Jessica grabbed her small bag of tools, none of which she ever used for what Gran would define as good. But that was fine; she wasn't going to be good. She was sneaking out of the Burrow behind three ginger Weasleys to a flying car she was forbidden to go near.

"Got it?" Fred whispered when she scooted into the car. She raised the bag.

"Ready when you are, slow pokes," she teased.

"Oi, it's Ron who's being slow. He doesn't have the practice that we do," George sniggered from the driver's seat. Ron scowled.

"Practice of what?" the second year demanded.

"Breaking the rules, ickle Ron," Fred answered. He received an attempted shove from Ron, though he couldn't reach.

"We need to get going," Ron grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring out the windshield.

"Right, off to save Harry," George agreed, and turned the car on. They backed out of the driveway before slowly taking off, leaving the ground to soar into the clouds. Jessica eagerly looked out her window, having never flown by car before. It was a disappointing sight, there was hardly anything to see in the blank night. There wasn't even an interesting smell to catch her attention.

Halfway there, Jessica caught Ron's eyelids sliding down.

"Thought you said you could handle staying up all night," Jessica prodded. Ron's eyelids flew all the way open before he shot her a sharp look.

"What does she have to be here for anyway?" Ron asked.

"Do you really think they could pull something like this off without me?" Jessica asked, grinning.

"Yes," the twins answered in unison.

"We just brought you along—" Fred started.

"—'cause we thought it would be rude not to," George finished.

"As if you could do anything without my guiding expertise," the soon-to-be-Gryffindor scoffed teasingly, crossing her arms to further the act.

"'Guiding expertise,'" George mimicked. "More like annoying—"

"—irritating—"

"—picky suggestions that—"

"—we obviously already knew—"

"In the first place," they both finished. Jessica responded to that immature lie in the most sophisticated way: sticking out her tongue.

So was the way of the troublemaker trio, as it had been for five years, ever since that fateful day in Zonko's joke shop. She had hidden there from her older sisters, who had been teasing her relentlessly throughout the day for one thing or another. Fred and George were hiding from their mother after they attempted to sneak into Knockturn Alley for the thirty-fourth time. They found her, and one thing led to another. By the end of the day, she had stolen four items from unsuspecting shoppers that the trio later used to make an extensive 'going away' prank on Charlie Weasley the day before he was to leave for Hogwarts.

It was quiet the rest of the way. All of them were tired. Fred had to flick George to keep his eyes on the sky and Ron had fallen asleep at least three times. Jessica was proudly sitting on the 'my eyes didn't close once' award, but to be fair she'd had practice staying up all night.

Oh, the perks of being a werewolf.

"Is that it?" George asked, pointing to a house among the countless little settlements along the winding streets. It was dark despite having descended from the clouds. The city was asleep.

"Number four Privet Drive," Ron repeated to his older brother. "Do the numbers go down that way, or up that way?. . .Look!"

He was pointing at a window with awful looking bars on them.

"Bars?" George said.

"That has to be his house! Only his aunt and uncle would do something like that!" Ron exclaimed. George proceeded to drive up to the window as quietly as the flying car could manage. They parked the car right up next to the house and rolled down the windows.

"Harry!" Ron called. No answer. "Harry, come on!"

"He's probably asleep," Jessica said sensibly. Ron narrowed his eyes. Then, without a thought in the world, he reached over and rattled the bars, making a noise louder than a tussle between Remus and Jessica in their wolf forms.

"Are you trying to get us caught?" Jessica asked. Ron shot a glare at her just as she saw the Boy-Who-Lived walk up to the window, blinking away sleepiness.

Jessica looked at him from head to toe as he opened his window. He wasn't as impressive as Delilah made him out to be. Small, scrawny, dumb-looking, and obviously clueless. Made sense why he was a Seeker. Still, she had to admit seeing his scar up close was pretty wicked.

"Ron?" Harry asked in total disbelief. Merlin, he was slow.

Jessica shoved the redhead second year aside, a rope in her hand. She pulled it out to let Harry get a good look at it. "Hey, famous person, catch this and tie it to the bars."

She threw it, and despite his groggy state the Boy-Who-Lived managed to catch it. He fumbled the rope around the bars, tying it as tightly as he could.

"Now stand back unless you fancy getting skewered," Jessica told him. He took a few hasty steps back as George turned the car.

"If the Dursley's wake up, I'm dead," Harry told them.

"Don't worry," Fred told him.

George stepped on it. It took all the car's power, but the bars popped off. Jessica helped haul them into the backseat, throwing them down at the floorboard as George went to drive back to the window.

"Get in," George ordered.

"But—all my Hogwarts stuff—my wand, my broomstick—"

Fred got his 'I have an idea' look. "Where is it?"

"Locked in the cupboard downstairs. I can't get out of this room—"

"No problem," George announced, grinning. "Get out of the way, Harry."

The twins squeezed through the car door and leapt through Harry's window, Jessica right on their heels with her bag in hand. The twins went straight to the door as she got up and brushed herself off.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"Jessica Coppin," she answered automatically. Harry gave an 'ah-ha' look.

"So you're Amanda's younger sister!"

Jessica narrowed her eyes. "No, I'm Jessica Coppin."

She went around him and handed the twins the lockpicking tools without a word. For a bit they fiddled with the door. Once it clicked and opened, Jessica darted around the twins, out the door, and into the hallway. She followed the snores of Harry's aunt and uncle into their bedroom and set down a little plastic device behind a picture frame. She wound it up and popped out of the room, finding Harry's cousin's room simply by smell alone thanks to how much he reeked. She set down a few poorly wrapped candies (that were actually not candies at all) on a dresser and tucked a second device into a concealed area underneath some furniture.

"Have fun with that," she said. She waited for the device to start spitting out the stinky gas. The eleven-year-old werewolf took a deep breath and held it as she rushed back to the hallway, sparing the first bedroom only a glance to make sure the device was doing its work in that room as well before finding her way back to Harry's room.

"All set," she said to the Boy-Who-Lived. "They won't wake for a while now."

"What did you do?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, just a little device we invented a few months ago," she said proudly. "Spits out a gas form of a potion. It can fill up a room in just a few minutes."

"What about when they wake up? They might think I—"

"Harry, Harry, Harry. First rule about stealth pranking: don't get caught. We built the device so it turns off and shrinks on its own. The smell doesn't last long either. By tomorrow, they'll all wake up completely normal, and the device will just look like a piece of lint, if they manage to find it at all."

"Jessica, a little help," George said, pulling up the trunk.

It took them about ten minutes to get that stupid trunk in. Finally, after getting Hedwig into the car, they drove off into the boring clouds again, and Harry dove straight into a story about a house-elf named Dobby warning him not to come back to Hogwarts.

"Very fishy," said Fred.

"Definitely dodgy," George agreed.

"Well, you shouldn't believe it," Jessica declared.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Because Dobby is the Malfoy's house-elf," she answered. "And he hates you. He probably sent Dobby to you to try to convince you not to go back to Hogwarts. Sounds like something that prat would do."

"Malfoy? But Amanda promised she'd stop Malfoy from going at it so much," Harry told her.

"Those two didn't talk much this summer. They got into a big fight on the train back to Hogwarts and Amanda refused to stay over at his house or write to him at all. Not that he stopped writing her," Jessica explained. Harry's fierce green eyes had betrayal in them.

"Why did you promise anything to Amanda anyway? She's a Slytherin," Ron said. She looked to Jessica as if remembering she was related, but the black-haired, soon-to-be first-year shrugged. Loads of people hated Amanda, including her.

"Amanda helped us fight Quirrel and Voldemort," Harry pointed out.

"Oh, don't go through that story!" Jessica groaned, scooting away. "No one at home will shut up about it!"

It was truly the most annoying story in the world for Jessica. For two months and over three times a day she heard about how amazing it was that Delilah the Hufflepuff broke the Imperious Curse and attempted to fight Quirrell. Then, how courageous Amanda was for going through the trapdoor after her, nearly dying at the hands of Voldemort as she tried to give Harry enough time to take the Stone and run. Finally, Audrey would pipe up and repeat how grateful she was for being saved from the Forbidden Forest by their oldest sister Elena.

Jessica would have loved to just use a memory charm on all of them, but alas, she couldn't control her magic yet. 'Just a few more weeks,' she thought excitedly.

Just before dawn, they touched down to the ground and arrived at the Burrow. Quickly, Jessica got out of the car.

"It's not much," said Ron, hopping out beside Harry, who was looking at the Burrow as if it were a castle.

"It's wonderful!" Harry exclaimed. Jessica rolled her eyes.

"Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," said Fred, "and wait for Mum to call us down for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, 'Mum, look who showed up last night!' and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car."

"Make sure to mention you got here because of Hagrid or something," Jessica brought up. Harry nodded.

"Right," said Ron. "Come on, Harry. I sleep at the—at the top—"

Facing the house, Ron looked like a deer who had just noticed it was being stalked by a werewolf. Turning, Jessica saw why.

Mrs. Weasley was marching down their way, fuming more than the Filibuster fireworks the troublemaking trio often played with.

"Ah," said Fred.

"Oh dear," said George.

The woman stopped before them with her hands on her hips, attempting to stare them down. It was rather hard when at least three of them were used to being in a constant state of "in trouble."

"So," she said in the angriest voice ever.

"Morning, mum," George said with a wave.

"Have you any idea how worried I've been?" the woman asked, obviously keeping leash on her anger. Said leash snapped when George said, "Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to—"

And so the shouting began. Jessica tuned it out as the woman threw her hands in every direction, yelling about the possible consequences they could have faced or what horrible fates could have befallen them.

"Augusta will never forgive me for letting you stay over!" the twins' mother shouted at one point.

"I don't think she will care," Jessica muttered.

That landed her another fifteen minutes of shouting, but Jessica couldn't help it; it was true. Gran was always yelling at her, even when she wasn't at fault, and after every full moon it was like she was reminded how different Jessica was. It was easy to see why she would rather spend summer vacation in the cramped Weasley house than with Gran, Neville, and her 'brilliant' sisters.

After remembering Harry existed, Mrs. Weasley led them back to the house and started to make breakfast. Sausage, thank Merlin, was a part of the meal, and she gobbled it up.

Finally, when Mrs. Weasley stopped muttering about how lucky they were no one saw them, Harry piped up.

"So…how are your sisters?"

Jessica shrugged. "Fine."

Harry paused as if unsure what such a short response meant.

George gave an obnoxious yawn. "I'm so tired. I think I'll just go right up to bed—"

"You will not!" Mrs. Weasley hissed, turning on them like a snake. "It was your own fault you stayed up all night! You're going to de-gnome the garden for me." Jessica groaned. De-gnoming was the worst chore in wizarding children history. She had avoided it for the most part. At Gran's house just three years ago, Amanda had stationed a few select snakes in the garden, and only the stupidest gnomes ever entered the yard.

But she went after much complaint, which was supplemented by George and Fred's moaning about boredom. About an hour into the punishment, Jessica stood up, stretched, and declared, "Okay, we're done. Now I say we go to the village."

"That's a grand idea, Jessica," Fred agreed, springing up to his feet. George was right beside him.

To Harry's curious look, Ron explained, "Those three like to sneak on off to the village and steal things from the muggles."

"Not money, of course, and not all the time," Fred explained.

"There's a lot of interesting trinkets people forget in their pockets. Things we can use," George answered. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Well if you disapprove, mum, you can just stay here with the famous person," Jessica said.

"Well if you fancy getting yelled at again…" Ron muttered, picking up another gnome.

"We only get yelled at if we're caught, which," she said with a look to Harry, "rarely happens."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yet even Lovegood caught you stealing his necklace." Jessica glared at him so hard she thought she would turn into a werewolf right then and there.

"Aw, ickle Ron afraid of getting into trouble?" Fred said in the most annoying voice he could muster. Jessica enjoyed every second of it.

"No! I just don't think Harry would want to go to a boring muggle village, that's all," Ron snapped back, growing red.

Fred and George looked to Harry. "Want to come with us?"

Jessica could see the curiosity burning in his eyes, so, as an extra push, she said, "There's a wizard's pawn shop we could visit. Mr. Fawcett always has loads of gadgets to look at and sweets, too, if you know how to ask."

"We should finish here first," Harry said finally with a nod.

Mrs. Weasley inspected the garden for fifteen minutes once they'd finished, they told her they were going to play some Quidditch. As soon as the ginger haired witch closed the door of the house behind her, they snuck out of the yard and off to the village. To pass the time, Jessica, Fred, and George took turns picking up rocks and throwing them at far away fence posts as they walked along the winding path. Only Fred managed to hit one.

It took about thirty minutes to travel to the village, and much to their disappointment, not many muggles were out and about near the shops. Just a few people buying last minute items. No window shoppers.

"Is everyone on holiday?" George asked to no one in particular.

"How rude of them! Who are we supposed to pickpocket now?" Fred demanded theatrically.

"Come on, Harry, let's go see if Fawcett has his store open," Ron said, moving down the street.

"Well, it beats stumbling about out here," Fred announced.

"I wonder if he's got any more of those shrinking bottle caps?" George asked. The twins looked at her, silently asking if she was coming.

"You go on to Fawcett's and try to find some of those pieces we've been looking for," she told them. "I'm gonna see if there are any potential pickpocket victims around the block." Fred and George shrugged.

"See you later Jessica!" they said, and joined with Harry and Ron.

Jessica sighed a breath of relief. She didn't really want to visit old Fawcett right away. She needed just a galleon more to buy a broom, and she, unlike Fred and George, couldn't care less about what she stole, as long as it was valuable.

So the black-haired eleven-year-old surveyed street for anyone who could have anything with value. There was a couple, but they looked like newlyweds. The only thing valuable they could have was a pair of wedding rings, which they wouldn't let out of their sights. There was an older man in nice enough clothing, but he peered around the corners like he was either hiding from someone or doing the same thing she was. Best not to go after someone on alert.

The werewolf stopped when she saw a little boy no older than nine fumbling with muggle money, his face scrunched into deep thought as he counted. Finally, he gave up, shoving it into his back pocket as he looked through the window of the baker's shop. Jessica straightened herself.

Perfect target.

Jessica walked with a meandering stride, looking to be casually crossing the street as she went toward the boy. He was so concentrated on the little cake that was on the other side of the window, he paid no attention to the advancing pickpocket. Slowly, carefully, Jessica crept forward, visualizing her theft as many times as she could.

Just a foot away, the boy straightened up like he had been petrified, then turned on his heel and stared at Jessica with wide eyes. She expected him to go running for his mother, shouting something that would have her running back to the Weasleys in an attempt not to be caught.

But he didn't.

Instead, a grin wider than Delilah's at christmas spread across his face. The kid jumped into her private bubble, just two inches from her skin, and started wildly moving around as he said, "Hello! I'm Timothy Fawcett! You can just call me Tim, though. Who are you? You smell weird. Are you from the village? From somewhere else? I haven't been here in a while, see, and I want a cake, but I'm awful at counting. Sissy thinks I need to get better, but I know she's no better than me!"

Jessica took three steps back. He took four steps forward.

"Where are you going? Grandpa said I shouldn't travel far, but I've been forced to stay inside for so long—"

Jessica dashed around him and power-walked to the Fawcett shop. It only occurred to her when she swung the slick, heavy door open that the kid had said his last name was Fawcett.

"Jessica?" asked Fred. George peered up from the bottle cap he was looking at.

"Did you find—?"

"Grandpa! Look, I found a someone to look at your stuff!" announced the kid as he ran and pounced on Mr Fawcett. The old, white haired man chuckled, taking the harsh hug of the kid as if it were an everyday thing. Perhaps it was.

"Good morning, Miss Coppin," Fawcett told her with a tip of his old, patchy hat. His clothes were in a similar state, though it did not degrade him. His large stature, calloused hands, and battle scarred bare arms portrayed the strength behind his aging eyes.

"Timothy!" came the gasp of a girl who had just come through the shop door. "Where have you been? I was so worried! I thought you had gone off into the hills again—"

She had gone over and fussed over the boy, but the kid shrugged her off.

"I just wanted a piece of cake!" he whined. His eyes met Jessica's, and before her glare could scare him off, he leaped forward and pointed at her. "Look! Look! Look who I found!"

"Jessica, right?" the girl asked. She was much taller than Jessica's sisters, despite being the same age, and she was very thin, long, and petite. Like she had been physically stretched when she was younger.

Jessica nodded. Then she said, "Sarah?" because even though she doubted her memory would fail her, she figured it was polite enough to get her behind the curtain to the really valuable items.

Sarah nodded. "Sorry about Timothy. He's a little hyper after…well…" The girl gave a pleading glance to her grandfather.

Mr. Fawcett cleared her throat. "Why don't take Timothy to the carriage and get him home then, Sarah? Your grandmother will be worried if you stay too long."

"What about you, Grandpa?"

"Oh, a good walk now and then won't hurt me," Mr. Fawcett said. "Now run along. Don't forget to stop at the bakery before you leave, though. I made sure to give him enough money to buy something good." Looking like Christmas had come early, the boy sprang into the air and sprinted out the door, Sarah rushing hopelessly after him.

"I still don't know why you use a carriage," George said. "It'd be so much easier to make a Floo fireplace!" Mr. Fawcett laughed.

"What's life without a little morning adventure? Can't get that teleporting to the place every day, now can't I?" said the old man with a smile befitting a grandfather. "Now! As I understand it, you lot are looking for some wizarding trinkets, eh?"

Everyone's face lit up.

"Come on, then, to the back, like always," the man said, trudging on his bad knees to the back. He touched a panel with his wand, then opened what seemed like an invisible door. One by all, they all went in, moving from the normal muggle pawn shop to an avalanche of lost magical things.

It didn't matter how many times one came to the shop, there was always something new to look at. Books ranging from tiny ice cube-sized ones to circular ones with a diameter as long as a wand were all stacked on top of each other in the back corner, from the ground to the ceiling. There were odd cauldrons lined up beneath a tall table, and gliding paper airplanes that circled the dim light centering the ceiling.

"Let's see…I got an old deck of Exploding Snap cards…couple of crystal balls…a new Cleansweep, though I bet you boys have the newer models already…" The old man was shuffling through an unorganized stack of papers. Looked like boring legal stuff.

"What about those bottle caps? The ones that shrink and fold up?" Fred asked eagerly.

"Bottlecaps? Isn't that what you bought last month? No…No I don't think I have any more of those…Got a Sneakoscope, though. Just a pocket one, of course, but still useful."

Harry, who had been following the gliding paper airplanes with his gaze, looked at the man and tilted his head.

"Sneakoscope? What's that?" he asked.

"A nifty little tool to help detect the untrustworthy," Mr. Fawcett explained, picking up the little glass top. "It isn't as good as the big expensive ones, but it'll keep a lookout for some pesky pranksters." He eyed the troublemaking trio when he said this. They all grinned innocently.

"Would you like it?" Mr. Fawcett asked as Harry gazed at it longingly.

"Oh, I don't have any muggle money, sir, or wizarding money," Harry told him, holding his hands up in refusal.

"It's alright, anything for the vanquisher of You-Know-Who," the old man told Harry, setting the sneakoscope in his hand. The was a sincere look in his eye, and although Jessica had never asked, she knew there was a reason Sarah and Timothy lived with their grandparents.

"Thank you, sir!" Harry said excitedly, staring at every inch of the cheap little thing. Jessica shrugged. 'Whatever makes him happy, I guess,' she thought.

They spent about an hour browsing through Mr. Fawcett's newer items. Nothing really caught their eye, though they did find another bottlecap. They left with a pocket full of sweets after saying a lengthy goodbye.

Jessica took a deep breath of clear air once they were outside She coughed when the strong scent of Timothy Fawcett barged into her nose. She rubbed it, but the smell wouldn't leave.

"Stupid kid," she muttered.

"Who, Sarah's brother?" George asked.

"He seemed like he really liked you," Fred teased. She shoved him in response, though her small stature did little against him. It still felt good.

"I guess he didn't get the hint that Jessica hates little kids," George sniggered.

'And the smell,' she thought irritably, still trying to rub it away. It wasn't working. All she could smell was Timothy and wolf.

Jessica mentally froze.

Wolf…but she hadn't seen Delilah in days, and her own wolf scent was different. Did that mean…

"Have the Fawcetts always acted so strange?" she asked, careful to sound like she was just casually annoyed.

"No, I remember Timothy being a shy kid the few times Mum forced us to go over there, and Sarah didn't even notice him. It must be because he got so terribly sick a few months ago."

"Sick?" Jessica asked.

"Yeah, Mum was sending over a full meal for them every other day!" Fred exclaimed.

"Apparently he was so sick no one could go into his room for several weeks. Quite strange."

"Bet he just got bitten by a garden gnome with rabies or something," Jessica said, waving it off. Internally, however, she knew exactly what had happened. There was only one reason a wizarding family would be containing their child like that, and only one reason Timothy smelled the way she did. And the theory made even more sense when she considered just how he had noticed her coming to pickpocket him.

Timothy Fawcett was a werewolf.

Other than Remus she had never met another werewolf before. Jessica felt a distant pity for the boy, though it only lasted a few seconds. After all, George had pulled the conversation to an upcoming Quidditch match, and considering Ron liked one team and the twins liked the other, it immediately put the thought of another werewolf out of her head.


A/N:

Book 2 of the series!

1st book: The 2 Trios