all of Willow's courage to not scurry away from him. Plus, she didn't want to give the new teacher a bad first impression.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," the big man announced.

"Thank you, Hagrid," the woman said in an unreadable voice. "I will take them from here."

The woman who had to be Professor McGonagall pulled the doors open wide to let the students in. Willow didn't notice the vastness of the place, but she did stop for a moment when she crossed over the threshold of the doorway. A great inflow of energy came surging through her, and Willow was certain that this was a place of immense magical power. It was like back at the wand shop, only a thousand times more powerful, if not more.

There were a lot of voices coming from the other side of a door, but the Professor ushered the new students off to a side hall that was a bit cramped with so many of them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," the Professor said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses."

Willow's thoughts went back to something her parents had told her about sorting and houses, but she remember them telling her that it would be best for her to learn about it all first-hand, rather than to have them spoil it for her. The subject hadn't come up with Tara and Neville on the train.

"The Sorting is a very important ceremony," McGonagall continued, "because while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

Now Willow was starting to feel quite scared. What if she was sorted into a house without any of her family in it? What if she didn't get to spend time with Tara or Neville, either? Or what if they decided that she didn't belong in any of the houses? A little voice in her head whispered, 'What if nobody here wants you, Willow? What if nobody here loves you?'

"The four houses," Professor McGonagall explained, "are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Okay, so Willow was feeling a bit better now. All of the houses were good in some way or another. But she thought she remembered Fredngeorge saying something about one house being worse than the others, but she didn't remember which one or why. They'd told her which house they were in as well, but she didn't remember its name either. She'd thought the names were really silly at the time, and she still did. She hoped she got to be with Ron. Ideally, being with all of her brothers would be great.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the rest of the school," McGonagall said. "I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are still waiting." Willow could have sworn that the tall teacher looked sternly at Neville, and then at Ron. When she looked closer at Ron, she saw that he was standing next to Harry Potter, which made her smile. Famous or not, he'd seemed kind of shy back at the train station. She hoped Ron would be a good friend for him.

Willow excused herself from Tara and Neville and found her way over to Ron. "Hey, Ron," she said warmly.

"Oh, hey Willow! Uh, Harry, this is Willow. She's kinda my sister."

"Nice to meet ya!" Willow said cheerfully as she put out her hand.

"You too," Harry said warmly as he took her hand and shook it. "So, um, do either of you know how they sort us into houses?"

"Some sort of test, I think," Ron said. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

"It's Fred," Willow said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Everything he says is a joke." But at the look on Harry's face, she felt a bit bad. "Oh, no! Don't feel bad, Harry!" Willow said quickly. "My new parents said that it wasn't anything to be worried about, a-and that it would all be okay in the end. So, don't get all worked up, okay?"

Harry smiled back at her, and Willow thought that he certainly didn't look like anyone really famous. He was just a kid, like her. "Thanks, Willow. I just hope that I don't make a fool out of myself."

"Me too," Willow and Ron said together.

A few kids screamed, and Willow saw about twenty pale things that had to be ghosts come streaming out of one of the walls. When Willow saw them, she felt her face go pale and she unknowingly grabbed Ron's robes, hoping he could protect her.

But the ghosts didn't attack or do anything mean or hostile. They were talking about someone or something called 'Peeves,' who was giving them all a bad name, and who wasn't technically a ghost.

One of them suddenly noticed the students, as if they hadn't been there first. "New students!" the overweight ghost said. Only, Willow supposed, he was probably weightless as a ghost. But he looked fat. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

Willow just nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff," the man said kindly. "My old house, you know."

Willow relaxed a bit at the ease with which the ghost was talking. He seemed like a normal person, only pale and see-through and dead.

Professor McGonagall then returned. "Move along now," she told the ghosts. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

The small horde of pale figures retreated through the walls as the teacher turned to address the students. "Now, form a line and follow me."

Willow found herself standing behind Ron and in front of Tara. She turned around and exchanged a small smile with her blonde friend before heading further inside to see an amazing sight. The place was enormous, and it was lit by hundreds – maybe thousands – of large candles floating in midair. They were hovering over four long tables, where all the other students were sitting. She noticed that each of the students at any one table had a certain badge on their school uniforms, and it was a different badge at each table.

Everything glittered and shone as if it had just been made and polished to shine. There was a separate table at the end of the room where a bunch of adults sat, and Willow figured that they must be the staff. It was so unlike anything she could have imagined back home in the Sunnydale Public School system. Some of the ghosts were hovering above the tables as well.

Willow looked up and saw that there was no ceiling, but just a great canvas of stars. It was strange, though, but she didn't feel cold at all. It had to be more magic at work. The whole room was positively brimming with it.

Professor McGonagall returned a moment later and placed a simple stool in front of the line of first years, and atop this stool she placed a pointed hat. It looked old and dirty and was patched up as if it had been torn a lot. But Willow could feel the power coming from it. It felt ancient, though she couldn't tell how she knew that.

And then a strange thing happened. A rip in the hat opened up, and it began to sing:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty  
>But don't judge on what you see,<br>I'll eat myself if you can find  
>A smarter hat than me.<br>You can keep your bowlers black,  
>Your top hats sleek and tall<br>For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
>And I can cap them all.<br>There's nothing hidden in your head  
>The Sorting Hat can't see,<br>So try me on and I will tell you  
>Where you ought to be.<br>You might belong in Gryffindor,  
>Where dwell the brave at heart,<br>Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
>Set Gryffindors apart;<br>You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
>Where they are just and loyal,<br>Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
>And unafraid of toil;<br>Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
>If you've a ready mind,<br>Where those of wit and leaning,  
>Will always find their kind;<br>Or perhaps in Slytherin  
>You'll make your real friends,<br>Those cunning folk use any means  
>To achieve their ends.<br>So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
>And don't get in a flap!<br>You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
>For I'm a Thinking Cap!"<em>

Everyone at the four student tables and the one staff table applauded as the Sorting Hat finished its song. And the Hat bowed to each of the four house tables before becoming still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

"Like Fred could take on a troll," Willow countered with an ease and confidence that she couldn't remember feeling back in Sunnydale.

Still, Willow was unsure about trying on the Sorting Hat. She wasn't quite sure where she fit in. She didn't think she was a Gryffindor: she didn't feel particularly brave. Ravenclaw seemed like the best fit for her, since she liked to think of herself as The Smart One. But then, the Hat could see everything in her mind, or so it said. What if there was something in there that she didn't know about that she didn't like?

Willow looked up to see Professor McGonagall holding a long piece of what looked like something other than paper. "When I call your name," she said, "You will put on the Hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Abbot, Hannah!"

A blushing girl with blonde pigtails stumbled forward and put on the Sorting Hat. It was so big that it fell right over her eyes. After a moment's pause...

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat shouted.

One of the tables cheered and applauded as Hannah Abbot went down to join them. The friendly ghost from earlier waved at her. Willow started to call him 'Casper' in her head.

"Bones, Susan!" McGonagall said, and another girl went to try on the Hat.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Sorting Hat shouted again, and the same table cheered some more.

"Boot, Terry!"

This time a boy went up to try on the hat, and Willow wondered if he would also be a Hufflepuff. But this time, the Hat cried out…

"RAVENCLAW!"

Another table cheered this time, and Willow felt warmth coming from the whole room. These were families, welcoming new members into their fold.

After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, McGonagall called out, "Longbottom, Neville!"

Willow had giggled when Neville first told him her last name, but she had immediately felt bad when Neville looked upset. Knowing what it was like to be teased, Willow resolved never to laugh at someone's name again.

Neville did look nervous. He tripped on his way up to the stool. Finally, he put on the Hat, which took longer to decide than it had with anyone else. Finally , it called out…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Willow joined in the applause for her friend. So, Neville was braver than he looked. She didn't know him very well yet, but Willow already felt proud of him. The whole Great Hall laughed when Neville forgot to take the Hat off before heading to his new table, but the problem was quickly rectified.

One name later, and the green-robed professor called out, "Maclay, Tara!"

"Good luck," Willow whispered to her friend as she made her way up to the Sorting Hat. It took only a few moments on her pretty blonde head before it called out…

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Willow felt suddenly awful. Her two best friends – her only friends – that weren't her new family were in different houses. A horrible thought struck her. What if she wasn't Sorted with either of them? And she still didn't know what house her brothers were in, or if they were even in the same house. She knew that Fredngeorge were together, but that wasn't surprising at all.

Willow barely registered the next name – something Mal-something – nor did she register any other names until…

"Potter, Harry!"

A bunch of hushed whispers broke out throughout the Great Hall, and it hit Willow for the first time that Harry really was famous, even if he didn't seem to realize it. He seemed rather nervous as he went up to try the Sorting Hat on.

The Hat took a little while to decide, and for a moment, Willow thought she saw Harry look afraid, but then, at last, the Sorting Hat called out…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The applause for Harry was the loudest yet as the Gryffindor table went wild. Fredngeorge were there, she saw, as was Percy. The twins were chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Willow stifled a giggle. She felt better for Harry and for Neville that her brothers would be there to look after them. She now knew which house she wanted to be in. The only problem was that she felt far less brave than a Gryffindor probably should.

And then the very next name McGonagall called: "Rosenberg, Willow!"

But nobody seemed to be paying her much attention. Everyone was still trying to process that Harry Potter had been sorted into Gryffindor. Willow took advantage of the lack of attention on her and scurried over to try on the Sorting Hat. It fell over her eyes, and she heard a small voice whispering to her.

"Hmm. Another difficult decision to make," the Hat said. "A sharp mind, a strong desire to learn. Fierce loyalty, too. And such wells of courage. Untapped, but so very strong."

Willow didn't know what any of this meant for her future. She didn't feel brave at all. She knew that she was smart, and she felt warm inside when the Sorting Hat told her that she was loyal. Her thoughts went back to Xander and Jesse back in Sunnydale. She'd do anything in her power to protect them.

"Anything in your power," the Hat whispered. "And there's so much power inside you. How far would you go for your friends? What would you do to protect them, exactly?"

Willow gulped, but she steeled herself and whispered, "Whatever it takes."

"'Whatever it takes,'" the Hat repeated. "Sounds to me like you belong in…

"SLYTHERIN!"

Willow felt her eyes go wide. She didn't know much about Slytherin House, save that none of her friends were there. She'd be living and learning with a bunch of strangers.

And the applause from the Slytherin table seemed quieter than the applause for most others. Willow figured that it had to do with them getting over not getting Harry Potter Sorted into their house. Taking off the Sorting Hat, Willow did her best to keep her head held high as she made her way over to the Slytherin table.

As she got closer, she saw a pale blonde boy looking at her with a look she didn't recognize. He was flanked on either side by two very large boys who felt weak to Willow. She didn't know why, but something about them told her Magic Sense, as she was starting to call it, that they weren't very tough. They were certainly big, though, and Willow didn't want them to beat her up.

The blonde boy, despite being much smaller than the two others, seemed to be more in charge, and he had one of them scoot to one side as he held out a hand to Willow. "Please, join us," he said with a strange sort of smile.

Willow felt nervous for some reason she couldn't identify, but she took the invitation and sat down next to the blonde boy. "Th-thank you," she said as politely as she could through her nervousness.

She looked back up to the very small line of first years, and heard, "Weasley, Ronald!"

Willow looked up eagerly at the Sorting Hat, and she could have sworn she saw Ron look at her with something resembling disgust. Willow didn't understand why, but she still applauded when the Hat called out…

"GRYFFINDOR!"

It was soft, polite applause, though. She wasn't feeling that enthusiastic about having none of her family in Slytherin with her. So far, there was just this blonde boy who kept looking at her strangely. It was like he was hungry and she was some delicious morsel. But that couldn't be right.

One final student got Sorted into Slytherin, and then a very old man with a long white beard stood up at the center of the staff table. Willow figured he must be the principal.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down as the rest of the room applauded. Willow chuckled at the old man's strange choice of language.

"Can I serve you some food?" the blonde boy next to her asked.

Willow looked back at the table and was shocked to see dishes that were empty a moment ago suddenly full of all sorts of foods that tickled her nose and made her stomach cry out to be fed.

Considering the boy's offer, Willow decided not to be rude and decline when he seemed to want to help. "Uh, sure. Thank you. Maybe some mashed potatoes, please?"

"All right." The boy took her plate and ladled a spoonful of potatoes onto it and handed to back to her. "I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy," he said proudly, puffing out his chest a bit.  
>Willow thought his name was strange, but so were a lot of names. "Willow Rosenberg," she replied. "Th-thanks for being so nice. I d-don't really know anyone here in Slytherin. My other friends and family are all in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."<p>

Draco suddenly looked stern. "Are you a Weasley?" he asked harshly.

"Kinda." Willow shrunk a bit at the hardness in his voice. "M-my parents died, and they sorta became my new family after that," she said timidly.

"Oh." Draco seemed to lighten up a bit. "I'm sorry, Willow. I didn't know. But don't worry. I'll make sure you fit in just fine here."

Missing the greedy glint in his eyes, Willow simply smiled at her new friend. "Thanks, Draco. Could you, um… Could you please pass the roast beef?"

"Sure thing," he said before not only passing the dish, but serving some to her as well. Willow blushed at the attention he was giving her.

After a long and satisfying meal, followed by an equally satisfying dessert – and interrupted only briefly by a scary-looking ghost called the Bloody Baron – the food disappeared entirely and the principal with the long white beard stood up again. Everybody quieted down immediately.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Willow saw the old man's eyes glance over towards her twin brothers, and she couldn't help but giggle at the thought of Fredngeorge sneaking off into a forest to do who-knows-what.

"I have also been asked by Mister Filch, the caretaker," the principal continued, "to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

Willow only knew what 'Quidditch' was because all of her siblings, except for Percy, kept going on and on about it like it was the best thing in the entire world. Willow wasn't sure the idea of flying on a broom and trying not to fall off – sport or no sport – would be any kind of fun.

"And finally," the principal said, "I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Willow would have laughed at his words if he hadn't sounded so very serious. And only a few others were laughing, but they were quickly falling silent. Willow reminded herself that the rules of the magical world were very different than the regular rules that she was used to.

"And now, before we go to bed," the principal said, "let us sing the school song!" Willow heard a soft-but-audible groan come from all around her. "Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!"

The resulting symphony of noise was like nothing Willow had ever heard before:

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
>Teach us something please,<br>Whether we be old and bald  
>Or young with scabby knees,<br>Our heads could do with filling  
>With some interesting stuff,<br>For now they're bare and full of air  
>Dead flies and bits of stuff<br>So teach us things worth knowing  
>Bring back what we've forgot,<br>Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
>And learn until our brains all rot."<em>

The people who bothered to sing all finished at different times, for they had indeed all chosen a different tune. Willow was amused to find Fredngeorge be the last ones to finish, singing the song like a funeral dirge.

"Ah, music," the principal said as he wiped his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

"First years! First years, this way!" Willow heard a couple of voices call out. There were some older boys and girls at the table gesturing for her to follow.

Draco surprised her by helping her out of her seat. "Thanks," she said with a shy smile before following the older students down a corridor which went down a set of stairs into a dark, dank area of the castle. Eventually they came to a bare stretch of wall, with no paintings or torches on it like the rest of the surrounding area.

"You need a password to get in," an older girl said. "It changes every now and then. Right now, however…" She turned to the wall and said, "Gorgon's gaze."

A part of the wall slid open to reveal a hidden doorway. The line in front of Willow moved ahead, and Draco went in right after her.

She found herself in a long room that was obviously underground, with a low ceiling with several green lamps that lit up the area. Willow felt like she was at the bottom of the lake, only strangely not as cold as she expected she would be.

"Boys, over here," an older boy called, and Draco went off with him as he waved at Willow.

Willow waved back before following an older girl up a small set of stairs into a room with several large beds that all looked far larger and softer than her parents' bed back in Sunnydale. At the foot of one of the beds were all of her things laid out very neatly in front of her.

Deciding that there was too much to take in all at once, Willow quickly found the restroom and changed into her pajamas before crawling into her new bed and falling asleep. She hoped that Ron was enjoying his first day as much as she was.

She had no way of knowing that high above her, in a dormitory in the Gryffindor common room, Ron Weasley was cursing Willow under his breath for stabbing him and his entire family in the back. Blissfully unaware of this fact, Willow fell asleep and dreamed dreams of wonder and magic.

* * *

><p>Some dialogue in this chapter is lifted verbatim from Chapter Seven: The Sorting Hat from 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher'sSorcerers' Stone.'


	6. Natural Selection

**Chapter Six: Natural Selection**

* * *

><p>Life at Hogwarts felt to Willow like a study in Darwinism: she had to adapt and evolve or she would be left behind and forgotten. A simple example was that no one in her house – and she suspected the entire school – had heard of Charles Darwin, and they looked at her funnily when she mentioned him and his theory of evolution. She'd heard a few of the older students talking about 'the weird first year' like some sort of curious oddity, but thankfully she had Draco to help her through everything.<p>

Draco Malfoy was a nice boy who seemed to go out of his way to be nice to Willow, even when older Slytherins started to bully her. A simple mention of 'my father' from Draco was enough to send most students away. Part of Willow thought that it seemed rather bully-ish, but he was doing it to protect her, wasn't he?

But even Draco couldn't deny that even with all of the other students from non-magical families at Hogwarts, Willow was simply not doing well in her classes. The incantations and wand movements were simple enough, but they just didn't seem to work for Willow. She knew she ought to try simply concentrating on what she wanted to happen, but doing that while also doing the 'proper spell' was harder than she thought it would be. And Willow didn't want to be laughed at as 'wandless.'

She also had yet to tell anyone in Slytherin that neither of her parents had been magical. She'd heard enough students retracing their lineages and comparing them for Willow to realize that she would be even more hopelessly out of place if she were to start advertising her lack of magical heritage.

People seemed to have trouble finding their classes, which was understandable given how the school kept changing itself, literally. Stairways would move, classrooms would disappear and reappear, hallways would merge and separate. Even more strangely, Willow could sense what was what and which way led where. It felt like she was back at the wand shop, when all the wands had been talking to her. The school seemed to do the same, with just as many different voices, if not more. It wasn't something she consciously did, but she just knew somehow that the school was alive.

The teachers were mostly nice and fair. Professor Flitwick was easily her favorite teacher. He was gentle and kind, but also very smart. Whenever Willow inevitably failed to get a result in his class, he would encourage her and advise her on how to do better. Even if she hadn't made any progress in her first week, she was grateful to him for that.

Professor McGonagall was kind of nice, but she was also very strict, and she didn't tolerate any goofing around. She'd taken five points from Slytherin because of Draco's two friends - Crabbe and Goyle – who she accused of not devoting themselves to the class. They were another mystery to Willow. Why someone as smart and charming as Draco Malfoy would surround himself with two obvious idiots was beyond her.

Professor Sprout was also nice and fair, but she was quick to warn them of the many things that could go wrong in her class if they didn't pay attention. Willow was shocked to see some of the plants almost act alive, like animals. Herbology was one of the classes she did best in, probably because it required little to no use of a wand. Then again, she'd only had the one lessons so far.

So far, she'd had classes with her fellow Slytherins always, and sometimes with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, too. She'd caught sight of Tara in Transfiguration on the other side of the room. They'd been able to exchange a wave and a smile, but not much more.

Willow was really looking forward to Friday, when she'd have her first and only class with Gryffindor House, where she'd hopefully get to see Ron and Neville. Maybe Harry Potter, too. He'd seemed quite nice as well. Only Draco disagreed. Vehemently.

"Potter?" he said violently when Willow brought the matter up on their way to class. "What could you possibly see in him, Willow?"

She shrugged in response. "He was just nice, is all. Seemed sort of overwhelmed by everything, just like me. I only met him once at the Welcome Feast, but he was nice. Why? Do you not like him?"

Draco scowled. "It's just that everyone talking in the halls about 'Potter this' and 'Potter that.' He was raised by Muggles, too, can you believe that! Harry Potter, raised by Muggles, and everyone thinks he's so amazing."

Now, Willow was starting to get a bit worried. "W-what's so wrong with being raised without magic?"

"What's wrong with it?" Draco looked appalled. "If you're raised without our values, knowing our history… Our culture is going downhill enough as it is with all of the mudbloods pouring in through Hogwarts and growing up to become 'real wizards.' Psht. We're better than they are, and don't you ever think otherwise."

Willow only kept walking because she was too shocked to stop. So, Draco Malfoy was just like Voldemort. He thought that magic was superior, and that anyone without it was dirt. He even looked like a Nazi, now that Willow truly looked at him. Very Aryan with his pale hair and eyes. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she knew she had to be very careful around him. His father was someone important, if he was to be believed, and she did believe that he could make her life miserable if she gave him reason to do so.

Filing into the classroom in the dungeons where Professor Snape held his Potions classes, Willow took her seat a bit closer to the middle of the classroom than she had before. It was almost always that the other houses sat on the opposite side of the classroom from her own house. It hadn't seemed like much before, but Willow suddenly had an urge to get as close as she could to her family and friends. People she hadn't seen in a week, but who she trusted and cared for.

The Gryffindor students came in a short while later. Willow caught sight of Neville and waved to him. He smiled in return and took a seat close to hers. A few moments later, Ron and Harry Potter came in. She waved to them also, but while Harry smiled a strange little smile at her, Ron pointedly looked away and tried to sit as far away from her as he could.

Something obviously showed on her face, because Neville was leaning over in an instant. "Hey. Willow? Is everything okay? You look sad."

She was sad. Very sad. The brother who said he could never hate her was now pointedly ignoring her as if she'd done something horrible to him. "I guess so," she said softly. "H-how was your first week of classes?"

Neville shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Messed up a lot of stuff pretty badly. Liked Herbology, though."

Willow smiled. "Me too."

Just then, the door slammed open to admit Professor Snape, his black robes billowing out behind him like something grand and fearsome. Willow had only seen him once, at the Welcome Feast, but he seemed immediately as strict as McGonagall, only not as nice.

He started by taking the roll call, drawing out each name as if to make it seem like a threat. The students all seemed to take this as best they could. But then…

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new _celebrity._"

Some giggling off to Willow's right caught her attention, and she saw Draco and his two flunkies laughing at Harry's obvious discomfort. Her opinion of Draco Malfoy went down another notch.

Thankfully, Snape left a long enough pause after each name for Willow to regain her composure when he called her name immediately after Harry's. She raised one hand slightly to acknowledge her presence and then shut her mouth as tight as she could. This teacher was one she didn't want to upset, even if he hadn't been her head of her house.

After the last students names were taken, he set the list down and started to speak. Willow had her quill and parchment out just in case he started with a lecture right off the bat. By now, it wouldn't surprise her. And besides, she wanted to learn, and missing something important on the first lesson would not be good for her academic career.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." He spoke so softly, but the rest of the class was so silent that he didn't need to raise his voice. Willow was simultaneously scared and impressed. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic." Willow smiled to herself at the lack of 'foolish wand-waving.' "I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…"

Willow was fully attentive by now. This was like all of her other classes. One false step and things might literally blow up in her face. Either Snape was exaggerating the power of potions, or he was trying to teach his students proper respect for the class. Either way, the speech was impressive.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Willow almost felt like he was personally challenging her. Well, all of the students, but she felt specifically challenged to prove him wrong. There was one other girl, a Gryffindor with bushy brown hair, who looked similarly eager.

"Potter!" Snape snapped at the nice Gryffindor boy, "what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Willow didn't know if Snape actually expected any of them to know the answers, and she felt like he was picking on Harry specifically for some reason. He had commented on his 'celebrity' earlier. There was something there that she was missing. But that would have to wait. There was a question, and she was scribbling it down, ready to take any notes that this semi-lecture might lead to.

Not noticing the eager Gryffindor girl's hand in the air as she wrote, Willow did make out Harry saying, "I don't know, sir."

Willow felt that was certainly fair. It was only the first class, after all.

But Snape clearly didn't agree. "Tut tut. Fame clearly isn't everything."

Willow felt her hackles rise. She knew bullying when she heard it, and it was clear that Snape was bullying Harry Potter. Why didn't matter: there was never any excuse for bullying, teacher or not.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

And again, Harry replied, "I don't know, sir." He seemed reasonably calm considering Snape's obvious disdain for him.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

That was so not fair! Willow finished scribbling the question and set her eyes on the black-clad professor, as if she could make him stop his bullying just by looking at him. Off to one side, she noticed the bushy-haired girl with her hand high in the air.

"What is the difference, Potter," Snape continued, "between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know," Harry said for a third time. "I think Hermione does, though. Why don't you try her?"

Some students laughed, but Willow wondered to herself why Snape hadn't simply called on the other girl?

"Sit down!" Snape snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death." _Score! Notes to be taken!_ "A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons." _Good to know._"As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down? Miss Rosenberg seems to be the only one here competent enough to keep her mind on her studies."

Everyone was suddenly rummaging for their quills and parchment, and Willow felt herself glow with pride that she had managed to earn a compliment from the teacher, even if it was a rather backhanded one. "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter," Snape added over the noise. "Also, a point will be awarded to Slytherin House for your studiousness, Rosenberg."

Willow felt simultaneously proud and ashamed. Her friends and brothers were in Gryffindor. While she was glad she had done something right, she didn't want it to feel like it had been at their expense.

Snape then went around and started putting them all into pairs. It was only after everyone else had been paired up that Willow realized that there were an odd number of students in the class, and she was the last one left.

"You will work on your own for this class, Miss Rosenberg. After your earlier display of competence, I want to see how you progress without assistance."

Willow thought that this was absurd, and that she could just as easily be put into a group of three. But then a little voice whispered inside her head. _'This is a chance to prove yourself,'_ it said. _'A chance to show that you stand above the rest, and that it doesn't matter that you grew up without magic. You'll show them all.'_

With a simple nod and a "Yes, sir," Willow set to work on her potion, which was supposedly a cure for boils. It was remarkably like chemistry. You just had to be very exact with your measurements and your movements, or else it would all go to hell. At least, it seemed that way.

First step was to sort her ingredients. Willow looked at the list on the blackboard and started by setting aside what she needed and then cutting and measuring before she even started her mixture. She noticed that some of the ingredients had to be added at a certain time, and she wanted to be ready.

Next, she had to heat her cauldron. Thankfully, there were fires already going, so she didn't have to risk making her own just yet. She assumed that Professor Snape didn't expect them to be able to handle fire just yet. It was probably a smart thing, too. On either side of her was Draco, working with someone named Blaise, and on her other side was Neville working with someone she thought might have been called Seamus. Harry and Ron were just on the other side of Neville, and Ron was making a point of not looking at her.

Willow steeled herself and concentrated on the potion. She didn't want to mess things up and injure someone. After much stirring and stewing and ingredient adding, her potion was finally starting to come together. She felt proud of herself for not messing anything up – yet – but she did notice that Snape was making a habit of criticizing pretty much everyone except for Draco, who kept getting lavish praise from the professor. Her opinion of Snape would have gone down if he hadn't seemed so intelligent earlier. Like Ron, Snape seemed to make a point of ignoring her, though she couldn't say why in either case.

Willow was waiting to add some stewed horned slugs – the potion had to turn a pale blue first – when she caught Neville out of the corner of her eye about to add some porcupine quills to his potion. She'd done that step a few minutes ago, only when she had done it…"

"Neville, wait!"

"What? Willow, what is it?"

"Take your cauldron off the fire first. If you add the quills first, well, I dunno what'll happen, but I get the feeling that tiny mistakes do a lot in this class."

"Good catch, Rosenberg, was it?" Seamus said.

"Uh, yeah. Call me Willow," she said with a shy smile.

"Thanks, Willow," the two boys said before taking their potion off the fire. Even when the quills were added, it was clear that their potion wasn't as good as hers had been at that stage. Rather, it was different. She only thought she was managing her potion well enough.

Her potion turned pale blue, and she added the horned slugs and stirred. Three rotations clockwise, one rotation counter-clockwise, wait seventeen seconds, repeat. Thankfully, Willow had a wristwatch that she could use to count the seconds instead of doing it in her head.

The bell finally rang, but the Professor kept them back for him to inspect their work before cleaning up and sending them on their way. Willow's cauldron had been deemed 'satisfactory' in that soft drawl, which had initially put her on edge until she realized that compared to most of the rest of the class, it was high praise.

Draco was waiting for her by the classroom door as she packed up her bag. She really wanted to avoid him, but she might not have a choice in the matter.

But Snape saved her that trouble. "Mister Malfoy, go on ahead. Miss Rosenberg, pack up your things and then come to my office."

Willow breathed a sigh of relief as Draco spoke up. "Is something wrong, Professor," he asked. "Willow isn't in trouble, is she?"

"No, Draco. I promise to return Miss Rosenberg in one piece. Now, go."

The pale boy took the hint and left without another word. Willow said a silent thank you to whoever was listening and finished packing up her school bag. Professor Snape's office wasn't far from the classroom, and she found him quickly enough.

"Sit down, Miss Rosenberg."

Gulping with fear, Willow obeyed. The Potions Master did not sit, but he did look at her very carefully.

"You are rather unique amongst the student body here at Hogwarts, Miss Rosenberg. Can you tell me why that is?"

Willow got the feeling that he knew the answer to his question already, and he was testing Willow to see if she would be honest with him. And being honest seemed like a good idea in this case. "Um, I can think of a few things," she said quietly. "I'm not British, and I don't know if there are any other foreign students here. Or if there are, if there are any other Americans. Also, um… Well, my wand isn't really real. I do magic without a wand, only I've been trying to use a fake wand to blend in so that people don't hate me or think I'm a freak. Sir," she quickly added.

"I see." Professor Snape was unreadable. Willow had no idea what he was thinking. "I've received notes from your other teachers. You've been having difficulties with basic spells. This is not uncommon for new students, but your problems are far more basic than most have to deal with. Your competence in my class and in Professor Sprout's class do you credit, but if you wish to succeed at Hogwarts, you will have to embrace your magic in the form that it takes. As your head of house, I am telling you to stop pretending, Miss Rosenberg, and adapt to your situation so that you might thrive. I believe you referred to such a process as 'Darwinism' to your housemates."

Willow paled, not knowing how this man knew about her private conversations. But was he encouraging her or threatening her? Maybe both?

"You will no doubt be scrutinized unfairly by your peers for your unique talents. They will not understand the subtleties of magic that make things work the way they do, and will dismiss you as inferior. Whether such accusations prove to be true or false depends on how you handle your situation. If you falter, you will most assuredly be left behind."

Willow shivered under the black-eyed gaze of the Potions Master. "D-do the other professors know about this, sir?"

"They do," he acknowledged. He did not elaborate.

"Oh. Okay, then. Um, is there anything else, sir?"

"One more thing," Snape said slowly. He walked behind his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out an envelope. "This was addressed to you, Miss Rosenberg, but it arrived after the morning post." He handed the envelope to Willow, who took it with a shivering hand.

"Th-thank you, sir."

Snape merely nodded. "You may go now."

Willow got up from her seat and left the teacher's office, heading back to her dormitory. It wasn't far, and even without her intuitive feel for the school's magic, she could find her way easily enough.

The patch of wall that was the entrance to the Slytherin common room was unadorned, but Willow would know the feel of it anywhere. "Gorgon's Gaze."

The wall slid open and Willow stepped inside. She had no idea who would be writing to her. Maybe her new mom and dad, or maybe Ginny. She'd have to write back to all three of them, no matter what was in the letter she held in her hand.

Draco was waiting for her. "Willow! Are you okay? What did Snape want?"

Willow wanted very much to ignore him, but she couldn't without drawing unwanted attention. "He just wanted to give me a letter that came late. I'm going to go read it now, okay? I guess I'll be back down for dinner in a bit. You can go on ahead without me if you're hungry."

"Thanks. I'll be seeing you, then."

Willow didn't understand how the Nazi boy could pretend to be so nice when she'd caught a glimpse of the ugliness hidden beneath.

The dormitory was empty when she arrived, but she still closed the curtains over her four-poster bed before she opened the letter. Inside was a letter and another envelope. She read the parchment letter first:

_'Dear Willow,_

_Happy First Week! We hope you're enjoying yourself at Hogwarts and are doing well in your classes. Ginny's been missing you something fierce, and we hope you'll write back to her soon. She sends her warmest regards._

_We recently received a letter from that man we met at the museum: Mister Giles. He said that he had managed to get in touch with your friends in Sunnydale, and that they had send a letter to you. We've forwarded it to you with this letter, and we hope that it makes your day._

_Missing you and wishing you well._

_Love,_

_Mum and Dad'_

Willow felt immediately warm inside. Not only did her new parents want to wish her well, but they sent her a letter from home! Only now did she realize that the other letter was regular paper, not parchment. She tore it open and read it hungrily:

_'Hey there, Willow!_

_So, you're not dead. At least, the strange British guy who showed up said you were alive and living with another family in England. I don't know why you didn't let us know sooner, but Giles or whatever his name was said you couldn't. But, now we're writing to you, and we miss you so much, Will._

_It's been tough without you. We're getting by, but it was so hard, thinking you were dead. And your parents! Your real ones, not the new ones, I mean. I don't know how you deal with that. I know sometimes I wish my mom and dad would just die, but I don't think I really mean it. Neither of us do. (This is Xander writing the letter, in case the handwriting didn't give it away)._

_We hope you write back real soon, 'cause we miss you lots, Will. We love you, and we'll never let you forget it._

_Your Friends Forever,_

_Xander and Jesse'_

Willow knew she couldn't wait and immediately broke out her parchment and quill and began to reply to everyone. Separate letters, everyone would get their own. She loved them all too much not to write to them all. Her new mom and dad, Ginny, Jesse, and Xander. They all loved her, and she loved them. Even if she was alone at Hogwarts, she had loved ones waiting for her outside.

The cold night air was cozy and warm for Willow as she wrote lovingly to her true family.


	7. Flashy Effects

**Chapter Seven: Flashy Effects**

* * *

><p>In Ron Weasley's humble opinion, Hogwarts was almost perfect. The classes were exciting, the castle itself was always changing and showing him something new, the food was incredible, and he had a new best friend in the form of Harry Potter himself! What surprised Ron most about Harry was that he didn't seem like someone famous when you got to know him. He was just Harry, and having him as a friend was something for which Ron was very grateful.<p>

There was only one real bad thing to be said about Hogwarts, and it could be summed up in two words: Slytherin House. The whole lot of them were spiteful and malicious, and they kept giving all of the Gryffindors a bad time about pretty much everything. Even their head of house, Snape, was a grade-A git.

The worst part about the Slytherins, however, was that his new 'sister' was one of them. In retrospect, he should have known that Willow was too good be true. So nice, so smart, so powerful. She was obviously not what she seemed, or else she would have been put into a better house – one where she wouldn't be talking so nicely with Malfoy of all people.

Their first Potions class last Friday had been even more confirmation that Willow was no good at all. Snape had picked on Harry relentlessly, taking a point from him just for showing that the know-it-all, Hermione, probably knew the answers that he didn't. And then, the greasy git had actually given a point to Willow for taking notes. That's all she did, nothing special. There was a two-point swing against Gryffindor and towards Slytherin, all thanks to his no-good, backstabbing, two-faced 'sister.'

And now, on the notice board in the common room, Ron discovered that they would be having flying lessons together with the Slytherins on Thursday.

"Typical," Harry moaned from Ron's side. "Just what I always wanted: to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," Ron said, hoping to cheer up his friend. After all, he was Harry Potter. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Ron sighed as they made their way out of the portrait down towards breakfast. "I'm sure Willow will outshine us all, though. She's so perfect at everything else. What's a bit of flying to her?"

Harry groaned. "Are you going to keep going on about how awful your sister is? She seemed nice enough when I met her on the first day of school. And you seemed to like her enough back then."

"That was before she got Sorted into Slytherin," Ron protested. "She's no different than the rest of them by now, mark my words. Nasty and evil, the lot of them."

"Malfoy certainly is," Harry said reasonably. "I don't know why she talks to him. Maybe she just hasn't seen him like we have."

"Does it matter?" Ron shot back. "No good witch or wizard ever came out of Slytherin, Harry. You can bet that Willow won't be any different."

"Willow won't be any different than what?" Fred asked, suddenly appearing on Ron's left flank.

"Yeah, Ron," George said from his right. "What's got your knickers in a knot now? Can't you just give her a break?"

"No, I can't! Don't you see? She's just as bad as any other Slytherin. Have you ever met a decent one?"

"Well, no," Fred said fairly, "but mum mentioned that the Potions Master in her day was a Slytherin, and that he was all right. Then again, that was years ago."

"But seriously, Ron," George said, "just putting on the Hat doesn't change you or anything. Willow's still Willow. Shame she ended up in Slytherin, though. Was hoping she'd be with the rest of us."

"Ah, well. Maybe she'll brighten up the place, do a little house cleaning," Fred said. "One can only hope."

Finally reaching the Great Hall, Ron made an effort to distance himself from his twin brothers so he could eat his breakfast in peace. "Typical. They're always against me. Can never have a brother on my side, let alone a sister, can I?"

"Ron," Harry said worriedly, "I think you're blowing this up bigger than it has to be."

"Am I, Harry? You weren't there in Ollivanders when I was with her. She's dangerous, I tell you. Scary powerful. All that power in Slytherin can't do any good."

"Morning," Neville said from across the table as he joined them. "What's so powerful in Slytherin?"

"My sister," Ron snarled. "And she's not even that, really. Just some random cousin who we adopted."

"What, you mean Willow?" Neville asked. "I don't know about power, but she's nice. Helped me out in Potions the other day. Seems pretty smart."

"She helped you, Neville?" Harry asked, sounding surprised. "Huh. Doesn't sound much like someone who hangs out with Malfoy."

"Yeah, I don't get that either," Neville said pensively. "So long as she doesn't force me to be his friend, I won't complain."

Their conversation was interrupted by the morning post, and a brown owl dropped a package into Neville's lap. He opened it to reveal…

"It's a Remembrall!" he said happily. "Gran knows I forget things. This tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it like this, and if it turns red… Oh." He looked rather downcast as the sphere did in fact turn red. "You've forgotten something."

"Huh." Ron had to keep himself from chuckling. He didn't want to seem like a total prat, so he and Harry started running ideas past Neville to help him remember what he'd forgotten.

Suddenly, Draco Malfoy passed by the Gryffindor table and snatched the glass sphere out of Neville's hand. Ron got to his feet immediately, Harry right beside him, ready for a good excuse to lay a beating on Malfoy.

"What's going on?" McGonagall said, arriving at the site of the incident faster than a hawk.

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," Neville said.

Malfoy just scowled and dropped the ball back on the table. "Just looking," he said casually before heading off with his two flunkies, Crabbe and Goyle.

Ron turned back to Neville as they all sat down again. "That's the sort of person Willow hangs out with. You sure you want to risk getting friendly with her?"

"I'm already friendly with her," Neville said more harshly than he'd ever spoken to them before. "Maybe you should give her a chance instead of just assuming she's evil."

Ron scowled and started poking at his breakfast venomously. "I don't need to assume. I know."

* * *

><p>It was 3:30 in the afternoon as Willow found herself on her way down to a large patch of lawn where she would be practicing flying. As in moving about in the air with only a broomstick to hold her. Heights and Willow didn't mix very well in her experience, and she wasn't very keen on getting up in the air where she could fall to her death. Nope, not looking forward to this at all.<p>

Making matters worse was Draco's constant boasting about how great a flier he was, and how he was sure that Willow would get it in no time. "It's not like wand magic," he told her, as if reminding her of her failures was going to lift her spirits, "so you should have no problems with it."

But Willow smiled at Draco's remarks. Over the past week since her talk with Professor Snape, Willow had been secretly practicing all of the spells she'd messed up in her classes, only without a wand. Spells that had been beyond her at first were amazingly simple once she stopped thinking about it like a class assignment and started thinking about it like a natural talent. She had to let the magic flow and do its work while she subtly guided it.

Subtlety was key, as was emotional control. Willow was not quite ready to show off her talents to her teachers or any of her peers just yet. She still had to work on making her spells effective instead of just big and flashy. Sparks tended to erupt without her meaning to, things would change size and color when she was only trying to change the shape. A floating feather would shoot upward and stick into the ceiling of her four-poster bed instead of simply levitating. Willow felt like she was a D-sized battery trying to fit into a AAA-sized slot.

Willow arrived on the lawn to see Ron, Harry, Neville, and the other first year Gryffindors waiting along with the first years in her own house. She waved at her brother and his friends, but Ron was still ignoring her. Harry looked like he was torn, but Neville waved back, which made Willow smile.

The teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She looked rather bird-like with feathery gray hair and yellow, hawk-like eyes.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Hooch barked sharply. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Willow nervously took her place by a strange looking broom that was curved and had a small seat, as if it were meant to hold a rider instead of to sweep dirt.

"Stick your right hand over your broom," Madam Hooch said, "and say 'Up!'"

Willow figured those instructions were simple enough. "Up!" she shouted along with everyone else.

Nothing happened. A very few people had brooms jump into their hands, but not very many. Harry Potter had one in his hand, as did Draco Malfoy. Willow looked at her broom and swore she could feel it hesitating. Were brooms like wands? Did they have personalities?

Willow tried concentrating and 'talking' to the broom, but to no avail. She got the feeling that if she didn't really want to fly – and she didn't – then the broom would simply not come to her. Or maybe she was just deficient in this area. It could be anything.

Finally, Madam Hooch had the students who hadn't been able to summon their brooms just pick them up, and then she showed them how to mount them properly, and how to hold the handle. Willow felt rather silly as she tightened her grip, but her apprehension did not seem to be shared by the others.

"Now," Madam Hooch said, "when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly." Willow wondered how one kept a broom steady, but was given no time to ponder the matter further. "On my whistle: three… two…"

It seemed that Neville was one of the few students who shared Willow's nervousness, and he had kicked off early. And he didn't seem to be in control of his broom.

"Come back, boy!" Hooch shouted to no avail. Neville was moving upwards quite quickly. Willow tried to summon her magic to bring him back down to earth, but she was too afraid for Neville to concentrate properly.

And then, Neville slid off his broom and fell to the ground, even as his broom continued to rise and drift out of sight.

Willow paled and felt rooted to the spot as Madam Hooch went to Neville's side. Magic was dangerous, Willow knew that. But aside from her first disastrous spell when she'd burned down her old house, this was the first real injury she'd seen. It was not a pretty sight.

Finally, Madam Hooch muttered, "Broken wrist." Willow was stunned. How did a fall from at least twenty feet in the air net only a broken wrist? She guessed the answer had 'magic' somewhere in it, but that just didn't do it for her. "Come on, boy. It's all right. Up you get," Hooch said as she helped Neville to his feet.

The instructor turned to the rest of them. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Willow gave Neville a small wave and smile of encouragement as he was helped off the lawn and into the castle, but he was in too much pain to notice.

But as soon as Neville and Madam Hooch were out of earshot, Draco burst out laughing. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins soon joined in the laughter as Willow made an effort to step away from the lot of them, her face turning red. _Bullies and thugs, all of you. Probably Nazis, too._

"Shut up, Malfoy!" one of the Gryffindor girls piped up.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" That was Pansy Parkinson, an ugly, pug-faced girl who was as smart as she was pretty. "Never thought you'd like fat little cry-babies, Parvati." Willow felt a cold fury rise in her heart. It felt strangely good.

"Look," Draco said as he snatched something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

"If it's so stupid," Willow snarled, "why bother with it?"

Draco, however, seemed to miss the venom in her voice. "Just having a bit of fun."

"Give that here, Malfoy."

Willow turned to face Harry Potter, who was standing up to Draco. The rest of the class quieted down to watch.

But Draco merely smiled. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about up a tree?"

"Give it _here! _Harry yelled as Draco took off on his broom into the air. Willow set her sights on Draco and tried to will him down to the ground, but the magic of the broom was fighting her, and she knew she couldn't win against it.

"Come and get it, Potter!" Draco cried maliciously.

Harry looked to be doing just that.

"_No!_" The bushy-haired girl, Hermione, was trying to convince Harry to stay on the ground. "Madam Hooch told us not to move. You'll get us all into trouble."

Willow was familiar with the tactic. The bully would goad you into breaking the rules, only to claim that you started it. But if you let it pass, then the bully would only keep at it. "Let him go," Willow said darkly. "Someone needs to stand up to the little Nazi."

Hermione paled and looked at Willow sharply, just long enough for Harry to wring himself free of her attentions and get into the air.

Willow looked up at Draco and Harry staring each other down in midair. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but it looked as though Harry was unnerving Draco. But then Draco turned and tossed the glass sphere as far as he could towards the castle, and Harry sped off after it.

It was definitely a ploy to get Harry into trouble, Willow realized. She stared up at Malfoy, furious. "I see what you are, Draco Malfoy," she said venomously. "You pretend to be nice and kind, but you're a bully and a Nazi, and I see it all. Soon, everyone will see you for what you really are. Now, _reveal yourself!_

Nobody seemed to be paying Willow any attention except for Hermione Granger, who had been keeping an eye on Willow since her earlier comment. But even Hermione's attention was quickly drawn to Draco, as was Willow's, and she realized that she had just done a spell without meaning to, though she couldn't argue with the results.

Willow had told Draco to reveal himself, and so he had quite spectacularly. His robes and all of his other clothes had vanished, leaving him totally nude with only the broomstick to cover himself from the peeping students below.

The Gryffindors – save for Hermione Granger – all burst out laughing, as did Willow when she realized what she had done. Ironically, Draco himself seemed to take a moment to realize what had happened before panicking in midair. To his credit, he did not fall off.

"HARRY POTTER!" the voice of Professor McGonagall cried as Harry came back down to the ground, Neville's sphere in his hand. "_Never_in all my time at Hogwarts…"

The professor seemed quite apoplectic. "How dare you! Might have broken your neck!"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor!"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil."

"But Malfoy…"

"That's _enough_, Mr. Weasley."

"Sorry, Professor," Willow said quietly, with all due propriety, "but Draco does seem to be breaking the dress code," she said, gesturing up to the naked boy in the air.

McGonagall paled and narrowed her eyes. "Mister MALFOY! What on earth were you thinking, pulling some cock-eyed stunt like that? Thirty points from Slytherin! I shall be talking to Professor Snape personally about this!" With a wave of her wand, McGonagall had Draco fully clothed again. "Now, get down here at once! Potter, follow me. Now."

The Gryffindors looked after Harry with worry as the Slytherins formed a circle around Willow as Draco came down from the air. "What were you thinking?" Pansy Parkinson cried shrilly. "You just cost us thirty points!"

"Yeah, Rosenberg," a boy named Theodore Nott piped up. "What's wrong with you?"

Willow might have backed down once upon a time, but she could still feel the cold anger flowing through her, and it felt so good. "Oh, I think he deserved it," she said coolly. "I mean, wasn't it funny? I mean, if you all find someone falling and breaking his wrist is worth laughing at, why not Draco losing his clothes?"

"It's _not _funny when it happens to me!" Draco protested loudly once he was down on the ground. "Why did you point it out to McGonagall? I swear, when I find out who did that spell, my father will make them pay!"

"Oh, how wonderful," Willow said with false sweetness. "I've always wanted to meet your dad."

Draco recoiled as if struck. "Y-you did that?"

"What? Didja lose your hearing or something? Do I need to speak up? Or are you just too slow, Draco?"

Draco's wand was out in an instance, and nine other Slytherin wands quickly followed. "You'll pay for this, Rosenberg."

Willow knew she should feel scared, but she didn't. She felt the power of each of the wands around her, and she knew that she could block any spell from them with ease. She didn't know how she knew this, and she didn't know how she could draw upon any power to do what she knew she could. She just knew it on an instinctive level.

Willow clucked her tongue in a scolding way. "You really want to put those wands away before you hurt yourselves."

"Is that right?" Malfoy challenged.

Willow clenched her right hand into a fist, lifted it up, and opened it. A burst of air sent the other Slytherins around her flying backwards onto their rears. "Yes. That's right."

"Merlin! What's wrong with her eyes?" Pansy Parkinson cried.

Willow had no idea what Pansy was talking about, but just to make things more fun, she looked directly at the ugly girl and smiled, sending her scurrying away in fear.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?"

Madam Hooch had re-arrived, and she looked livid. Willow took one look at the furious teacher and immediately felt a wave of terrible shame wash over her. The cold anger inside of her burned away and was replaced by a deep sadness at her loss of control. Draco had deserved his humiliation, but she had threatened and nearly hurt ten other kids! What kind of person did that make her? What had _happened_to her?

Before Draco or any of his cohorts could make up some horrible lies, Willow walked over to Madam Hooch. "It was me, Professor. I lost control. I got angry, and I almost hurt people. U-unless I actually did hurt someone," she said with a downcast face.

"She's dangerous, Professor!" Malfoy shouted. "She threatened us! Attacked us! Almost…"

"I heard you, Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Hooch snapped. "And I have heard from Professor McGonagall, and I think your lesson will be ending early today. We'll try again next week. Go on, get back to your common rooms. Miss Rosenberg, you'll be coming with me."

* * *

><p>The trip back to the common room felt far longer than it should have, as Ron's mind was torn between so many different thoughts. On the one hand, he was worried about Harry. His best friend facing imminent expulsion should have been at the forefront of his thoughts, but it wasn't. First in line was how amazing Harry's flying had been. He could easily become a professional Quidditch player someday if he wasn't expelled.<p>

Then there had been Malfoy, hanging naked in the air and too afraid to come down. _That_had been simply brilliant! But Ron was torn about the culprit. On the one hand, it was painfully obvious that Willow had been the one to denude Malfoy. On the other hand, Ron couldn't understand why she had done it. Wasn't she best mates with Malfoy? Then again, Neville seemed to like her, so maybe she was actually sticking up for him.

As soon as he thought of it, Ron dismissed the notion. Willow was Slytherin, and Slytherins' only loyalty was to themselves. Even if Willow had brought the rest of her house down on her, only to slam them all backwards, that didn't prove anything. Did it?

Once they were back in the common room, Seamus and Dean started sharing the story with the other Gryffindors who were back in the common room.

"And then they all close in on Rosenberg," Seamus was saying, "and then boom! They all go flying backwards as if she just exploded. Only she's standing there, calm as anything."

"Psht!" Ron spat. "It doesn't mean anything. It was probably all just a show. She's no different than the rest of them."

"Actually, I think she is," Hermione said quietly.

"What makes you think so?" Lavender Brown asked idly.

"She called Malfoy a Nazi. No one named 'Rosenberg' would call someone they liked a Nazi."

"She said that?" Dean said with wide eyes. "About Malfoy?"

"She did," Hermione confirmed.

"So?" Ron said. "What does that mean? What's a Nazi?"

Hermione and Dean shared a look and started to explain concepts like the Second World War and the Holocaust, and as he listened to the frightening true stories, Ron realized that he couldn't look at Willow the same ever again.

* * *

><p><em>EARLIER THAT DAY<em>

Willow nodded quietly and fell in line after Madam Hooch. She was in for it now, she just knew it. She felt a lot of cold stares on her back as she skulked into the castle and up a staircase. Then up another one, and another.

The feel of the castle's magic was growing a lot stronger as they kept walking. "Excuse me, Madam Hooch," Willow asked meekly, "but where are we going?"

"We are going," she said in an unreadable voice, "to the Headmaster's office."

Willow gulped as they finally arrived at a door guarded by two stone gargoyles.

"Kit-Kat Bar," Madam Hooch said, to which the gargoyles jumped to the side and allowed access to a spiraling staircase.

Willow followed Madam Hooch up to a grand door upon which the flying instructor knocked four times.


	8. Progress

**Chapter Eight: Progress**

* * *

><p>To say that Willow was nervous was an understatement. She was about to be alone in a room with Headmaster Dumbledore, who had supposedly been the only wizard that Voldemort had ever been afraid of, and Willow believed the stories. As she waited at the door, she could feel the power in the room beyond, and it was like nothing she had ever felt before. Torrents of magical energy that were all somehow flowing together in harmony lay just out of sight.<p>

Madam Hooch must have noticed Willow's fear, as she put a hand on her shoulder. Only when she felt the flying instructor's hand did Willow realize that she was shivering.

"Come in."

The voice sounded both old and childlike to Willow's ears, and Madam Hooch opened the door to reveal a visual onslaught of colorful wonder. Strange objects and trinkets almost screamed with vibrant sensation all around her. There was seldom any white or black anywhere at all, not even in the moving portraits all around the room.

And Dumbledore himself was an explosion of color with long purple robes with gold and silver stars throughout. His long white beard stood out starkly in contrast to all the color around them. But the power he gave off… Willow knew that this man, for all that he looked like an eccentric old grandfather, was truly dangerous. Or rather, he could be if he wanted to be.

"Headmaster," Madam Hooch said, "there was a bit of an incident during the Gryffindor/Slytherin flying lessons today. Well, there were two incidents, one of which Professor McGonagall is handling. But I thought it best to bring Miss Rosenberg to see you personally."

"Indeed." Dumbledore looked at Willow with a kindly face over his half-moon spectacles, and Willow couldn't help but feel like he was seeing through her, as though his eyes were scanning far more than just her appearance. "Thank you, Madam Hooch. You may go now. I'd like to have a word with Miss Rosenberg in private."

"Of course, Headmaster." The bird-like woman gave a polite bow and exited the office, leaving Willow alone to face her inquisition.

"Please, Willow, do take a seat."

"Uh, okay. Sir," she quickly added, not wanting to get on this man's bad side. A flap of wings from behind her brought her attention to a great red and gold bird that let out a long coo as it fluttered over to Dumbledore's shoulder. The bird's brief but beautiful song stirred something in Willow, and she felt both wonderful and ashamed all at once. "Y-your bird is beautiful, sir."

Dumbledore smiled. "He is, isn't he? His name is Fawkes. He is a phoenix, and he is one of my oldest and most faithful friends. Phoenixes are truly wondrous creatures. Their song can inspire strong emotions in any who hear it, their tears have healing powers, and they have the most exquisite plumage."

Fawkes seemed to respond positively to Dumbledore's compliments, and he let out another long coo, causing Willow to feel very warm inside. "He must love you very much," Willow said. "I can feel it, somehow."

"Thank you, Willow. That's very kind of you to say. But, enough about my friend for now. From what I understand, you've caused a bit of a stir down on the lawn earlier today. Would you please repeat for me what transpired today?"

Willow gulped, suddenly reminded that while Dumbledore might look like a kindly old man, and while his pet bird was simply amazing, he was still the Headmaster, and he could toss Willow out of Hogwarts in a moment if he felt like it. "W-well, sir, we were learning how to fly. We started by trying to summon the brooms, but mine didn't come to me. I-I think it knew that I was scared of flying. But that's probably not what you want to hear about, is it? Sorry, sir. Anyway, Madam Hooch was getting ready to have us kick off, but Neville – that's Neville Longbottom, in Gryffindor – he jumped off early, I think he was nervous. A-and then he couldn't control his broom and he fell from really high up. But somehow, he only broke his wrist, which makes no sense at all. A fall from that high should have knocked him unconscious, but he was able to stand afterwards. I mean, he needed help from Madam Hooch, but he was pretty okay, all things considered. A-and I hope he's okay. He's a really nice person, and I don't anything to-"

"Easy, Willow," Dumbledore interrupted, allowing her to breathe. "Take it slowly. One thing at a time. There's no need to rush. I assure you that Madam Pomfrey is an extremely skilled healer, and your friend will be up and about in no time at all."

Willow breathed a bit easier. "Thanks, sir. Sorry about that. I babble when I'm nervous. And I guess that means I'm nervous right now. I mean, you're the Headmaster, and you're like super-powerful. I mean, I knew before that you were the only person that Voldemort was ever afraid of, but now I really believe it. The power in this room, and from you specifically… It's just so much! Uh, sir," she added on, feeling suddenly red in the face.

But Dumbledore didn't look very angry. He merely smiled gently. "I could say the same about you, Miss Rosenberg. But that's a talk for another time. Now, what happened after young Neville fell off his broom? Please, take your time, Willow."

Willow was too nervous to notice Dumbledore's comment about her own power, so she plodded on with her story. "Well, Madam Hooch took him to the Hospital Wing, and she warned us all to stay on the ground or else we'd be expelled. And then…" Willow balled up her hands into fists at the memory. "Draco started laughing at Neville's injury. Th-that's Draco Malfoy, sir. And the other Slytherins were also laughing. Not me, I mean, but the other ones. What kind of people think that someone falling and hurting themselves is funny?

So then, the Gryffindors start standing up for Neville, which was good of them. I… I was too nervous to say anything at first. I was too angry to say anything, and I guess I was also afraid that I would make enemies if I did speak up. But then Draco grabbed something off the ground. I don't know what it was, but he said it was something that Neville's grandmother gave him. Harry – that's Harry Potter, sir – he tried to get it back, but Draco got on his broom and threatened to put it up in a tree.

"He started taunting Harry to come after him. I think he was trying to trick Harry into breaking the rules to get him into trouble. But Harry went up anyway. I didn't hear what they said, but Draco threw Neville's gift away, and Harry went to catch it. I was so _angry_at Draco! He'd shown himself to be a bullying little Nazi, and I wanted everyone to see him for what he really was, and I, um… Well, I accidentally made his clothes vanish. Sir."

"Oh, my!" Dumbledore said, and Willow was surprised to see laughter in his eyes, though he didn't quite chuckle outright. "That does sound quite interesting. Might I ask what happened next? I hardly think that you'd be brought to my office for something as trivial as that. Though I'm sure it didn't seem trivial to Mr. Malfoy."

Willow let out a nervous chuckle. "Uh, no, sir. He wasn't very happy. B-but then, Professor McGonagall showed up and was about to take Harry away after he landed and retrieved Neville's gift. I pointed out to her that Draco was naked up in the air, and I think she assumed he was pulling some sort of stunt. She re-clothed him and took thirty points from Slytherin. Then McGonagall-"

"Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore chided gently.

Willow's face flushed in embarrassment. "Right! Sorry, sir. So, um, Professor McGonagall took Harry off and warned us all to wait for Madam Hooch. Draco and the other Slytherins got angry at me for pointing him out up there, and then he made one of his threats about his father, and then I sort of just admitted what I did."

Looking down at the ground, Willow felt something rise in her throat, and she felt suddenly ill. "There was something inside of me. Not a literal something, but a feeling. It was like I was angry, but it wasn't like rage or tantrum angry. It was like a slow anger. It was something that didn't blow up, but just sat there, waiting. And it felt good, sir. It was scary how good it felt.

"B-but then, Draco and the other Slytherins all drew their wands on me. They had me surrounded. And I… I just knew that they couldn't hurt me. I could feel the power of their wands, and I knew that I was stronger. And I liked knowing that." Willow wiped some tears from her eyes that she hadn't realized had formed. "And then I raised my hand and let out a burst of air, and knocked them all back. Pansy Parkinson said something about my eyes, so I looked at her to scare her. I didn't feel anything wrong with my eyes, but I wanted to scare her.

"A-and then, Madam Hooch came back, and the anger just sort of went away, and I felt terrible. L-like I feel right now. And I told her what I did, and she brought me here. Sir." Willow sighed and wiped some more tears from her face before she found the courage to look Dumbledore in the eyes again. He didn't look angry, but he sure wasn't happy, either. He looked thoughtful. "Please, sir, I don't want to feel like that again. I don't want to like hurting people. That's not me! I don't want it to be me."

Dumbledore kept looking at her, as though he was X-raying her with his bright blue eyes. "Well," he said at last, "I would be quite concerned if you _did_want to feel that way, Willow. It does you credit that you recognized those feelings for what they were. And you also do yourself proud by standing up to your housemates. It is far easier to stand up to injustice when it is someone else who is doing bad things to someone you care about, but far harder to stand up to those who you must live with every day."

Willow didn't know what to say to that, so she simply kept quiet. She felt as though Dumbledore had more to say, and she didn't want to interrupt.

"You display rare talents in your use of wandless magic. Some people are born with such a gift, but I wonder if you came into this talent in some other fashion. Willow, I'd very much like to hear about your hometown."

Willow's sadness was immediately replaced by exasperation. "Everyone keeps going on about how Sunnydale is important or dangerous or whatever. Or the 'Valley of the Sun' I think Mr. Ollivander called it. There's not much to say, really. It's a small town, not much to do. About two hours drive from Los Angeles. Nice and warm most of the time. The people are nice. The regular newspapers have their own little tabloid section, though, which seems kind of odd. The LA Times doesn't have anything like that, and that's a national paper. Other than that, I don't know what's so special about Sunnydale."

"Hm, I see. Would you mind telling me about your schooling in Sunnydale? I know it may not seem important, but I'm going to have to ask you to trust me that what may seem unimportant might actually be vital."

Dumbledore's voice was gentle, but serious. He knew how to get her to cooperate. "Um, okay, sir. Well, we learned the basic subjects at school. Math, science, social studies, English, history. I also went to Hebrew School on Sundays to learn about my heritage. My Jewish heritage, that is. That was full of Bible lessons and history lessons, too. We touched a bit on World War II in school, but we didn't get any real details. Hebrew School taught me what the Nazis did. Makes me wonder how you could let someone like Voldemort come to power."

"Indeed, you have a point there, Miss Rosenberg. I'm afraid that Lord Voldemort was far from alone in his thoughts on those of Muggle heritage. Many still share his views."

Willow scowled at Dumbledore's use of the word 'Muggle,' but she felt that talking back to the Headmaster would be a bad idea. "That's too bad. My friends back home were smarter than that, even if they don't always let on how smart they are. Th-their names are Xander and Jesse. I… I don't really have many other friends back home. Cordelia was the most popular girl in school, and she always loved teasing us and making us cry. She always got away with it, too. Sometimes, after school, I'd just run away into the nearest cemetery and just cry my heart out under the biggest tombstone I could find."

Dumbledore leaned forward, his chair creaking. "A cemetery seems like a strange place to find solace, Miss Rosenberg."

Willow looked up at the old Headmaster with a sad smile. "Oh, there were just plenty of cemeteries, is all. You don't have to go far to find one. And most people avoid them, so they're usually nice and quiet. But I don't go there at night. Too scary. During the day, though, it can be kinda nice."

"Interesting. Very interesting," the Headmaster mused, clearly lost in his own thoughts, whatever those might be. "And your friends – Xander and Jesse – they still live in Sunnydale?"

"Yes, sir! I just got a letter from them last week, and I wrote back to them. But it's strange that you have owls deliver your mail. I don't think they'll know what to do if an owl shows up at their door. It'd be kinda strange for them. I wish I could just call them, but I haven't seen a telephone here at Hogwarts. And even if I could, I'm not allowed to tell them anything about the real me! I don't know what will happen if I do. I don't want to get them into trouble."

"No, that would be rather unfortunate," Dumbledore agreed. "But the situation can be remedied, I imagine."

Willow looked up into the Headmaster's eyes, daring to hope against hope. "Y-you mean you'll help me talk with my friends."

"I do, indeed," he said with a smile. "But that will have to wait for later. Before I let you go, I first want you to know that you are not in any trouble, and I will not be taking any points from Slytherin or giving you a detention. You were provoked and threatened, but that is still not an excuse for your behavior. I do not mean your defense of yourself, or standing up for your friends, but I do wish for you to learn to calm yourself and know your own thoughts more clearly. Learn to control your magic and make sure that it does not control you. I have a book of meditation techniques lying around somewhere that I'm sure will be of help to you. I'll have a look around for it and send it to your room, along with a list of chapters and techniques that I want you to practice. Consider it homework, if you will."

Willow let out a breath of relief. Homework was something she enjoyed, especially when it had a real point to it. "Yes, sir. I promise, sir." She was unsure about her last question, but she felt she ought to ask it anyway. "Um, Headmaster… I don't suppose there's any way I could get Sorted out of Slytherin and into another house? Please?"

Dumbledore looked over his spectacles at her with kind, sad eyes. "I'm afraid not, Willow. It will be difficult for you, I know, but think of your house like a forge, and you as the metal. You will go in as you are now, and you will be tested against a raging fire. It will be hard, and it will be taxing, but when you emerge, you will be stronger and more capable than you ever were before. I know that is likely not much comfort to you now, but it is the best I can offer you."

Nodding her understanding, Willow couldn't help but feel let down. "Yes, sir."

"Before you leave, I give you one other thought to consider. You displayed considerable power against your housemates when they turned on you earlier, yes?"

Willow paled. "Y-yes, sir. But I don't want to do that again! I don't want to feel like that."

"I know you don't, Willow, and I would not ask it of you. But consider their reactions to you then, when they saw what you were capable of. For all they know, you could unleash that power on them at any time. Why, who knows what could set you off against them? Were I any student with a healthy sense of self-preservation, I would not want to get on your bad side, particularly if you were to remind me of that fact."

Willow looked up at the Headmaster with a renewed sense of awe. He was actually encouraging her to intimidate her housemates! Did that count as bullying if she didn't actually do anything to follow through on it? Or was it just, as Dumbledore had put it, self-preservation?

Whatever the case, his wiliness made Willow smile. "Thank you, sir."

"You are most welcome, Miss Rosenberg. You may go now. Do have a good day."

Exiting the Headmaster's office and heading down the spiral staircase, Willow felt a lot better about herself. As the raw power of Dumbledore's office faded behind her, she felt strangely confident that she could handle herself if she had to. The Headmaster of Hogwarts was like no teacher or principal that Willow had ever encountered before. He was scary, but also pretty cool. And he'd offered to help her stay in touch with Xander and Jesse, too! She'd definitely have to tell them all about this, and screw the rules that said she couldn't!

* * *

><p>The next two months passed by in a rush. Taking Dumbledore's advice, Willow had let slip a few subtle hints that she could call upon her prior fury at will should she be given just cause. Most of her housemates had stayed away from the 'black-eyed freak.' Willow didn't understand the name, given that the mirror regularly told her that her eyes were green.<p>

Draco had, surprisingly, not made a fuss with his father, but had in fact tried to make amends. He tried to appeal to her display of power as a good thing that showed her to be truly strong. Willow felt sort of sorry for Draco: he just didn't understand. His invitation to meet his father over the winter holiday was a surprise, but Willow declined as politely as she could and tried her best to ignore Draco just as much as the other Slytherins were ignoring her.

Another upside for this was that Willow was free to spend time with her true friends as well as with her twin brothers. Fred and George, thankfully, did not feel any differently towards Willow for being in Slytherin, and they actually seemed to like the idea of her taking on the whole of her house from within. Plus, they saw her as a conduit for smuggling prank products into Slytherin house, which was an idea that Willow was wholeheartedly in favor of, though she had yet to implement such a plan.

Classes were also a marked improvement. Willow would partner up with Neville as often as she could in Potions, and with Tara in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. The latter should have been serious, but Willow just couldn't take Professor Quirrel seriously. The man was constantly stuttering and kept looking over his shoulder as if afraid that something was going to sneak up on him. And the turban he wore just looked silly.

Aside from all of that, there was something rather off about Quirrel. Even if he didn't really teach them all that much in their lessons – the textbooks were far more informative – there was something else about the strange teacher that Willow couldn't quite put her finger on.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Tara said reasonably as they walked to the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. "It's not like he's doing anything dangerous."

"No, I guess not," Willow said. "I dunno. I just feel something strange. It's like I'm being watched by Quirrel, but also not by Quirrel. It's really weird."

"Your magic does work a bit differently than most," Tara said fairly. "The things I've seen you do, they're incredible!"

Willow blushed as she thought about how far she'd improved in the past couple of months. She'd fully embraced her wandless magic, and the results had been spectacular. She was now on par with the rest of her class in some fields, and ahead of them in others. She felt as though her housemates would be mocking her openly if not for fear of her turning her power against them.

"And I don't just mean your magic," Tara went on, "but just you, Willow. Slytherin has a, well, a sort of bad reputation, but you're actually going out of your way to defy it. That's really brave of you." Tara hung her head as they walked. "I don't think I could ever be that brave."

Willow felt for her gentle friend and took Tara's hand in hers. The blonde Hufflepuff looked up at her and smiled, earning a silly grin from Willow. "Don't say stuff like that, Tara. You're amazing. You have so much kindness and heart that I don't think I could ever have."

"And don't you say things like that," Tara chided. "You're a beautiful person, Willow."

Willow felt her heart skip a beat as Tara blushed. "I mean… Well, what I meant was…"

"I think you're beautiful too, Tara."

The blonde girl smiled hopefully. "Y-you do?"

Willow grinned. "I do."

The two girls looked at each other and suddenly felt very silly as they started giggling together. "Well," Willow said when they reached the Great Hall, "I guess we need to go to our house tables now. Um, enjoy the feast,, Tara."

"Y-you too, Willow. Take care."

"You too!" Willow smiled and hummed to herself as she skipped towards the Slytherin table, not quite aware of why she was feeling so upbeat all of a sudden. Tara was pretty and smart and nice and all around wonderful. She was a great friend. But so was Neville, and he didn't cause her tummy to feel all fluttery like this. Why was that? And why did she like the feeling so much?

The feast was delicious beyond all reason, save for the pumpkin juice, which Willow decided to fore go in favor of water. Pumpkin juice was an acquired taste that Willow had no desire to acquire at all. The food, though, was simply extraordinary. Willow found herself eating with a lot more gusto than usual, given the increase in the quality of the food for tonight, which totally made up for the lack of trick-or-treating.

The wonderful food did exact a toll, however, as Willow's innards began to rumble in a way that screamed 'Emergency! All Personnel Must Evacuate the Stomach Immediately!' Having no desire to soil herself at the table, Willow excused herself and hurried for the restroom in the hallway a short distance away from the Great Hall, past the central staircases.

Rushing into the nearest stall, Willow sat down and let out a sigh of relief as the Cycle of Wonderful Food completed itself. As she cleaned herself up, Willow heard someone sobbing in the stall next door. The poor girl, whoever it was, sounded miserable.

"Hey," Willow whispered after she'd washed her hands. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

The stall opened to reveal Hermione Granger in a fit of tears. "N-not physically. Just some loudmouth said some things that-"

"Shh. It's okay," Willow said, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I don't know who it was, or what they said, but what do they know?" She paused, trying to think of how to proceed. "I have a lot of experience with bullies, if you want to talk about it."

Hermione chuckled sadly. "Oh, he's not a bully. I just think he's a loudmouth who doesn't realize that he can be hurtful." The Gryffindor girl looked up at Willow's face for the first time. "Oh. Oh! Willow! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean-"

"What? Did I do something wrong?" Willow asked. "You can talk to me, it's okay."

"Sorry," Hermione said. "Just that, well, it's your brother. Ron."

Willow sighed. "Ron's been ignoring me ever since the Sorting. Whenever I try to talk to him, he just walks away. So, yeah, I can see how he might have hurt you without meaning to. I don't know why he's shunning me, but it really hurts."

Hermione shuffled uncomfortably. "It's been eating at him. You, being in Slytherin. He felt betrayed."

"What? But I didn't have a choice! The stupid Sorting Hat chose for me!"

"I know, Willow," Hermione said patiently, "but he's not thinking with his head. He's thinking with his heart, and his heart feels like you not being in Gryffindor was a slap in the face, I think." Hermione paused and took a breath. "He's been quieter about it since you stood up to Malfoy during our first flying lesson. I think he's giving it some thought, but I don't know. We don't talk all that much."

Willow wasn't sure what to think about all of that, but she was glad that at least Hermione wasn't sobbing so much anymore. "I'm sorry that Ron's being an idiot. I hope he'll come around at some-"

"Hang on," Hermione said. "Do you hear something?"

Willow listened carefully, and now that she thought about it, she did hear something. It sounded like footsteps, only a lot heavier than normal.

A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened to admit a very large, very ugly creature holding a giant club. Willow recognized it as a mountain troll, but after that recognition came the paralyzing fear. "Oh my God! W-what do we do?"

"Scream for help!" Hermione said, and she did just that. Willow followed suit as the troll brought its club up for a swing. The girls dodged in opposite directions as the great club cleaved a path right down the middle.

The troll seemed to assess the two young witches before deciding that it wanted Hermione, and it advanced on her as she shrunk against the wall.

"_Hermione!_"

Willow turned to see Ron and Harry Potter standing in the doorway.

"Confuse it!" Harry said to Ron, and he threw a loose tap at the wall.

"Oy, pea-brain!" Ron yelled, stopping the troll's advance on Hermione.

Harry ran around the troll to fetch Hermione. "Come on, run. _Run!_" But Hermione didn't move: she was frozen with fear.

The noise seemed to disturb the troll which roared and lumbered towards Ron.

Harry saved the day as he got up on the troll's back and stuck his wand up its nose.

Ron then pulled out his wand and shouted, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

Willow's immediate thought was that a levitation spell seemed rather pointless. But lo and behold, the troll's club went up and up before falling down and knocking the troll on the head.

The concussed troll swaggered to and fro on the spot before falling forward, and it was about to fall right onto Ron!

"Ron! Look out!" Willow cried as she moved to push him out of the way, despite being too far to reach him.

Nevertheless, some invisible force knocked Ron backwards just enough to put him out of the path of the falling monster, saving him from death-by-flattening.

Ron and Harry turned to look at Willow, whom they seemed to be notice for the first time since entering the restroom, and then all four of them breathed a sigh of relief.

Hermione managed to get up and speak. "Is it… dead?"

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I think it's just been knocked out." The black-haired boy then bent down to pull his wand out of the troll's nostril. "Urgh! Troll boogers." The offending boogers were summarily wiped off on the troll's trousers. Who made trousers that big, and how a troll would have the brains to wear them, Willow did not know.

A sudden noise heralded the entrance of Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrel into the bathroom. The latter whimpered faintly before sitting down on a toilet seat as Snape went to inspect the troll's limp form. McGonagall rounded on the four students.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" McGonagall shouted. "You're lucky you weren't killed! Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

"Please, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said. "They were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione looked down at her feet. "I went looking for the troll because I… I thought I could deal with it on my own. You know, because I've read all about them. Willow was already here when I arrived. If Harry and Ron hadn't found us, we'd be dead now. Harry stuck his want up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Willow put on her best poker face, which wasn't much. She tried to focus on the true parts of the statement, namely that she had already been here when the troll attacked. Yup, focus on the part where you're an innocent bystander and don't make a fuss.

McGonagall stared at the four of them with a mixture of emotions playing out on her face. "Well, in that case," she said, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl! How could you think of tackling a mountain troll all on your own? Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this. I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left, but Willow stayed behind with Ron and Harry. The two of them kept shooting looks between her and McGonagall that seemed to be saying something hidden. For her part, Willow felt something that she hadn't felt before. It was very faint, but she could sense something in Harry that seemed off somehow. And strangely enough, it felt like he was connected to Quirrel, somehow. It was strange, but now didn't seem like the time to mention it.

"Well," McGonagall said to the rest of them, "I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

The professor then turned to Willow. "Do you have anything to add to Miss Granger's account, Miss Rosenberg?"

"N-no, ma'am," Willow said, not trusting herself to say anything else without giving away Hermione's lie.

"Hmph. In that case, you may go as well."

"Th-thank you, Professor," Willow said as she scurried out of the bathroom.

Willow headed to an intersection where a staircase led up to the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw dormitories, and a tunnel-hallway led to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. She found Ron, Hermione, and Harry waiting there, all looking at each other silently. Willow joined them as they looked at each other and smiled. No words were needed.

Willow looked intently at Ron and pulled him into a fierce hug, and he didn't resist. Indeed, he hugged her back. When they let go of each other, they looked into each other's eyes and found only love an acceptance.

"So," Willow said to the three Gryffindors, "friends?"

"Friends," Harry agreed.

"Friends," Hermione said with gusto.

Ron smiled and put an arm around his sister. "Until the end of the world."


	9. Mirrors

**Chapter Nine: Mirrors**

* * *

><p>In the wake of the troll's attack on Halloween, Willow found her spirits soaring. Not only did her brother definitely not hate her, but she had gained two new friends in the form of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Granted, Harry had never shown any signs of ill will towards her before, and Hermione had merely seemed like her Gryffindor counterpart in the bookworm department. Having four friends in Gryffindor – Neville was still a sweetheart – seemed at some times to be a true blessing.<p>

Unfortunately, her associations with Gryffindor house had further strained her relations with her own housemates throughout the month of November. Given that Willow was forced to deal with the other Slytherins far more than she was permitted to spend with the Gryffindors, she was finding her post-Halloween life to be borderline miserable.

Not all of the Slytherins were contemptuous of her. Many of the older students merely regarded her as an oddball first year and paid her little or no heed. There were three second years who sometimes asked her for help with research projects, and in return they left her alone. It was an unspoken agreement between two parties with mutual interests: the second years' in passing their classes, and Willow's in simply getting by. The 'black-eyed freak' nickname was still around, but 'research girl' was gaining in popularity.

Pansy Parkinson was Willow's most frequent antagonist, but compared to Cordelia Chase, she was positively tame. The pug-faced girl seemed to have the most ludicrous ideas of what was insulting, and seemed to relish taunting Willow about things she couldn't care less about. Willow simply hung her head and remained silent, letting Pansy have her fun while Willow quietly smirked at her self-styled rival's idiocy.

Draco Malfoy was an enigma. On the one hand, he had clearly been furious at her following the incident at their flying lesson. But on the other hand, he had been going out of his way to appeal to her ever since. He didn't seem afraid or in awe of her, but he did try to entice her with what he seemed to think was the unlimited appeal of being associated so closely with the Malfoy family. Since he wasn't being openly antagonistic, Willow managed to arrange her face into a polite smile as she constantly avoided his advances. In private, she felt dirty at the racist boy's attempts to woo her favor.

After all had been said and done, Willow had a unique niche for herself in Slytherin house. Some of the students – mostly first, second, and third years – displayed their contempt for her in some form or another. It was mainly through sneers, jeers, whispers and harsh laughter. Willow could only guess at what they were saying, and the unknown taunts were far more unnerving than anything Pansy Parkinson could ever aspire to. But the house had not forgotten her display of power at the flying lesson, and Willow made sure to remind them if it ever seemed like they were forgetting. Her studiousness paid off in the form of house points, which might have caused some otherwise hostile Slytherins to tone down their aggression.

It was very hard, though, as Willow had a secret that she had yet to reveal, and after reading _Hogwarts, a History, _she believed that her secret was the one thing she had for her that kept her truly safe: no one knew that she was born to two non-magical parents. After reading about the founding of Slytherin House – and its namesake's breakaway from the other four founders – Willow realized that she was the equivalent of a lone Jew in the heart of Nazi Germany, hiding her true identity.

Given all that she had learned, Willow found it even more difficult to find it in her to muster any enthusiasm whatsoever to go outside and cheer for Slytherin in the upcoming Quidditch match against Gryffindor. The event had a lot of work to do to convince her of its merits. Sports and Willow did not mesh well together, nor did Willow and cold weather. Sitting in high-up bleachers in the wind and the cold while watching a bunch of people flying through the air playing a game whose rules she did not know was just not cutting it for her. And she didn't even want her own house to win: Harry, Fred, and George were on the Gryffindor team, and she would much rather see them happy than any of her own housemates.

So it was that on the day of the big Quidditch match, Willow found herself indoors, exploring Hogwarts Castle. The place was a marvel in every sense of the word. It was beautiful and full of history, and the magic in it was so harmonious and powerful. There were certain spots that Willow would stop and sit on the ground or place a hand on the wall, just to feel the magic within. Each bit of magic had its own flavor, feel or voice to it that was unique. Willow didn't know what it all meant, but she knew that she was dealing with something that was truly infinite and wondrous.

As she walked, Willow could have sworn that someone was following her. She turned around and looked behind her a few times, but she didn't see anything. All the same, she knew that there was something there. _Maybe it's shy,_ she figured. _It could be a ghost lurking out of sight. Or… What if it's Peeves? _The school's resident poltergeist was not someone Willow was fond of running into. He might not tease her about her looks or her bookishness, but he would pelt her with random bits and pieces of whatever was lying around and create the general need for running away.

But nobody – human, ghost, or poltergeist – was anywhere to be seen or heard. Sighing to herself, Willow rounded a corner and found herself in front of a closed door. She tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. Looking from side to side to make there was still no one else around. Willow recalled a charm she had read about in a book she had read for extra credit for Professor Flitwick's class.

Placing her hand on the knob again, Willow closed her eyes and let her magic flow into the lock, probing it and seeking out the mechanism that kept the door from opening. There were cogs and gears and tiny bars of metal, and they all fit together in a neat little design. With a gentle nudge of magic, Willow convinced the lock to open, and she quietly entered the room.

It was dark inside, and only a bit of faint torchlight was coming in from the hallway. Willow smiled at the chance to practice her magic without fear of being called 'wandless' in that insulting way that the Slytherins seemed too afraid to do, but that she could sense was always on the tips of their tongues. Holding out her hand, Willow said,_"Light," _and a sphere of light formed in her palm. Holding it up to the air, Willow willed the ball of light to flow upwards and illuminate the room.

As the darkness gave way to light, Willow found herself in what looked like a classroom that had been packed up. All the chairs and desks were off to the side and neatly stacked atop each other. But in the center of the room, there was one thing that stood out.

Willow walked towards it very slowly, feeling a strange magical sensation from the object that she hadn't felt before. It felt very old, but where Hogwarts was also old, it was lively and vibrant. This thing felt tired and worn, but with a bit of hidden slyness just waiting out of 'sight.'

Finally, Willow found herself standing in front of an impressive full-length mirror. At the top there was an inscription written in a language she didn't recognize. "_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. _Huh. I wonder what language you are. Hey, wait a second!" Willow felt as though the ancient mirror was laughing as Willow quickly deciphered the riddle. She had done enough puzzles like this in elementary school to recognize that the 'ancient inscription' was simply an English phrase written backwards and broken up at different spaces to form a 'language.'

Willow read the inscription again, this time as it truly was. "_I show not your face but your heart's desire. _Wow. Let's see… What do I want?" she pondered, but the mirror was already beginning to answer her question for her.

In the mirror, Willow saw her own reflection, but there were other people joining her. She spun around to look behind her, but she saw no one. Reminding herself that the mirror's magic was at work, Willow let herself look into it and wait.

The other people started out rather hazy and unformed, but they slowly began to take shape around Willow. Two child-sized people stood on either side of her, and two adults stood behind them. Their faces soon became clear, and Willow found herself looking at Xander, Jesse, and her parents. Not the Weasleys, but her real parents from back in Sunnydale.

They were all smiling at Willow. Xander and Jesse were making faces that they had always made. Their own little private jokes that never failed to get a laugh out of Willow. Her parents each had a hand on her shoulder, and they were saying something, but Willow couldn't hear anything. She looked carefully at their lips, and her heart soared at what they said.

'We love you,' they said.

Willow felt tears building up in her eyes at the horrible things playing out in front of her. The mirror, true to its word, was showing Willow her heart's desire. She wanted nothing more than to be with Jesse and Xander again, and to have her parents tell her that they loved her. But her parents were dead, and Willow would never know if they had ever loved her at all.

The mirror, she decided, was the worst sort of bully. It looked into her heart, saw exactly what she wanted most, and then taunted her with what she could never have. Willow frowned and spat on the mirror's glass, though her saliva seemed to simply merge with her reflection and give it an even brighter sheen. Disgusted, Willow turned on her heel to leave the cursed mirror where she'd found it.

"I do say," an elderly voice said, and Willow jumped when she saw Professor Dumbledore blocking her path, "I have seen many reactions to this particular mirror before, but rarely one so insightful as yours." He was smiling, and his eyes twinkled with hidden knowledge.

Willow suspected that he had been following her all along, but she didn't dare confront him about it. Hogwarts was his school, after all. "I-I'm sorry, Headmaster. I was just-"

"Please, Willow, do calm down. I am not angry or upset with you. Indeed, I am quite proud. Not many people have the strength to walk away from the Mirror of Erised of their own will with no intention of returning to it."

Willow huffed. "'Erised, right. You mean 'Desire,' don't you? Uh, sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed, you are correct! It amuses me to no end how many wizards have slaved away over that inscription's meaning when the answer is in plain sight if they just know how to look at it."

A confident smile decorated Willow's face. "Puzzles like that are common in the non-magical world. Maybe someone who was born to non-magical parents created that inscription."

"It would be highly unsurprising. But then, neither would it surprise me if a pureblooded witch or wizard had created the Mirror and its riddle. Creativity and invention are gifts to all who seek them out, after all." Dumbledore hadn't raised his voice at all, but the reprimand was clear, even if it was a soft one.

"Uh, right. I don't think my spit messed it up, but if it did, I'll try to fix it, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled. "That's quite thoughtful of you, Miss Rosenberg, but I doubt there is any lasting damage. I'm far more concerned, as a matter of fact, about you. I hesitate to think what kind of vision could send you away from the Mirror in anger. You must not feel obliged to share, as it is a rather personal experience. All the same, the visions of the Mirror are powerful, as are the emotions it elicits."

Willow felt her face flush with heat, and she looked away from the Headmaster. She made a point of not looking at the Mirror again, no matter if she was scared of looking Dumbledore in the eye. "I… I saw my best friends from back home. A-and I saw my parents. My real ones, that is. And they were saying that they loved me." If Willow hadn't known she was speaking, she would have barely heard her own voice, hardly louder than a whisper.

A swell of anger overtook her at the memory of her vision, and Willow found the courage to look Dumbledore in the eye. "My parents didn't love me. Or if they did, then they didn't show it very much. And they're dead now, anyways. The mirror was lying to me. It was teasing me with fake promises. It's a cruel thing, and it shouldn't exist. Sir," she spat venomously, not bothering to soften her direct address to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore did not seem upset by her angry response, though he did look a bit concerned. "I wish I could comfort you, Willow, and tell you that all parents love their children as they should. I wish that I could say with certainty that your parents were merely aloof, and that they truly did love you, even if that love was distant. And while I might even believe that second statement, I doubt it would bring you any comfort, and it would likely seem equally cruel for me to lavish you with what must seem like false promises. I can say, however, that I am truly sorry for your sadness, Willow. It is hardly fair, but I would urge you to take solace in the knowledge that you do have people here, at Hogwarts, who love you and care for you. They may be new to you, but if you give them the chance, I would like to think that they will become as close to you as true family."

Willow felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to cry. "Th-thank you, sir."

"You are most welcome, my dear. And as it so happens, I was hoping to find you so that I could give you something," Dumbledore said as he rummaged through a pocket in his robes. "Consider it an early Christmas present, if you will."

Willow scowled. "I'm Jewish, sir. I don't celebrate Christmas."

"Ah! Well, please forgive an old man a careless oversight. A weakness of being old and clever: one tends to think that their sum experiences are worthy of so much certainty in any given event. A good surprise can be most humbling, and I beg your forgiveness."

Willow shifted nervously as the very powerful Headmaster of the school actually apologized to her. "Uh, it's okay, sir."

"You're very gracious, Willow. But here you go now," Dumbledore said, handing a flat parcel wrapped in brown paper to her. It was about a foot and a half long by one dimension and maybe nine to twelve inches across.

Willow pondered the wrapped object, wondering if she could suss out what it was by feeling for the magic in it. "What is it, Headmaster?"

"Open it in private when you have the chance, Willow, and you will receive what I hope is a satisfactory explanation," Dumbledore said with a small smile.

"Oh. Okay. Um… May I go now, sir? I'm not really comfortable being so close to that thing," Willow said, spitting out the last word in reference to the Mirror.

"Ah. Of course, I'm so sorry. Please, do enjoy the rest of your weekend. But before you go, I would ask that you tidy up after yourself," the Headmaster said, gesturing to the ball of light hovering above them.

"Oh! Right! Sorry, sir. Um, let me just concentrate. Those books you sent me – the one about meditation – have been really helpful. Now, let's see…" Willow closed her eyes and held her right hand out, palm open and facing upward, as she felt for the magic of her ball of light. As the currents of magic became clearer, she willed them back down towards her hand until she felt the warmth of the light against her skin. Closing her palm, Willow said, _"Lights out,"_and the ball of light was extinguished.

She opened her eyes to find Dumbledore holding the classroom door open, providing just enough light for her to find her way out. "Quite impressive," he said with a warm smile.

"Thank you, sir," Willow said, feeling quite awkward at the Headmaster's gentle praise. "Uh, have a good day, sir."

"And you as well, my dear," Dumbledore said with a polite bow.

Willow walked past Dumbledore until she was out of his sight and then started running towards the Slytherin dormitories. Kindly Dumbledore might be, but he also gave her the wiggins.

Once she had gotten into the dungeons, Willow stopped to catch her breath, small puffs of vapor visible from her mouth in the cold air of the underground corridors. After a short while, Willow continued to walk – more leisurely this time – towards the dormitory.

After giving the wall the password, Willow headed straight up to her dormitory and into her bed, closing the curtains around her. She carefully opened the brown paper wrapping, trying not to rip it at all.

A piece of parchment was soon visible, and Willow extricated it and began to read the loopy handwriting:

_'In your hands you hold one half of a pair. While this half is closer to your eyes, the other half is closer to your heart. I suggest you examine it very closely at precisely nine o'clock in the evening on Christmas Day. For your own peace of mind, do not tell anyone else about this gift. Use it well.'_

Her curiosity piqued even further, Willow kept trying to gently remove the paper, though in her haste she tore it in a few places. When all was said and done, Willow found herself somewhat disgruntled to find herself looking at yet another mirror.

It had a wooden frame and handle, though just below the glass was a clock. The hands were off, though. Willow looked at her watch and saw that it was just after one o'clock. The watch on the mirror had the minute hand in the same place, but the hour hand rested near the Roman numeral for five. Strangely enough, there was another circle around the numbers of the watch that Willow now saw was another part of the timepiece. A drawing of the sky surrounded the watch, with the sun and the moon opposite each other. The sun was very near the numeral three, and if Willow had to guess, it would move counter-clockwise as the day went on to show the sun rising in the east.

But the sun was not just rising. It was high in the sky right now. And it wasn't early in the morning, but shortly after noon. Not in the mood to look at another magical mirror right now, Willow tucked it into a drawer in her nightstand and made a note to herself to pull it out again closer to Christmas. The attached message found a home just underneath the mirror.

A rumbling in her gut told Willow that she was hungry. After the stress of looking into the Mirror of Desire, a good lunch seemed to be in order. Putting Dumbledore's gift out of her mind, Willow set off for the Great Hall.

* * *

><p>As November faded into December, Willow looked back at how far she had come in the past few months since she had burned down her old house back in Sunnydale, and the results were spectacular. She had gone from an introverted, shy young bookworm with two friends to a slightly more confident, slightly more outgoing bookworm with a larger circle of friends. All in all, it wasn't a whole lot objectively, but it felt like a great deal had changed for the better.<p>

Willow still missed Xander and Jesse fiercely, but she thankfully had other things to distract her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had spun a grand tale of how Harry had nearly fallen off of his broom during the Quidditch match against Slytherin, and they'd claimed that Professor Snape had been jinxing his broom. Willow found that particular comment hard to believe. Sure, Snape wasn't exactly Mr. Warm-and-Cuddly, and yes, he did seem to enjoy singling out Harry rather maliciously, but attempted murder was something else entirely.

And then had come the tale of the three-headed dog in the out-of-bounds corridor that Hagrid had apparently named 'Fluffy' of all things, and the trap door that it was guarding. One thing had led to another, and Willow found herself busy in the library helping her friends look for clues as to just who Nicolas Flamel was.

Personally, Willow thought that her three friends were just asking for trouble, but the feel of a good puzzle to be solved had Willow hooked. And the extra knowledge gleaned from all the books they failed to find Flamel in was icing on the cake. So, in the name of greater knowledge, wisdom, and her own bookish idea of fun, Willow found herself spending ungodly hours in the library helping her friends look for the mystery man who was somehow tied to the mystery object guarded by one of Cerberus's descendants, if the story was true.

Willow felt a bit bad that she didn't have any similarly wonderful stories to share, save for her encounter with the Mirror of Desire, and she didn't even share that with anyone. Given Dumbledore's presence, and her own upset feelings over the encounter, Willow had no wish to spread the knowledge of the Mirror to anyone else.

The holiday season was upon them before they knew it, and Willow was faced with a problem she hadn't anticipated in her search for gifts for her friends. Mail-order was a lot more difficult for wizards than it was for non-magical folk, as one not only needed to send an order to the merchant, but also an attached note confirming a one-time withdrawal from a Gringotts account, with identical copies sent to the bank, the merchant, and a third copy kept as a receipt of purchase. And that was before the purchase even took place. Then came the actual withdrawal, the confirmation of purchase, and finally the actual shipment of goods. It was all terribly hectic and full of hassle.

Just before the turn of November into December, at her new dad's urging, Willow had begun a correspondence with her eldest brother, Bill, regarding credit cards and their possible introduction to the Wizarding World. Bill was a curse-breaker, meaning that he was less of a paper-pusher and more of an adventurer, but he seemed to have a keen instinct for business all the same, and according to his latest letter, he was looking into the prospects of a patent for a possible Wizarding version of a credit card in Willow's name!

Ecstatic at the idea of impacting the Wizarding World so greatly, Willow was now looking forward to the summer even more, as that would be her first opportunity to meet Bill face-to-face and hammer out the details of such an arrangement. For the time being, however, Bill had been kind enough to shop for her holiday gift list in person and send the lot of it to Willow. Thus it was that Willow found herself with presents for each of her friends at Hogwarts, as well as a great bag of assorted sweets that she intended to share with her housemates in the Slytherin common room as a peace offering.

On Christmas Day, Willow woke up to find a number of presents gift-wrapped and delivered to the foot of her bed. It might not have been politically correct, but Willow was honestly unsure of when Hanukkah was in any event. She'd always relied on her parents' calendar to tell when Jewish holidays were. For all she knew, it was one of Hanukkah's eight days right now.

Putting aside thoughts of religion, Willow opened her presents and tried to ignore Pansy Parkinson's shrill voice in its horrid imitation of glee. Hermione had sent her a book about famous wandless witches and wizards throughout history, which Willow vowed to start reading as soon as she could. Her parents had sent her a green sweater with the letter W embroidered on it. It was clearly handmade, and Willow felt her heart go out to her new parents. Neville had given her an adventure novel that the jacket said was about a wizard lost in the Muggle world without his wand, with only his wits to survive. Willow snorted in laughter at the summary, but she supposed it must have seemed marvelous to Neville. They'd probably have a good time talking about its various truths and untruths.

Last in the pile was a tiny cardboard box with a scroll of parchment wrapped in a gold ribbon. Willow opened the letter first:

_'Dear Willow,_

_Happy Holidays! I know you'll probably get this on Christmas Day, and I know you're not Christian, so I'm sorry about that. But I hope you'll like what I got you. It's a charm bracelet. It's supposed to bring good fortune to whoever wears it. Professor Sprout says that there's nothing magical about it, but it's always been good to me. I swore I felt it heat up just a bit right before I met you in the robe shop over the summer._

_Anyway, I don't know if you need the luck or not, or even if it works. But even if it doesn't, then I'd ask you to wear it as a friendship bracelet. I'm trying to make myself a new one, but I don't know if I'm doing it right. You have a way with magic that I could never dream of, so if anyone can tell anything about this bracelet, you can. And I guess if you could help me make a new one, then it could be something fun we could do together. I hope that doesn't sound too selfish, me asking that of you._

_I hope you're having a great holiday, Willow. All the best to you._

_Love,_

_Tara'_

Willow felt tears in her eyes as her chest began to heat up from the love she could hear in Tara's letter. All of her other presents were wonderful, but none of them had struck a chord in her heart like Tara's had. She let her tears flow, content with knowing that they were tears of joy.

Willow opened the small box to find a small bracelet with beads and buttons and a small pentagram dangling from it. Willow felt something from it. It was magic, to be sure, but it wasn't like any magic in Hogwarts. It almost felt like a bit of home, but she didn't think it was from Sunnydale. It was more like a connection to the world outside of Hogwarts and the rest of the Wizarding world. It was a bit of the plain, humble earth beneath their feet, now wrapped around her wrist.

Smiling to herself, Willow skipped down the hallway down to the common room to wish her housemates a Happy Holiday. Nothing could spoil her good mood, and she was determined not to let anyone else's holiday be spoiled either.

* * *

><p>Christmas Day passed by in a flash, with every meal stuffing Willow's stomach to capacity and then some. So few people were actually at the school that there were enough total students to have some group activities, so Willow got to enjoy some quality time with Harry, Ron, Fred, and George. She tried not to let Percy get her spirits down too much.<p>

By the time dinner had come and gone, Willow was quite content and ready to go to bed. As she put away her hairbrush, Willow saw the hand-mirror that Dumbledore had given her, and she cursed herself for almost forgetting.

Wondering what sort of mystery the mirror would hold or reveal, Willow spent the hour leading up to nine o'clock making faces at the silly thing and watching her own reflection.

As the hour hand drew closer to the numeral nine, Willow began to feel nervous. Dumbledore had given this to her for a reason. But what was it? What did it matter if she missed this deadline or not? And why did the watch on the mirror look like it was nearing one o'clock, and the sun just passing the top of the timepiece?

Sighing to herself, Willow held the mirror up to her face and tried to look as brave as she could. The second hand ticked closer and closer towards one o'clock.

Just before the hour turned, her reflection began to change. The image in the mirror began to shift to and fro, until she wasn't looking at her reflection at all. The background wasn't her four-poster bed, either.

Finally, Willow could see the image clearly, and she could hardly believe her eyes. What was more amazing was that it looked like the people in the mirror were looking back at her.

"Willow? Is it really you?" one of the faces in the glass said.

Willow hoped against all hope. "Xander?" she whispered.

"Yes, yes, yes! She really is alive! _You_are alive, Willow! God, I've missed you so much!"

"So have I," Jesse said, and the mirror tilted to show her other friend's face smiling at her. "I hope you got our letter. We were worried when we didn't hear back from you. But you're okay!"

"Yeah, I am," Willow said, hardly believing it. "And… Is that Mister Giles back there?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, it is," the British man said, coming into view as the tweed-clad man she remembered from the museum. "You have truly loyal friends, Willow. And the strangest man in the world gave me this mirror to give to your Jesse and Xander. But that can wait, I'm sure."

"Yeah, that can wait," Xander said. "What have you been up to? Where are you? Tell us everything!"

"Oh, I will." Willow grinned like an idiot, happier than she'd been since she'd last been in Sunnydale. "But Mister Giles, before I have to go to sleep, remind me to ask you something."

"Of course, my dear. About what?"

"Just something a friend was curious about," she said. "Something about a guy named Nicolas Flamel."


	10. Daring, Nerve, and Chivalry

**Chapter Ten: Daring, Nerve, and Chivalry**

* * *

><p>"D-did you just say 'Nicolas Flamel,' my dear?" Mr. Giles asked carefully, and Willow saw him start to clean his glasses with his shirt through the magical hand mirror.<p>

"Yeah, just something a friend was asking about. Sounded like a name you'd read about in a history book, so I thought you might know something. But that's not really important right now. Guys! You're never going to guess what happened to me over the summer!"

"Gee, let me think about that for a sec, Will," Xander said with a mock-pensive look. "Didja burn down your house?"

Willow felt her face flush, but she did find it in her to stick her tongue out at her friend. "No, doofus! Well, kinda-sorta. It was more like I blew it up."

"What? You were the one who blew it up, Willow?" Jesse sounded somewhere between appalled and impressed.

"Well, yeah, but not in the way you'd think. Y'see, I came home and was all sad, 'cause Cordelia was being… Well, she was being Cordelia. A-and I was sad, and I was hoping to talk to my mom and dad about it. But they weren't home, and they hadn't left a note like they usually do. So I… I did something strange to find them. And I found out they were dead. And then I did another strange thing that blew up the house."

"Pardon me for interrupting," Mr. Giles said, "but by 'something strange,' do you by any chance mean that you performed a feat of what some people might call 'magic?'"

Xander laughed. "Don't be stupid. There's no such thing as magic. I mean, it'd be cool If there was, but there's not."

"Well, Xander," Willow said with a smirk, "in that case, it's cool. Here, let me show you something. Keep your eyes on me. Well, on my hands, really."

Willow set the mirror down on her bed so that her friends were looking up at her, propping it up against a pillow so that it would be at a good angle. Holding her hands on her lap, palms up, Willow steadied her breathing and then raised her hands up a bit. As she did, the mirror floated up into the air an inch, then another, and then a few more. She was careful not to have her magic interfere with the magic of the mirror, and the extra effort was more tiring than she thought it would be.

"Whoa! Are you seeing this, Jesse?"

"I'm seeing something, Xander. I don't know what it is, but it's friggin' awesome!"

"Y-yes, I dare say it is," Mr. Giles agreed.

Willow smiled and willed the mirror back down to her bed, and it fell on top of her pillow and landed with a short, soft fall. Panting a bit, Willow picked up the mirror. "Whew. That's the most intense levitation I've done so far. Took a lot out of me."

"So, what is this?" Xander asked. "Are you a wizard now?"

Willow giggled. "Kinda. They call the boys 'wizards.' I'm a witch, but it's not a bad thing. And if you make any sort of smart-aleck remark, mister, I will turn you into a newt!"

"Dear Lord! Willow, you shouldn't be making threats of that nature!" Mr. Giles scolded her.

"Don't worry, Mr. G.," Jesse said. "He'll get better. Right, Will?"

"Of course, silly! Aren't you British, Mr. Giles? Haven't you ever seen Monty Python before? Or did you really think I would ever hurt Xander?"

The older man was suddenly looking rather foolish. "W-well, no, not so much. I'm afraid my work has always taken precedence, and I haven't had the time to…"

The rest of his sentence was unintelligible given the uproar of laughter from Willow, Xander, and Jesse. Willow felt a tad lightheaded as she laughed. "Oh, wow. That spell was more tiring than I thought it was. I think I need to sleep, but I think we can talk to each other with these at any time. Does your mirror have a watch on it?"

"Yeah, it does," Xander said. "But it's off. It's eight hours fast."

"No, it's not!" Willow realized. "It's telling you what time it is where I am, and mine tells me when it is over there in Sunnydale! And the sun and the moon tell you if it's day or night!"

"Wow! That'll really help. So, when do you want to talk next?" Jesse asked. "We should probably plan this out, since we're stuck in school during the day most of the time, and it's night where you are when we get home."

"So, same time as today, but next Saturday?" Willow asked.

"You bet!" Xander and Jesse said together.

"Great! And thank you so much for being there for them, Mr. Giles. I don't know why you're there, but you must be a really kind person to help my friends when you probably had a great job at the Museum."

"Oh, think nothing of it, Willow. I am actually collecting research during my time abroad. But before you go, I want to get back to your earlier question. Nicolas Flamel, if I recall correctly, was an alchemist famous for being the only person known to create a Philosopher's Stone."

"Really?" Willow was stunned. She only knew a few bits of legend about the Philosopher's Stone from a few comic books that Xander shared with her.

And Xander seemed to be sharing her thoughts. "You mean that the Stone is real?"

"Well, I couldn't say for certain. Nicolas Flamel lived during the fourteenth century, and his work has been chronicled in many volumes. As to whether he did succeed in creating a Philosopher's Stone, that much is speculation at best, and legend at worst."

"What's the Stone do again?" Jesse asked.

"It makes either gold, the Elixir of Life, or both," Willow answered. "I don't remember exactly."

"Indeed," Mr. Giles said. "How do you come by this knowledge, Willow?"

"Xander and his comic books," Willow said as she tried not to smirk.

"What can I say?" her best friend said. "I'm a fountain of knowledge."

"You're a goof is what you are!" Willow said, sticking out her tongue before her head spun again. "Ugh. I need to lie down. So, next Friday at one slash nine o'clock?"

"Saturday, Will."

"Right, Saturday. I knew that. So, yeah. Great talking to you. Missed you lots. Need to lie down so I don't throw up."

"Talk to ya soon, Willow! We love you!" Xander called.

"Careful with the mojo, Will," Jesse said.

"Do be safe," Mr. Giles said.

"Thanks. Same to all of you. G'night." Smiling to herself, Willow managed to put her new mirror away before falling onto her pillow and letting sleep take its hold on her.

* * *

><p>After relaying what she had learned about Nicolas Flamel to Ron before the break ended, Willow found herself immersed in her studies as school picked up again as though it had never taken a holiday in the first place. The teachers were working them extra hard, as if they had entirely forgotten what they had learned in the first term. Privately, she thought that Ron's excitement over Flamel's identity would be better spent on his classes, but she wasn't about to make a big deal over it.<p>

The classes advanced, and Willow was incredibly happy with the magic she was learning. Every Saturday night, she would talk with Xander and Jesse, and sometimes Mr. Giles would join them. She still didn't fully understand why the man from the British Museum would go to a tiny town in southern California, but if he meant to harm her friends, he would have had plenty of time to do so without her even knowing about it. And anyone who took the teasing they dished out at him as well as Mr. Giles did was worth respecting.

Time flew by very quickly, and as Spring began, Willow was hoping to avoid a fight between Neville and Tara. The two usually got along perfectly, but there was a Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match coming up, and the fervor surrounding the sport seemed to do strange things to people.

Thankfully, her two closest friends were not very enthusiastic when it came to intramural athletics, so they were able to study in peace together. Neville and Tara were helping Willow memorize the properties of certain magical fungi that grew in the Amazon rainforest in preparation for an upcoming Herbology test. Willow understood the material just fine on an intellectual level, but she was nervous about the practical part of the test. Tara and Neville both seemed to have a natural affinity for the subject, which was proving to be very helpful.

Willow was able to return the favor by helping Neville with his Potions homework. Tara rarely needed any academic help at all, but she often needed encouragement to give her the confidence to move forward, which Willow and Neville were only too happy to provide.

As Madam Pince announced the impending closing of the library, Willow picked up the books they had been using and went to put them away. "I'll meet you by the door. I'll be there real quick," she said as she hefted the heavy tomes into her scrawny arms. Willow was only saved from running into a bookshelf by an older Ravenclaw who gently turned her in the right direction.

With the books back on their shelves, Willow took a moment to breathe and rest her arms before heading back to meet her friends. Unfortunately, her break was short-lived.

"_-tor mortis!_Ha! Look at you now, Longbottom, you great oaf! I've been waiting for a chance to try that one out. Pity you were so easy," Draco Malfoy's sneering voice said.

Willow rounded the corner out of the door and saw that Neville's legs were stuck together, as he was hopping up and down in place in an effort to keep from falling over.

"L-l-leave him alone!" Tara said meekly.

"Or what, Maclay?" Draco sneered. "Actually, no. I didn't mean that. What I meant to say was 'Or what, _Daniels_?'" Willow didn't know what Draco meant, but Tara recoiled as if struck and looked as if she was about to burst into tears.

And she was done dealing with him. "Draco Malfoy!" she shouted, storming towards him and his oversized cronies. "You leave them alone."

Unfortunately, Draco decided not to back down. There was a small crowd of fellow first year Slytherins gathered behind him, watching from a distance. "Why can't you have even a tiny sense of fun, Rosenberg? What do you see in these two lowlifes anyway? It's not like they're worth your time or attention."

Willow snorted. "And you are?"

"Yes!"

That threw her for a loop, and an awkward silence followed. Willow narrowed her gaze. "What do you mean?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Draco sighed, as if he was about to explain something to a small child. "You're powerful, Willow. My father has more sway in our society than almost anyone else. You're new to Britain, but we can offer you so much. Longbottom lives with his measly old grandmother, and Maclay isn't even a Maclay. The Maclays are an old pureblood family, but her father was a filthy Muggle. Why would you bother associating with such scum?"

Thoughts of calling Draco a Nazi to his face came and went in an instant. He wouldn't understand the term, and he probably wouldn't care if he did. But there were other ways to get under his skin. "Draco, do you even realize how stupid you're being right now?"

"What?" He obviously hadn't expected the question.

"Just look at you! You walk around the school and treat people like garbage, and so they hate you for that. It doesn't matter if you think you're better than everyone else. If you make everyone your enemy, they're going to talk to each other and say, 'Hey, whadaya know? We all hate that stupid Malfoy guy. Let's team up to take him down.' And then instead of facing a few helpless targets, you're going to find a mob coming to get you. And you don't even seem to care. Ergo – I always wanted to use that word – you're stupid. Now undo the curse you did on Neville and go away."

Malfoy seemed stunned into silence. He clearly hadn't been thinking very much, to Willow's lack of surprise. He just assumed he could walk all over everyone. His non-committal shrug was infuriating. "Don't know how to undo it," he said calmly. "You'll have to help the blood traitor yourself. Unless the half-blood is any help. I doubt it, though."

Neville fell over at Malfoy's insult, and Tara burst into tears and fell to her knees.

Willow glared at Draco and felt a familiar cold rage build up inside of her. It felt good, but this time she remembered Dumbledore's warning. She called her meditation practices to mind, and she steadied her breathing. As she calmed herself, she felt the power from her anger respond and begin to warm up. She was still angry, but she wasn't letting the power control her. She wasn't going to let it explode. She'd let it simmer and brew inside of her while she had a word with Malfoy.

He must have sensed something, as he was backing away from her. "You really think you're so much better than us, don't you? I can see your fear, Draco. You're afraid of me. You're afraid of my power, and you do seem to think I have quite a lot of power, don't you? I bet you never even stopped to think that such power could come from the hands of a _mudblood,_did you?" Willow knew the term was meant to be insulting, but she decided she'd take the label and wear it proudly. Thoughts of a yellow Star of David came to mind.

Draco paled and started sputtering. "You… You're a… You can't be…"

"Oh, I can. And I am. I am a witch, and I am in Slytherin, and neither of my parents have magic. Your family may mean something to you, but I can do this, Draco Malfoy," Willow said as she raised her arm and swung it across in front of her.

Three meters away, Draco's face was slapped with an invisible hand, and he yelped in pain.

Willow smiled. "I can do that, Draco, because I do have the power you thought I did. It's simmering inside of me, just waiting to come out. I'm being very careful this time. Part of me doesn't want to hurt you, but another part of me just wants to let loose and see what happens when I'm not in control of my magic."

She took a step forward, and Draco recoiled, falling onto his rear. "What about you, Mr. Malfoy? Do you wanna see?"

Draco Malfoy was many things, and among those things was a boy who knew when he ought to cut his losses and run like hell, which he did almost immediately when Willow finished speaking. The crowd of Slytherins quickly bolted after him, save for one boy and one girl who looked at Willow curiously before moving off more slowly.

Willow turned her attention to Neville. She could feel Malfoy's curse: it was so obvious. With a wave of her hand, Neville's legs unstuck themselves.

"W-willow?" Tara said nervously between tears from the floor. "A-are you okay? Your eyes… They're black."

Shame washed over Willow like a tidal wave. Tara had been forced to endure relentless insults and had been reduced to tears by Malfoy's words, and here she was looking after Willow as though she was the one in need of care.

The power drained out of her, and Willow rushed to Tara's side to help her to her feet. "I'm fine, Tara. I don't know about my eyes, but I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. I just got so angry and I wanted to help, and you must think I'm so terrible now. And Neville!" she cried, moving over to check on her friend now that he was standing upright again. "I didn't mean to make things hard for you. I don't know if he would have gone after you if it wasn't for me, but he did, and I'm so sorry. And I-"

Willow's babble was cut off as both Neville and Tara wrapped their arms around her in a warm embrace.

"You stood up for me, Willow," Neville said quietly. "I didn't think anyone cared enough to do that for me."

"A-and me," Tara added softly. "You're always there for me, Willow. You make me feel special and cared for. Y-you and Neville are the only ones at Hogwarts who really do that. I mean, my housemates are nice and everything, but I don't feel connected to them like I do with you guys. I won't pretend that your eyes weren't strange, but you're still you. And I really, really like you, Willow."

Somewhere in Willow's stomach, a flock of giant butterflies did a round of aerial somersaults. Her friends not only forgave her, but they were glad to have her with them. It was humbling, especially as Willow recalled the words of a wise man from a movie she'd seen back in Sunnydale. _'Anger, fear, aggression: the Dark Side are they.'_Whenever Willow had drawn on the deep wells of power inside of her, it had been in a moment of anger. Even the show of power at the wand shop had been a fit of pique.

"Don't ever give up on me," she begged of her friends. "If I ever start to go bad, please bring me back."

"Don't be stupid, Willow," Neville said. "You're a good person. You're a _really_good person. Don't ever think you're not."

"And we'll always be there for you," Tara added confidently. "No matter what."

Willow closed her eyes, gratitude washing over her. "And I'll always be there for you, too. I swear it."

* * *

><p>The days kept passing until the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match had arrived. Like the other Quidditch matches before it – whether or not Slytherin was playing – Willow stayed in her dormitory, not wanting to be surrounded by her housemates so high up in the air. The game days allowed her some nice time for peace and quiet, when she could study or read for pleasure without anyone getting in her way. The common room could be quite nice once one got used to the green tint of the place.<p>

It was strange when Willow wandered down from her bedroom to find that there were two other occupants in the common room. She recognized their faces immediately as the two students who hadn't fled quite so quickly from her showdown with Draco the previous week. A moment of thought added names to the faces: Tracey Davis and Theodore Nott. It was clear that they were both waiting for her.

Willow sighed and resigned herself to some sort of torment. "What do you want?" she asked without any enthusiasm.

To her surprise, the two other Slytherins looked nervous. They were shifting on their feet and looking at the floor.

Sighing again, Willow put on a kinder face. "Look, I'm sorry. I thought you wanted to give me a bad time. If you don't want any trouble, then I won't make any. I definitely don't want any trouble."

Theodore Nott laughed, but quickly hushed himself up, as if afraid that such a reaction would prove fatal. "Sorry," he said. "It's just that you've already made a lot of trouble. The good kind, I mean."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well," Tracey Davis said carefully, "you told Draco Malfoy of all people that you're Muggle-born. That's either really brave, really stupid, or maybe both."

Willow sat down in a bean-bag chair and closed her eyes. She did not need this. "You were there, too. I saw you. Did you want to make fun of me or something? Can't I just read for a bit without anyone picking on me?"

"You've got it all wrong, Rosenberg," Nott said quickly. "We're not upset or anything. We're actually impressed."

That got Willow's attention, and she opened her eyes. "What? Why would you be impressed with me?"

Tracey took a seat next to Willow with a kind face. "I know what it's like to feel isolated in Slytherin house. I'm a half-blood, and I was terrified to tell anyone. I still haven't, except for Theodore and now you. I was so afraid that I would be shunned and ridiculed. But you stood up and seemed proud of being Muggle-born. And the Malfoys are really rich and powerful. Most people don't want to get on their bad side."

"My dad didn't," Theodore said. "That's how he got mixed up with You-Know-Who. Lucius Malfoy dragged him into it. And it was only Malfoy's word that kept my dad out of prison. If we were to say anything against him, we might be homeless or worse. You're braver than us, Rosenberg, and more powerful, too."

Willow sat up straight and looked from face to face with wide eyes. "Are you coming to me for protection?" she asked incredulously.

"No, Willow! That's not it," Tracey said quickly. "Well, all right. That's not it entirely," she amended. "Protection wasn't the main reason, but it's kind of an added benefit. It's just that you seem, well… You seem cool. You're really good at magic, you're brave enough to stand up to Malfoy, and people in other houses seem to like you."

Theodore hung his head and sat down. "It's not easy being in Slytherin when you're not as close to Malfoy as everyone else is. You can only keep your head down for so long before you're dragged into stuff you don't want to be a part of. And Slytherin House has a nasty reputation going back to Salazar himself. But you look all of that in the eye and just say 'no' to all of it. I figure that if you can do that, then I want to join you."

"We both do," Tracey added.

Willow was dumbfounded, and she took a few moments to get her bearings. The silence must have been awkward for her two housemates, given the looks on their faces when she came to her senses. "A couple of things. Don't use the word 'Muggle.' It's insulting. So is 'Squib' as long as we're on the subject. And if you wanted to be friends, that would be one thing. You just want an alliance."

Tracey laughed. "Friends, interesting. That's not a really familiar concept in Slytherin, as far as I know. Most people in this house are too busy scheming for power within the House, the school, or the world outside. I guess that's what makes you special, Willow: you're not looking for power. You have it, but it's not what you're about. And that's really what we're trying to say. We don't want to be defined by a struggle for power, either. Friendship would be kinda nice."

Nott looked curious at the two girls. "I haven't really had a 'friend' since I was really little. I guess it'd be nice to have one again."

Willow smiled at the thought of two Slytherins other than herself going by a set of lifestyle rules apart from the rest of their house. "All right. Let's try it out," she said with a smile. "If we're going to be friends, then we need to trust each other. Let's try a game of Truth or Dare."

"What's that?" Theodore asked.

"It's a game," Tracey explained. "And it can get really weird at times."

"Yup," Willow said with a smile. "We'll all be forced to do incredibly stupid things and to reveal our darkest secrets, all in the name of fun. What do you say?"

Tracey smiled, and Theodore groaned. "Is friendship supposed to feel this strange?"

"You get used to it," Willow said, a smirk lighting up her lips. "We'll start with Tracey. Now observe, young grasshopper. Tracey: truth or dare?"


End file.
