Chapter 9

"I just don't see why you need to leave so early," said Mrs. Weasley, shaking her head as she set the heaps of dirty laundry around her to sorting themselves by color. She stepped away slightly, backing to the kitchen stairs. "Ron, Harry!" she hollered up them, "if you boys don't get your things down here right now they aren't going to get washed!"

"Because it's Diagon Alley, Mum!" said one of the twins earnestly as if the conversation had never been interrupted. It was Fred. Mrs. Weasley had called the one in the green shirt "Fred" just moments ago, Sadie was sure of it.

"And Sadie's never seen it before!" added George, throwing a pair of Bill's trousers in the "dark" pile just to show how helpful he could be.

Sitting at the kitchen table with a perfect view of the little scullery off to the side, Sadie watched the scene playing out around her with a sort of detached curiosity. As she listened to the conversation, she absently traced the many scars in the surface of the worn table with her fingers. She hadn't slept well, the uncertainty and fear of today's trip stirring up barely buried memories into nightmares. Those visions of the night had left phantom echoes that were still plaguing her in the light of day.

"I don't know, boys," hedged Mrs. Weasley, her face concerned. "Two hours is an awfully long time to be there on your own, and it's still pouring…"

"Hey, mate –" Fred suddenly turned to Harry who was just coming down the stairs with Ron, heaps of dirty clothes filling both their arms. "Help us out here. Diagon Alley, your first time…didn't you want to look at everything?"

"Absolutely," said Harry emphatically. He met Sadie's eyes from across the room and gave her a smile. Shyly, she smiled back, feeling a little warmer inside with the reminder that she had family again.

"See, Mum!" cried George pointedly.

"All right, fine. But you both have to promise me no funny business!" said Mrs. Weasley, skewering her sons with a shrewd glance.

"We solemnly swear we will be very good," the two chimed in unison. Harry suddenly choked on a snort of laughter, covering his mouth and trying to look innocent, which for some reason that Sadie couldn't figure out caused George to throw him a pointed glare.

Mrs. Weasley apparently didn't buy her sons' sincerity either; she stared at them with her eyes narrowed and suspicious for so long that even Sadie started to squirm.

"Do you have any Wizard Wheezey things on you?" she finally asked, hands planted on her hips.

"No," they said instantly, shaking their heads as they helpfully turned out their own pockets this time. George even went so far as to unroll the cuffs of his pants without prodding.

"How could we?" said George innocently. "You destroyed them all, remember?"

Mrs. Weasley didn't reply to that for another uncomfortably long moment, glaring at them as if trying to find a catch or clause in what they'd just said. Finally, she seemed to admit that she couldn't fault their logic and went on.

"Did you bring me all your dirty laundry? I will not have a repeat of last year! Going until Halloween without washing anything!"

"Yes, Mum," they answered smartly.

Even though she was still sitting at the table in the other room, Sadie found herself drawn completely into what was happening, her nervous fingers stilling and a smile creeping across her face as she watched the twins' antics. Fred sent her a conspiratorial wink, but unfortunately it also attracted his mother's attention. She zoned in on him.

"That shirt. I don't remember washing it. When was the last time this shirt was washed, Fred Weasley?"

"March twelfth," Fred answered without hesitation.

"You are not leaving this house until that shirt is in a pile to be washed," his mother said firmly, hands planted on the flowered apron that covered her hips.

"Okay," said Fred coolly. Immediately, he began unbuttoning. Sensing his intention, George jumped right in, humming a catchy tune. Fred grinned in approval and threw himself into the show, undoing each button slowly and deliberately before peeling the shirt off with a flourish. By the time he was finished, Ron and Harry were leaning against the wall, clutching their sides as they fought sporadic snorts of laughter. Even Mrs. Weasley seemed to be holding back a grin as she rolled her eyes.

Laughing silently, Sadie found the whole thing very amusing and, strangely enough, a bit comforting – to be surrounded by a real family once more – a completely normal (if not slightly insane) family. Every moment here with them seemed to deal another blow to the demons of her past that tried daily to consume her, to eat her alive from the inside. What surprised her most, however, was the strange rush of color she felt flood her cheeks at the sight of Fred standing there starkers from the waist up as he tossed his shirt theatrically onto the correct pile. She'd grown up with seven brothers; it wasn't like she hadn't seen a bare chest or two before. Why did she feel the need to blush this time?

"So, can we go now, Mum?" asked Fred, an utterly innocent grin plastered on his face as he stood there, arms crossed against his thin chest.

"A deal is a deal," said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes twinkling as she shook her head. "Though might I suggest putting on another shirt first? We don't want all the witches falling into fainting fits over your manly physique."

That was too much for Ron and Harry who finally dissolved into helpless peals of laughter on the floor.

"Laugh it up, boys. I know you're just jealous. Besides, Sadie thinks I'm tan and manly, don't you?"

Sadie jumped as the unexpected question caught her completely off guard and she froze.

"Me – manly and tan, right?" Fred emphasized again, sticking his chest out when she didn't answer.

Her first reaction was to blush and look away, saying nothing in the face of all the eyes staring at her, but for a reason Sadie couldn't quite explain she found herself pushing that instinct aside and reaching for another, long-buried one instead. *Manly and tan?* She shook her head with a tiny, teasing smile. *More like skinny and pale.*

"Ha!" snorted George, jabbing a triumphant finger at his twin. "I don't know sign language, but I'm betting you just got told, dearest brother!"

"Oh, go put some clothes on, Fred, and then get out of here you three!" laughed Mrs. Weasley, making shooing motions with her arms. "I can't get any work done with you lot in here. Just make sure you BEHAVE!"

As Sadie followed the twins out of the kitchen, she couldn't help watching Fred's bare back. It really wasn't that skinny and pale…

00000

Clutching her glasses tightly with one hand and clinging to Fred's arm with the other, Sadie gritted her teeth as she was jostled and bumped like a lose marble in a shaken can. Glimpses of rooms flashed by, stirring up her stomach in a wave of nausea even though it was only seconds before she found herself tumbling out of a fireplace on her hands and knees in a puff of ash and soot. She rested there for a moment, breathing carefully with relief, until a hand appeared in front of her smudged glasses.

"Thrilling ride, isn't it?"

It was George. She grasped his hand and let him pull her upright, not surprised to see he was grinning.

Thrilling wasn't the word Sadie would have chosen to describe the short trip. On the whole, she was not enamored with the forms of wizard transportation she'd encountered so far. What was wrong with a truck or a nice, stable subway train?

Her thoughts must have shown on her face because both twins burst out laughing, Fred slapping his arms and legs as he did and sending great billows of dirt into the air.

"Ask Harry about his first experience with Floo powder sometime," chuckled Fred. "And don't worry, it gets better."

Unconvinced, Sadie swatted at the ash covering the cloak Ginny had loaned her, hating that the wild trip had left it dirty. At least she wouldn't have to worry about this particular mode of transportation very often; her inability to speak prevented her from using the Floo on her own.

"The Alley must be super busy today if the Floo is spitting us out here in the Menagerie," mused a still laughing George and for the first time Sadie noticed her surroundings.

The room was warm with a musty scent that reminded her of a barn. And that made perfect sense because as she glanced around she could see that it was filled to the roof with any kind of small animal she could imagine. Owls hooted and flapped their wings in cages overhead, ravens cawed, and cats slept on every surface, ignoring people with practiced ease.

It was chaotic – and wonderful!

The twins urged her out of the way as the sputtering of the fireplace behind them announced the imminent arrival of more people, but once unfrozen, Sadie needed no encouragement to keep moving. Her fear of wands forgotten for the moment, she roamed the crowded shop, taking it all in and pausing here and there to scratch the head of a lazy cat lounging on a shelf or counter.

"You like animals don't you?" Fred asked her after a while, and his face was kind, lacking any of the usual teasing Sadie had come to associate with the twins.

She nodded solemnly, knowing it was true. Animals didn't need words to understand her; she had always felt they could look into her eyes and know her soul. They gave love and affection unconditionally, no matter what, and they had been one of the few things there to offer comfort during the darkest parts of her life.

"We've never had a pet," said George from her other side.

"Didn't need to –"

"Had each other –"

"But I suppose they are kind of cute –" Fred leaned over and squinted skeptically at a hedgehog sort of animal that promptly squeaked in alarm and curled up in a ball.

"– in a weird, fuzzy, smelly sort of way," finished George, poking experimentally at a limp lizard that didn't even open an eye.

"You know, when you put it like that, I guess we do have a pet." Fred straightened up and grinned. "We have Ron."

"True, Fred. So true."

Sadie shook her head and smiled. Stopping in front of a tangle of half-grown kittens, she scooped up a gray tabby and pulled it into her arms, scratching under its chin and along its tummy. The cat closed its eyes in ecstasy, purring and stretching out.

"So that's how it's done," grinned George. "Fred, we are in the presence of an expert."

Each of the twins took a minute petting the happy kitten before Sadie reluctantly put it back with its siblings.

"Ready?" asked Fred.

"The whole Alley still awaits you, after all," added George, gesturing grandly toward the store's exit.

She nodded, feeling the nerves crash back into her as they shouldered their way through the crowded shop and out the door.

Outside, the rain continued its downpour. A cold fog rolled and swelled through the cobbled street, obscuring the crooked, twisted buildings and bundled people rushing by. For just a moment as she pulled her hood up around her own face, Sadie was transported to a different time and place. In her mind, the wizarding shops stretched and grew, becoming the heights of a concrete maze. She heard again the honk of horns and mad rush of New York City traffic mingled with the cries of vendors and voices of ordinary people in a dozen different languages. It stirred a strange sense of homesickness that she hadn't expected. How could she miss a place that had often been nothing but miserable?

"Come on," said Fred, jerking her out of her thoughts as he grabbed her hand. "Time's wasting!"

00000

They left the Menagerie and headed down the Alley, stopping first to wander through Quality Quidditch Supplies and several other used broomstick stores. Sadie gazed dutifully at every find they pointed out, but to Fred the little smile on her face seemed rather fixed. Maybe Quidditch just wasn't her cup of tea, or maybe the brooms and equipment simply brought back the emotions of that awful night at the World Cup. Red images of fear and death flashed through his own brain unannounced as he remembered and, repressing a shudder, he dragged George away from a used Firebolt with only five-hundred miles on it. Best to move on to shops that hopefully triggered safer memories.

As they passed by, the frilly robes and ridiculous hats in the widows at Madam Malkin's and Twilfitt and Tatting's drew Sadie's interest next. She paused to study them, her eyes wrinkled in puzzlement. To Fred's utter relief, though, she shook her head no when asked if she wanted to enter. Their new friend seemed awed and a little intimidated by wizarding fashion; she definitely wasn't ready to embrace it. That was fine by him. Imagine the fallout if someone like Lee happened by while George and he were skulking in the corner of one of those shops, sandwiched between the lacy, mauve dressrobes and moonbeam, silk stilettos? The shame would be complete and reputation-ending; they'd have to switch schools to escape it – a wizarding school somewhere in the outer reaches of the Amazon no doubt.

The day was too cold for ice cream, and the sheer number of bodies crammed into the tea shop made Sadie turn pale. It took a lot of cajoling, but they did persuade her to give Sugarplum's Sweets Shop a try. It was a good choice. They emerged fifteen minutes later with bulging pockets, Sadie's faltering smile firmly back in place, and Fred silently praising Bill and his timely loan of cash that morning.

Which brought them to where they were now, standing in the entrance to Flourish and Blotts as Sadie's eyes grew round with amazement at the stacks and stacks of books. Fred grinned as he watched Sadie frozen in the doorway, her face alight with pure wonder and delight for the first time that day.

"Great," muttered George, rolling his eyes. "She's gonna pull a Granger on us, Fred! Look at her!"

"Yep…" replied Fred, shaking his head. "I reckon we've got another one," he said with an exaggerated sigh.

Sadie gave no response or sign that she even heard them, still looking this way and that with open awe.

"Go on," Fred urged after a moment, shoving her gently forward. "Knock yourself out looking at whatever you want."

"We have to find something anyway," added George.

"Meet you back here in half an hour?" finished Fred.

She nodded and then moved off through the stacks, looking completely at ease and sure of herself for the first time all day.

"If she starts leaving me Helpful Homework Hints and Schedules in my textbooks like someone else we don't mention I just might go spare…" mumbled George, still looking doubtfully at Sadie's back.

"You-Know-Who leaves you homework hints? Blimey, I feel robbed. Do you think he'd be willing to branch out? Merlin knows I could use the help with Potions."

George smacked him on the shoulder but didn't dignify that particular comeback with a response.

"Besides, don't you know Hermione just wants us to live up to our full potential?" Fred couldn't stop the desire to have the last word. "Now, come on, we actually have work to do today. This was your idea after all."

They weren't entirely sure what they were looking for, just going off of a vague hunch and the trust that their guts would lead them to the right place. They usually did. Fred couldn't quite explain how that happened, but so far those instincts had never failed them. So, acting on that trust, Fred led the way through the winding towers to the dark, musty corner at the back of the shop. Here were kept the very oldest of books, ancient tomes that had been collecting dust as they sat unsold on the shelves for centuries.

"You reckon they even remember these old things are still on their inventory?" asked George as he poked gingerly at a leather bound volume that appeared ready to return to dust itself at the slightest movement.

"I reckon they remember well enough to make us pay for them, if we find what we need. Look, you start on that end and I'll work toward you from over here."

Half an hour later they stood in the queue for the till, several tattered books clutched in their hands. For the first time, Fred was grateful for the crowds of shoppers – mostly Hogwarts students and their families rushing to make last minute purchases. On a normal day, the books George and he were trying to buy would probably raise enough alarm to merit a Floo home. Today, however, when they stepped up to pay, Fred kept up a jolly, running conversation distracting the owner with the latest gossip according to Auntie Muriel while George bought the books. It worked and the harried, frazzled girl working the till barely gave them a second look.

"Step one accomplished," George said few moments later, stuffing the books into his bag where they were out of sight and away from questioning eyes, especially those of their mother.

"Right, now to find Sadie," replied Fred.

That turned out to be easier said than done.

They searched all the normal, Hermione-ish sections: Potions, History, Self-Help… They even ventured into the "Girl's" section, at great risk to their self-respect, but with no luck. Finally, almost twenty minutes later, they rounded a corner in one of the upper reaches of the shop and found her sitting on the floor of the isle, lost to the world in the pages of a book.

Fred glanced at the sign on the shelf. "Muggle Fiction?" he questioned with a snort of disbelief.

Sadie started slightly, noticing them for the first time. George stepped forward and pulled the book from her hand, turning it around to read the title.

"The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.* Hmm, interesting. Maybe you aren't another Granger after all." There was palpable relief mixed with the mirth in his voice.

Sadie eyed George in open confusion as she climbed to her feet.

"Don't mind him, he's just being a git," said Fred, smacking his brother on the back of the head.

With an uncertain smile, Sadie took the book back from George and started to return it to a shelf.

"Wait, don't you want to finish it?"

A wistful look crossed her face, and he wondered if she was remembering something from the life she never spoke of. But, no sooner was it there than it was gone. As she hesitantly indicated that she'd read the tale before, Fred thought about everything she didn't – no couldn't – say. Would she have shared more with them if she was able? Did she have secrets and feelings she longed to share but couldn't?

"One of your favorites, huh?" he said kindly, now more determined than ever to follow through with George's idea.

She nodded.

"Well, that settles it then." He pulled the hardback off the shelf again. "Everyone needs a copy of their favorite book." Good thing they asked both Bill and Charlie for loans that morning. They were burning through the Galleons in a hurry today.

Ignoring Sadie's silent protests that eventually melted into a bashful stillness, Fred marched down the stairs to again join the jostling queue.

Ten minutes later they finally emerged back out into the rainy street, Sadie carefully clutching her new book under her cloak to keep it dry and beaming from ear to ear.

"We still have time to hit Gamble and Japes if we hurry," said George, his voice muffled by the water that continued to stream unbroken from heavy, grey clouds. He gestured down the cobbled road to the brightly lit sign.

"Oh yeah, we need to restock and you'll love this store!" Fred agreed eagerly, and they both swept her along without giving her time to answer.

Gamble and Japes proved to be a huge success. The guarded, ever-wary look that had haunted Sadie since the moment she arrived at his house finally slid completely away, replaced as they wandered the well-stocked shelves with a wonderful yet totally silent laugh. George and he showed her the best of the store's products and she loved them all. No wrinkling of her nose in disapproval or tell-tale rolling of the eyes in boredom: just excited joy. And best of all, no more slightly broken smile that never reached her eyes. Fred realized that buried behind the fear that life had forced on her was a wicked sense of humor and fun, one that had been starved for far too long. He vowed to do whatever he could to make sure Sadie's laugh stuck around.

As Sadie touched a feather-duster, jumping back with a huge smile when it squawked suddenly and turned into a chicken, Fred shared a glace with his twin. A strange thought had been tugging at him for the last little while. A quick conversation without words told him he wasn't alone in his thought and a mutual decision was effortlessly made.

"Come on, Sadie. Time to go. There's one more place we want to show you before we meet Dad," said Fred.

"Yeah, old Japes over there seems to be taking exception to you setting off all his fake cleaning products at once anyway," George added with a laugh, nodding to the wizened old man glowering at them from behind the counter. "Not that we don't approve, of course, but still probably best if we leave now."

George quickly paid for their armload of stuff and then the three of them ran out into the soggy weather again, still laughing. Fred grabbed Sadie's hand and pulled her along, splashing through puddles as they went.

After a few minutes they came to a stop in front of an old, dilapidated building, their clothing soaked. Water dripped off the end of Fred's nose, and Sadie's hair was plastered across her face in wild strings. Absentmindedly, she brushed it clear of her glasses with a pale hand.

"So, what do you think," he asked.

She studied the abandoned site for a moment, then glanced at them quizzically.

"Number 93, Diagon Alley. We know, it's not much to look at now, is it?" admitted George quietly.

"But someday it will be. Someday it's gonna be smashing," added Fred, feeling a bit solemn. This…this ramshackle dump of a building was their dream, one they'd never shared with anyone else until today. They'd noticed it last year and, after a bit of careful poking around and quietly asking the right questions to the right people, discovered it had been on the market for a very long time. It was ugly and broken and no one wanted it.

Except for them.

They'd learned a long time ago not to make judgments based on only what was visible to the eye. This old building had heart – they could feel it. Someday it would light up the entire Alley.

Fred was pulled out of his musing by Sadie gesturing at them and then back at the empty shop.

"Oh, no, it's not ours," he groused. "Not yet."

"Might have been, if that rotter Bagman hadn't cheated," George added darkly.

"But we'll figure it out. And then you'll see. This place will be the best joke shop the world has ever known."

"Even Mum will have to like it because it will be so grand."

One of Sadie's eyebrows arched skeptically.

"Hey, if you're gonna dream, dream humongous, right?" said Fred throwing his arms wide in exaggeration.

Warily, Sadie reached out and touched a board that was dangling crookedly. It gave a shudder and slid to the ground with a soggy thump.

"Well, it's more of an incremental dream, though," said George with a shrug.

"Yeah, we have steps. A plan. We're working on it."

A strange nervousness welled up in the pit of Fred's stomach as he watched Sadie look at "their" shop. He didn't know why, but he really wanted her to understand – to appreciate their dream. After a moment of pondering the decrepit building intently, she turned around and for just a moment, her face was unreadable.

Suddenly, a bright smile broke out on her face and she signed something slowly and deliberately that Fred was pretty sure boiled down to, *It's amazing!*

"Yep," he said in unison with George, "it is."

*The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes was written by Arthur Conan Doyle in 1892.