Fifteen minutes after reading Elizabeth's latest diary entry, I was sitting on the floor, multiple discarded items from my bag surrounding me. Actually, it was nearly the entire contents of my bag. I had hastily dug through it, flinging things out every which way in search of one item. The item that I was now holding in my hands and staring down at while my heart pounded: the necklace.
My mind had been working so hard to make sense of everything that it felt like it wasn't working at all anymore. It was just blank. The necklace Elizabeth had described in her diary entry had sounded exactly like the one I was holding now. The very same one that had been snuck into my bag by some mysterious, cryptic woman I'd never met. The same one that Bill had checked for curses and the same one that the mystery woman had been so curious to know if I'd worn yet. I hadn't, after all this time, mostly out of fear. It had come back safe, according to Bill, but I was so distrusting and confused by that woman-especially after she'd asked if I'd worn it-that I'd still been afraid to place it around my neck. But now I had an answer-a possible one, at least-as to what it did. It would make the wearer invisible, but only so long as they were a blood relative of Elizabeth. So logically, nothing would happen to me when I put the necklace on.
But then why did I feel so nervous? I couldn't be related to Elizabeth. It just wasn't possible. But then again, what did I know? For all I knew, it could be possible. Her diary and now her necklace-given that it was even the same one-had both been given to me by people I didn't even know. Did they know something I didn't? And if they did, then how? How could they know more about my ancestry than I did?
Trembling slightly, I pushed myself to my feet and turned towards the mirror, the necklace still in my hands, threaded between my fingers. I swallowed thickly as I unclasped the chain and held it up, poised just in front of my neck. This was it. The moment of truth. The moment that would tell me whether or not I'd gone absolutely insane.
I closed my eyes and brought the two ends of the chain to meet at the back of my neck as I clasped it. When I was done, I kept my eyes closed and slid my fingers down the length of the chain until they stopped at the small pearl pendant.
Inhaling shakily, I counted slowly to three and opened my eyes, unsure if I wanted to see my own reflection or not once I did.
It took me a second to register what I was seeing once I did open my eyes. Nothing. I saw nothing. I was standing in front of the mirror, but had no reflection. I had gone invisible.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. I took a few steps forward and slowly extended my hand, lightly touching my fingertips to the glass of the mirror. I leaned forward until my nose was almost touching it. I saw my breath fog up the glass, but I couldn't see my face.
And then just like that, time, movement and my own thoughts seemed to speed up again and I whirled around, away from the mirror, fumbling to unclasp the necklace. It took me a bit and I let out a swear. Just as I was about to rip it from my neck, it came undone. I held it in my fist as I quickly left the room, pausing only to grab the diary from my bed. I descended the stairs, rushing out the back door. I was grateful that Mrs. Weasley was upstairs, putting away some laundry so that I didn't have to pass by her as I ran outside, but I was fairly certain she must have heard my loud, frantic steps and the slam of the door.
I didn't even fully realize where I was headed until I was practically bounding down the wooden dock that jutted out over the Burrow's pond. I had my arm up, ready to toss both the necklace and the diary straight into the water, but something stopped me and I froze. I lowered my hand and held the necklace in front of my face, staring at it intently as I slowly sat down at the edge of the dock, leaning against the wooden post at the front corner and stretching my legs out across the old, worn wood.
I frowned down at the necklace as I fiddled with it. Part of me did want to get rid of it and the diary and just put an end to all this, but part of me knew there really wouldn't be an end. Not when it had already begun. I could get rid of the physical objects, but I couldn't erase what had just happened from my mind and I couldn't get rid of the knowledge of what it meant.
And if I wanted any kind of answers at all, I needed the diary and the necklace.
It just couldn't be possible. It just couldn't be. I was having trouble wrapping my head around it. Understandably. I had millions of questions. Also understandably. And I just wasn't sure who could give me answers. The one person who came to mind was the mystery woman who'd given me the necklace in the first place. She'd been curious to know if I'd worn it or not, which made me think she knew what would happen. And she'd also dropped that postcard at the twins' joke shop. The ripped one of the ice rink. The same one I'd had so long ago.
How could this woman seemingly know these things about me? How could she know things-like my family history-that I didn't even know myself. I'd never seen this woman before and I didn't know how to find her now. I figured that was what had stopped me from discarding the necklace, though. The fact that I wanted answers. If I wanted to figure this out, I probably shouldn't get rid of the thing that had contributed to a massive part of this mystery. But the problem still remained that I didn't know who this woman was, I didn't know her name and I didn't know how to find her. What good was that? And even if I did know any or all of those things, I was pretty much confined to the Burrow.
I had probably been sitting out on the dock for close to an hour, staring down at the water lost in thought, when a loud clicking noise caught my attention. I jumped slightly and looked around to see Fred crouched down at the other end of the dock, a camera held up to his face and aimed at me.
"Fred..." I began wearily. While I once upon a time had been really into taking pictures, I wasn't typically in the mood to be in them. Especially now.
Fred lowered the camera from his face and gave me a tiny, lopsided smile as he shrugged. "I just thought it was too good of a photo opportunity to pass up. The lighting and the water and everything...Maybe you'll agree with me once it's developed."
"Doubtful," I snorted, looking away again.
"Mum's started dinner," Fred went on, heading down the dock and sitting down across from me, leaning against the opposite wooden post. "She didn't know where you'd gotten off to. She said she thought she heard you run out of the house earlier in quite a rush."
"How did you know where to find me, then?" I asked.
"If you'll recall, this was my sulking spot first," Fred said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It faded after a moment and he raised an eyebrow at me. "So, go on, then. Tell me. What's wrong?"
I looked at him for a moment before slowly handing him the diary. Whether I liked it or not, Fred was part of this now too. "Read the latest entry," I said.
He held my gaze as he took the tattered book from my hands and opened it. Finally, he lowered his eyes to the page and began to read. I watched his face for the sign of realization. The sign that he recognized the necklace Elizabeth had described. Eventually, I saw him frown in confusion and bite his lip. And then finally, he slowly shut the diary and looked up at me.
"It's not possible for it to be the same necklace, Soph," he said. "Bill checked it, remember? Nothing showed up. So if that's what you're worried about-"
"I already tried the necklace on, Fred," I told him.
"Oh," he said, swallowing. "But nothing happened, right? It couldn't have. Even if it was the same necklace, there's no way you could be..."
He trailed off as I sighed and stood up, shifting my hair out of the way and clasping the necklace around my neck again. The second I did, Fred's mouth dropped open as he stared up at me-or at least the spot where I'd disappeared.
"Bloody hell," he whispered, slowly pushing himself to his feet and stepping closer. "Um-where are you?" he asked, holding up a hand and slowly extending it towards the spot I was standing in.
"Right here," I said, reaching out and pressing my palm to his. Fred stared at his hand-our hands-for a second, his eyes wide as he shook his head.
"It's not possible," he said. "It can't be."
"I thought that too," I said. "But apparently it is. And I have no proof that says it's not."
"But you have no proof that says it is," Fred said.
"Fred, you're looking at it," I argued. "Or...not." I pulled my hand back from his and unclasped the necklace, returning myself into view.
"This isn't proof of anything," Fred said. "It could be some elaborate trick to get you to believe what someone wants you to believe. It could be Eric playing games with you."
"I'm not sure he's the type to play games," I said.
"But you also think he killed Noah and took Polyjuice Potion to impersonate him. That sounds like a game to me. A twisted game, but a game nonetheless."
"That's a little different. He's a sick and twisted man who would do sick and twisted things to scare me. But why would he sneak me the diary and the necklace and why would he want me to think I'm related to Elizabeth? And most of all, how would he get these things?" I gestured to the necklace and diary. "Fake or not, I'm not sure he'd be the type to put in all this effort."
"Either way, you need answers, don't you think?" Fred asked.
"I do," I answered. "I just don't know how to get them. The woman who gave me the necklace-I don't know where to find her or what her name is or why she'd be doing this."
"Well then we have to find her," Fred said firmly. "Assuming this is true-that you're Elizabeth's...whatever relation you are to her, well, not only do you deserve an explanation, but this lady might also have some information on your mother."
"Fred, don't," I said. "We've already hit a few dead ends with trying to find out what happened to her."
"Well, I wanted to go back to Salem and-"
"Fred, stop," I said firmly, taking a step back from him. "Stop."
"You don't want to go back, do you?" he asked quietly.
"I spent so much time trying to leave Salem," I said, shaking my head. "And I think going back is what Eric wants me to do anyway. He wanted me to create a Portkey to take us back that day he found me at Noah's mother's house. Of course, I'm not entirely sure what he wants or what he'd do to me if he found me and took me back to Salem, but the one thing I do know is that he doesn't want me here. He never wanted me to leave Salem in the first place. Besides, weren't you the one who thought this whole thing could've been a trap set up by him to get me to go back there?"
Fred didn't answer. Instead, he just stared down at me, lost in thought. "I thought you wanted answers."
I let out a breath of laughter and shrugged. "I do, but mostly about this diary and the necklace and what it all means. Not so much about the past. But most of all I just want this all to stop," I said, throwing my arms out to the side and letting them flap back to my side. "I want everything to be over. I want to live a normal life. I want to figure out who gave me this diary and the necklace, I want them to leave me alone, and I want Eric to leave me alone. I don't want to be afraid anymore. Any answers I want are mostly related to that. I have too much going on to focus too much on the past. I just don't know where to begin with figuring out the answers I need."
Fred took another step closer to me. "We have to find that woman," he said quietly. "She's a great place to start."
"Yeah, but how?" I asked.
Fred thought about it for a second. "Well she seems to show up wherever you are. Obviously."
"Okay, but she can't show up here. We've got loads of protection spells up. And we are not taking them down and luring her here. I won't do that to your family after they were kind enough to take me in."
"That's not what I was going to suggest," Fred said with a slight smile. "I was going to say we take you outside of the charms."
"But we cant! Kingsley wouldn't even allow me to leave to go to Noah's burial."
"Nobody has to know," Fred said.
"If someone were to see me leave, or if Eric really is watching and sees me around—"
"Sophie," Fred interrupted with a slight laugh. "You have a necklace that makes you invisible."
"Oh," I said, glancing down at said necklace. "Right."
"If we have to use it, we will. But if we want the Mystery Women to show up, she has to see you first," Fred said.
"Even still...Someone here would notice I'm gone. I'm usually alone with your mother all day. I help her around the house. She'd notice."
Fred seemed to think about that for a moment before he grinned. "Not if she thinks you're sick in bed."
"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
Fred began rummaging in his pocket, pulling out a few loose coins, a crumpled Drooble's Bubble Gum wrapper, some string and even a green marble before finally exclaiming, "Aha! There it is. I thought I had one in here."
"One of what?" I asked.
Fred turned back to me and held out a small object in a purple and orange wrapper. "Puking Pastil. Actually-hang on." He started digging through his other pocket and eventually came up with another item similar to the first, but wrapped in red and yellow. "I've got Fever Fudge as well. Take your pick. Although, might I suggest taking both for more of an effect?"
I blinked at him for a moment. "These are from your joke shop," I said. "The sweets that make you sick when you eat one half, and cure you when you eat the other."
Fred nodded. "They are. What do you say? You take one or both of the sweets, let Mum think you're really sick, then you take the curing half and sneak out with me. We'll spend the day trying to get that mystery woman to talk to you."
"Fred, how stupid do you think your mother is?" I asked with a slight smile.
"It has nothing to do with her intelligence, but everything to do with how nice you typically are. You've been trustworthy this whole time without ever trying to leave the house or run away. You've really hit it off with my mother. You help her with chores for Merlin's sake. She wouldn't suspect you trying to trick her. You're like a little angel."
I instinctively reached my hand around to my back, stretching my fingers up towards the spots where my scars were. Or, as Martha had called them, my angel wings.
"I don't know if I can betray her trust like that," I whispered.
Fred smiled. "See? You are an angel." He held the two wrapped candies out to me. "Think about it at least."
Hesitantly, I reached out and took them before slipping them into my pocket, even though I had my mind set on not using them. "Fred, your parents-they didn't have to take me in. They didn't have to put their family in this position, especially after what's already happened." I stopped as Fred flinched slightly. "But they did. They're great people. They're the second people, after Tom and Martha, who have treated me as if I was their own child. I can't believe I've been lucky enough to get that twice here, after being so unlucky back home. I almost can't believe it's real. And to put all that in jeopardy-to risk losing it-"
"You won't," Fred insisted. "Listen, if my parents can forgive George and I for all the crazy things we've done, they can forgive you for sneaking out to find answers about your past."
"I'm not sure about that," I said quietly.
"Believe me," Fred said, "George and I have done some things that to this day, we still find pretty legendary, but talking about them will make Mum smoke at the ears all over again. We've stolen dad's enchanted, flying car to break Harry out of his house. We tricked Harry's cousin into eating a Ton-Tongue Toffee, which caused his tongue to grow to four feet long before Dad was able to shrink it. We dropped out of school, which I have never regretted for a day, but I thought Mum would never forgive us for that."
"Yeah, but me leaving after-"
"Percy left us," Fred interrupted, his voice suddenly stiff. "Remember? He walked out on us because his head had gotten too big for him to even think clearly anymore. If you want to talk about betrayal, let's talk about the day he walked out and he told Dad that he had no ambition and that if only he did, our family wouldn't have always been so bloody poor."
"He said that?" I asked quietly, peering up at Fred.
Fred nodded. "It was the nastiest argument I'd ever heard. Dad hardly ever yells. Rarely, actually. It's usually Mum. But he was mad that day with Percy. And when Percy came back-months later-all was forgiven. Pretty much instantly. All of us forgave him."
"Percy is family, though. It's different. I'm-I'm not really family, no matter how much they've treated me like I am."
"Don't think it matters to Mum. Honestly, I think she's got a thing for orphans. She can't help herself. If one crosses her path, she immediately makes them unofficially hers. Just ask Harry." He smirked slightly. "She probably would've adopted him if he hadn't started snogging my sister."
"Fred, honestly," I scoffed, rolling my eyes.
Fred shrugged. "Like I said, give the plan some thought," he said. "Think about what you told me. You justified us forgiving Percy for walking out on us because he's family. If we can get you some answers and find out what happened to your mother, it'll be one step closer to you forgiving her. It'll be one step closer to you making peace with what happened."
"I have made peace with it."
"No, you haven't. You've accepted it on the most basic level," Fred argued. "Accepted it as just the way things are. There's a difference. How can you be at peace with her leaving when you don't even know the reason why?"
I didn't answer him. Instead, I crossed my arms and looked down at the ground, digging my toe as hard as I could into the wood of the dock.
"Also," Fred went on, his voice suddenly quiet, "thank you for talking about Percy in the present tense."
"What?" I asked, looking up at him in confusion.
"You said Percy is family, not Percy was family," Fred clarified.
"Well, yeah, of course. Just because he's dead doesn't mean he's no longer your family."
Fred smiled at me, almost knowingly. "Exactly." He was quiet for another minute before speaking again. "And you know what? People talking about him in the past tense got old really quick. I may have not liked talking about him for a long time-and it's still weird now-but when people did talk about him, using the past tense made it ten times worse. Either way, both things were an insult to his memory. You were right when you told me that and Ginny was right too. We can't forget about him. If we all stop talking about him, he might as well be dying a second death."
I didn't have an answer to that. He had a point. But part of what he'd said had been repeating my own words back to me. I had told him not to forget about Percy and not to ignore what had happened. So why shouldn't I take my own advice and stop ignoring my own past. Facing it would be painful and exhausting, but thinking that over now, it seemed like such a cowardly excuse. And wasn't I always saying I was tired of being afraid?
I looked up at Fred. "I'll spend a day with you trying to track down mystery woman," I said. "But when people start getting upset, I'm blaming you." I smiled slightly.
"Can we try to pin the blame on Ron?" Fred replied with a teasing smile.
I shook my head. "Your idea, your consequences."
Fred didn't answer. Instead, he just stared back at me, still smiling. Finally he seemed to remember something and quickly glanced down at the camera in his hands, holding it out to me.
"I almost forgot. This is for you."
"For me?" I repeated, taking it from him. "What for?"
"You mentioned you used to like taking pictures, didn't you?" he said. "So much so that you wanted to do it professionally, yeah?"
"That was a long time ago," I said.
"But do you still like to do it?" Fred asked.
I thought that over for a moment as I studied the camera, wondering where Fred had gotten it. It was nice and it looked brand new, actually. "I'm not sure," I finally said, in response to his question, trailing my fingers over the camera as I continued to study it. "I haven't done it in so long."
"Well now you can find out," he said.
"Fred, did you buy this specifically for me?" I asked, finally looking up at him.
"Maybe, maybe not," he shrugged. "And if I did, so what?" He stuck his hands in his pockets as he turned to face the pond, ambling to the edge of the dock and standing with the toes of his shoes lined up perfectly against the edge.
"You shouldn't be wasting your hard earned money on me," I told him.
Fred glanced over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows at me. "Something's only a waste if it doesn't serve a purpose." He turned so that his back was to the pond again, but this time backing up slightly so his heels were jutting over the dock as he balanced on the balls of his feet, throwing his arms out to the side slightly to help keep his balance.
"You're going to fall in," I told him.
Fred rolled his eyes as the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "Good thing I know how to swim, then."
"I mean it, Fred," I told him, holding up the camera. "You really shouldn't have done this."
"Yeah, well, I'm always doing things I shouldn't," he argued, still balancing on the edge of the dock.
"Merlin, you're impossible," I sighed.
Fred looked up at me again, that lazy smirk on his face that I'd come to know as somewhat of a trademark of his. "I know," he replied simply.
We just stared at each other for a moment before I let out a breath of laughter, smiled back at him, and then held up the camera and snapped a quick picture.
"Now we're even," I said as Fred looked at me in surprise.
A second later, his mouth turned up into a smile as he finally stepped away from the edge of the dock. "I hope you got my good side," he teased.
"Your whole face is in it," I said. "And both sides look the same to me."
Fred laughed. "And how does my face look to you?"
I looked away and fiddled with the camera, unsure how to answer that. It sounded like a set up to me. Where I'd either have to tell him I thought he looked terrible or I thought he looked attractive. And I certainly didn't think he looked terrible.
"Normal. You look normal," I finally answered lamely.
"Normal?" Fred repeated. He let out a low whistle. "Way to shatter someone's self confidence, Soph."
"It's not like I said you were ugly," I said hotly, turning and heading back down the dock, away from him.
"No, but normal?" He laughed as he jogged to catch up to me. "I called you pretty and you tell me I'm just normal."
"When did you call me pretty?" I asked, stopping short and whirling around, causing Fred to nearly crash into me. I took a few steps back and looked at him.
"The day I met you," he said. "Remember? I said I was surprised that you'd been at the Leaky Cauldron for a month and that George and I hadn't noticed you because we usually notice pretty girls right away."
"Oh," I scoffed, waving my hand nonchalantly and turning around to continue my walk back to the Burrow. "That doesn't mean anything. You didn't even know me then. You were just trying to-"
"Trying to what?" Fred asked, catching up to me again. "Meaninglessly hit on you? Tell you you're pretty as a joke? Soph, first of all, I didn't have to know you to see that you're pretty. I have eyes. And sure, I've done my fair share of flirting and hitting on girls before, but someone complimenting you isn't always going to be meant as a joke. I was with Angelina for almost four years. You know that. I loved her."
"Your point?" I asked, picking up my pace slightly and keeping my eyes trained on the Burrow.
"I'm capable of actually maintaining a relationship," he said. "When I'm serious about someone, I'm serious about them."
"You and I are not dating, Fred," I told him. "Not now and obviously not on the day we first met. So I'm still not understanding your point."
"My point was that even if I was hitting on you that day, which I wasn't-not really-I was doing it because I genuinely thought you were pretty."
"It sounded like you were hitting on me to me," I said. We had almost reached the Burrow and I had my eyes trained on the back door as I walked. I glanced at Fred, who was effortlessly keeping up with me, his long legs giving him an advantage.
"I think you're pretty," Fred said. "I think you're pretty now and I thought you were pretty then. And I told you so. End of story. Nothing else to it. It was just a comment on something I noticed. It was a compliment. Maybe the delivery was flirtatious, but what can I say? But I wasn't trying to take advantage of you or accomplish anything by saying it. And I wasn't lying."
I finally stopped in my tracks and thought over what Fred had said. I actually believed him. But my guard was always up and letting it down, however slowly, was a terrifying process. It left me feeling open, exposed, unsafe and afraid. I swallowed before turning to look at Fred. "Thank you," I finally said simply. "For the compliment. And maybe...maybe you're, um-"
"Dashingly handsome?" Fred asked, fluttering his eyelashes.
I rolled my eyes.
"I appreciate the effort," Fred went on, smiling at me. "It took a lot to even thank me for the compliment, didn't it?"
I shrugged.
"Come on, I thought we were moving past the silence, Soph," he laughed.
I responded by holding up the camera and snapping another photo of his laughing face before turning and resuming my walk to the Burrow.
