Lillian Evans: Harry Potter's Sister(Sort Of)

The Return to Hogwarts

Once Dad and Mrs. Weasley had made sure that I had recovered enough to walk around, Sirius, Remus and Dad left the Burrow. Dad also promised to send the rest of my things so that he could prepare for the school year without me underfoot (his words, not mine. I don't get in his way at home but whatever). I spent time with the twins, Bill and Charlie, as they didn't treat me as if I was going to break the way that Harry, Ron and Hermione did. Thankfully, Sirius had managed to keep the Malfoy's out of legal trouble for supposedly helping the Death Eaters at the World Cup, mostly using my word and the word of their house-elf, Tobby. To all our annoyance, they forced Tobby to take Vertiumaserum to tell the story, while I didn't even have to testify as Sirius told the Ministry my side of the story.

Neither Mr. Weasley or Percy were home much over the next week. They were working long days; leaving before most of the house was awake and coming home well after everyone was asleep. I helped Mrs. Weasley make food for them to make sure they were eating during the week. I overheard Percy tell Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny that people kept sending Howlers complaining about the security at the World Cup. I also caught Mrs. Weasley staring at the grandfather clock in the corner. It was completely useless if you wanted to know the time, but otherwise very informative. I liked this clock. It had nine golden hands, and each of them was engraved with one of the Weasley family's names. There were no numbers on the clock, but the descriptions of where each family member might be. Home, school and work were there, but there was also travelling, lost, hospital, prison, and in the position where the number twelve would be on a normal clock, mortal peril. Eight of the nine hands were currently resting on the "home" position, but Mr. Weasley's, which was the longest was still pointing to "work."

"Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the day of You-Know-Who," Molly said. "They're working him far too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

Rain continued to lash against the windows in the living room as it had been doing all day. I watched as Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spell, Grade 4, copies of which Molly picked up for Harry, Ron, Hermione and I in Diagon Alley while we were at the Quidditch World Cup. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava, something that would probably be quite useful when he returned to Romania. Harry was polishing his Firebolt, using his broomstick servicing kit, something I found quite amusing as it had only been used for practice and two games and still looked quite new. Fred and George were sitting in the far corner, quills out and whispering to each other, their heads bent over a piece of parchment.

"What are the two of you up to?" Mrs. Weasley asked the twins sharply, her eyes on them.

"Homework," Fred replied vaguely.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," Mrs. Weasley retorted.

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," George told her.

"You're not by any change writing out a new order form, are you?" Molly asked the twins shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"

"Now, Mum," Fred said, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

At this everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley. I could tell the twins were lying to her, they were quite nervous at the moment. But I decided not to bring it up, I was the goddaughter of a Marauder after all.

"Oh, your father's coming!" Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, looking up at the clock again.