May 2nd, 1692. Salem, Massachusetts.

The cells of the Salem jail are dark, damp and dirty. They have a single, incredibly small, barred window at one end and a thick wooden door at the other, also complete with a small, barred window—well, more like a tiny rectangle, really. The only light that ever comes in to the small space is from those windows, and it is barely enough to even be counted as light. The air is thick with heat and positively reeks of sweat and urine. Whenever it is high tide, the jail is often flooded with a good few inches of water. It comes up to my ankles and I am forced to stand until it recedes so that my dress does not get wet. Although, it is dirty and ragged enough by now.

The cells are also tiny and claustrophobic. I can lie flat on my back and fill up the entire length of cell three hundred and twenty seven, which is the cell I've been assigned. My head touches one wall and my feet touch the door, meaning the cell is five feet, five inches long. As for width, I am not sure of the exact measurements, but I estimate that there is only enough room for me to extend my arms if I bent my wrists and pressed my palms against the cold, dirty stone. I cannot test it for certain, though, considering my wrists have been bound together by iron shackles, the chain in between them just long enough to give me the ability to write.

Even so, I am writing this with difficulty and my handwriting is nearly illegible, but I need to write this down somehow. Mainly for myself and to maintain some sliver of sanity, however small it may be. But also for anyone who may read this diary in the future. Whether it be my child, if they survive this, or someone else. The truth needs to be known. The truth of how harshly the conditions are for those accused. The fact that some of the accused are not even magical at all. They know nothing about magic or spells or flying on a broomstick. But most of all the fact that we have all been accused of being evil, magic or not. We have been accused of making deals with the devil and carrying out his work by torturing the young girls of the village. We have been accused of harming members of our own community. None of it is true, but no one will listen to us. Our words fall on deaf ears.

Friends from other towns have even come to my and John's defense, claiming we would never harm another person. A petition was even started and it gained quite a few signatures, but it was no use. John and I are still imprisoned on opposite sides of this terrible place filled with rats, prisoners and hopelessness.

I spend most of my days lying diagonally across my cell. It gives me a bit more room. Not much, of course, but it is slightly more comfortable than lying straight across. In fact, I had been lying like that only moments ago, before I decided to sit up and write. I like to lie flat on my back as I gaze up at the ceiling, tracing a hand over my stomach-the best I can with my wrists chained together. It is hard to believe that only a mere four weeks ago, I found out that I was pregnant. A joyous piece of news, only for the joy to be snuffed out completely when the judge had shown up with a warrant for my arrest.

Since then, I have been examined and questioned, poked and prodded for any signs of witchcraft. I was forced to strip myself completely naked in front of the examiners while they looked for any of the physical marks of a witch. They found a mole on the very top of my left thigh, in the back, and spent a considerate amount of time prodding and examining it while I fought back tears and tried to steady my shaking limbs. I had never felt so utterly violated in my entire life.

And then I was thrown in the jail. Families of the imprisoned are ordered to pay for everything. The examinations, the cells, the food and even the shackles and chains. If they can't, they were denied these things. They were put in a small chamber, just big enough for a body to stand in-practically a vertical coffin.

I suppose I am lucky. My cell is small, but John and I had enough money to pay to stay in one like it. Unfortunately, this was not the way we had foreseen ever spending our hard earned money-and all our costs were doubled because we were both serving time. We could have been saving money for the start of our family-for our child-but instead it was going towards our terrible provisions here at the Salem jail.

The one bit of luck—the tiniest, insignificant detail, and yet the luckiest thing that had happened since my arrest—is that I have been placed in a cell beside Sarah and Dorothy. They occupy the cell to my left. Soon after I had arrived here, I had discovered a loose stone in the corner of the wall between the two cells. I had been looking for a place to stash this diary besides magically shrinking it and hiding it on me. I was always afraid it would be found during an examination.

Anyway, I found the loose stone and managed to wedge it out to reveal a space big enough to hide the diary, but also a hole that opened up to the next cell where I was pleasantly surprised to see Sarah and Dorothy huddled together. By laying diagonally with our heads closest to the hole, we found we could whisper to each other to communicate. Besides the diary, it was the only other thing preventing me from going insane. I suspected Sarah felt the same way.

And poor Dorothy. She was only four years old and had endured a tremendous amount of pain in suffering. It has been a little over a month since her arrest and prison was taking a toll on her. Sarah told me the child had cried almost every night for a week after she arrived here. In fact, she had wailed. Until the guards put an end to it. Yelled at her, denied her meals (if some meager portions of bread and fruit three times a day could be called meals) and one even came in and slapped her. Eventually the crying stopped and Dorothy became quiet. She now only speaks to her mother and, on occasion, me. Sarah said the poor girl was probably clinging to the only two sources of comfort she currently knew.

I have told the judge and the prison guards that I am expecting and they accused me of lying. But they will find out the truth soon when the evidence begins to show. It will buy me some extra time, but not much. Sarah, though, has even less time than I do, I fear. And where will that leave Dorothy? If she is not executed herself, she will either remain in jail until her father can pay her release fees, or she will be released to continue life as she was before: penniless, homeless, and by that point, motherless. And with me and John gone, too, I fear what will become of the poor girl. I fear what all of this emotional trauma will do to her. I fear what will happen if she does not continue to have proper guidance.

I know it should be me and my unborn child I worry about, and I do. More than anything. Being locked up in this cell gives me a lot of time to think and a lot of time to wallow in my thoughts. But I also cannot help but worry about Dorothy. She and Sarah have grown to be good friends of mine and I have always wanted to fiercely protect those who are closest to me. I have always enjoyed helping people and giving advice. But I fear the ability to help these people is now beyond my control. And while I am already wildly in love with my unborn child already, and while my pregnancy postpones my execution for a few months, it also puts me in the worst position imaginable.

The position of having to watch everyone I love get taken away before me while I stand by, powerless and unable to do a thing. It is impossible to save everyone. I know that. But what happens when you cannot even save anyone? When, despite your actual magic powers, you still remain powerless? And using those magical powers to do something will only make things worse? When no matter what you do, you are always going to be, in someone's eyes...guilty?


"You look like you're a million years away."

I was finishing up my closing duties at the pub that Friday night when Noah came into the kitchen with the last pile of dishes to be cleaned. He placed them next to the sink before leaning in and quickly kissing my cheek.

I gave him a small smile as I glanced up at him. It was true, what he'd said. I'd been completely lost in thought before he'd come in. The twins had the diary today. I'd been curious and a little worried about Fred reading it. I knew the last little bit of it would really resonate with him. And then he and George hadn't come in for dinner and drinks like they usually did on Fridays. Instead, George had come in alone and taken food home with him. I'd noticed him come in and stand by the bar, letting Tom know he was waiting. Once Tom had disappeared to get the food, I had made my way over to George. When I'd asked if everything was okay, he'd nodded and said Fred had just wanted to stay in and think.

All George and I had to do was look at each other after that and I knew we both knew what Fred was thinking about. That entry. So much of the way Elizabeth had felt during the trials was similar to what Fred had felt when Percy died. So much of her story dealt with guilt, feeling powerless, and the desire to save the people she loved, even when the odds of doing that were against her.

"I think he really relates to her," George had said, shaking his head. "It's like he's starting to feel understood in ways that the rest of us can't completely do." He cleared his throat. "Thank you...for sharing it with him."

I sighed and shrugged. "I didn't originally do it for him," I said. "I did it because I was scared. My reasons for doing it were selfish."

George smiled. "You didn't originally do it for him?" he asked. "What about now?"

All I did was smile shyly and look away. "I'd better get back to work. I'm just glad Fred's okay."

Now, I charmed the last pile of dishes to start washing and drying themselves before turning and leaning against the sink as I waited. I looked over at Noah, who was discarding his dirty apron into the basket in the corner.

"I was just thinking," I said quietly, massaging my neck with one hand.

"About what?" Noah asked.

"Remember that woman I told you about who gave me that necklace?"

"Yeah, what about her?" Noah asked, frowning slightly.

I'd told Noah about the necklace shortly after the twins had returned it to me and he'd immediately been concerned. He'd thought along the same lines as George and thought it could have been cursed. Once I'd told him I'd had it checked and that it was fine, he seemed less worried, but he still had wanted me to tell Tom and Martha about it. Which I disagreed with him about. What was the point now that I knew the necklace wasn't cursed? It was just a regular necklace at this point.

"I saw her again," I said slowly.

"When?" Noah's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Last Thursday at the twins' joke shop. She was just standing there staring at me from across the room! So Fred caught up to her and we tried to ask her questions about the necklace, but she didn't really give us any answers. Instead, she seemed more interested in the fact that we had it checked for curses and jinxes and whether or not I'd worn it yet."

"Why haven't you?" Noah asked curiously.

I shrugged. "Scared, I guess. Even though Bill said it came back clean, this whole situation freaks me out too much. Plus, part of me keeps wondering if the thing's stolen from somewhere. If it is, do I really want to go flashing it around?" I shrugged and cleared my throat. "There's something else, too. When she left, she dropped this." I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out the postcard. I handed it to Noah with bated breath, anxious to see how he'd react and even if he'd remember my story about the postcard.

I watched as his eyebrows came together and he frowned slightly, turning the postcard over a few times. "This wouldn't happen to be the same photo that was on the postcard you had as a child, would it? The one you said you threw away because it made you think of your mother?"

I nodded. "Noah, I think it's the exact same postcard. I think it is the one I threw away."

His head snapped up to look at me. "Soph, that's-"

"Impossible? I know, it sounds insane. But-look, it's even been ripped and taped back together. It's old. It's worn...And with this lady appearing everywhere and watching me and leaving me these things to find. First the necklace, then the diary. But-"

"What diary?" Noah asked.

I stopped talking abruptly and buried my head in my hands. I'd forgotten Noah didn't know about the diary. I raised my head and skipped over addressing Noah's question abou the diary, wondering if he'd let me get away with doing so. Instead, I continued to ramble.

"You know, I also can't help but think that she was the one who was watching me that day you and I went to the ice cream parlor," I went on. "There was a woman watching me but I didn't get to see her face clearly. Remember? What if it was this lady? What if it was her in the alleyway the night of Rachel's birthday party? Remember we heard a noise?"

"Woah, woah, woah," Noah said, holding up a hand and coming to stand in front of me. He set the postcard down on the counter and gently put his hands on my shoulders. "Slow down. Let's not get ahead of ourselves." He rubbed his thumbs back and forth across my arms. "First of all, let's go back to the diary. What diary are you talking about?"

I sighed. "Back in May, someone bumped into me when I was out in Diagon Alley and they dropped a diary on the ground in front of me. I didn't see who it was who dropped it, but I picked it up and opened it and it belonged to a woman who was involved in the Salem Witch Trials."

"Salem. Where you're from?" Noah asked.

"Exactly," I nodded. "So I've been making my way through it over the past few months."

"You've been reading it? You kept it?" Noah asked. "Did you get that checked for jinxes too?"

I shook my head. "No. I found it before I'd even met Fred's brother or knew he was a curse breaker. I considered it might be dangerous and I was afraid at first, but I've been reading it since May and nothing's happened."

"I think you should get it checked," Noah said, his face etched with concern. "And I really think you should tell all this to Tom and Martha."

"No," I insisted.

"Sophie, if someone's following you and-and-stalking you-"

"Tom and Martha could ask me to leave. They might get scared for their own safety and decide to send me in my way. And I'm not sure I could blame them for it."

"They wouldn't do that," Noah argued patiently.

"Tom didn't even want me to stay when I first showed up. He said himself he was worried about Martha, his home, his business, his employees..."

"That was before. Before he knew you," Noah said. "He's not going to let you just leave. Martha wouldn't either. You have to tell them."

"I can't involve them," I sighed. "It's too dangerous."

"So you think this woman is dangerous, then?" Noah asked.

"No, I actually don't. Not her. It's someone else I'm worried about. Someone I've been worried about following me here."

"How do you know this woman isn't dangerous?" Noah asked. "How do you know for sure?"

"Fred and George said-"

"Sophie, listen," Noah interrupted with a sigh. "I don't think the twins know what the definition of danger is. I'm not saying they'd intentionally put you in harm's way, but you might wind up there accidentally, just because they don't have any concept of it! It's like they think people are invincible."

"They don't think that," I whispered. "What about what happened to their brother?"

Noah's face softened. "I'm just not sure the twins are the only people you should be involving here."

"I told you, didn't I?" I whispered, looking up at him and smiling. "And I know you'll protect me, won't you?" I paused. "Although, I've heard from the girls that you literally won't kill flies. Or any insects for that matter. And that you're even mostly vegetarian."

Noah snorted. "They're right. But if anyone tries to hurt you...I'm going to do everything I can to stop them."

I felt this sudden surge of affection towards Noah and my eyes filled with tears for a second before I rapidly blinked them back. I reached up and gently ran a hand through his hair. "Please...don't say anything just yet. I'm not exactly sure what I'm dealing with at the moment, and while I'm still a bit worried and confused and a little scared...I also worry that the involvement of too many people might make it worse. Too many hands in the pot, right? Isn't that the saying?"

"Or too many cooks in the kitchen," Noah said with a smirk, looking around the room. "Although, as of right now, I only see two."

I let out a quiet laugh. "We're not even cooks," I said.

Noah smiled before it faded slightly. "Fine, I won't say anything. Yet. But if anything happens, I want you to tell me. And at the first sign of any kind of real danger, we go to Tom and Martha. Understood?"

I hesitated.

"Sophie," Noah said, raising his eyebrows.

Finally, I nodded. "Okay."

"Good," Noah said, leaning forward and kissing my forehead. "Now go on upstairs and get some sleep. I'll see you Sunday."

I smiled as I headed for the staircase. On Sunday, Noah was taking me to meet his mother. Saying I was nervous was an understatement, but I'd been assured by Martha that Noah's mother was essentially just like Noah. Kind, gentle, smart, caring. And that did a lot to ease my nerves.

"I'll see you Sunday," I told him, stepping onto the first step and looking at him over my shoulder. "You'll be here at noon?" I asked.

"Noon," Noah repeated with a nod. He smiled at me and tilted his head towards the stairs. "Now go on, I'll lock up."

"Okay," I whispered. I gazed at him over my shoulder, a soft smile on my face, for a moment longer before turning and jogging up the stairs.


Martha had been completely right. Noah's mother was just like him. She was a small, petite woman, not much taller than me, with large brown eyes and an equally large smile. She looked a lot like Noah, too. In fact, she was essentially the older, female version of him.

She was thrilled to see me. She never stopped beaming from the second she opened the door, actually.

"Noah's told me so much about you," she said enthusiastically as she ushered us into the house. She leaned up and gave Noah's cheek a brief kiss before turning to me and reaching out to take both of my hands in hers and give them a squeeze. "It's so nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too, Mrs.-er-Ms Thompson," I said, blushing furiously as I realized she was no longer married and that Noah's father had left her for another woman.

"Please, call me Julie," she said, her smile never faltering.

I found myself smiling back. "Noah's always spoken very highly of you. He adores you, actually."

"Oh, please, if he adores anyone, it's you!" she said with a laugh.

"I adore both of you," Noah said, throwing an arm around each of us.

"You're sweet," his mother said, reaching up to pat his cheek. She pulled away from him and began walking further into the house, gesturing for us to follow her. "Now, come on, I've just made lunch."

I found that being with Noah's mother was much like being with Mrs. Weasley or Martha. While she was the youngest out of the three of them, she was still just as warm, friendly and loving. She welcomed me into her home and her life with open arms. She listened to every word I spoke with rapt attention. I didn't go into too many details about myself, but when I told her I had grown up in foster care and had aged out of the system without being adopted, I could have sworn her eyes filled with tears as she put her hand over mine. But any sign of tears were gone a moment later, even though I was certain I had seen them.

She was empathetic, just like Noah, I realized. She had genuine compassion for people and things. I knew she had also gone through a period of pain herself with her husband leaving her and then having to raise Noah on her own. It must have been tough on her-I couldn't imagine it not being tough. And yet, she had remained hopeful and warm and optimistic. It was admirable, really.

She told me stories about Noah as a child, some of which made me giggle and Noah blush and protest with a groan. Some of them made all three of us laugh. And some made her seem nostalgic.

"Sometimes I miss the days when you were a young boy," she said, propping her chin in her hand and gazing across the table at Noah. She had made us all tea and she was now stirring hers aimlessly with her free hand. "You've grown so much and I don't know where the time's gone. Although, you'll still always be my little boy." She chuckled and reached out to ruffle Noah's hair as he playfully swatted her away.

"Come on, Mum, stop it," he laughed.

"What?" she asked with a shrug, standing up to clear the empty tea mugs. She looked at me and shook her head. Boys, she mouthed, rolling her eyes slightly. I couldn't help but let out a quiet giggle.

"She likes you," Noah whispered in my ear as his mother began washing the dishes.

I turned sideways in my seat and faced him. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "Mhm."

"She seems really proud of you," I said, resting my elbow on the back of my chair and propping my head up on my hand. "You're her pride and joy."

"I am her only child," Noah said with her laugh.

"Her little boy," I teased as Noah laughed.

There was a pause before Noah spoke again, his voice low and his eyes downcast. "I don't feel like I do much to make her proud."

"What do you mean?" I asked in surprise. "Noah, you're a great person. You're kind, you're smart. You're a good friend. You're funny. You're there for people when they need it. You're patient..."

Noah shrugged. "I suppose, but I guess what I mean is that I never imagined I'd be working cleaning tables at the Leaky Cauldron for this long either."

"So what?" I shrugged.

Noah sighed and shifted his gaze so that he was now looking at the ceiling. "I told you that I always wanted to start my own restaurant or pub," he said.

"Yeah, you did mention that," I nodded. "You still could get there one day. You have time."

Noah nodded. "I know, but sometimes it doesn't feel like it." He shrugged and continued to look at the ceiling wistfully. "I learned how to do a lot of baking once my mother started working at the bakery. And I did a lot of cooking once my dad left. You know, to help out. I think I got quite good at it."

I nodded. "I was the same way. I did a lot of the cooking in my foster home."

"You mentioned that." Noah finally tilted his head down and looked at me. "It's pretty difficult to start your own business. Especially when places like the Leaky Cauldron already exist, you know? People go there and if not there, they go to Hogsmeade for the Three Broomsticks. The competition is already so high. And starting something on my own is so expensive. It's money my mum and I never had. A lot of what I earn goes to helping my mother out, so saving up is slow going. Mum insists that I should keep all of what I earn and that she's fine-well, she at least tries to insist. But I insist on helping her. It's the least I could do after all she's done for me."

"So how can you beat yourself up over how long it's taking you?" I asked. "You're trying. And you're helping your mother out on top of it. Just because things take you a while doesn't mean they'll never happen. I never thought I'd get out of my foster home. But I did. Eventually." When Noah simply shrugged in return, I leaned forward and took his hand. "You are so wrong about your mother not being proud of you. How could she not be? You are so genuinely kind and thoughtful and selfless. There aren't many people like that in the world. Trust me, I know. And as for opening your own place-I'm sure it's difficult and scary, but I think if it's something you really want, then you'll figure out a way to get there. And when the timing is right, I think everything will all work out. Who knows, maybe I can convince Tom and Martha to retire early and leave the Leaky Cauldron to you." I smiled. "I certainly don't want to run it. I already told you that."

"Yeah, only because you were planning on leaving," Noah snorted.

"Whether I stay or go, running the Leaky Cauldron isn't my dream," I said with a smile, shaking my head. "I'm more of a solitary being, in case you haven't noticed. And running a pub is far from solitary."

Noah actually laughed. "If you're so solitary, what are you doing here with me?" he asked. "And why do you hang out with Rachel, Kayla, and Allie so much? And the twins?"

I laughed too and looked away, shrugging one shoulder. "That's not my fault. I was practically forced against my will to be social."

"Every single time?" Noah asked with a raised eyebrow as I smiled slightly and looked away. He chuckled and continued talking. "You can act like you hate it all you want," he said quietly, staring down at our intertwined hands, "but you're not fooling me."

"No?" I asked. "Well, I suppose that's what I get for hanging around someone so smart."

Noah chuckled before leaning forward and giving my forehead a gentle kiss. "You flatter me," he said.

The two of us visited with his mother for a while longer, and when we left, I heard his whisper to Noah that she liked me and to bring me around again soon-and more often. I had smiled while Noah laughed and promised he would. He helped me into my coat and then took my hand as he led me down the front steps and away from his mother's place. When I turned and looked back over my shoulder, she was still at the door, waving goodbye.


"I can't believe I've let you drag me out here," Fred said, leaning close to my ear in order to be heard above the noise of the pub we were sitting in.

"I can't believe I let Rachel drag me out here," I answered. "I was just starting to get used to going to The Three Broomsticks."

"Which I'm sure is why she decided to switch things up on you," Fred said.

"Probably," I shrugged. It was Saturday night and Rachel, Allie, and Kayla had decided amongst themselves that instead of meeting at The Three Broomsticks as usual, we were going to go to a place in Muggle London. For a change of scenery, apparently. Rachel had convinced me to go, and in turn, I had asked the twins to come as well. Sort of as backup. I oddly felt more comfortable with them there. I knew how the girls were when we went out. Loose and carefree and talkative...and even the guys were like that to a certain extent. I knew Noah would be there too and that he would never do anything to make me feel out of place. He'd always remember to include me and make sure I was joining in the conversation. But he also had his own friends. I didn't want him to feel like he had to babysit me, even though I knew he never felt that way.

It was currently just about half past ten o'clock and we'd been there for nearly an hour already. There was a live band playing in the corner and people were dancing in the space right in front of them. It wasn't much of a surprise that Rachel was already up there with Kayla and Allie. All three of them had drink bottles in their hands and were jumping and moving all around with such force, I was amazed they hadn't spilled anything yet.

Noah was up there with them, funnily enough. Kayla had all but forced Chris to go up and join her, and Chris, in turn, had forced Noah and Alex up there with him.

"If I go, we all go," he'd muttered, downing the last of his drink as he stood up.

Noah had shot me a questioning look as he'd gotten up. "Want to come?" he'd asked.

"Er...no," I said. "I don't dance."

"Are you sure?" he asked, tilting his head.

I nodded. "You go...have fun."

Noah looked at me, biting his lip, before he was dragged away by Alex. That didn't stop him from shooting me glances over his shoulder as he went, though. A few of those glances were also thrown at Fred, I couldn't help but notice.

Once the three guys had gone, it had left me, Fred and George alone at the table together, watching everyone else. I was honestly glad for the company because there was no way I was getting up there and dancing, but I also didn't completely like the idea of sitting here at the table alone.

"You two can go enjoy yourselves if you want," I finally said, mostly to be polite. I didn't want them to feel as if they had to sit here with me, even though I liked that they were.

Fred shrugged, but George suddenly smiled as he gazed towards the doorway. "Ah, I might have to take you up on that suggestion because Katie just showed up."

I looked towards the doorway to see Katie standing there, searching the room for her boyfriend. My eyebrows instantly shot up, however, when I saw who was standing slightly behind her. Angelina and Oliver.

"What are they doing here?" Fred asked, rounding on George with a frown.

"I said they could come," George said, standing up and waving to get Katie's attention. She smiled and started heading over to us.

"Why?" Fred asked through gritted teeth.

"Because Katie asked if they could," George said. "And what was I going to say? No? Because their presence makes my brother uncomfortable?"

"Yes, because it's true and there's a good reason for it," Fred growled, taking a long sip of his drink. "You know that."

George turned to his brother with a sympathetic smile and put a hand on his shoulder. "You can't be uncomfortable forever, mate," he said quietly.

Before Fred could respond, Katie, Angelina and Oliver had appeared at the table. There was a flurry of noise as Katie greeted George with a kiss, Angelina hugged him and Oliver gave him a friendly handshake.

Next to me, Fred scoffed quietly and rolled his eyes. I raised an eyebrow, but before I could say anything, the others had turned to Fred.

"Hi Fred," Angelina said pleasantly. "How are you?"

Fred seemed geared up to make some kind of snarky response, but then he leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "Not bad," he said.

"That's good," Angelina said. She sounded almost hopeful, as if Fred's basic response was a good sign. Even I found myself nearly sighing with relief. But it was apparently an act made too soon.

"I haven't managed to drink myself to death," Fred went on, "so that's a plus isn't it?" He grinned and held up his drink. "Cheers to me." He took a long drink as Angelina and Oliver just stared.

I groaned quietly and looked away in embarrassment. And there it was. The snarky comment I'd thought for a moment that we'd avoided.

"Well, Fred, you look good," Angelina said. "Healthy. George says you're doing a lot better with...everything. I'm glad."

Fred forced a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah, I'm doing just grand."

I reached out and lightly touched his hand that was resting on his knee under the table. It had clenched into a fist. To my surprise, he opened his fingers and took hold of my own hand, squeezing my fingers instead of his own, but doing so in a much gentler manner. And it actually seemed to calm him down a bit.

Angelina seemed to notice me just then and she looked at me in mild surprise. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met," she said, sending me a polite smile. "Are you-" she glanced at Fred, "are you and Fred together?" Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"No," I said with a glance at Fred of my own. "We're just friends."

"Oh," Angelina said, almost looking a little deflated. "I'm sorry. I just thought..."

Fred let out an odd noise that sounded like he was half grunting, half choking. He stared up at the ceiling and took another sip of his drink. I tightened my hold on his hand slightly, just for a second. Anything to keep him distracted. I was surprised, however, when Fred pulled his hand away completely and rested it on the tabletop.

"This is Sophie," George said, tilting his head towards me. "Sophie, this is Angelina and Oliver. Friends of ours from school."

I leaned forward and shook Angelina's hand, then Oliver's. This was the first time I'd ever seen them up close. Angelina was very pretty, with dark skin, eyes and hair. She was tall, like Rachel, and clearly very athletic. And Oliver, well, I could see why Allie would think he was good looking. He was tall as well with lighter brown hair and hazel eyes. I even noticed that dimple I'd heard about from the girls. Allegedly, Allie was a sucker for guys with dimples.

"Where did you meet the twins?" Oliver asked me.

"Leaky Cauldron," I said. "I work there."

"Oh, okay," Angelina said brightly. She glanced at Oliver. "I don't think we've ever seen you there."

"I like to lay pretty low," I said. "I just clean tables. I don't go noticed very often."

"I noticed you," Fred said, looking over at me with a small smile.

"Yeah, only took you, what, a month of her being there?" George laughed.

"Really?" Angelina commented with a raised eyebrow and a slight good natured laugh. "That's practically a lifetime as far as Fred's concerned."

"Hilarious, Ange, truly," Fred said with a roll of his eyes.

George cleared his throat loudly. "Okay, so! Ange, Oliver, and Katie. Care to go find you some drinks?"

"Absolutely," Angelina said with a sigh, half-glancing back at Fred as if the few minutes she'd spent interacting with him had exhausted her.

I felt myself feeling badly for both of them. What Angelina had done to Fred had really hurt him and it wasn't necessarily right of her to do it. But at the same time, I didn't know the full story. I didn't know her side of it or how she had felt throughout the whole ordeal. And it seemed as if she was trying to maintain a relationship. Or at the very least some sort of cordiality.

"Great, wonderful," George was saying now, his tone cheerful. He turned to Fred and lowered his voice. "Please go easy on the snide comments. Don't do this tonight. Have fun. Go dance or something. Blow off some steam, ease your nerves."

Fred only shrugged in response and busied himself with his drink. George gently patted his brother's shoulder before turning and following the others towards the bar. For a few moments after that, Fred and I simply sat in silence, watching the people dancing not too far from us. We were now the only two left at the table.

"I know you were hurt by Angelina breaking up with you and then essentially going straight to Oliver," I said, "and you might still be hurt by it. But do you have to make your irritation so obvious?"

"Yeah, I know it must have been absolutely killing you," Fred snorted, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table as he began peeling the label off of his beer bottle. "Hatred of confrontation and all that, yeah?"

"No, it's not that," I said. "Not completely. And I know I don't know all the details, but she seems nice. She's at least trying to be friendly."

"You're right," Fred said, his voice tense. "You don't know all the details. You don't exactly have the right to be telling me this." He wasn't looking at me. Instead, he was staring straight ahead at his drink as he continued to peel away the label. Finally, he turned to look at me wearily. "Sophie, have you ever had your heart broken?"

I snorted. "My whole life is one big heartbreak," I said. "I do know what it's like to have someone give up on you, Fred."

"Yeah, your parents," he said. "Not someone you were romantically involved with."

"Isn't that worse?" I asked.

Fred shrugged and shook his head. "Not necessarily. I know parents aren't supposed to give up on you. They're supposed to love you unconditionally, but...shouldn't that go for everyone that loves you? That's what love is. It's unconditional. No matter who it is-if someone tells you they love you..." He trailed off and shook his head again.

"It should be," I whispered. "Unconditional, I mean. But the thing is that people do fall in and out of love. Romantically, anyway. And some parents just don't love their kids the way they should. People leave. Angelina did. My parents did. Like you said, parents are supposed to love you unconditionally. It's their job. Even when you screw up and you're a mess, they're supposed to support you no matter what. And I couldn't even rely on my parents to do that. So people don't always do what's expected of them. But I don't think Angelina dumped you because she didn't love you unconditionally. I think she wanted you to get better, but-"

"I was too complicated," Fred said. "I was too much to handle. I wasn't myself anymore. I wasn't the guy she fell in love with. Being with Wood was normal and easy. So she gave up on me."

I sighed. "It seems to me like she genuinely still cares about you." I shrugged. "But then again, what do I know?" I reached out and grabbed my own drink, taking a big sip from it and wincing slightly as I swallowed.

Fred was staring at me in slight amusement. He chuckled a little bit and shook his head before standing up and holding out his hand. "I think it's time for a little bit of dancing."

"Absolutely not," I said, shaking my head and laughing. "No. I don't dance."

Fred smiled. "Come on, Soph, it's time you started letting loose."

I shook my head again. "You go."

"And let you sit here all by yourself?" he asked. "I know you'd prefer that, but I won't allow it."

"I don't know how to dance," I said.

"Nobody knows how to dance!" Fred protested. He leaned down and grasped my hand, gently pulling me to my feet. "Come on."

"No," I groaned, trying to fight him, but he was having none of it. He dragged me over to the others. When Rachel saw me, she let out a hoot of joy.

"Yes!" she shrieked. "You've come to join us."

I stood where I was, completely still. Fred had dropped my hand and was wildly jumping about at my side. I crossed my arms awkwardly as I laughed slightly at how ridiculous they all looked. I knew that my fears of looking ridiculous shouldn't matter if they all did as well and I knew that had been Fred's point. But at the same time, they all seemed to be ridiculous without being embarrassing.

It was just another situation where I didn't know what to do with myself without feeling funny or out of place. It had been ages since I'd been able to just let loose and have fun without worrying about the attention I was drawing to myself.

"Hey, glad you decided to come have some fun!" Noah appeared in front of me suddenly, his face pink and his hair sticking up in some places.

I smiled. "I don't really know how to dance," I said hesitantly.

"No worries," Noah grinned. "Believe it or not, it's actually really easy." He reached out and took one of my hands in his, pulling it up and spinning me around as I giggled. "See? Not so bad," he went on, keeping a hold of my hand as he moved goofily in time with the music. "Just copy some of the dumb moves the rest of us are doing." He demonstrated his point by shuffling back and forth and kind of bobbing his head around.

"Noah!" I giggled, turning away and covering my face with my free hand. I couldn't help it. He looked so silly. And something told me he'd even tried to look silly on purpose for my sake.

"Don't worry so much," he whispered. He spun me around again before pulling me to him and quickly dipping me downwards. I let out a squeal and clung to him as my eyes widened in shock.

"You okay?" Noah asked, the tiniest of smiles lifting up one corner of his mouth.

My face melted into a smile of my own and I nodded. "Fine."

"I think typically those are supposed to go a lot smoother," Noah said, gently pulling me back up to a standing position.

"I think typically the other person has a bit of warning before they're sent plummeting towards the ground and their potential death," I said with a playful roll of my eyes.

"Potential death?" Noah laughed. "Hardly. I'd never let that happen."

I felt my cheeks turn a light shade of pink. "Appreciated," I said quietly.

Just then, I was practically yanked away from him by Rachel. "Bathroom break," she announced, dragging me across the pub, Kayla and Allie in front of her.

I turned around and looked back at Noah, who shrugged, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. I mouthed sorry over my shoulder at him before he disappeared from my view by the crowd of people Rachel was currently pulling me through.

"Why am I needed for this?" I asked Rachel as we entered the bathroom. I stood by the sinks, leaning backwards against them as I waited. "I don't even have to go."

"Standard procedure," Rachel answered.

"It's in the girl code handbook," Kayla added. "In the chapter on friendship."

I shrugged and turned to face the mirror, leaning in closer to peer at my face. My cheeks were slightly pink, most likely from the alcohol and the bit of dancing I'd participated in, however brief it had been. I ran my fingers through a few sections of my hair, smoothing it down. Rachel had done my makeup again tonight-completely minimal, just the way I liked, even though there was still enough to make a difference. But even without the makeup, I would have noticed a change in my appearance.

I was healthier. Plain and simple. Looking at my reflection now, I saw a girl who no longer had dark circles under her eyes. I saw a girl whose face was no longer gaunt, whose body was no longer too thin. I saw a girl with rosy cheeks and clean skin and hair. I saw a girl with a slight smile on her face and clear blue eyes framed by long lashes. Eyes that weren't darting back and forth in fear. I was seeing the girl I could have already been-years ago, had things gone differently. I was seeing the girl I suppose I deserved to be. Happy. Safe. Loved. Having fun with her friends. It was an addicting feeling.

But every so often, I'd remind myself that this wasn't over yet. There was still a huge mystery hanging over my head and every time I thought of it, a knot would form in my stomach.

The girls suddenly flanked me at the sinks and started washing their hands, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"So..." Rachel said, turning and leaning against the sink, looking at Allie expectantly. "How are you feeling about Oliver being here, Al?" she asked.

"I knew that's why you announced a bathroom break," Allie muttered.

"You mean you didn't announce it so that you could use the bathroom?" I asked.

"Again, standard procedure. Girl handbook," Rachel told me with a slight laugh. "But seriously, where else would we go in order to have a discussion away from everyone else? I can't ask Allie how she's feeling about Oliver in front of Oliver."

I smiled. "True." I looked at Allie. "George invited him and Angelina. Katie was already coming and she asked if they could come. And George said yes, so..." I shrugged. "I'm sure he didn't do it intentionally. He probably doesn't even know the whole story. Unless, of course, he does." I bit my lip as I told myself to stop rambling. "If it helps, Fred's obviously uncomfortable too."

"I'm surprised he's not completely wasted already," Rachel said with a snort.

I felt an odd ache in my chest at her jab at Fred. "He actually hasn't seemed that bad."

"Well, the night is still young," Rachel said. When she saw my face, she sighed. "Look, I like Fred. Everyone does. Well...mostly everyone. I don't want to see him this way. But for the past year, he's just been..." She let a puff of air out of her mouth. "You know the day someone came to the Leaky Cauldron drunk during the day? And you had to clean their vomit off the stairs? You know that was him?"

"Yeah, I figured that out, actually," I said quietly.

"He just got pretty unpredictable. He got into this...hole, almost."

"Can you blame him?" I asked.

There was a pause. "No," Rachel said. "I can't. He's been dealt a lot of bad cards in the past year. I know he's hurting and I don't wish that on anyone. But-the way he was handling it was just awful. I mean, look at you, for example. You've been through some stuff, too. You barely drink at all, never mind letting yourself get wasted all the time, trashing your flat, missing the birth of your niece and getting drunk instead..."

"He's getting better," I insisted.

"Maybe he is," Rachel shrugged. "I hope so. But I don't want you to get hurt either. We already talked about this."

"Fred's not using me," I said. "I know that's what you think. That he's just trying to save me like he failed to save Percy. I was skeptical myself for quite a while that he was using me, but...he's not."

"How can you possibly know that?" Rachel asked.

"I just do. I trust him."

Rachel stared at me for a moment, one eyebrow raised in an expression of skepticism. "Listen," she finally said with a sigh. "I know this is all new to you. I'm trying to help you out. I don't want you to take it the wrong way, but I've grown up with a lot of these people. I'm just...telling you what I know. And that's why I think Noah is so good for you, at least to be involved with romantically. He clearly really likes you and he's such a sweetheart. He's the most safe, sensible and selfless person I know."

"He is," I agreed quietly. "You're right. I do really like him."

"I know I'm right," Rachel said with a grin. "Now, let's get back out there. I'm in need of another drink."

Sighing, I let the girls lead me back out into the pub. I was already starting to feel exhausted in almost every sense of the word. As Rachel and the girls went to order more drinks, I headed back to the table where I collapsed into a chair, rested my elbows on the table and my head in my hands. I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose.

"Had too much to drink?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

I raised my head and blearily looked up at the person who'd spoken. It was a man who was probably in his late thirties. He was tall with dark hair and eyes and he was smiling at me in slight amusement. I groaned internally. I wished he would go away. Although, I figured that if I was sitting in a pub, I should have come to expect the possibility of strangers talking to me. I also noticed he was American, like me. Which was almost a comfort, but also raised questions in my head. Even though there were loads of perfectly normal reasons for an American man to be here in London, my own abnormal story made me wonder.

"No," I said. "Not at all. Just...taking a minute."

"You seem a little too upset to be at a pub," he commented. "Then again, don't some people come here to drink their worries away?"

I stared at him for a second before shrugging. "I guess it depends on the person. I'm not much into using alcohol as a coping mechanism."

"Shame," he commented. "It does help."

"Temporarily," I said, staring around the room. Where were my friends? I'd wanted a moment alone from them a moment ago, but now I wished Rachel would appear and drag me back to the dance floor. Any reason to get away from this guy. I was trying to figure out the best way to remove myself from his presence for good-meaning that he wouldn't try to follow me-when he spoke again.

"Can I sit down?"

He didn't wait for an answer before he was taking a seat across from me and smiling at me. "The name's Mike." He held out his hand across the table.

I stared at it for a moment with a raised eyebrow before Fred's voice floated through my mind. It's customary to shake it. My mouth hitched up into a quick smile before I reached across the table and shook the guy's hand. He held on to it a bit longer than necessary, still smiling across the table at me. I managed to finally extract my hand from his grip and I cleared my throat as I quickly wiped my palm on my pant leg under the table.

"And your name is...?" Mike prompted.

"Uh...Emily," I said, somewhat amazed at how easily the lie came out of my mouth. Although, perhaps not all that surprised. Lying about my name was something I'd originally planned on doing when I got here, but once the Veritaserum came into play, I wasn't able to. And once I had told Tom and Martha my real name, I'd had no choice but to continue telling everyone else. Except this guy. I wasn't obligated to tell him anything. I didn't work with him. I didn't see him every day. We were in a Muggle pub in London. Realistically, I'd probably never see him again. But because he was a complete and total stranger, I was apprehensive about telling him my real name.

"Emily," he repeated, nodding his head slowly. "You don't look like an Emily."

"No?" I asked, my eyes continuing to dart around the room, looking for any familiar face. Part of me wanted to press him for information. What did he mean I didn't look like an Emily? I wasn't, of course, but what kind of comment was that? Had I not been convincing enough telling such a simple lie? Or was I just overthinking this all now?

Mike shook his head, continuing to just stare at me over the top of his own drink. "Did you come here with anyone?" he asked.

"Yeah, a group of friends," I said. "I should actually be finding them..." I started to push myself up from my chair, but Mike spoke again.

"No boyfriend?" he asked, lazily leaning back in his chair and taking another sip of his drink. "You know, I couldn't help but noticing you earlier dancing with that tall dark haired guy. But then before that, you were sitting here next to that redheaded guy. You seemed pretty comfortable with both."

"You were watching me?" I asked, hating the slight nervous tremor that showed in my voice as I plopped back down in my seat in slight surprise.

"I mean, can you blame a guy for taking notice of a pretty girl?"

Of course. He was only watching me because he thought I was pretty. Not that it did anything to make me feel better, though. It still made me uncomfortable, but it was better than him staring at me because of something more sinister. Honestly, I needed to calm down and stop making assumptions. But it seemed as if no matter how far away I ran or how many people I now had on my side, I wouldn't be able to completely relax until I knew my foster father was out of the picture. Unfortunately, that had to mean he was either dead or locked up with the key thrown away.

While I was trying to figure out how to respond, Noah appeared at the table, standing beside me and looking at Mike with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm Noah," he said, holding out his hand. His tone was polite, but I could tell he was sizing this guy up.

"Mike," he said after a pause, reaching out to shake Noah's hand. I could tell he was studying Noah just as intently as Noah was studying him. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably and chewed on my lower lip.

"Everything okay?" Noah asked, turning to me and keeping his voice low. I saw him glance back at Mike.

I nodded, but stood up from my chair and inched slightly closer to Noah. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asked, slipping his hand into mine as I nodded again.

"So I guess my question's been answered," Mike said with a lazy grin as he stood up from his chair and turned his attention to me. "It's a shame. I was going to offer to buy you a drink. Hell, I might've even done it either way. In fact, if you feel like it, come find me later." He winked before turning and walking away, throwing a glance at me over his shoulder as he did.

"What a creep," Noah muttered, glaring at Mike's retreating back. He turned back to me. "Seriously, are you okay?"

"Mm," I said, turning to look up at him. "He was just making me a little uncomfortable."

"Why didn't you come find me?" Noah asked.

I shrugged. "I was about to. In any case, I'm glad you showed up."

"Did you want to head home?" he asked.

I thought about it for a second. "Yeah, actually."

He nodded. "Okay, I'll go with you. We should go let the others know."

He took my hand and led me over to the bar where Rachel, Kayla and Allie were each sitting on a barstool and where Rachel was clearly in the middle of flirting with the bartender.

I decided to leave her to it and instead leaned against the bar beside Allie's stool. "Noah's bringing me home," I said to her and Kayla. "I just wanted to let you know."

"Why, what's going on?" Allie asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing. I'm just tired." I looked up and happened to notice Mike standing across the room, looking at me. I glanced away quickly. "And there was some guy trying to hit on me. Just rubbed me the wrong way, you know?"

"You shouldn't let him get to you," Kayla scoffed. "Honestly, if he comes near you again and says or does anything unwarranted, you tell him where to stick it. Or I'll do it for you. Or even Rachel would, right Rach?" She raised her voice and leaned over to lightly swat her friend.

Rachel turned towards us as the bartender began busying himself with another drink. "What's happening?" she asked curiously, swirling her drink around in her glass.

"Sophie's going home," Allie informed her.

"Why?" Rachel asked in surprise.

"Some jerk was hitting on her and made her uncomfortable," Kayla informed her.

Rachel promptly hopped off her barstool and came to stand next to me, scanning the room as she did so. "Which one? Point him out to me. Discreetly, of course."

I lowered my voice and shifted my gaze to the ground as to not end up being caught staring. "The tall, dark haired guy across the room. Holding a beer, wearing the black shirt and jeans. Talking to the guy in the baseball cap."

Rachel nodded slowly and I just knew she was staring at him and most likely giving him a death glare. She wouldn't care if he caught her. She wouldn't care one bit.

"If he comes back, I'll tell him off," she said, turning back to me. "Seriously. You don't have to be scared. Kayla's right. Don't let him scare you off. That means he wins."

I shook my head. "I appreciate that, Rach, but I'd just rather go home."

She sighed heavily. "Sophie, guys hit on girls at pubs all the time. It doesn't make it right, but it's normal. You can't let one creep ruin your entire night."

"He's not ruining it."

"My point is that you shouldn't have to leave early!" she said.

"Rachel, if she wants to go..." Noah began.

"No, Noah, I think if she wants to be less afraid of people and strangers then she needs to stop running away from everything."

I took a step back, feeling as if she'd hit me. She saw my expression and her expression softened.

"I'm just trying to look out for you," she said gently.

"I know. But there's just so much stuff that you don't understand."

"Then help me to!" she exclaimed. "We've been friends for months now and you still won't open up to me about most of your life! You can tell me things, you know. And yet, I think you've told everyone but me. Don't you trust me?"

I looked up at her and studied her face. She actually looked a bit hurt.

"I-I've hardly told everyone else," I stammered, unsure of what exactly to say. I knew that wasn't it, though. I should have just told her I trusted her. Because I did. But my story was so long and complicated and even Fred and Noah didn't know all of it. Fred probably knew the most, but there were a few pieces missing. The only two people who knew the entire story only knew it because I'd been forced to tell them.

Rachel scoffed and turned away. "I honestly don't get it," she said, turning back for the bar.

I sighed. I had to admit, Rachel had been so nice to me since I'd been here. She'd welcomed me into her friend group. She'd been forcing me to get out places, despite my constant hesitation. She was always willing to help me with my clothes, hair and makeup-her way of sharing things she loved with me-but she always went with what I was comfortable with. She pushed me, but never harder than I was willing. Even tonight, she put up a bit of a fight, but she would've let me go home in the end. She was skeptical of Fred and while I didn't necessarily like it, I knew she was honestly doing it to look out for me.

"Wait," I finally said, the word coming from my mouth before I could stop it. I swallowed. "You're right. You deserve to know. I can't promise I'll be up to telling you everything all at once. No one else really even knows the whole, complete story either. Except Tom and Martha. But I can tell you what I've told Fred and Noah. I do trust you. And as I've said, I think you deserve to know. After how much you've done for me."

Rachel turned to look at me. "I don't want you to do it if you're not ready. I don't want you to do it just to make me happy."

I shrugged. "I'm hoping at one point, telling my story will make me happy. Merlin, that's all I've wanted since I ran away from home. Happiness. Freedom. And I don't know how to get it. I don't know where to start. But..." I trailed off and sighed before looking her in the eye, "they say the truth will set you free, don't they? So I suppose we should start there."

Rachel broke into a grin. "Can Allie and Kayla-?"

"Yes," I sighed, before she could finish.

She smiled even wider before coming to put an arm around my shoulders. "Perfect." She turned to Noah, who was leaning against the bar and looking at us in amusement. "Sorry, Noah, your services are no longer needed. We," -she gestured to me, Kayla and Allie- "are going to go back to my place and have a sleepover."

Noah chuckled and shook his head before pushing off the bar and coming over to me. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. "Have fun," he whispered.

I nodded. "Thank you," I whispered back. "For everything."

"I'll tell the others you're leaving," he said with a smile.

And with that, I followed the girls out of the pub. Within five minutes, we were back at Rachel's place. I was in a borrowed pair of her pajamas and we were all sitting cross legged on her bed, bowls of snacks in front of us on the pink patterned comforter. The setting was entirely to cozy and comfortable for what I was about to tell them. It felt so odd preparing to tell them my story in a room with twinkling Christmas lights bordering the windows, a pink comforter with matching pillows, and bowls of snacks in front of us.

But I couldn't delay it anymore. So, I cleared my throat and started at the beginning.


A/N: In case anyone was curious, a lot of the information included in the diary entry is true. For example the prisoners were forced to pay for their own cells and chains and if they couldn't, they were forced into tiny cells with only enough room to stand. Also, during high tide, the water did flood the floor of the jail. The bit about them being examined for markings of a witch is true and so is the part about Elizabeth being pregnant during her time in jail.

I actually went to Salem in October and visited the building that used to be the Salem jail, which (fun fact!) is now an office building. They had actors playing the parts of prisoners telling their story of what it was like in the jail, so most of the information in the diary entry came from that.

Thanks for reading and don't forget to leave a review to tell me what you think!