The inside of the Burrow was much friendlier than I could have ever imagined. The furniture was all mismatched, but truly, it only added to the character of the place; it made it feel...warm and, in a way, safe.

I was currently situated on a striped love-seat in what I assumed was the den, twirling a long, pink curl around my finger. My hair and clothes, for some strange reason, were completely dry; it was as if I had never gone out in the storm at all.

I could hear Mr. Weasley telling the others to stay upstairs, while Mrs. Weasley shuffled out of the kitchen towards me, a tray floating closely behind. My eyes widened at the sight. Is that real magic? I wondered, Or am I being punked?

“Tea, dear?” she asked, and I quickly wiped the shocked look from my face as best I could. The tray lowered in front of me displaying a mix-matched china tea set, smelling strongly of the black tea within the pot. I could feel a scratch in my throat, only now realizing how parched I was. I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, please,” I replied, watching the pot pour the tea into a blue cup all on its own, cream and sugar mixing themselves in; I took it graciously, thanking her before taking a sip. She smiled.

"Well, that settles that," Mr. Weasley said, returning downstairs. He walked over to me, and both he and Mrs. Weasley sat across from me on a blue floral couch. I took another sip of my tea before setting the cup back on the - still floating - tray.

"Now dearie," Mrs. Weasley started, leaning forward slightly, "do you think you can tell us just how you managed to land in our yard?" I shrugged, shaking my head.

"Believe me, if I knew, I'd tell you..." I sighed, wringing my hands as I looked down at my lap, "All I can remember is that I was in the park around midnight when some old man in a cloak showed up, tied a bag around my wrist, and shoved me down a well." Mr. Weasley nodded, brows furrowed.

"I see," he murmured, "That's an interesting accent you have. Where are you from?" I looked up, confused.

Accent? What accent? I thought, Oh yeah, that's right, I have one of those...

"I'm from the United States," I replied, "Atlanta, actually. And honestly, I’ve never been outside of the states before now." Their eyes widened at this, an excited gleam catching in Mr. Weasley's eyes.

"The states?" he said, and I nodded, "Really? That's incredible, I don't think I've ever met a witch or wizard from the states before." I froze, wondering if I had heard right. A witch? Then it hit me; where I was, who they were, it all made sense now:

I'm in the Potterverse...but how? I would’ve thought I might have figured it out sooner, like perhaps when I first noticed the house that nearly resembled a wooden version of the Tower of Pisa, or the family made up entirely of gingers, or the fact that their name is Weasley. I wondered again just how hard I might’ve hit my head to not immediately recognize the family from my favorite book series - which, apparently, isn’t just a book series anymore.

I must have been out of it for a while, because next thing I knew, my hosts were calling out to me again. I chuckled nervously, brushing a flamboyant strand of hair behind my ear.

"Is everything alright?" Mrs. Weasley asked slowly, keeping her concerned gaze locked on me. I chewed my lip, losing myself in thought again.

Should I tell them? I know I can trust them, but what happens when they find out I'm a muggle? Well, I can't just keep it from them! They might be able to help me figure out why I'm here anyway...

"Honestly, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," I started with a sigh, "I'm not quite sure...how I can be a witch...without magic..." They stared at me for a moment, shocked.

“Without magic?” Mr. Weasley asked, his words taking on a slightly more suspicious tone. I shrugged, shifting nervously in my seat.

“As far as I know, yeah...”

“Well, that would make you a squib, yes?” Mrs. Weasley interjected, looking from me, to her husband, then back to me again. I started braiding a strand of my hair by my face, looking down at my lap as I searched for the right words.

“Not exactly…” I muttered, glancing nervously up at them to see hesitant confusion cross both of their faces. I sighed again, looking up at the ceiling far above the top of the stairs. This is going to be a loooooong story… “Best I start at the beginning, yeah?”

“So, if what you say is true, and we’re somehow all characters in book you’ve read, how did you come to be here?” Mrs. Weasley asked, frowning slightly. Mr. Weasley had left as soon as I had finished my story, deciding to send their owl, Errol, with a note to Professor Dumbledore discussing my...situation. I laughed once, humorlessly, at the question.

“To be honest, I’m still half-convinced that I’m going to wake up at the bottom of that well with a major concussion at any moment.” I ran my hand through my hair, feeling the back of my head; there was a small bump near the top, but it thankfully didn’t hurt too much when my fingers grazed it. But whatever the reason, they don’t seem to be “just characters in a book” anymore…

“Well, regardless, I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will have some ideas,” Mr. Weasley stated as he re-entered the room, “if anyone can help find a solution for you, it’s him. Great man, that Dumbledore.” I nodded, half-smiling at him as I returned to drinking my tea.

“I know he is,” I whispered. Now all that was left was to sit around and wait for him to get here. Mrs. Weasley left for a moment, disappearing up the stairs. She returned with the twins and a younger boy - Fred, George, and Ron - in tow, pushing them out towards the door in the kitchen - which I assumed led to the garden.

“But Mum-” they began protesting, stealing glances at me as they passed. She wasn’t fazed by their whining, continuing to shove them out of the room and outside.

“No buts, Professor Dumbledore will be here any minute, and my garden is FULL of gnomes! I won’t stand for it! You lot will be spending the next hour de-gnoming, or so help me, it’ll be bed without supper tonight!” I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to hide my amused smile as they stepped outside to begin their work. Mrs. Weasley closed the door behind them, then quickly moved to the other side of the kitchen to begin cooking.

“Professor Dumbledore will be here soon,” Mr. Weasley said, drawing my attention back to him, “In the meantime, do make yourself at home. Everything works out, you’re welcome to stay for dinner; Molly loves to cook for guests.“ I smiled and nodded to him, then glanced down at my tea cup as he left the room. I swirled the cup around three times - as I remembered from online readings about tessomancy.

There was almost no liquid left, so I felt no need to drain it as I looked at the remaining leaves within the cup. I wasn’t ever much good at being able to see things in the leaves when I’d tried this before, but this time I was able to see two fairly clear symbols in the leaves - an axe, and a bush - though, for the life of me, I couldn’t recall what they meant. I did, however, recognize a third symbol near the handle: an umbrella.

Crack! I snapped from my thoughts at the loud sound, and looked up to see Mrs. Weasley scurry quickly from the stove to glance out the window. She gasped, looking to me.

“He’s here,” she whispered, and I stood, quickly placing the cup back on the tray before it floated itself into the kitchen and began cleaning in the sink. I felt my pulse begin to race - I knew I was nervous, but it felt worse than it was; I was only moments away from meeting Albus Dumbledore, the greatest sorcerer in the world! Mrs. Weasley smiled at me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“No need to worry, dear. Everything will be fine.” I smiled back at her, then squared my shoulders and stood taller as she went to let him in. I took a deep breath, and thought back on the umbrella I had seen in the tea cup, and it’s meaning; it had been open. A need for shelter…