Chapter 1 : Charlie
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A/N: Hiya! This is my first Next Generation fic, so I hope you like it! P.S. The first chapter is second/third-person narrative, but the rest is first-person.
Ωmega (my storily signature)
“Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry, go to sleep, my little baby.” The man sings. In his arms, you can see a small bundle. By the way he’s singing, it seems there’s a baby in there.
“There, there, my love. Don’t cry. Just… sleep.” The man continues humming while the baby drifts off into dreamless sleep.
“Mr. Weasley?” A voice asks. The man looks up. “Charlie, you can call me Charlie.” The receptionist smiles. “Well, Charlie, he’ll see you now.” Charlie stands up, careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms and walks to the open door the receptionist directed him to. He opens the door and walks in.
“Hello, Mr. Weasley.” Charlie smiles. “Charlie, just Charlie.” The man frowns. “Well, Charlie, I hear you have some business to take care of. Please, sit down and explain.” Charlie sits in the chair the man motions to.
“Well, Mr. Macobee, as you can see,” he pulls turns down the bundle ever so slightly to show the sleeping child in it, “I have a child. Yes, this child is mine. No, its mother is not here to care for it. She died in childbirth and they called me. No, we were not married. I am this child’s father. I’m wondering if there is some way to get financial help for raising her. I am a single father.”
Macobee ruffles through his papers. “Yes, sir, there is a way.” Charlie smiles. “Good, would you like me to go through the paperwork?” Charlie asks. “I’ll get Resa to care for the child while you do it.” The receptionist comes in and tends to the child while he fills out paperwork. After finishing, he hands the papers back to Macobee who looks through them.
“The child’s name is Marilynn Grace Retzer?” Charlie nods. “I’m also wondering if there is a way to legally change her last name to Weasley, as I will be caring for her.” Macobee nods. “Just call Tyson Bates, he’ll sort it out.” He ruffles through the papers once more. “Well, Charlie, all seems to be in order.” He hands Charlie a business card with a number written on the back. “Mine is on the front, Mr. Bates’ is on the back. Call if you have any questions.”
“Thank you, Mr. Macobee.” The men shake hands and Charlie is out the door. “Good bye, baby Marilynn.” Resa calls to the child after Charlie picks her back up. By this time, baby Marilynn is wide-awake, staring up at her father.
“Don’t fret, my love, all will be just fine.” He tells her, give her his finger to play with. He doesn’t know if he’s sure, or just lying to himself.
**10 Years and 10 Months Later**
“Daddy, why can’t I go over to Lita’s to play?” A child asks, hanging onto her father’s arm. “Lynn, you can, but only after you’ve done your homework.” Lynn frowns. “But Daddy, my homework disappeared!”
Normally, to a father, this would seem like just another way for a child to get out of doing their homework. But, Lynn is no ordinary child. She’s a witch, and her father, Charlie Weasley, knows that. But, Lynn doesn’t. She never went to any magic school, just ordinary primary school. No wands, just her hands to do her own work. No broomstick, just her bicycle to get place to place. Charlie wanted to keep it that way, for her to grow up in a less unsettling place. Without all the magic, little Lynn will grow up just like other girls her age. Charlie’s even is admitting her into Abington High School in Wigston, England.
“Well, Lynn, I guess you’ll just have to look for it. It’s not my fault you have short memory loss and have forgotten where it is.” Lynn sighs, glaring at her father. “Fine, Daddy, but don’t expect me to do that God forsaken homework in this house!” She shouts. “Marilynn Grace Weasley, I will not allow that kind of language from you! Who do you think you are?” Lynn gives her father one last scathing look and walks grudgingly up the stairs.
“That child,” Charlie mutters to himself, reading the local newspaper. Times are almost as bad as when Lord Voldemort, the most evil of wizards, was upon us. 17 murders in the last month alone. He realizes that no regular man can do these things, that it must be a gang or a wizard. See, Charlie is a very insightful fellow.
“Daddy! I found my homework!” Lynn calls from upstairs. Charlie sighs in relief, glad it was just his daughters’ memory than her magic at work. “Good, good, Lynny. Stay at the kitchen table, would you? I want to talk to you.” Charlie decides this is the time to tell her she’s a witch. A coming is upon them, he doesn’t want to put her in a situation of risk. After all, Death Eaters hate Weasley’s.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. Charlie rises to answer it. He opens the door with a polite smile on his face, before it quickly turns to a scowl. “Macnair! You evil bastard! Why-” his rant turns silent and, before Lynn could even turn around, Charlie was lying on the ground, a look of madness on his face.
Macnair turns to Lynn with a look of disgust on his face. He says, “Another bloody Weasley? You things mate like rabbits,” Before raising his wand. Lynn was confused why this man was pointing a stick at her. But, still afraid. Still very afraid. This man beat her father, whom she recognized as a brave man, a man of power. She closes her eyes and prays. There’s a bang, and Macnair falls backwards, breaking a wood pillar. The excess wood falls on him and she runs. She runs as fast as her 10-year-old legs can carry her. She runs and never looks back.
“42-year-old, Charles Weasley has been found missing. His house was in ruins, burned to the ground, when authorities got there. Also, his 10-year-old daughter, Marilynn Retzer-Weasley also cannot be found. If you have any information on these two, please call-”
At this point, Lynn can’t bear to watch another second of the newscast. She switches off her portable radio. She stumbled upon this strange, strange place called the Leaky Cauldron. A silly name for a place, she had thought. She walked inside, though her father always told her not to. He’s gone, she thought. What good will he do me now? She walked up the barman, another thing her father told her never to do.
“Excuse me. Excuse me, sir?” The man looks up with a look of confusion on his face, not seeing anyone. “Down here, sir.” The man looks down and meets Lynn’s eyes. “Yes, hello, what is it you want?” He asks distractedly. “Umm, I wonder if I could rent a room? I don’t have any money, but I’ll work for the rent.” The man looks at her, strangely. “Well, miss, that’s awfully brave. What’s your name?” He asks.
“Marilynn. Marilynn Grace Retzer-Weasley.” The barkeep’s eyes open wide. “Missy, th-there’s no n-need for you t-to work for you-your rent. A d-down payment has already b-been made by your gr-grandparents” He stutters. Now it’s Lynn’s turn to look surprised. She’s never met her grandparents. Whenever she brought up the topic with her father, he always shied away from it. She thought her grandparents were dead.
“My grandparents?” She asks. The man looks at her in surprise. “Yes, your grandparents.” She nods, not getting the conversation at all.
“I’ll need ID.” The man says. She pats her pockets. Darn, she doesn’t have her student card. “No ID.” She states. The man nods. “How old are you?” He asks. “10, I’ll be 11 in two weeks.” He thinks, That’s the age when most of us get our wands, I’ll ask her for that. “Well, do you have your wand?” Lynn is confused. “Wand? What do you mean, wand? Like what people in fairytales wave around to cast spells and such?” The man is confused. “I’ll just call your grandparents.” He says.
He walks over to the fireplace, gets on his knees, and throws a handful of grey powder into the flames. They turn a bright emerald green and, to Lynn’s surprise, he sticks his head in the fire!
After a few minutes, the man stuck his head back out, motioning for her to come over. “Your, er, grandmother is coming over. She has some questions.” She squints, but nods. They stand there and wait no more than 30 seconds before the fire lights up in the brilliant green and a plump, elderly lady comes out. She has red hair, like Lynn, but it’s much brighter, blue eyes, and a kind face. She looks Lynn over with scrutiny.
“Hello, dear.” She says softly. “What’s your name?” Lynn swallows. “M-Marilynn Grace Retzer-Weasley.” She says shyly. The woman’s eyes light up. She smiles. “Hello, Marilynn. My name is Molly Weasley.” Lynn has a warmth flood over her. It’s a nice warmth, like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. It’s the warmth of kindness after a terrible day.
“What’s your father’s name, Marilynn, dear?” There, it hit. A pile of brick rush down on the girl. “My f-father? Charlie. Charlie Weasley. Do you know him?” Molly brought in a sharp breath. Charlie, she thought. The son I haven’t see in nearly 11… 11…
“How old are you, dear?” Molly says, trying to keep collected. “I’m turning 11 in two weeks.” Molly nods, calmly. Though, she wasn’t calm. “Where’s your father, Marilynn?” Lynn started shaking; her whole frame seemed to be falling apart. “I-I don’t know. All I know is there was a man named Macnair, and Daddy fell, and the man pointed a stick at me, then flew across the room. Then I ran.” Molly is frightened for the young girl. “Darling, would you like to come to my house? You must be hungry. And tired.” She asks. Lynn timidly nods. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Call me Molly.”
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