The hot water from the bath I'd taken had only relaxed my muscles slightly and temporarily. I was completely on edge and unable to stay put, finding myself pacing the living room frantically, looking out of the windows every two seconds.
Tom had finished the protective charms by now and Martha had contacted everyone involved with this Order of the Phoenix group. She was now in the kitchen making tea. A few moments later, she thrust a mug of the steaming liquid into my hands and all but forced me to drink it. I heard her murmur to Tom that she'd added a few drops of Calming Potion to it. I couldn't even protest. I was already too high strung, but also the effect of the potion was almost immediate. I felt myself start to relax-as much as I had in hours, anyway-and sank back down on the couch. I was still shivering, though, despite the tea.
Once I was sitting, Tom and Martha took seats across from me, each of them in an armchair, and began to explain to me what the Order of the Phoenix actually was.
Apparently, it was started by Albus Dumbledore, who had been headmaster of Hogwarts up until his death two years prior. I'd heard of him before. He was one of the most famous wizards in the world. It was actually hard not to hear about him. Anyway, during the first war, he'd started the Order of the Phoenix, which was top secret and created in order to take down Voldemort and his Death Eaters-both times he was in power.
"I've set up the protective charms so that only someone who has been officially inducted into the Order of the Phoenix will be able to access the building," Tom explained. "Absolutely no one else can get in. You're safe."
"How can I be?" I asked. "I can't stay here in the flat forever. Eric will find a way to get me. He's already followed me here and tracked me down. He got into Noah's house. He knew I was there."
Tom opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, there was a knock on the door and Order members started arriving, almost all at once. I remained curled up on the couch, trembling, as more and more people came into the flat. I leaned back against the arm of the couch and pulled my blanket tighter around me as I stared out the window, taking glances every so often at the people who were coming through the door.
A tall man in long deep blue robes came in first, followed by a woman in emerald green and black robes. There was a blonde girl with large blue eyes and radish shaped earrings, a taller boy with sandy brown hair, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Fleur, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Fred and George.
Mostly everyone else began by talking to Tom and Martha, asking if everything was alright and what was with the sudden, late night call for the meeting. They looked around with panicked, worried eyes, and I hated the guilt that was still sitting in the pit of my chest, making me feel sick.
Fred and George, however, looked right at me and came over, bypassing everyone else.
"You alright?" Fred asked worriedly, kneeling down in front of the couch I was on. "Did something happen? I can't think of why else we'd all be here right now."
I turned to look at him, tears coming to my eyes again. "He found me," I whispered hoarsely.
"Who did? Your foster father?" Fred asked, glancing at George in horror.
I nodded. "He wanted to take me back to Salem. He had a knife."
"Did he hurt you?" Fred asked, frowning at me in concern.
"My arm..." I answered absentmindedly, gazing down at my arm. "Martha healed it. It's fine now."
I looked up to see Fred glance down at my arm before looking back at my face.
"Can I sit with you?" he suddenly asked, gesturing with his chin to the couch.
I hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly. Fred stood up and sat next to me, shifting closer and gently adjusting my legs so that they were laying across his lap.
I swallowed thickly, my chest still tight with anxiety and the urge to cry. It was a lot better after the calming potion that Martha had put in my tea, but it was still there, nonetheless. I looked up and met Fred's eyes.
"I'm scared, Fred. I just barely got away. He got into Noah's house. And Noah and his mother are missing."
"What?" Fred asked. "Since when?"
"Noah since tonight and his mother since the weekend."
Before Fred could answer, we were interrupted by the tall man in the deep blue robes. "We know about Julie Thompson," he said. "Noah himself reported it."
"I know, he told me," I whispered.
The man held out his hand to me. "Kingsley Shacklebolt," he said. "Current Minister of Magic and member of the Order of the Phoenix."
I blinked up at him. So this was the Minister of Magic? The man Fred, George, Harry, and Ron has gone to in order to help find information about my birth mother.
"Sophie McConnell," I said, reaching out to shake his hand. His grip was gentle—more so than I'd imagined.
"I've heard a little bit about you," Kingsley said, taking a seat in the chair adjacent to the couch I was on. The rest of the people in the room began to gather around and take seats as well.
I nodded. "Fred told me he went to you for help about my mother."
Kingsley nodded. "I'm going to need a detailed account of what happened to you tonight," he said. "But in order to do that, I believe you're going to have to also give me a full account of just exactly who you are and where you came from."
I stiffened instantly. Of course he had every reason to ask for this information. But I hated the thought of giving it. Even Fred and George didn't know every detail.
"I know you're afraid," Fred whispered, "but we can't help you without it. And anything you tell us can help us piece all this together and find Noah and his mother."
"If it weren't for me, Noah and his mother wouldn't even be in this mess," I said hotly. "I should have left a long time ago, but I let myself-"
"You allowed yourself to be normal for once in your life," Fred argued firmly. "There's nothing wrong with that."
"But I'm not normal! My whole life is a mess and I've dragged everyone here into it."
"You're sounding a lot like someone else we know," Ron spoke up. He gave Harry a pointed look. "So this isn't anything we haven't heard before. We didn't listen to Harry when he got like this either."
"Everyone here is here by choice," Kingsley said. "I assume Martha and Tom have explained to you what the Order of the Phoenix is? None of us joined without being fully aware of what we were getting into. Everyone who has joined the Order-both times-did so with the intent of fighting an extremely powerful and ruthless wizard. To be frank, we were up against a lot more with him than we are with this one man-"
"Who isn't even magical," Fred interrupted.
"Really?" Kingsley asked in interest. He turned back to me. "That proves my point even more. We have the upper hand here. And we're all here by choice. We chose to join the Order and we chose to take on helping you."
"Why?" I asked. "You're the Minister of Magic. Surely you have more important things to do than help out some girl you know nothing about."
"Well, after tonight, I plan to know a lot," Kingsley said. "Besides, Tom and Martha trust you. They've told me you checked out as safe. They want to protect you. You mean quite a bit to them. And it's also bigger than that. If someone is here attacking people, we need to get to the bottom of it. For not only your safety, but our own. Tell me, do you like your life here?"
"Very much," I said honestly.
"Then it seems as if you want to stay here and Tom and Martha and your friends also want you to stay. You're one of us, whether you like it or not."
I smiled slightly as I thought for a moment. I pictured my life without Eric in it. Peaceful. Happy. Quiet. I'd be able to focus more on finding my mother if I wanted to. And if I didn't, I'd have a family here, and if I did, I'd still have a family here and I'd still be able to try to rebuild my relationship with her. But I felt as if I needed Eric gone before I could focus on that. I needed him gone to truly be happy. I didn't want to have to resort to running anymore. I didn't want to forfeit any more happiness or freedom or any of the other things he'd deprived me of. And the thing was that I couldn't take him on alone.
Finally, I sighed. "Okay, I'll talk," I said.
"Excellent," Kingsley said. "Before we go on, I'd like to introduce you to some members I don't believe you've met yet." He gestured to the woman in the emerald green robes. "This is Minerva McGonagall, the current headmistress of Hogwarts."
"Nice to meet you, Miss McConnell," she said, nodding her head slightly towards me. She had her hair pulled back into a tight bun and her face was stern, but kind.
"And this," Kingsley went on, gesturing to the tall, sandy haired boy, "is Neville Longbottom. He was in Harry and Ron's year at school."
Neville gave me a friendly wave and I smiled before turning my attention to the girl sitting next to him. The girl with the blonde hair and radish earrings. She was currently staring at a plant sitting on an end table beside the couch I was sitting on, lost in thought as she twirled a piece of her hair.
"This is Luna," Ginny said. "I've mentioned her to you before. She's one of my very good friends and the love of Neville's life."
Neville blushed furiously and cleared his throat as I actually let out a breath of laughter.
"What kind of plant is that?" Luna asked curiously.
I turned and looked at the plant with a thoughtful frown. I had no idea, to be honest. I liked it though. It was a relatively small pot of greenery and small red flowers. There were thorns on it though, which I'd learned the hard way after accidentally pricking myself one day. But I still liked the plant. It was pretty.
"It's called a crown of thorns," Neville answered.
"Ah, I thought so," Luna said, nodding. "Those are supposed to be the second most popular plant to find fairies hiding in. After rosebushes. The thorns don't bother them like they do humans."
"Why's that?" I asked.
"No, do not get her started," Ron said firmly as Ginny kicked him in the shin.
"Shut up, Ron," Ginny scolded.
"We have more important things to talk about, don't you think?" Ron answered. "We didn't come here to talk about plants."
"He's right, we didn't," Kingsley said. "I'm sure we can save the discussion on plants and thorns for another time." He cleared his throat as the room fell silent and then he turned to me. "Alright, Sophie, why don't we start from the very beginning."
I took a deep breath, knowing this would mean starting with my mother leaving me when I was little and explaining how I'd ended up in foster care. I rested the side of my head against the couch and slowly exhaled, staring at a point on the wall just over Kingsley's head. It was easier this way-easier to pretend I wasn't talking to a room full of people, some of them complete strangers.
But I did it. I forced myself to go through the story with them of how my mother and I had been incredibly close until one day, she'd urgently pulled me out of bed and left me in the historic Salem mansion-turned-museum, promising that she'd return, only for her to fail at keeping that promise. I told them about how I bounced from foster home to foster home. I told them about the postcard that I'd gotten from my first foster home, only to finally rip it up once I arrived at my most recent one. I told them about going to school, being constantly teased and made fun of, and how the only friend I'd had had ended up dead, along with my favorite professor. I told them about Andrea and Eric-how Eric was a Muggle and how he'd make us do chores the Muggle way. I told them that he'd occasionally get drunk. I told them how nasty he could really be. I told them how he would use the money he received from being a foster parent on things he wasn't supposed to.
And then I got to the part about my first escape attempt when I was seventeen. I was of age in the wizarding world, but I wouldn't age out of the foster care system until I was eighteen. I hadn't cared, though. I wanted to run away, but I wanted to get my foster mother out, too. And we'd both gotten caught. Just like I'd mentioned to Fred already, I mentioned again now that Eric had locked me in my room for a week after that first attempt and then once I was eighteen, he'd made me get a job. I told them how he'd take my wand during the day so that I wouldn't be able to use magic to leave, and that he also kept most of my earnings from work.
"So how did you finally end up getting away?" Kingsley asked.
I took in a shaky breath and glanced over at Tom and Martha. Tom nodded slightly as Martha gave me a reassuring smile.
"This is the hardest part for you to talk about, isn't it?" Fred asked. "What about it made it worse than what you had already gone through? You made it out...and alive."
"Fred," Mrs. Weasley scolded. "Don't be insensitive."
"I'm just wondering," Fred said quietly, looking back down at me. "But whatever it is, it's okay, Soph. It's okay. We want to help you." He reached out and took my hand. I closed my eyes and took in another breath as I gave his hand a squeeze.
"Andrea and I tried to plan an escape together. Eric usually kept our wands locked up somewhere in the house, but we weren't sure where. Like I said, he didn't want us ever getting away. He kept our wands and any money we'd ever managed to earn. We had essentially no way of leaving or getting somewhere unless we walked. So one night when he was out with his friends—drinking—the two of us pretty much ransacked the whole place. It wasn't much of a thought out plan and it was risky. If he came back and found out what was happening and we were still there...he'd be extra angry because he'd be drunk. We knew he couldn't have hid the wands too extensively because he couldn't use magic himself, so they had to be hidden somewhere without any kind of magical aid. We thought that would make it a little easier."
"But it didn't," Hermione guessed. "Did you find them that night?"
I shook my head. "No, we didn't. Eventually, Eric came home and we had to make sure everything was back in place and we didn't look the least bit guilty. But the next week, we tried again, and the week after that, and the week after that. We started to think he'd thrown them away and gotten them out of the house completely. But finally, on the fifth Friday of trying, we found them."
"Where were they?" George asked.
"The house we lived in was an old house," I said. "We considered the idea of hiding spaces in floorboards or wall panels or something like that, but either the spots we knew of didn't have what we were looking for, or we'd check for hiding spots in places we didn't know of, but could never find any. But that Friday, we did. In the room Eric used as a study. Not that he ever used it for anything work related. It was more of a room to get away from us or to hang out with his friends at home. There was a desk in there, and bookshelves, and a television—a Muggle form of entertainment."
"Let me guess, the room was usually off limits," Fred said.
"Exactly," I said. "And naturally, it was the first place Andrea and I looked when we started our search that first week. We picked the lock with a hairpin and searched the room from top to bottom with no luck. Until that fifth week. We had been searching for a few hours already that night. I was frustrated and was giving the room a second search, set on the fact that this room was where Eric would have hid the wands. But I was coming up with nothing. So I got angry and kicked the side of the desk—a huge thing made out of dark, shiny wood. A really nice piece of furniture for such a jerk of a man. Anyway, when I kicked the side of the desk, not only was the sound hollow, but the side slid open—like some secret panel. I reached inside and there was metal box—locked, of course. But when I shook it, I heard the rattling sounds of what I knew were two wands. I called Andrea in and we picked the lock on that box. It opened and there they were..."
I trailed off. My voice had been quiet and almost dreamy as I remembered the feeling of pure joy at seeing my wand again. Thinking we were finally going to be free.
"What happened next?" Mrs. Weasley asked gently.
"Eric came home. He was a little bit earlier than usual, only by an hour or so, but it made all the difference. We weren't expecting him. Hell, we didn't even hear him coming. We were too excited over our discovery. But less than a minute after finding our wands—right in the middle of us actually laughing with happiness, we heard the front door slam open. The study was visible from the front door, so Eric managed to see us right away. He started yelling and made a run for us. We couldn't get out of the room without having to run past him, so we tried to Stun him, but both of us were pretty out of practice. Very out of practice, actually. The spells weren't strong enough. We both hit him, but it only caused him to stumble and fall. Andrea grabbed my arm and pulled me past him towards the door. But he reached out and grabbed her ankle. She fell. Her wand slipped from her hand and in Eric's clumsy but quick attempt to right himself enough to pin Andrea down beneath him, he put his foot on it and snapped it. I held up my own wand, but Andrea was fighting him and he was trying to hold her down. They were moving so much and I was so rusty at magic that I was afraid I'd miss and hit Andrea. And then she started screaming at me to run and get out while I had the chance. That she'd hold him off and follow me. We had planned to meet at a specific statue located on one of the main streets of Salem in the event we got separated, so she told me to go and that she'd meet me. I didn't want to go—I couldn't. I was afraid to leave her with him. He was drunk and angry and she was defenseless. But I wasn't sure what help I'd be either. So that was when I thought to just go for help. I could get the police over there and they'd catch Eric hurting her. It would all end and we'd be free. So I ran."
I stopped for a moment and stared absentmindedly at the wall, the memories flooding my brain again. The screams, the yells. Me flinging open the front door and leaving it wide open and banging against the wall as I ran down the brick covered sidewalk.
"I was afraid to try Apparating," I said finally. "For a few reasons. I was afraid of hurting myself, firstly. And also, even though it was past midnight and no one was around, I didn't want to chance being seen performing magic. So I ran on foot. I didn't get very far—only about ten seconds outside of the front door—before Eric had caught up to me and grabbed me. I fell forward onto the ground, skinning my knees and getting the wind knocked out of me. But that was nothing compared to—compared to—"
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Martha suddenly said.
"Martha," Kingsley sighed.
"This is exhausting for her!" Martha exclaimed. "Telling the story alone is hard, but after all that's gone on..."
"No, Kingsley's right," I said, surprising everyone, including myself. "If I want any chance of getting Eric out of my life for good, I have to tell the whole story. I have to stop being so afraid—at least of being a burden to people and depending on them. I can't do this alone and Merlin, I just want to be free. Finally. It's been long enough. I want my life back. I want to be who I'm supposed to be. The girl that apparently has a sense of humor and can be sarcastic. The girl who has friends and isn't afraid to trust them. The girl who isn't afraid to have people touch her or kiss her. It'll take some more time, but this is the first step."
The room was quiet for a bit before Fred grinned at me and patted my leg. "I'm glad to hear you say that," he said.
I smiled slightly back at him. And then I continued with the story, my expression solemn once more.
"Eric had me pinned down to the ground, basically kneeling above me, his knees on either side of my hips. I guess he'd gotten a knife at some point. And he used it. On my back." The words came out on a whisper as my mouth suddenly felt dry. "He got me twice-really good, too. There was blood everywhere. I kept struggling and trying to get away, which may have made it worse. I still haven't been able to fully forget how much pain I was in."
"How did you get away from him?" Fred whispered hoarsely. I glanced up to see his face had gone completely pale.
"I finally managed to reach my wand and attempt to Stun him again. I don't know how well I got him, but it was enough to get him off of me. And then I just got up and ran the best I could. I made it to the police station. I tried to report what had happened, but by the time the police made it back to the house, Eric and Andrea were both gone." I swallowed and shook my head. "I was too late."
"You did all you could," Ginny assured me. "You did your best."
I shrugged. "The police had told me not to go anywhere. Understandably. They needed to talk to me after I'd come tearing in making claims like I had. And I was injured. But I left anyway. I ran to an alleyway and realized that I should probably just try to Apparate. Put as much distance between Eric and myself as possible. It was the whole reason we'd gone through the trouble of finding our wands in the first place-so we'd be able to use magic. I certainly wouldn't get far on foot and I had no money at all for any sort of transportation. So Apparating was my only choice. But I wasn't sure where to go. Eventually I decided on the woods that bordered Ilvermorny. I went there and ran for a bit through the woods until I reached the school and took shelter for the night in the Quidditch supply shed. And in the morning, I was running back through the woods until I was out of the boundaries surrounding the school-I couldn't Apparate within those boundaries. Part of the protective spells around the school."
"It was the same at Hogwarts," Ginny said.
"Looks like someone besides Hermione read Hogwarts: A History," Ron muttered, wincing as Hermione nudged him.
"Just shut your mouth, Ron, and let Sophie finish," Fred practically snapped.
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was getting more exhausted by the second, but I managed to keep going.
"I felt like every snapping twig or rustling leaf was Eric coming after me," I went on. "I alternated between running and Apparating all day, always keeping myself hidden in the woods. At some point after nightfall, I just collapsed on the ground from pain and exhaustion. I fell asleep right there in the dirt. Woke up some time the next day. And then I just kept going. Kept Apparating to various places. I had a lot of places in mind from books I'd read or from things I'd learned in school. I stuck mostly to secluded areas at first—quiet towns with woods nearby for me to hide in. I went to some beach towns, which were really nice. And then I changed tactics and started doing cities. I figured they were more populated and I could get lost in crowds easier. And if I was ever found by Eric, it would be harder for him to get to me in public. He couldn't very well pull a knife out on me on a busy street."
"You never made it to New York, though?" Fred asked.
I shook my head. "I couldn't. Thought about it, but couldn't. Too weird."
"What's the significance of New York?" Kingsley asked. "You mentioned early on that you and your mother had plans to travel. You wanted to skate there. Is that it?"
I nodded. "Mhm."
"So...nobody every questioned or approached you?" Mr. Weasley asked. "You were hurt and clearly in need of help."
"I did a good job of blending in and staying out of sight. And in the bigger cities, well, I looked—and actually was—homeless. People mostly just ignored me. Some people dropped me change if i was sitting somewhere, but it was all Muggle money and I never got much because I never sat in plain sight all that much. It was mostly alleyways. And as for the cuts on my back, I'd tried to heal those the day after I left, but I couldn't do that great of a job. Not a lot of Healing experience to begin with, plus the fact that I was out of practice with magic. Of course, the back of my shirt was ripped and bloody, but the cuts were healed. Mostly. They weren't open wounds anymore, but they scarred pretty badly. There's two of them. Two lines on the inside of each shoulder blade. Each about eight to ten inches long. Very ugly."
"They're nothing to be ashamed of," Hermione said gently. "Honestly, most of us here have scars of our own."
"Have you seen my face?" Bill asked with a raised eyebrow.
It was true. He had two or three scars trailing diagonally across the length of his face. I had noticed, of course, but actually had thought nothing of it, which was probably the point.
"He was attacked by a werewolf," Fleur said.
"Really?" I asked in surprise.
Bill nodded. "Not on a full moon, which helped. Not much changed for me except the fact that I now enjoy meat more on the rare side. And, of course, my dashing looks." He smiled wryly.
"You're better looking now, that eez the deeference," Fleur said fondly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair as he smiled.
"And, look," Harry added, pushing aside the hair from his forehead, "I've got the most famous scar in the entire room."
My eyes found the unique lightning shape on his forehead, but I didn't say anything.
"I'm willing to bet your scars never gave you nearly as much trouble as mine did," Harry went on.
"And take a look at the left hands of eight of us here," George piped up. He held up his hand, the back of it facing me and I could see small cramped looking scars on his skin. Instinctively, I glanced towards Fred's hand as well and noticed similar markings. It was the hand he'd had resting on my knees and when Fred saw me looking, he tilted it towards me.
I hesitantly reach out for his hand, pausing when my fingers were about an inch away. I looked up at him questioningly and he nodded. Gently, I picked up his hand and brought it closer to my face as I lightly traced a finger over the scarred skin.
"Are those...words?" I asked. "It looks like multiple sentences layered over each other."
Fred nodded. "George and I were seventh years, Neville, Harry, Ron and Hermione were fifth years, and Luna and Ginny were fourth years. We had this teacher...sent by the Ministry. They refused to believe Voldemort was back, despite Dumbledore's warnings and advice. So they sent this complete monster of a woman to help...control things. And her idea of a detention was making students write lines with a quill that writes in your own blood and carves the words into the back of your hand. George and I received quite a few detentions. Told her off quite a bit, refused to do assigned classwork or homework, disturbed the class. This woman was ruthless. She even gave me a detention when she caught Angelina and I snogging in a broom cupboard. George actually got one for standing too close to Katie, which was even more absurd."
"She carried around a magical tape measure and everything," Neville added. "To measure the distance between students."
"She was supposed to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts," George went on, "but she wasn't teaching us anything, which was the point and exactly what the Ministry wanted. So a bunch of us took it upon ourselves to learn what we were supposed to learn. Harry was the teacher." He beamed at Harry, who simply shrugged and smiled slightly.
"It was good while it lasted," Fred said. "Seven months, I think. But eventually, we got caught and everyone got a detention for that. So many detentions were assigned to so many people over the course of the year that mostly everyone's hands are now scarred."
I continued to trace my fingers along the back of Fred's hand, lost in thought for a moment. "But these aren't anything to be ashamed of," I said. "You were all fighting for something and you won in some way or another. All I've been doing is running. I haven't won at all."
"But you're going to," Fred said quietly. "And we're going to help you. And for the record, you have been fighting. You got away from that nutter of a foster father. That's how you got the scars in the first place--trying to get away from him. You kept trying until you did and you've managed to make a pretty normal life for yourself here."
I swallowed and dropped his hand, looking away as I chewed on my lip.
"By the way," Hermione said quietly. "I know what it's like to be ashamed of a scar." She leaned forward and rolled up her left sleeve. I leaned towards her slightly. It was hard to see, but I could make out a scar on her inner forearm. It looked like words again, but different from the ones on everyone's hands. The letters were a bit bigger and sloppier and there seemed to be just one word.
"Mudblood?" I asked, my eyes widening slightly in horror. "Is that what it says?"
Hermione nodded. "It's the same term used over in America, yes?"
"It is," I whispered. "Did that teacher do that to you, too?"
Hermione shook her head. "One of Voldemort's Death Eaters. She was trying to get information out of me and this was her way of trying to do it."
"Hermione didn't crack, though," Ron said proudly, leaning over to kiss Hermione's temple. Hermione smiled and leaned into his touch as she pulled down her sleeve again.
"It was hard not to," she went on. "And I hated having this on my arm at first. It's already been deemed a very derogatory term and it's hard to break that. But you know what? It's what I am. It's a word-albeit not a civil one-that essentially means Muggle born. And that's what I am. I'm not ashamed of it. Being Muggle born is the reason I always studied so hard in school. I felt like I needed to fit in. And sure, I got made fun of for it, but I always got excellent marks and I'm proud of that. I proved that someone can come from a completely non-magical family and still succeed in a world full of magic. And just because someone decided Mudblood was derogatory and the rest of society went with it, doesn't mean I have to. It means Muggle born and that's what I am." She shrugged.
"How long did it take you to come to terms with all that?" I asked.
"A while," Hermione admitted with a shrug. "And I realize that others like me might not have been able to. But I have. I didn't feel like I had a choice. It was either be ashamed and disgusted for the rest of my life, or take control of something that was done to me beyond my control. It might take you a while, too, to come to terms with your own scars. It's not easy and everyone's experience is different. But you don't have to feel damaged just because someone else has decided you are."
"The night Sophie first came here," Martha said, "Tom and I saw the scars. The first thing I thought of were angel wings. They're right in the spots where an angel's wings would be. It looked as if someone had tried to rip out an angel's wings. That's what it reminded me of."
I smiled fondly at her. "You told me you hoped whoever had tried to rip out my wings hadn't succeeded."
"And I don't think they have, dear," Martha said. "You've been through so much and you never had any consistency growing up. This one man who was part of the many people given the chance to raise you did a terrible job at it. And as run down and hopeless as you may feel, you've remained a very sweet, kind, smart and funny girl underneath all that pain. You haven't let anyone take that away from you, no matter how hard they've tried."
My cheeks flushed red and I looked down at my lap as I smiled. It felt so good to hear something like that. Feeling like there was someone that actually truly liked me for me was something I had grown unaccustomed to, but had wanted all my life.
"So, how did you end up here at Tom and Martha's anyway?" Bill asked.
"Well, like I said, I was moving around a lot, but I was nervous and scared and paranoid. I felt like I had to put more distance between me and Salem. London was another place my mother and I had talked about seeing, although not as extensively as New York. New York was number one on our list because of the ice rink. But that was exactly the reason I didn't want to go there when I was on the run. It was confusing. I wanted to still be close to her, but at the same time, I didn't. I still felt confused and angry and at some points I blamed her for the situation I was in. If she hadn't left, I would have never ended up with Eric and Andrea. Anyway, she also had English ancestry. So I felt that this place was not only significant, but far enough away. It reminded me enough of my mother, but not too much. Every reminder of her here was distant and not really...solid. We'd talked of coming here, but we never did. We had ancestors from here, but ages ago. Way down the line. It was a way of being near her, but an arm's length away, all at the same time. If that makes sense."
"Sophie hadn't been in London for very long when we finally took her in," Tom said. "Maybe about a week or two. But I caught her in the back alley, searching through the garbage bins for food. She was wearing this dirty, tattered cloak she'd found from somewhere and she was just going through the trash. I scared her away, naturally."
"But she came back," Martha said with a fond smile in my direction. "She liked my cooking."
I giggled, despite the fact that Tom's recollection of just how pathetic I had once been had me feeling slightly nauseous.
"I did like it, actually. A lot. As terrified I had been when I was first caught, I was so hungry..."
"When we caught her the second time, Martha insisted we invite her in," Tom went on. "I was cautious. Perhaps overly so. But for a good reason. So my only condition was that we give her Veritaserum so that we'd know exactly who she was and where she came from. Martha agreed, but it was a nightmare. Sophie did her best to fight it and fight us. She didn't want to talk. I understand why now, of course."
"You did the right thing," I said. "You had no reason to trust me."
"In any case, I don't regret any of the decisions I made that night, including the one where I let you stay."
"Thanks, Tom," I said with a smile.
"So then you've been living here since April," Kingsley said, "working for Tom and Martha, making friends, and living the life you always should have had."
"Essentially," I said. "But this still isn't over. I'm clearly still being targeted."
"Exactly," Kingsley said. "Which brings us to tonight. Would you mind explaining what happened?"
"Well, I guess it technically started over the weekend. Noah came over and I got weird about him kissing me. Well, not about that exactly, but he was seconds away from discovering the scars on my back and I got freaked out and stopped him. And he's always been so good about taking it as slow as I wanted and making sure I was comfortable. Believe it or not, there were times when I almost wished he wouldn't be so cautious. But only almost. I couldn't help but get scared every time his hands started to wander up my back. Or if things just seemed to be moving too fast. And I found it really endearing that he was so considerate. That's just who he is. Rachel, Kayla and Allie told me he doesn't even like to kill bugs. But anyway, after that weekend, he started acting funny on Monday. He seemed a bit out of it. Not his usual self. And then later, he—" I broke off and glanced nervously at Fred. "He asked me to go out for dinner this weekend but I told him I'd already made plans with Fred. We were going to go to Hogsmeade. Noah got upset. He said he didn't want me to go."
"Really?" Fred asked in amusement.
"That's funny to you?" I asked.
"No, but it is a bit of an ego boost. If Noah still feels threatened even after I've been a complete mess for the past year, then that means I've still got some charm, yeah?"
"Not particularly," Ginny teased. "Actually, I'd argue that you never had any charm."
"Thanks, Gin," Fred said with a roll of his eyes.
"I told him that I had already said yes and didn't want to cancel," I went on. "He didn't like it. And I hated that he was upset. He'd never been that way and didn't seem like the type to let something like this bother him. And if it did, I would expect him to talk to me about it rationally."
"He was still acting funny the day after, wasn't he?" Martha asked. "Which was yesterday. That was when I caught you and the girls talking about how odd he was acting."
I nodded. "He ignored me and wouldn't talk to me at all. He wouldn't even talk to Rachel at first. When I first told her, Allie and Kayla how weird he was acting, they just said it was normal. That he liked me so much and there was only so much even a patient person could take. But once Rachel tried to talk to him, even she said something was up. We even saw him kill a fly. And then he ended up telling us about his mother. We asked if he needed company for the night and Rachel said I would go. She said I would understand the most, which is true. And I wanted to be there for him. But once we got back to his house, I made tea and he kissed me again. I let him for a bit, but when I stopped him, he got upset again. Really upset. And then he accused me of not trusting him enough."
"I find that so strange," Martha said. "I know he's been going through a tough time, but he's suddenly gotten some sharp edges because of it. It doesn't seem like him. Usually he just gets quieter when he's upset. If I remember correctly, that's what his mother said happened when his father left. But then again, he was a kid then and this is huge. He and his mother were close."
"I thought the way he was reacting was odd too," I said. "He's so sweet normally, so why would he become so-so-angry under stress?"
"You'd be surprised," Kingsley said. "People react to things in funny ways sometimes."
"Which is why I tried to brush his behavior off," I answered. "But maybe I should've listened to my instincts right away." I shrugged and turned to gaze out the window again, bringing my fingers to my mouth and chewing on my thumbnail.
"What happened next?" Kingsley asked me gently.
I shrugged as I turned away from the window and lowered my hand from my mouth. "Noah went up to bed and eventually I made my way to the living room couch. I fell asleep. And then I woke up to the sound of loud thunder...and another noise. A crash from the entryway. So I went to look and the umbrella stand by the door had tipped over. I was picking it up when I heard a noise from behind me. I thought it was Noah, but before I could turn around, I was grabbed from behind."
"Eric?" Fred asked quietly.
I nodded. "He pressed a knife to my throat. I asked where Noah was and he said maybe he ran away, just as I'd done. I'm not sure if there was any truth to that or not." I shrugged. "Anyway, I tried asking him how he got there and how he found me, but he wouldn't tell me. He just told me I was going to go back to Salem with him. He told me to charm one of the umbrellas into a Portkey. I tried to tell him no and that I was the one with the wand, but that was when he slashed my arm." I nodded down to my torn sleeve, where my skin was now healed beneath it. "He forced me back over to the umbrellas and I tried to hit him in the foot with one but he threw me to the ground and threatened to kill me. So I got back up and tried to think of any way I could get away or at least buy myself more time to think. Anything to get out of charming the umbrella."
I stopped talking as I shivered slightly. The reminder that Eric was here made me sick to my stomach.
Fred noticed my shiver and pulled me tighter against him as he adjusted the blanket I had wrapped around me. I wasn't shivering from cold and he knew that as much as I did, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
"What happened next, Sophie?" Kingsley asked gently.
"There was a big clap of thunder and a flash of lightning and the window next to the door shattered. It was enough to get Eric to let me go and I took the chance to Stun him. And after that...I could have sworn I saw a shadow move from the top of the stairs. I thought it was Noah, so I went to investigate. I looked in every room and there was no sign of life. Even in Noah's bedroom-it looked like he hadn't even been in there. The bed was made and everything. So I just left before Eric would have the chance to wake up. I ran for it until I was a good distance away and used a dark alley to Apparate back here. I packed a bag and tried to run, but I broke a vase and woke Tom and Martha. They stopped me from leaving."
"As they should have," Mrs. Weasley said indignantly. "Where were you planning on going all by yourself?"
"France?" Fred asked with a raised eyebrow.
I shot him a look and rolled my eyes. "I don't know, Fred. All I knew was that I'd have to keep moving. Like I did before. I have some money now and I thought I'd spend it as wisely as possible until it ran out or I could get another temporary job. And then leave again and find another one. Keep moving. Never stay in one place for too long. That was always my plan. Until I came here."
"You were okay with leaving here just like that?" Fred asked.
"Of course not," I said. "It broke my heart. But look at what's already happened to Noah and his mother. Because of me! And if anything else happened to any of you-I'd never forgive myself. I'm already feeling guilty for what happened to Noah. You shouldn't have to be punished after all the kindness you've shown me."
"None of this is your fault," Mrs. Weasley said gently. "None of it. You can't be blamed for people around you behaving like-like-"
"Like complete barmpots?" George asked.
"George, honestly," Mrs. Weasley sighed as George shrugged.
"If I hadn't come here-" I began.
"If you hadn't come here," Fred said firmly, "I probably still would have been trying to hold my breath in the Burrow's pond."
"Fred, don't," I said, glaring up at him.
"Don't what?" he said. "Why are you so certain that you've done more harm than good?"
"What have I done, Fred?" I asked. "I'm a mess. I don't understand how I could have possibly been that much of a help."
"Sharing that diary with me," he began. "It seems simple and I know you originally did it because you were scared for yourself, but that diary...it's like some of my own feelings are there written down on paper. It's helping me cope. And I've explained all this to you before...I saw myself in you when you first got here. Someone who'd been through some messed up shit. Different shit, but shit nonetheless. And you weren't talkative. You wouldn't pressure me and you had no reason to tiptoe around me or have any prior expectations of how I should be acting. Maybe that's another reason why I never really went into detail about how I was and all the pranks I've pulled. I didn't want you to start comparing. But I can see why you'd want to know. You wanted honesty and you wanted it all out on the table. You want to know someone's true colors without any secrets. You want to know what you're getting into when you start growing close to someone. Which is why I decided to tell you about the person I used to be. Starting with the day I left school. And I actually kind of wanted to tell you. I want to be the person I once was. And since you and I have become friends, I've been thinking about the old me quite a bit. All you've been trying to do since you got here is find out who you are and I started to want the same thing for myself. I used to know who I was, but I lost him the day we also lost my brother. And I really do want to find him again."
I looked up at him, trying to blink back the tears that were now swimming in my eyes. I didn't know what to say. But luckily, I didn't have to say anything because Kingsley spoke again.
"Fred, you mentioned a diary. What diary?"
I sighed. I hadn't realized just how many details of this story there were and just how many I was now expected to share with a room full of people. Especially the diary. It had been just between me and the twins for the most part, and I almost didn't want to give it up.
"Someone dropped a diary in front of me one day when I was walking home from the joke shop. I thought it was an accident, but when I picked it up and opened the front cover, I noticed it had belonged to a woman named Elizabeth Proctor. She was one of the victims of the Salem Witch Trials."
Everyone in the room was silent as they stared at me. So Fred, George and I took turns explaining how I'd started to read it, then eventually shared it with Fred, then George. We explained the strange woman I'd met in the shop with Rachel and how she'd snuck me that necklace. How we'd asked Bill to test it for curses. How that woman showed up at the joke shop and how Fred and I had tried to talk to her. How she'd dropped the postcard that I was still convinced was the very same one I'd thrown away all those years ago.
"You do realize how lucky you are that the diary isn't cursed, don't you?" Mr. Weasley asked with a frown. "Especially after Ginny was possessed by one. How many times have I told you, Fred, even before what happened to Ginny. Don't trust anything if you-"
"Can't tell where it keeps it's brain, I know," Fred said. "I told Sophie about all of that, including what happened to Ginny."
"I told Fred he didn't have to get involved if he didn't want to," I said. "It was too late for me. I'd already started reading it. Nothing had happened, but I know we still couldn't have been sure."
"Have you had the diary tested as well as the necklace?" Mr. Weasley asked.
I shook my head. "No, we never did."
"How do you know there isn't some less...obvious charm on it?" he asked. "Sure, maybe you haven't been possessed or burned or anything like that, but what if there's some kind of tracking charm on it and that's how Eric found you? Maybe this woman is working for him."
"I've thought of that," I said. "Believe me."
"She wanted to get rid of it at one point," Fred said. "We both got pretty attached to Elizabeth's story, but Sophie started to get scared because of that woman and the necklace and Eric still being out there somewhere. She mentioned wanting to throw the diary off a cliff. But I wouldn't let her. As I've said...it's helped me. Elizabeth felt responsible for the convictions and executions of her neighbors and friends. She felt as if she didn't do enough to help them, even though there was nothing she could have done. She was trying not to blame herself. All she wanted was to be free of all of it. Free of the accusations and that horrible wave of hysteria washing over Salem." He looked at me. She wanted to be free of her guilt, like I do. She wanted to be free of people who would look at her and see someone terrible. Free of people who were out to imprison and then kill her. Like Sophie." He gave me a small smile and I smiled back.
"You haven't found out what happened to her in the end?" Hermione asked curiously.
I shook my head. "We've left off at the entry when she's been in jail for about a month."
The room was quiet for a moment and I knew everyone was trying to process all that I'd told them.
"Okay," Kingsley finally said slowly. "So I think the first step would be to figure out protection. Not only for Sophie, but for everyone else."
"Wouldn't it be safest for Sophie to stay exactly where she is?" Martha asked. "Right here? This man is a Muggle, yes? So he shouldn't even be able to see the Leaky Cauldron. It doesn't appear to anyone who isn't magical."
"You have a point," Kingsley said. "But I don't think we should take any chances. If Eric has been watching Sophie closely, he may have seen her come inside. He may have asked around about where she's staying. He may have asked another witch or wizard about getting in. That is the one flaw of the charms already surrounding this place. If Eric simply saw Sophie come inside and tried to follow her, the building would still seem abandoned and empty. He'd follow her inside and see a completely empty pub. But if someone were to tell him about it..."
"And we shouldn't take that chance," I said. "I'm not willing to do that. It's why I need to leave."
"And we've already established that you shouldn't-you can't," Fred argued. "You can't do this alone and we like having you here."
"You mean you do," I said.
"We all do," Fred corrected me. "You have been good for me, as I've said. And so what? Why is that a bad thing?"
"Because there's still a part of me that's afraid of being used. There's a part of me that's afraid anyone showing me any sort of kindness or affection is a joke."
"Well, we all turned up here tonight for you, didn't we?" Fred asked. "I think that's a little far to take a joke, even for me and George."
"Fred, that's enough," Mrs. Weasley said as I winced slightly as Fred's words. He had a point, even if I didn't like hearing it.
"What if we kept Sophie at the Burrow?" Mr. Weasley suggested. "It's out of the way, we have more room to put up all kinds of charms and it won't affect anyone's business. Tom and Martha have the Leaky Cauldron. There's only so much we can do here for protection."
"But I can't let you put up charms all around your house," I said.
Mrs. Weasley shrugged. "We had them up for most of the last war, dear. What's a little while longer?"
"But that's just it-you all thought you were safe and could finally take the spells down." I shook my head. "I don't want the fight for my freedom to affect or cost you yours."
"Will you just stop arguing and let us do this?" Fred asked. "Please?"
"Believe me, I want nothing more to be free of this monster once and for all," I said. "But being here...this is the first time in a long time that I've had a real home with people that actually care about me. If we manage to take down Eric, but someone else gets hurt or killed in the process or if I still lose all of this..." I gestured around the room and shrugged. "Would it even be worth it?"
"Of course it would be," Ginny said. "First of all, we can't all die in the middle of this. The probability of that is low. You'll still have some of us. Which I know isn't ideal, but you still won't have to worry about not having a home again."
"We can't promise we'll all make it out of this alive," Tom said. "But we're going to try our hardest. And just stop arguing with us about it, for Merlin's sake. You did say you wanted to be free of this man for good, didn't you? Twice now, in fact."
I couldn't help myself-a faint smile lifted up my lips. He was right.
"I know how guilt feels," Fred said. "Probably the most out of anyone here. But remember what Elizabeth said in the diary? She said to stand up for the people you love. To be kind to people. And to be kind to yourself. Don't blame yourself for things you can't control. And you said your foster mother said something almost the same when you tried to escape, yeah? There must be some truth to it."
I fiddled with the hem of my shirt as I thought that over. "Okay," I said. "I'll do whatever you think is best. If you think I should go to the Burrow and-" I turned to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, "if you don't mind having me there, as well as charms put up...then I'll go." I looked at Tom and Martha. "But what about work?"
"If you're going to be staying at the Burrow to be out of sight and out of the way, then you'll probably have to discontinue working for now," Kingsley said.
"But-" I protested. "I can't just sit around and be completely useless!"
"You won't be. You haven't been," Kingsley said. "You gave us an account of what happened with Noah-the best you could. You have us the account of what Eric did to you-recently and as a child. You gave us a description of him so that we know what he looks like. You've helped a great deal and if we need you for anything else, we'll be sure to inform you."
"Okay, but...I'm not afraid to get involved with the dirty work. Just so you all know." I looked around the room, almost as if challenging someone to tell me to stay behind if anything big happened.
Fred actually laughed from beside me. "That's what I like to hear," he said.
I looked at Kingsley. "I'd also like to go to work just for tomorrow," I said. "If that's okay. Just so I can talk to the girls and tell them I'll be leaving for a bit. They've been really good to me. I think they deserve to know and to hear it straight from me."
"I think one more day is a good idea as well," Kingsley said. "It'll give you the opportunity to pack, get your stuff together, and talk to your friends, like you said. Just as long as it's okay with Tom and Martha."
"Of course it's okay!" Martha said.
I chewed on my lip slightly. "Will things be okay for you after that? You'll be short two workers. Me and Noah."
Martha smiled slightly. "We'll figure something out, dear. I don't want you to worry about that on top of everything else."
I nodded. "Okay."
"Okay, so then it's settled then," Kingsley said. "Tomorrow evening, we'll have someone come bring you to the Burrow."
"George and I will do it," Fred said. "We're right down the alley anyway."
"And we're also hoping that by stopping by the Burrow around dinnertime, Mum will invite us to stay," George said with a smirk.
Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes. "You don't need an excuse to come by for dinner. You know that. In fact, I wish you did it more often!"
"Only so you can keep an eye on me," Fred told her, shaking his head slightly and giving her a small smile.
"Can you blame a mother for worrying?" she asked with a sigh.
Fred didn't answer right away. "No, I can't," he finally said.
The next night, I was finishing up my shift at the Leaky Cauldron, as planned. In about ten minutes, Fred and George would be taking me to the Burrow. They were already waiting for me out in the dining room area, sitting at the bar and having a drink or two while they waited for my shift to end.
I'd talked to Rachel, Allie and Kayla earlier, explaining to them what had happened and that I'd be leaving for a while. Naturally, they were horrified at everything that had happened, worried about Noah, and worried about me. They all hugged me and promised to come visit at the Burrow when they could.
The mood was different than any other day at work, though. Noah's absence was noticed and with everything else going on, everyone was a lot more solemn and quiet. Even Rachel wasn't her usual bubbly self.
As much as I almost didn't want my shift to end, because it meant it was the start of a whole different routine for me than the one I had become accustomed to, I was glad that it was almost over. The saddened mood of the day had exhausted me even more than being on my feet all day normally did.
Rubbing the back of my neck with one hand and carrying a bag of trash with the other, I headed out to the back alley to throw the bag into one of the cans. Halfway across the alley, though, I noticed a putrid smell and instantly covered my nose with my free hand. What was that? Usually, the trash in the cans was taken care of regularly enough where it never started to smell. At least not this bad. Had someone forgotten? I wasn't sure I would blame them with the chaos of the night before.
I resorted to holding my breath as I approached the trash cans and lifted the lid of one, flinging the bag I was holding into it as quickly as possible. But it was a little less gentle as usual, too and the bin wobbled in place, shifting a bit as it did. And that was when an hand slid out from between the bin and the one beside it, hitting the stone ground with a slap.
My heart practically stopped beating just then. There was someone behind the row of four garbage bins, nestled between them and the brick wall of the next building. And I was afraid that the person wouldn't be alive. Not by the looks of the pale and dirty hand.
Shaking from head to toe, I reached out with both hands to grab two of the bins. A voice in the back of my head was telling me I'd regret this and that I should just go tell Tom or Martha. Or even Kyle. Someone. Anyone. But despite my trembling body and my heart that was now pounding quickly, I reached for the bins anyway and quickly yanked them aside.
The rest of the body attached to the hand rolled away from the wall and landed face up. I stumbled backwards a few steps, drawing in a shaky breath as I sunk to my knees, my legs unable to support me anymore.
It was Noah. And he was definitely not alive.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from his pale, dirty, scratched face. He was staring right at me-unseeing-with his eyes wide open. I started to scramble backwards, wanting to scream, but feeling unable to get any air into my lungs. It felt like the world had gone quiet. Nothing or no one else existed. My ears were ringing, my chest was tight, my stomach was in knots. The smell was suddenly ten times worse. I suddenly found the strength to stand and stumble towards the wall of the Leaky Cauldron as the contents of my stomach came back up. I wrapped my arms around my stomach as I doubled over.
Once I was done, the noise seemed to return to the world full force. I heard the bang of a pot from inside the kitchen at the same time that air seemed to return to my lungs all at once. And I let out a loud scream that was a few minutes delayed, but a scream nonetheless.
