Lillian 'Anna' Potter || Goblet of Fire

Chapter Thirteen: Dreams of Prophecy

“D’you get a good sleep last night?”

All of them were finally trekking out of the clearing, following Mr. Weasley as he guided them to the portkey to return to the Burrow. “Yeah.” Anna lied smoothly with a reassuring smile to secure it. Ginny didn’t look twice, her gaze going to the kitten, still snuggling herself in Anna’s arms. “So what are you going to name her?” She asked curiously.

Anna hummed in indecision. “Boudica.” She finally decided, looking to Ginny, who gave her a nod of approval. “What inspired you?” She asked curiously, and Anna shrugged sheepishly. “Andrea used to tell me stories about this warrior woman named ‘Queen Boudica’. She was a warrior, and stood up for Britain against all odds. I wanted to be just like her.”

“Queen Boudica...did she win?” Ginny looked awed. “Yeah, I guess. She died at the end though.” Anna said, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “How can you win if you die?” Ginny asked incredulously. “She fought for what she believed in. No one can die greater than that.” Anna answered, and Ginny raised an eyebrow.

“It sounds like you’ve thought a lot about that - dying.” She elaborated suspiciously. Anna flushed. “No! I just...respect her.” Anna half-lied, putting just enough truth in her words to get Ginny off her back. Luckily, Ginny didn’t press, and she turned back to the kitten. “Well, it’s a fine name for a fine kitten.” Ginny said, gently petting Boudica in-between the ears.

It was then Mr. Weasley returned with the Portkey, and they all gathered around as the old rubber tire transported them back to Stoatshead Hill. They walked back slowly - their stomachs empty and grumbling the entire way down.

As they rounded the corner, the Burrow came into view, along with a frazzled Mrs. Weasley. “Oh thank goodness! Thank goodness!” She cried, flinging her arms around Mr. Weasley - a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched tightly in her hand, reading ‘Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup’, along with an image of the Dark Mark glimmering against the night sky. Anna had to hide her shiver.

“You’re alright..” She muttered, looking and checking each and every one of them - as if she were trying to convince herself that they were still there. Her gaze finally settled upon Fred and George, and her eyes welled with tears as she brought them into a tight embrace. “Oh boys.” She whispered.

Fred and George looked like they were being suffocated - their faces the same color as their hair. “OuchI Mum...you’re strangling us.” George choked out as he patted his mother on the back awkwardly. “I shouted at you before you left!” She sobbed. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you never got enough OWLS? Oh Fred...George..”

“Come on, now, Molly. We’re all perfectly okay.” Mr. Weasley reassuring her, gently prising her off the twins and began leading them all towards the house. “Bill.” He added quietly. “Pick up that paper...I want to see what it says..”

They all got situated in the kitchen, Hermione pouring Mrs. Weasley a mug of strong tea as they all took a seat at the rather large dining table. Bill handed his father the newspaper, and Mr. Weasley’s frown deepened as he continued to read.

“I knew it.” He breathed heavily. “Ministry blunders..culprits not apprehended..lax security..Dark wizards running unchecked..national disgrace..Who wrote this? Aha - of course. Rita Skeeter.” The name was uttered with pure disgust evident in each syllable.

“That woman’s got it in for the Ministry of Magic!” Percy claimed furiously. “Last week, she was saying we’re wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires. As if it wasn’t specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans -”