Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Positives and Negatives

"You put the batteries in wrong", I blurted out without meaning too. But the statement gained the full attention of the two fully grown men. Ever since they brought Flint Senior to visit, Mr. and Mrs. Pucey had been frequent guests at the Burrow. It was something Mum tolerated, though I'm not sure why. Mrs. Pucey always came with gifts of baked goods or foreign teas. And after Mum refused her help in cleaning up after we had tea or shared a meal, she'd sit with me; offering her help with my school work. Or she'd tell me stories about the years she spent as a student at Beauxbatons.

Dad, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the company; finding a kindred spirit in Mr. Pucey. While not as fascinated with muggles as Dad was, Mr. Pucey processed a love for all things mechanical; magically powered or otherwise. "What do you mean?" Mr. Pucey asked with intrigue.

"There's a wrong and right way to use batteries?" Dad voiced his own question, alongside his new friend.

Realizing what I had just gotten myself into, I sighed as I closed the book about the French Goblin wars Mrs. Pucey had brought over for me to use for my essay for Binns. Standing, it took two steps away from my chair and down the table where Dad was sitting across from Mr. Pucey. Between them sat the Furby that Mr. Pucey had been so fascinated with when he had visited with Flint senior. Ever since dinner has ended, they've been trying to get the blasted thing to work.

Reaching over Dad's shoulder, I picked up the Furby and turned it upside down so the batteries' slots were facing upward. With my free hand, I picked out one of the wrongly inserted batteries. "See this side", I said to Dad as I held the battery in the palm of my hand for him to see. Mr. Pucey leaned over the table to get a closer look as well. "The side that has the plus sign?" When Dad and Mr. Pucey nodded, I continued. "That's the positive side". I flipped the battery over in my hand. "The side with the minus sign is the negative side". Then I moved the Furby closer for them to see the little signs embossed on the plastic. "You have to match the signs", I explained as I worked to fix the batteries.

In one movement, I turned the Furby on by turning it over. It opened its robotic eyes and made a yawning sound and announcing "me sleep again", before making snoring sounds. Well… it was just as annoying as Jessie remembered it to be.

But the way Dad's and Mr. Pucey's eyes lit up, you'd think I had just awakened Frankenstein's monster. "What on earth was that?" Mum called from where she was attending to the dishes. It was probably the first computerized voice she has ever heard. Honestly, I was surprised it worked. I thought electronics didn't work around magic.

"Your daughter fixed our husbands' toy for them", Mrs. Pucey answered with mirth in her voice. She was sitting across from where I had been sitting previously; reading over my half-written easy.

"It's not a toy", Mr. Pucey interjected a bit stiffly. "I suspect it's some sort of Muggle security system".

"It's a toy", I said. Though the thought of a Furby scaring off intruders was funny.

Dad turned his eyes back to me; eagerness shining out of his pupils. "How does it work? These…these batteries?"

I blinked twice as I tried to recall what Jessie's fifth-grade teacher had taught her about electricity. "Um…" I said as I started to explain a concept I no longer had any use for. "The battery holds power. When you put it in the right way, it makes a closed circuit that… allows the Furby to access that… power". I thought over what I just said; looking upwards as I did so. Yes… That sounded vaguely correct.

Dad's eyes were dancing as he reached out and turned the Furby on again. "U-nye-boh-doo? The Furby asked in its made-up language after it had opened its eyes again; wiggling its ears.

"How do batteries work?" Dad asked.

"What is a closed circuit?" asked Mr. Pucey.

"How do the batteries hold power?"

"How did the power get put inside of the battery?"

"And what does that have to do with positives and negatives".

At the bombardment of questions, I stumbled to find answers. "Well, they… it's…it's like…" and when nothing came to me, I had to admit that I didn't actually know. Holding my hands out in front of me, I started to back away towards my seat. "I don't know. I studied political science when I was in college". I sank back down into my chair and turned my attention back on the history book. Hopefully, Mrs. Pucey would help me write the concluding paragraph, and I could owl it off the school in the morning. How does Binns even grade these essays, anyway? He's a ghost. He can't pick up parchment let alone hold a quill.

But Mr. Pucey wasn't quite done with me yet. "You were a politician in your past life?" His voice was stained with disbelief.

"No", Dad answered for me. "She just studied politics".

"So, you were a historian?" Was Mr. Pucey's next question.

I could feel Dad's eyes on me; telling me that he didn't quite understand what Jessie had studied in college either.

"No…" I answered slowly, looking towards Mrs. Pucey to see if she would help me get out of this conversation. But she was smiling to herself as she pretended to read my essay. "I just studied politics and the effects politics had on… well, everything".

Still, Mr. Pucey did not find my answer satisfactory. "And what did you do for a living with the knowledge of politics?"

At least I know the answer to this question. "I was an office administrator".

Mr. Pucey frowned at his lack of understanding. "And you need knowledge of politics to run an office?"

"…no".

There was a loud clang when Mum placed a clean and dry pot back in its proper place. "Loud sound", the Furby announced. "Me scared".

Sometimes, when Mum thought I needed to get out of the house, she'd send me to the Puceys' country home. I'm not sure if it was my imagination, but the atmosphere in their home was different without Adrian. It was stuffy and more formal. Although, Mr. Pucey's tools and half-finished inventions were still scattered all over the house. During these visits, Mr. Pucey mostly stayed downstairs in his workshop. Though, he would occasionally come upstairs to ask Mrs. Pucey if she knew where he had placed a missing object. Mrs. Pucey kept me company. We'd have tea. Prepared by a house-elf, but served by herself. "Marcellus doesn't approve of having house-elves", Mrs. Pucey explained. "He believes that it is much more dignified for a person to take responsibility for their own needs. However, I'm rubbish in the kitchen so a compromise was made".

She liked to talk about what finger sandwiches paired best with what brew. She could go on and on about greeting guests and responding to written correspondence, and all the little jobs she took on to keep the household and the family business running smoothly. I found these topics boring, but couldn't help but feel that she was trying to teach me things.

Often, Flint senior would join us. It was never a surprise, and Mum and Dad always knew when I would be seeing my legal counsel. But they didn't join me on these visits. "You need to pay attention to him, not us", was their reason. Because, when Flint senior visited the Puceys with me, he would work with me on how I should answer questions at Lockhart's trial. The trial that we still haven't been given a date for.

Flint senior's favorite form of practice was having me sit in a straight back, armless chair in the middle of the room as he walked around me in circles. "You'll be sitting at the center of the room with dozens upon dozens of people staring at you. Where are you going to look?"

"At whoever is talking to me", it answered. It was a rehearsed response. My original answer had been I don't know. And Flint senior was quick to tell me the answer he wanted to hear. I wasn't sure what good this practice was going to do. Nothing was going to prepare me for the real thing.

"There's going to be press. Cameras flashing and multiple people trying to talk over each other. If one of them gets too close to you and makes you uncomfortable, what will you do?" Flint senior asked as he made another rotation around the chair I was sitting in. He had his hands clasped behind his back as he walked; completely in business mode.

"Let you handle it". Of course, if I 'accidentally stepped on someone's toes, I doubt anyone would call me out on it.

"Lockhart's lawyers are going to throw everything they can at you. They'll rephrase questions they've already asked to try to get you to change your answer. They'll pick apart everything you say. Anything to make it seem like you do not have credibility".

Flint Senior didn't have to phrase this one as a question for me to respond. This wasn't the first time we had done this. "I'll stick to the story", I said; my intonation a bit flat. Sometimes, Flint senior would give me practice trial questions with the purpose of trying to get me to react. Hopefully, he'd spare me of that today.

Flint hummed as he changed direction as he continued to circle. He passed by Mrs. Pucey sitting on the sofa as she witnessed this whole procedure. She'd remember everything Flint senior told me so she could relay the information to Mum and Dad. Because they all believed that I wouldn't. And they were probably correct. "You appear tired, Miss Weasley. You have some rather dark circles under your eyes. Trouble sleeping?"

Oh, how lovely of him to notice. I thought with a roll of my eyes. "Yes", I answered just to keep this practice moving along. My nightmares hadn't gotten any worse since Mum pulled me from school. I was just having more difficulty going back to sleep after I had a nightmare because I was far away from Fred and George.

"Ethically, I can't tell you to neglect your health. But this is a good look for a traumatized victim", Flint senior said. It was his way of telling me to keep up appearances and to continue losing sleep.

"I noticed it too", Mrs. Pucey spoke up. She was good about stepping up when it looked like I was close to attacking Lord Flint with my wand. It happened at least once every time I met with him. "Molly shared with me that Holly has suffered from nightmares since she was very young. I don't think Lockhart is the cause".

There was a small moment of reprieve as Flint senior thought over Mrs. Pucey's words. "Are your nightmares common knowledge?" He asked.

I didn't even bother to give a verbal answer. I just nodded. After four years of living in the Gryffindor dorms, and Fred and George's roommates waking up to me being in either Fred or George's beds; I'd say it's common knowledge.

"Pity", Flint senior said before moving on. Done with his pacing, he sat down next to Mrs. Pucey on the sofa. "Have you thought about what you're going to wear when we go to court?"

Having a flashback to Jessie's sophomore homecoming, I shrugged. "Whatever I pull out of my dresser that morning".

Lord Flint's lip curled back in a sneer. I can't tell if it was out of amusement or disapproval of my response. "We should make sure the school girl vibe is obvious". Vibe? Schoolgirl is a vibe now? "Wear the skirt from your school uniform. Make sure it's knee-length, and avoid any clothing that hints at your house. Of course, they will know you are a Gryffindor but we don't want to motivate anyone's implicit biases", Flint senior said as he stared at me.

I shifted in the chair uncomfortably. Why did my clothes matter? It wasn't like I was on trial.

"Any modest blouse would suffice", Flint senior said as he finished planning my wardrobe.

"Should I put my hair into twin braids too", I asked sarcastically.

Lord Flint smirked and didn't rise to the challenge. That was one thing that annoyed me about Adrian and the Flints. Sarcasm had no effect on them.

I didn't go straight home after Flint senior was done with me. Mrs. Pucey would find some sort of sweet for us to eat, and she'd give me time to collect myself. I liked this part of my visit the best because this is when Mrs. Pucey would break out her photo albums. The ones that contained Adrian's baby pictures.

"And that's the first time Marcellus and I took Adrian to the beach", Mrs. Pucey explained as she pointed to a picture containing a toddler Adrian sitting in the sand and frowning at the camera. In most of the pictures of baby and toddler Adrian, he was frowning. It wasn't a sad-looking frown. More of an annoyed one. I just found it funny that it was a facial expression that had not changed as he grew. "He refused to go in the water the whole time we were there". Mrs. Pucey elaborated.

And that made sense. Adrian never talked about having any phobias, but he had drowned in his past life. It wasn't far-reaching that Adrian wouldn't like large bodies of water. "Does Adrian know how to swim?" I wondered out loud without really meaning to ask.

"Oh, yes", Mrs. Pucey answered. "We made sure of it. But it isn't something he enjoys doing". Mrs. Pucey turned the page without pointing out any of the other pictures on it. The next picture she pointed out was baby Adrian sitting in the middle of a circle of open books. And not picture books. It looked like the books I could pull from the shelves at Hogwarts' library. In this picture, Adrian wore a sort of 'deer in the headlights' type expression. Like he had gotten caught doing something he shouldn't be doing. "That was the first time I started thinking Adrian might be a bit different from other children", Mrs. Pucey shared. "We thought he was just pretending to read Marcellus' books. Though we now know that he had been reading. Or at least, Adrian attempted to read. He may have had the knowledge of his adult self, but he didn't have the attention span.

I nodded to show that I understood. I remember those days. Being so bored by plush toys, having undeveloped motor skills, and the only things people want to talk to you about was the names of colors and body parts, and the different sounds animals make. And when the rare opportunity presented itself to do something more mature, like reading, you become distracted or tired after two minutes. "Adrian said he told you about his past life when he was three".

Mrs. Pucey hmmed her answer. "It was a bit of a shock. Adrian barely talked, and then one day he opened his mouth and was talking in full sentences. Using words that we hadn't taught him". A small laugh escaped Mrs. Pucey's lips before she could reign it in. "While Marcellus and I were just staring at him, shell shocked at what our three-year-old said, Adrian demanded that we stop asking him to wave bye to anyone who visited us. He called it demeaning".

I found myself smiling. It was easy to envision what Mrs. Pucey was describing. On the next page was a picture that had me laughing unrestrained. Adrian was laying on his back glaring up at the camera wearing only a nappy. He couldn't have been older than a few months in this photo.

Mrs. Pucey shook her head and sighed. "We were trying to get a nice picture to send out with our family Christmas card. Needless to say, there was no picture that year".

My eyes were watering; I was laughing so hard. It's perfect. So much potential. Especially if it was given to the right person. "Can I have that?" I forced out as I worked to catch my breath.

Mrs. Pucey smiled at me. "I can make a duplicate. But only if you promise to do something clever with it". She pulled out her wand and typed the picture. Muttering "geminio", in the process.

A moment later, I had an exact copy of Adrian's baby picture in my hand. "I already have something in mind", I assured Mrs. Pucey. It would be payback getting the Flints involved.

When I went home, Mum was arguing with Dad about keeping the Furby in the house. I walked past the both of them and headed straight for my room; ready to write a letter.

Dear Professor Black,

Congratulations on your new job. You've probably gotten some of the homework I've mailed. I know I'm a bit behind because I'm learning at home and I missed a lot of classes when I was Flitwick's assistant. So, I thought I would turn something in for extra credit. I think it's enough to bump my grade up by one letter. Let me know if you would be willing to give me an outstanding if I do more extra credit. I'm positive I can find more.

From,

Holly Weasley

I attached my copy of Adrian's baby picture to letter. For a minute, I studied it with great scrutiny so it was committed to memory before I folded the letter and left to find an envelope and Erroll. Heh, Adrian was going to kill me.