Chapter 1 - Answering the Call

A/N: I don't own the canon characters or situations posted. I make no money from the writing/publishing of this story. I was merely saddened by our tragic anti-hero's demise and 'what-if-ed' until this story nagged me to be written.

It had been 20 years since I had last lived in England. Oh, I had visited frequently, as Mom didn't want me to lose touch with my father's side of the family. As painful (and sometimes dangerous) as it was for her to be back in England after he passed away, she knew it was important. She knew that the time would come when we would all need each other.

Perhaps I should back up. My name is Elizabeth Prewett. My father, Charles Prewett, had three children by his first wife, Ginevra. By all accounts, she was a lovely woman; they say she was spirited, kind and utterly devoted to her family. Sadly, fate took her from them when Molly was but 10 years old, and the twins, Gideon and Fabian, were 7. Dad persevered and took wonderful care of their children. He thought of little else for those first few years. But when the boys left for Hogwarts, he realized that he needed to move on with his life.

Enter my mother. Mom was nothing like Ginevra Prewett. She was a Muggle and an American completing her PhD at Oxford. She was everything that the straight-laced Wizarding society in the sixties hated. She was every bit the 'make love not war' hippie stereotype from American films. But when Dad was giving a presentation to the Wizarding university and crossed paths with her, well, the rest was history. They were married two years later, and I was born about a year after that.

I wasn't particularly close to my brothers and sister, though they were always kind to me and nothing but respectful to my mother. Even as the years passed, when it became clear that Dad was in danger because of Mom and me, they stood by him and us as well. When ugly words like 'blood traitor' were used to describe our family, they remained loyal to their father.

I remember them urging Father to take Mom and I and move back to the U.S. for all of our safety. Gideon and Fabian were young men at the time, barely 20. I was 6, and I remember the fear on Molly's face. Mom was frightened as well, but she didn't understand the level of hate we were facing. She didn't understand the evil that those monsters were capable of inflicting upon innocent people. She didn't understand until Father was murdered when I was 9.

The night it happened, Fabian and Gideon took Mother and me to the Muggle U.S. Embassy in London. Mother was distraught, but Fabian somehow managed to convince the Muggle authorities that we needed to be flown to the U.S. to Mom's family immediately. I suspect that magic was involved, possibly of the unsavory kind. They spread the rumor that Mom and I were killed with Father. Without a doubt, I know they saved our lives.

We lived in Boston with my grandparents. We kept in touch with Molly and the boys, and when I turned 11, Molly contacted Professor McGonagall; she connected Mom with Salem Witches Institute. Wizarding education in the U.S. was more integrated with Muggle education, which pleased my mother and grandparents.

Mom wanted me educated for either world, and my grandparents were insistent that I wouldn't have to return to life as a witch unless it was my choice. Understandably, their perception of the Wizarding world was that it was a very dangerous place. After losing their son-in-law and then my two brothers to Death Eaters, they really didn't want their only grandchild to return. Molly visited a couple times a year. After the war ended, I visited in the summers to spend time with my nephews and niece.

By the time I graduated, I knew I wanted to be a Healer. My specialty was curse rehabilitation, and part of my training included Muggle physical therapy. I worked for a clinic in Boston after graduation. I was happy in the U.S. But, I also missed Molly's family very much. I never thought of returning seriously until about two years ago. A frantic Floo call from Molly told me something was very wrong. Arthur had been attacked by a giant magical snake. I knew I needed to be there for my sister and her family.

I spent several weeks working with the team at St. Mungo's on Arthur's case. I doubt I did anything of any significance to help the case; however, I learned a tremendous amount. The lead Healer at St. Mungo's offered me a job on staff, but I wasn't ready to return permanently. It was clear that war was afoot, again, and after my experience as a child, I felt safer in Boston. I knew that my status as a half-blood was considered marginally acceptable; however, I also knew the name Prewett would make me a target as my father and brothers had been.

This summer, when I visited for my nephew's wedding, we learned that their Ministry had been infiltrated. Even St. Mungo's was compromised. The Order of the Phoenix needed a Healer. Then, after the attack at the wedding, my other nephew ran off with two of his friends on some crazy mission; Molly was a wreck. I couldn't ignore my family and their needs any longer.

So, here I am, with the last of my things packed, awaiting the familiar glow of the portkey that I'm wearing as a bracelet, which will take me back to England. I'll be living in the home of Molly's Aunt Muriel. I remember her only vaguely from childhood. Back then, she hated the very idea of me. It was bad enough that her brother-in-law had remarried, but my mother was truly unacceptable to her. I'm not sure if it was the Muggle part, the American part, or the spunky part that she hated so much. But, regardless, my presence here is to be a great secret, so Muriel's home is thought to be the best option. And it's large enough to serve as a makeshift hospital of sorts for injured members of the Order and others in need of a safe house.

Deep breaths, it's going to be okay. Okay, 3…2….1….Here we go.

Deep breaths, it's going to be okay. Okay, 3…2….1….Here we go.