Seven Devils ★ T.M.R ★

Chapter Twenty-Five

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TO FIGHT A WAR
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MARINA AWOKE LATE the next morning in a groggy haze, taking a long moment to recognise her surroundings. Sunlight poured in through the small window, the trees in the orchard below swaying gently in the morning breeze. She pushed herself from the bed and stretched, looking around Ginny Weasley's bedroom with interest. There was a large poster of a strangely dressed band next to the window, and on the wall opposite the bed was a serious-looking athletic woman on a broomstick using the stout wooden bat in her hands to periodically smack away a brutal black ball that would hurtle at her from out of frame. Marina hadn't noticed any of it the previous night, she'd been much too tired and much too distracted to pay attention to her surroundings.

There were busy sounds creeping through the closed door from the floor below, and Marina pulled a patchwork blanket around her shoulders before making her way down the stairs into the bustling kitchen. Mrs Weasley had adorned a large white apron and was brandishing her wand at the multitudes of dough balls and bags of flour that littered every surface in the kitchen. Lumps of dough were shaking and kneading themselves as the flour flew everywhere, flinging itself around on its own accord.

"Oh, sorry Marina, dear," Mrs Weasley said hastily as she jerked her wand at a particularly stubborn dough that was refusing to come unstuck from the bench, "we tend to have an early breakfast in this house – there's some leftovers for you on the table over there."

"Thanks," Marina said, ducking under a bag of flour as she skirted around the chaos. "Er – what's with all the bread?"

"It's for the refugees," Mrs Weasley puffed, waving her wand at a line of dough balls that sat waiting on the wooden kitchen table that immediately folded in on themselves. "We take it to Diagon Alley and pass it out every week we can."

"Oh," Marina said dully, sitting down at the table and looking at the plate before her. There was a single, small fried egg and a bit of bread with a lump of butter. Although she'd been hungry when she'd woken up, the reminder of the war had stolen her appetite.

"Eat up!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed as the dough balls folded themselves once more. "You've got to get your strength back!"

As Marina took small, slow bites at the bread, a stranger entered the kitchen from the garden door, throwing down a pair of muddy leather gloves on the bench as he did so

"No use, mum," said the stranger, wiping sweat from his brow as he scooted behind Mrs Weasley and leaned against the kitchen bench. "Coop's done for. Whoever stole those chickens did a right number on it, we'll have to start charming it to keep thieves out – oh, hello."

The stranger had finally noticed her. He looked about Marina's age or a bit older and had the typical flaming red hair of a Weasley, though he was deeply tanned and covered in so many freckles that Marina couldn't tell where freckle ended and tan began. He was the same height as Mrs Weasley and had a stocky, muscular build that gave Marina the impression that he did a lot of physical labour.

"Hi," she said lamely, giving an awkward wave.

"I'm Charlie," said the stranger, leaning forward with a friendly smile and offering Marina his hand.

She took it, surprised – it was very warm and very calloused.

"Marina," she said, trying to smile back.

"So I've heard," Charlie said, giving his mother a side eye as he leaned back on the bench. "The Muggle time traveller!"

"That's me," said Marina unenthusiastically, picking up her bread again.