Two members of the Magical Law Enforcement Department were at the door when George opened it. One of them, I recognized at once.

"That's the one who questioned me about Noah," I hissed to Fred. "The guy on the left. Roger."

"You mean the one who accused you of having something to do with Noah's death?" Fred asked, narrowing his eyes at Roger. "He looks like a prat."

"This is just perfect," I groaned, crossing my arms and turning away so that my back was to Roger. "He was already suspicious of me before, and now he's here investigating something else I was involved in!"

"You had nothing to do with either incident," Fred said, looking down at me. "If he says anything accusatory to you, I'll push him right into the fireplace and throw some Floo Powder down on top of him. Banish him to Merlin knows where." He smiled and I couldn't help but give him a small smile in return.

George led the two men over to the couch and gestured for me and Fred to come over as well. I followed Fred to one of the armchairs, my legs shaking slightly. I sat down in the chair and Fred sat on the arm of it, while George sat in the chair opposite us.

I noticed Roger recognize me almost immediately. "You again," he said dryly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fred asked, crossing his arms as he glared at Roger.

"Miss McConnell and I have already had the pleasure of meeting before," Roger said, pulling out his quill and notepad-the same ones as before.

"I've heard," Fred answered, his tone just as dry as Roger's had been.

"This is Sean Wentworth," Roger said, gesturing to the man beside him on the couch. "He's going to be investigating this case with me." When Fred, George and I nodded in response, Roger continued. "So, Miss McConnell," he said, "would you care to start us off with what happened to you this afternoon?"

"Um," I began. I glanced up at Fred, who nodded. I cleared my throat and turned back to Roger, lacing my fingers together in my lap, and then unlacing them. "Well, I went to the Leaky Cauldron to get lunch," I began, "and on my way back I got cornered in the alley beside the ice cream shop by that man. He backed me in, pulled out a knife and asked if I had any money. I told him I didn't, which was the truth."

"And after that," Roger pressed on, "he attacked you?"

"I guess, sort of," I shrugged, looking down at my hands.

Roger sighed heavily. "What do you mean by sort of? You're going to have to be clearer than that, Miss McConnell."

"Just let her get her bearings," Fred snapped. "She was attacked! You can't expect her thoughts to be in order so soon."

Roger rolled his eyes and then turned to me again, looking at me expectantly.

"Um," I said, fiddling with my hands again. I felt Fred's hand rest on my shoulder and I relaxed slightly. "The man backed me against the wall. He had his knife at my throat. He said since I didn't have any money, he wondered how much organs would sell for once he'd killed me."

Fred made an odd noise from beside me. A mix between a scoff and a growl. I glanced up at him again to see him staring at the wall across the room, a stony look on his face.

"And then what?" Roger asked, scribbling away in his notepad.

"And then, uh-" I sighed and closed my eyes as I thought. "I tried to hit him with the bag of food from the Leaky Cauldron and he started to swing his knife at me, but that was also when Fred and George showed up."

"We tried to Stupefy him," George chimed in. "But we missed."

"I tackled him," Fred stated. "Managed to pin him to the ground. Held my wand in his face and told him we were going to turn him in, but he reached into his pocket, grabbed some pepper spray and sprayed it at me."

"He tried to come back at them with the knife while they were distracted," I said. "But I hit him with a spell that would mimic pepper spray. It was the first thing I thought of. Then I hit him with Stupefy. But he managed to disappear sometime between then and when you showed up."

"I see," Roger said slowly, finishing what he was writing. "What did he look like?"

"Tall," I said with a shrug. "A little over six feet, probably. He had really short, dark hair. Grey eyes."

"Anything unique about him?" Roger asked. "Any birthmarks, piercings, tattoos?"

I thought that over. "Not that I could see."

"And what did he sound like?" Roger pressed on.

"He had a deep voice," I said.

"Any sort of accent?"

"An English one," I said slowly. "But it sounded...different."

"Different how?" Roger pressed.

I shrugged. "It just didn't quite sound like any of the ones I've heard before," I said. "I can't really explain it."

"You do realize that there are several different types of accents here, don't you?" Roger asked. "Just because it wasn't anything you've heard doesn't mean-"

"It sounded like he wasn't from here at all and was faking an accent," I interrupted, frustration evident in my tone.

"Why would anyone fake an accent?" Roger asked.

"You're asking the wrong person," I answered.

Roger stared at me stonily, his eyes narrowed. "I'd imagine it's much more likely that he may not have lived here his entire life. Perhaps he's much like you. Perhaps he simply...likes to travel." He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows as he continued to stare at me.

"You know, you're a real piece of work," Fred snarled. "Why can't you just do your job and question Sophie on her attack instead of making snide comments. Do you even care that her life was endangered?"

"Mr. Weasley, I trust you know that your friend here has not been entirely helpful in providing a description of the man that attacked her," Roger said.

"Oh come on," Fred scoffed. "You can't be serious. She did describe him! Accurately, too. Don't forget, George and I saw him too and there's nothing else we'd add to the description. Sophie's answering your questions the best she can. It's not her fault this guy's a completely average looking bloke. She can't describe things that aren't there. That would be even more unhelpful, don't you think?"

"I'm not asking her to describe things that aren't there, Mr. Weasley," Roger said testily, snapping his notepad closed. "I'm just asking her to be a little less vague. Although, I'm guessing that's the way she prefers to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fred asked, getting to his feet and glaring down at Roger while I sat there open mouthed.

"I tried to find out a little bit more about why she's here," Roger said, standing up as well. "Back when that young man and his mother were killed. But I ran into a dead end there. All that the people at the Leaky Cauldron told me was that she enjoys traveling."

"She does," Fred said.

"And yet, she's remained here for an extended amount of time."

"Is that a crime?" Fred asked. He raised his eyebrows as he shrugged innocently. "To the contrary, I'd think it would be helpful to the economy."

George let out a loud snort from his chair, but covered it with a cough as Roger looked at him.

"No, it is not a crime," Roger said tensely, turning back to Fred. "But it's certainly suspicious to continuously wind up in sticky situations."

"Are you accusing her of something that she didn't do...again?" Fred went on, narrowing his eyes. "She's been the victim here, both times. It's not hard to see it. Even the Minister of Magic can see it."

"The Minister of Magic is not always correct or even knowledgable about these sorts of things," Roger said. "That's why the Ministry has departments. That's why there are people like us." Roger gestured to himself and Sean.

"How could Sophie have any kind of part in what just happened?" Fred asked. "She was the one attacked."

"I am in no way accusing Miss McConnell for what happened to her today. Although, all we seem to have is her word. And no suspect. He just seemed to have conveniently disappeared."

"You have my word, too," Fred argued. "And George's."

Roger simply shrugged.

"So you think she's lying?" Fred pressed on.

"Our job in the Magical Law Enforcement department, Mr. Weasley," Roger said, starting to walk towards the door, "is to explore every single possibility in as much detail as possible. And as far as Miss McConnell is involved, we always seem to get as few details as possible. At the worst, it's suspicious, and at best, frustrating." He paused at the door. "We'll see what we can do with the description we have. If anything else happens, let us know. But I wouldn't expect this man to be caught any time soon. Come on, Sean."

And with that, he was gone.

"I'm sorry about him," Sean said sympathetically, making his way towards the door. "He's very thorough with his job and usually very good at it. But it means he can also be a bit of a prat." He looked at me. "You did fine. Thank you for your information and we'll do what we can to find the man who attacked you, okay?"

I nodded stiffly and once Sean had left and shut the door behind him, I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Merlin, that Roger is such a stupid bastard," Fred mused, pacing around the room. "Prat doesn't even begin to describe that guy!" He finally glanced down at me and paused. I was still sitting where I was, my hands folded in my lap. Fred knelt down in front of me. "You okay?" he whispered.

I shrugged. "I'm so tired of all this," I said. "Am I really that suspicious where people would think I made up being attacked or that I killed Noah?"

"No," Fred said instantly. "It's just Roger that thinks so. Like I told him, Kingsley doesn't think so. Even that Sean guy doesn't think so." When I didn't answer, he reached out and put a hand over mine. "Hey, I wouldn't defend you if I didn't think you were worth it. If George and I thought you were a crazy, lying murderer, we'd be the first to throw you to the Ministry and let you get sent to Azkaban."

I snorted. "Thanks."

Fred smiled and patted my hand before standing up and turning to George. "So, that went well, don't you think?" He rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.

"I suppose as well as we could've hoped," George answered, rubbing at his eyes.

Fred collapsed onto the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. "So apparently, Sophie did, in fact, run into Mystery Woman."

George looked at me in surprise. "Does the excitement ever end with you?"

"I'm not sure you can call it excitement," I sighed, leaning back in the chair I was sitting in.

"Go on, tell us what you found out then," Fred said.

I didn't answer right away as I took a moment to get my thoughts together. "At first, she barely gave me any answers at all," I said. "Or it was more like she kept giving me cryptic answers that only left room for more questions."

"Like what?" George asked.

"When I brought up the necklace, she asked again if I'd put it on and when I said yes and told her what it did, she said she knew what it did and what it meant and that it was true."

"So...you are related to Elizabeth Proctor?" Fred whispered.

I shrugged. "Yes, but didn't we already figure out that much? From the diary?"

"Yeah, but I could hardly believe it," Fred answered.

"And what about this woman saying it's true makes you believe it?" I argued.

Fred shrugged. "You don't believe it?"

I hesitated. "I do, actually. I don't think I have a choice. The necklace did to me exactly what Elizabeth said it would do. And oddly, I think this woman's telling the truth. She said she wants to help me and as infuriating as she is, I think she really does." I took in a shuddering breath. "She said she knew my family. She knew my mother. She said my mother didn't feel like she had a choice in leaving me."

"Aha, so there is more to your mother's story than you thought," Fred said. "According to this woman, your mother didn't leave you because she didn't love you."

"She didn't say that," I argued.

"Essentially, she did," Fred said. "What else did she tell you?"

I rolled my eyes before relaying to him and George everything else the woman had told me and how she seemed as if she'd wanted to give me answers, but was afraid to do so. How she'd known about Eric and the scars on my back. And how she'd promised to tell me everything once Eric was out of the picture.

"So we've got to get rid of Eric, then," Fred said. "That's our main problem."

I nodded. "She said everything she gave me was to help me figure out the reason he's had it out for me all these years."

"Well, then it must have something to do with you being related to Elizabeth," Fred said. "That's the only reason I can think of."

"It's what I thought too," I said, staring aimlessly at the coffee table. It was quiet for a moment. "Did you two catch up on the diary entries?"

"We did," George answered.

"And what'd you think?"

Fred shrugged. "It's good she's got a plan, but...in some ways it's almost a lose-lose situation, don't you think?"

I pulled my legs up onto the chair I was in, wrapping my arms around them and resting my chin on my knees. "Yeah, I thought that too. But I suppose making it out of the whole thing alive, and saving her baby and Dorothy in the process would be the best alternative."

Fred snorted. "I don't know. I'd hate to be pretty much enslaved to someone for the rest of my life-especially someone like that bastard of a judge."

"Yeah, me too," I sighed. "It's awful having your life controlled like that."

Fred glanced up at me. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine." I shook my head. "You're completely right. And I'm not offended or anything." I swallowed. "Everything I went through still has me a little...messed up, I guess you could say. I still have nightmares about the day I ran away. In reality, after I left the house, and after I got away from Eric when he gave me the scars on my back, I made it to the woods where I finally managed to start moving around the country. But in my nightmares, he catches up to me there-in the woods. I hear him coming, I trip over something and fall and then I turn and see him coming at me with that knife..." I took in a shaky breath. "You two have seen how I was-how I still am. A lot of it has to do with being where I was. It was a rotten situation. And at times I thought maybe being dead was a better alternative." I glanced at Fred, who had gone pale, but I didn't say anything else. I stopped myself before I could say anything more about how I'd essentially done the same things he had in order to tempt fate.

"It's not," Fred said. "I know I'm not one to talk, but being dead is not a better alternative. I know that now."

"So do I," I said. "And anyway, now I'm alive and I'm here with you." I lifted one shoulder in a shrug as I half smiled. "And despite all the bad stuff still happening...I'm happy. And I have moments when I think that when this whole thing with Eric is over, I can finally just relax. For the first time in years, there's a light at the end of the tunnel. I guess my point is that you just never know. Life's funny like that." I paused. "When I first learned how to ice skate, I had been scared to let go of the side of the rink or my mother's hands, but shortly, just like a light switch, I was flying across the ice. And my mom told me that the same would go for anything in life. One second I'd be afraid and struggling with something and in the next, I'd be flying."

"That's good advice," Fred said quietly.

"I never really paid it any mind until I got older," I shrugged. "I'd start thinking about it all the time. I kept getting passed around from family to family, waiting for the time to come when I'd finally be flying. But it never really came."

"What about now?" Fred asked.

"Fred, I've still got so much crap that I'm dealing with. How can you suggest that this is flying?"

"You just said that despite everything happening, you're happy."

"Yeah, but there's still too much going on for me to be flying."

"Well, you're not in foster care anymore," Fred pointed out. "You're not with Eric. You're with people who care about you and we're going to help you get rid of Eric for good."

"And how are we going to do that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Because the only thing I can think of that gets rid of him forever is him dying and I don't really want to commit murder." I scoffed. "Something tells me that Roger would happily throw me in prison."

"We could get Eric convicted of a crime and send him to jail forever," Fred said. "I mean, what about what he did to Noah and his mother? We're fairly certain he did that, aren't we? So if we could get proof, or a confession, or-"

"That's not going to be easy," I said. "He's too slippery."

"Well, what about what he did to your back? And all the other stuff he did to you?" Fred asked.

"What about it?" I asked. "It's still my word against his. And that didn't even happen here. It happened in Salem."

"I personally think you need to go back there. To Salem," Fred said. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. You can't get rid of the skeletons in your closet if you're nowhere near the closet. I'll go with you, if you'd like. Say the word and I'll go."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of me coming all the way here?" I asked. "I came here to get away from the skeletons."

"Exactly," Fred argued. "You ran away. And you can't face your problems if you keep running. That's not going to help you because as you can see, they've all followed you."

I glared at him for a moment before standing up quickly, all my defenses and walls instantly going up. "You know, you really shouldn't be telling me about all the harm running away does for someone when you've done the same thing since Percy died. You didn't run away physically, but you did mentally. You used alcohol as an escape, you ran away and hid at the Leaky Cauldron when Victoire was born, and you ran to jump in the Burrow's pond whenever you got upset. You tried to push everyone away and tried to pretend Percy never existed. And all it did was create more problems."

Fred gaped at me for a moment, and a second later, he was on his feet as well. "How dare you throw all that back in my face," he said, his voice low. "Don't you dare. Besides, that's all started to change. I've begun to acknowledge all those skeletons in my closet one by one. And it helps."

"Yet you still can barely stand to look at Angelina without wanting to explode!" I cried.

"That's one thing!" Fred yelled back. "And it's not like it's easy! I've made progress, which I'm proud to even have done at all."

"So why do you have to be so hard on me? You don't think I've made any kind of progress since I've gotten here?"

"No, of course you have. But you have to face all your problems head on instead of being afraid or being unsure. I know it's hard, but you have to."

"Then why don't you face Angelina?" I snapped. When he didn't answer, I scoffed and shook my head. "Besides, I don't have to do anything," I said, grabbing up my things and making my way towards the door. "Least of all, go back to Salem. I've had enough of that place to last a lifetime, thank you very much. And I don't need someone telling me what I need to do with my life-especially someone who barely knows what their doing with theirs."

"Yeah, because you were doing so well before you met me," Fred snorted.

I froze with my hand on the doorknob before I turned and shot a steely glare at him over my shoulder. "You are not some kind of god sent to earth just to save me," I said. "You are not the only person who has been nice to me. In case you forgot, Tom and Martha were the ones who took me in and let me live with them. They gave me a job, a roof over my head, clothes and food. They let me be independent, but gave me most, if not all, of the love and care I missed out on. They did not have to do that. So keep that in mind the next time you want to throw your self-righteousness at me."

"You're so full of it," Fred growled. "Weren't you going on and on about how you didn't want to hurt my mother's feelings because of how much you cared about her and had treated you like family?"

"Yes, and what's your point?" I asked. "I meant what I said, you know, just in case you're accusing me of lying." I turned away from the door and took a few steps towards Fred, anger flowing through every vein in my body. "I brought up what Tom and Martha did because you decided to act as if you were the only one who'd done anything nice for me since I've been here. Tom and Martha were the ones who first took me in and if we want to be technical, it was your family who took me in after Noah died. Not you. They were the ones to volunteer and agree to it. You don't even live at the Burrow anymore! So, again, that brings me back to your self-righteousness."

"You wouldn't have even known my family if it hadn't been for me!" Fred exclaimed, taking a step towards me. "You wouldn't have gotten that necklace checked for curses if George and I hadn't helped you ask Bill about it. And besides that, my family didn't have to take you in, either! They put themselves in jeopardy by doing so!"

"Which was exactly what I was worried about in the first place!" I cried, throwing my hands up. "So don't stand there and chastise me about it as if the thought never crossed my mind." I let out a cry of frustration and spun on my heel, heading back towards the door. "If this is what your old self is like, I'm glad I didn't know you back then," I muttered under my breath. Once I got to the door, I paused. "Oh, and here's your bracelet back." I slid Fred's bracelet off my wrist and tossed it on the floor between us before turning back to the door.

"Sophie, hang on," George spoke up, starting to come after me.

"I can't right now, George," I whispered before leaving the room and slamming the door behind me.

It wasn't until I got back out to Diagon Alley that I realized I suddenly felt funny about where to go. I felt strange going straight back to the Burrow after Fred and I had just fought. But why? I hadn't gotten into a fight with his family, just with Fred, who didn't even live at the Burrow anymore. I thought I knew, but I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to admit that I had just been so terribly wrong.


"Do you think you may have overreacted just slightly?"

I turned and gaped at Rachel. I was back at the Leaky Cauldron for the third time that day, talking to Rachel in a corner of the kitchen. She was on her break and currently swirling her spoon around a bowl of tomato soup as she leaned against the counter.

I'd just told her about my fight with Fred, my voice still carrying all the frustration I'd felt as I even gestured wildly with my hands.

"Overreacted?" I asked.

Rachel nodded. "Fred's hot headed," she said. "I know that. And you're right-he can be quite self-righteous. Extremely confident. So confident, he's almost cocky, but he does have a kind and protective side that balances it out. And that's what he was trying to do. Protect you. Help you. Make sure you're happy."

"But he just has the nerve to act like he knows all about moving on and facing demons like he's some sort of expert! He's probably struggling the same as I am!"

"Like I said," Rachel shrugged, "sometimes his confident, blunt, impulsive, hot-headed side wins out. Which is always what worried me when it came to you."

"I'm not fragile, Rach," I sighed, leaning against the counter beside her. "I know I don't talk much, but I'm not new to the idea of people and their bad sides. Fred's bad side isn't even that bad. As far as bad sides go."

Rachel was quiet for a moment as she stirred her soup some more. "I know," she said quietly, looking up at me with a small smile. "You may be quiet, but you're tough. You've been through a lot-more than someone should. I know you've seen some shit. But I also know, mostly from experience, how affected you were by how you were treated back at school and how you're trying to adjust now that you're in a different place. I don't want you to get hurt while you're here."

"I appreciate that," I said. "Unfortunately, it's too late for that. With everything that happened to Noah..."

"Yeah, I know," Rachel sighed, setting her soup down. "Not anyone's fault, though. Except the person who killed him. And there are still no leads, by the way! Which is insane! I mean, how can they still have absolutely nothing."

"Probably because the person who most likely did it is too good at not being found," I sighed.

"You really think it was your foster father?" Rachel asked.

I nodded. "I can't think of anyone else." I sighed and ran my hands over my face. "I just wish I could find him so that we could get some proof of what he did and just get rid of him. He's already here, we know he is. But we just can't find him. Even Kingsley knows what he looks like. But there's just nothing. No proof, no evidence, no sign of him. And I know he wants me back in Salem, which is why I'm afraid to take Fred's suggestion and go back. Even though Fred offered to come with me..." I took a breath. "But I also think he might be right. Going back might be the only way to get Eric to actually show himself. I'm so afraid to face him and my past on my own, but I'm also afraid to bring Fred into this and let him come with me."

"I don't think you could convince him otherwise if he's made up his mind already," Rachel said. "There's no way he'd let you go there alone. And if you just decided to leave, he'd follow you. Despite all his faults, he is loyal. I'll give him that."

"I messed up," I whispered. "I did overreact, Rach. And Fred was right about me. I am scared. I have been scared almost my whole life. But I'm so ashamed to admit it. I'm more than content to just keep moving and leave my past in the past. Forget all about it, you know? But I can't. Not as long as it's chasing me. And if I really want to do something about it, I have to face it."

"But not alone, don't forget," Rachel said with a smile. "You have more people than just Fred on your side."

I snorted. "He's pretty upset with me," I said. "And rightly so. I said some mean things to him. I acted like a child."

"He'll get over it," Rachel said with a shrug as she finished off her soup.

"Should I even go back to the Burrow?" I asked.

"Of course you should," Rachel said. "You have to. As much as I wish you were staying here again, staying at the Burrow was the whole plan. So that your foster dad can't get to you."

"I still worry about you all, though. If he knew about Noah, he knows about the rest of you. And I'm just sitting at the Burrow learning how to knit!" I threw my hands up in the air as I started to pace.

"You really don't know what to make of any of this, do you?" Rachel asked. "You're so used to doing everything on your own that when people help you or want to help you, you don't know what to do, but you also get defensive when people mention your tendency to run away. But then you hate sitting around and not taking action. You want to know what I think?"

"You'll probably tell me regardless, so go on," I said, continuing my pacing.

"You want Eric out of your life-why wouldn't you?" Rachel said. "But like I said, you're so used to doing everything on your own. The thing is, you can't take on Eric alone and you know it. But that feeling like you have to is kicking in and that's what's scaring you. And then if you do bring backup along with you, you're afraid of the chance that one of us will get hurt. Which is also a possibility if you do nothing. So you feel trapped, yes?"

I stopped in my tracks and gaped at her. "How is it that you managed to articulate what I couldn't? My feelings don't even make sense to me."

Rachel shrugged and smiled. "It's a talent. I'm good with people."

I snorted and took in a deep breath. "Okay. So what do I do?"

"You can start by working things out with Fred," Rachel said. "It won't do if you lose one person from the little army you've assembled since you've gotten here." She paused. "Well, two, since wherever Fred goes, George goes. And vice versa."

"I find it hard to believe they don't have minds of their own," I said.

"They do," Rachel said. "They have their fair share of disagreements. But like I said, they're loyal. First and foremost to each other." She shrugged. "Apologize to him. He'll come around. It might take a bit, but he will."

"Should I go now?"

"No," Rachel answered, shaking her head. "Give that hot head of his some time to cool down first. And give yourself time to think of what you'll say."

I inhaled through my nose and nodded, realizing she was right. I had no idea right now what I'd say to Fred except for that I was sorry and she was also right in the sense that he needed time to cool down first. I just wondered how much time.

Rachel ended up bringing me back to the Burrow herself once her shift was over. She not only Apparated with me to the end of the lane, but walked me all the way to the front door.

"Did you want to come in?" I asked quietly, half wondering if it was even my place to be inviting people into a house that wasn't mine. But Rachel had brought me all the way back here when it wasn't even her responsibility. Inviting her in was the least I could do.

"That's okay," Rachel said, shaking her head. She smiled. "I'm glad I got to see you today though. Things haven't been the same without you."

"Oh, come on, I was so quiet, you probably didn't notice a difference."

"In noise levels, no," Rachel admitted. "But of course we noticed you were gone."

I smiled. "Well, in any case, I'm glad I got to see you and the others today too." I hesitated for a moment. "I'm guessing Fred will be coming here on Sunday but if you run into him beforehand..."

"Hey, this is your apology," Rachel laughed, holding up her hands. "I can't do it for you."

"I was just going to ask you to, well-" I broke off and sighed. I didn't know what I wanted to ask her to say. "Just let him know I feel like crap. And that I want to talk to him. So if you see him before Sunday, just let him know so I can talk to him sooner."

Rachel nodded. "Sure."

I hugged her goodbye and then turned to let myself into the Burrow. Seconds later, I heard footsteps on the stairs and Mrs. Weasley appeared at the bottom.

"Oh, Sophie, it's you. You're a little earlier than I expected! Did Fred and George just drop you off? They didn't want to come inside?" She crossed the room to the window with a frown and peered outside.

"Oh, um, Rachel actually brought me back," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Rachel?" Mrs. Weasley asked, turning to me in surprise. She put her hands on her hips. "Did the boys get too wrapped up in some project to bring you back? I know how they can get with their inventions. When they'd work on them up in their room here, I sometimes wouldn't see them all day."

"No, it wasn't that," I sighed, going over to sit down on the couch. I buried my face in my hands for a moment before looking up at Mrs. Weasley. "Fred and I got into an argument. I stormed out of the flat and went back to the Leaky Cauldron for a bit."

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said quietly. "What was the argument about?"

"He...wants me to go back to Salem," I said. "To face my past. And I'm so scared of doing that. There's just so much...And I don't like having people poke at it. I'm not used to having people care, I guess. So I naturally get defensive. I got nasty. I shouted at him. I told him he's just as bad at facing his own demons and that he couldn't possibly know what he was talking about. And I threw his Galleon bracelet back at him..." I shook my head as tears actually came to my eyes. "And after he came running to save me earlier, too," I whispered.

"Save you?" Mrs. Weasley asked in alarm. "What happened?"

I looked at her in surprise. I had intended on telling her about the attack, just not right now and not in the way I just had.

"Oh, I-I was attacked in Diagon Alley. On the way back to the joke shop with lunch from the Leaky Cauldron."

Mrs. Weasley gaped at me. "By who? What happened? The twins just let you go out in the alley alone? They should have known better! They do know better! They agreed-they promised me-"

"I told them I could do it," I interrupted. "But Fred gave me his bracelet-the one with the Galleon in the center that he and George charmed to heat up when one of them is in danger. He said they made them for the whole family."

"They did," Mrs. Weasley said quietly.

"He and George came running," I whispered, looking down at my hands. I glanced back up at Mrs. Weasley. "It was some guy trying to rob me, actually. That's who attacked me. It wasn't Eric or anything."

"Even still," Mrs. Weasley said, clucking her tongue. "Did you call the Ministry?"

I nodded. "We talked to them and everything, but unfortunately the guy who attacked me escaped. They're going to try to look for him."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and exhaled through her nose. "Is everyone alright?"

I nodded. "The guy had Muggle pepper spray and he got Fred pretty good. The two of them got into a nasty fight and Fred also split his lip and got a black eye. I took care of it, though, so he's fine. He's just...very angry with me. And I don't blame him. I just got so mad!"

"You can't change who you are overnight," Mrs. Weasley said. "That wall you've built around yourself? It was built slowly. Brick by brick. One day at a time. And it's going to come down the same way. It's already started. The same with Fred. Neither of you should expect changes to happen in each other so quickly." She paused. "He wants you to face your past because he cares about you. And sometimes the only way to get people to do things is if you push them. Otherwise they become too comfortable in their own ways. But perhaps he also feels that if you can do it, so can he. Maybe he needs some extra courage."

I snorted. "I doubt that. He's pretty brave already."

"He is," Mrs. Weasley agreed, "but he's also human."

I didn't say anything, so Mrs. Weasley patted my knee and stood up, leaving me to process everything she'd just said.

Fred and George didn't stop by the Burrow before the weekend, so by the time Sunday afternoon arrived, I was anxiously pacing the kitchen, waiting for them to show up.

"I can't see why a fight with Fred has bothered you so much," Ginny said nonchalantly as she stood against the kitchen counter, eating an apple. "Personally, him ignoring me would feel like the biggest stroke of luck."

"Yeah, well, this fight was all my fault," I said. "Maybe if it wasn't, I wouldn't care as much." Although, the truth was that I think I would care. I enjoyed Fred's company, oddly enough. I never thought I'd admit that to myself. Ever. I wanted things to work out for the better with him.

Just then, the front door opened and I heard the twins' voices. I froze in my tracks as my stomach flipped around like a pancake. But then I frowned. I could hear other voices mixed in with the twins. Familiar ones. Their words were all dotted with loud laughter.

A moment later, they were coming around the corner. Fred and George, with Katie, Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson in tow.

My eyes immediately went to Fred. He didn't look angry or uncomfortable. He was actually smiling. He'd been laughing with them. It was the first time I'd seen him act normal around Angelina since I'd met him. Before, he'd even been wincing at the mere mention of her name.

"Well, this is a surprise," Ginny commented lightly, her eyebrows shooting up as she glanced at me.

"Don't look so over-enthused, Gin," George said, rolling his eyes at his sister.

"We just weren't expecting anyone to come with you today. Or for Fred to look so happy about it."

"You really don't have a filter, do you?" Fred growled.

"I take after the best," Ginny quipped, tossing her apple core into the trash and breezing past them. "I'll go tell Mum you're here."

I stood there, gaping at them all like a fish. An incredibly dumb fish. Merlin, why couldn't I just close my mouth and speak.

Angelina was the first to acknowledge me. She smiled and took a step closer. "Sophie, right?"

Finally, finally, my mouth snapped closed and I nodded. "Yes. It's-um, it's nice to see you again."

"It's nice to see you, too," Angelina said pleasantly. "And hey, I'm really sorry to hear about Noah. He was a really good guy."

I nodded. "Yeah. He was."

"How have you been holding up since?" Oliver asked.

I shrugged. "Pretty much how you'd expect."

"Fred and George told me you're here because the person who could've killed Noah might be after you?" Angelina asked. She looked genuinely concerned.

I shrugged again and nodded. "We're not really sure of much," I said. "But-um-I essentially had a really nasty foster father."

"One that you think would cause all this trouble?" Angelina asked.

I nodded. "Unfortunately."

Fred suddenly cleared his throat. I glanced over to see him leaning against the wall, his arms crossed as he stared at the ceiling impatiently, deliberately ignoring me. "Can we head out back now?" he asked. "I thought we were going to get a game of Quidditch in before we ate."

"You haven't gotten any less impatient have you?" Angelina asked, turning to him. I didn't miss the fond smile on her face as she met his eyes.

Fred smiled, one side of his mouth turning up slightly higher than the other. "Nope," he said, shaking his head.

Angelina turned back to me. "Do you want to play?" she asked.

"She doesn't like Quidditch," Fred said quickly, now looking back up at the ceiling.

I shot Fred a look, even though his statement was correct. I wasn't a fan of Quidditch and I didn't want to play with them. Not only did I have no experience on a broom, and minimal understanding of the sport, but I suddenly thought being around Fred any longer might actually be unbearable. And he clearly felt the same way about me.

"Sophie's just uninformed," George chimed in. He nudged Oliver. "Did we ever tell you she's only ever watched half a match in her entire life?"

Oliver gaped at me. "Half a match? Half? Half a match. You're joking."

I shook my head. "Sorry, but no." I couldn't help but smile slightly at his reaction. It was the same as everyone else's, and Fred had warned me anyway that Oliver would be shocked by the fact that I had never watched a full game of Quidditch before. But the predictability of his reaction didn't make it any less amusing to me.

"Wow," Oliver gasped. "I can't even believe that. Haven't you ever wondered what you've been missing?"

"Not really," I answered. "Although, from how everyone here has responded, it sounds like I've missed out on a lot."

"You don't even know," Oliver said. "I mean, there's never a dull moment, there's always something to look at. Every position on the team is so different and they each have their own roles. They-"

"Oliver, quit while you're ahead," Fred groaned. "We shouldn't have even gotten him started." He pushed off the wall and nudged Oliver towards the back door. "Come on, let's go before Ginny tries to steal my broom from the shed."

Angelina turned to look at me over her shoulder as the group of them headed out, Fred still ignoring me. "Well, if you change your mind," she called, "come find us."

"Sure," I said, my voice coming out quiet and feeble sounding. A moment later and they were gone, leaving me in the silence of the kitchen.

I chose to completely avoid the clearing where everyone was playing Quidditch. I didn't even go down there with Fleur and Hermione to watch. Instead, I insisted on helping Mrs. Weasley. And while I was doing that, my mind was working overtime thinking about how thrown off I was by not only Fred showing up with Angelina and Oliver unexpectedly, but the fact that he seemed genuinely okay with it.

I was fairly certain he was doing it to prove a point. I had told him he wasn't able to face Angelina and the he purposely brought her to the Burrow where he knew I'd be just to show he was fine, had made an effort and that I didn't know what I was talking about.

The more I thought about it, the more unsettled I became. If Fred was just doing this to retaliate, how did I know his effort was even genuine? I was really supposed to believe things were completely back to normal between them? Fred had been right when he said it wasn't easy and he'd practically ignored Angelina up until now.

Maybe I should've been happy, regardless. The two of them were at least talking. It was some kind of an effort. More than before. But there was something else bothering me about the whole situation as well. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I knew Angelina was with Oliver and they were happy together, but Fred had been devastated by her leaving him. He'd told me he'd planned on marrying her and from what else he'd told me about their relationship, I knew he'd really, really loved her. And I'd always figured part of him still did. Why else would being around her make him so uncomfortable? He was angry, sure, but didn't it also make sense that he'd continued to be heartbroken and still in love with her after all this time as well?

But the thing was that I shouldn't even care. What was I worried about? If anything, addressing the issues with Angelina would help Fred move on and let go, which was a good thing. So what did it matter to me if I suspected he still loved her?

By the time the table was set and everyone was coming in from the Quidditch match to eat, I was determined on avoiding Fred's eyes. I purposely chose the furthest possible seat away from him at the table, which happened to be next to Ginny, which I was grateful for.

"You look troubled," Ginny commented as she took a sip of her firewhiskey and narrowed her eyes at me.

"Troubled? No," I said, shaking my head and vigorously shaking my napkin out into my lap.

"Want a sip of this?" Ginny asked, holding out the bottle of firewhiskey to me.

I hesitated a split second before snagging it from her and taking a long sip. "Yes."

"You are troubled," Ginny said with a giggle as I passed the drink back to her. "Does this have to do with Angelina?"

"More so your brother. He's insufferable," I said, now putting potatoes on my plate with a little extra force than necessary.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific," Ginny said. "All of my brothers are insufferable."

"He's doing this to prove a point," I said, jerking my head towards Fred. "Because I yelled at him and told him he was still afraid of facing Angelina."

"Sometimes that's the only way to get Fred to do anything," Ginny pointed out. "By making him do it out of spite. He needed to get over himself when it came to her anyway."

"But-but-she broke his heart!" I said, turning to Ginny in confusion.

"She did," Ginny admitted, nodding. She lowered her voice. "But listen, Fred was really bad after Percy died. And Angelina tried. So hard. But Fred, I think, felt like she was trying too hard."

"He told me he felt like she wasn't giving him what he needed, even though he didn't even know what he needed," I said.

"Exactly," Ginny said. "It was hard on her. She was so in love with him, but she didn't know what to do anymore. Nothing she did worked. She'd beg and plead with him to talk to her, to stop drinking, to even tell her what he needed from her. But he wouldn't-couldn't. They'd get into huge fights, she'd cry her eyes out, the whole thing. Fred was drunk all the time and acting out like crazy." Ginny took a deep breath and shrugged. "So Angelina ended up spending a lot of time with Oliver. They ran into each other in Diagon Alley after one of Angelina and Fred's fights. She was crying and he comforted her. And as Fred pushed Angelina away, she grew closer with Oliver. Until, yes, she broke it off with Fred. It was better than stringing him along, but his heart was broken nevertheless. It was painful to watch, but part of me can't blame her."

I swallowed. "Me neither." I hated saying it, but I couldn't imagine watching the person you loved go through that and trying so hard to help them, but to no avail. "He knows he made her miserable, though. He knows he pushed her away. He knows he handled things all wrong. Which is what makes facing her so hard. I would know because I handled things terribly the other day and I can barely look at him now."

"You were all set to apologize to him until Angelina showed up and threw you off," Ginny said. "Besides, he's totally doing this to prove a point, like you said. It'll end up working out for real, in the end-he'll probably start moving on. But bringing her here today was definitely to rub it in your face."

"Great," I sighed. "How am I even going to get him alone if he's with Angelina all day and also won't even look at me?"

"Don't give him a choice," Ginny said with a shrug. "Just go up to him and tell him you need to talk to him alone."

I snorted. "How do you know he'll even listen?"

"Say it in front of Mum," Ginny answered. "If he ignores you, she'll yell at him."

I actually smiled and let out a breath of laughter at that as I dragged my fork through my potatoes, watching the prongs make five straight lines. "I might have to resort to that."

"He can't stay mad at you forever," Ginny told me sympathetically. "If anything, wanting to finish reading that diary will get him to talk to you again." She laughed and I managed another smile, but it was more forced this time. I knew Ginny had been joking, but that was the very last thing I wanted. Fred only talking to me for the diary.

When dinner was over and the kitchen was cleaned, mostly everyone went back for another Quidditch match, while I headed towards the pond. It had become my frequented spot when I wanted to be alone.

I aimlessly walked across the grass, lost in thought, but just before I reached the last bit of trees before the pond, I stopped short at the sound of voices. Holding my breath, I inched forward, careful to make almost no sound as I slipped behind the trunk of a large tree and peered around it.

Fred and Angelina were standing on the dock. Fred was walking along the very edge of the side of the rickety wooden structure, slowly putting one foot in front of the other and keeping his arms out for balance while Angelina stood in the center, watching him apprehensively.

"Do you always have to toe every line between safety and danger?" Angelina asked.

Fred shrugged, but didn't answer.

"You said you wanted to come out here to talk," Angelina said. "And yet you're demonstrating your go to habit for when you're nervous or upset or angry. You're being reckless."

"You call this reckless?" Fred asked with a smirk, spinning quickly and starting to walk back in the other direction. "Hardly."

"My point is that you do crazy things when your emotions start to get the better of you. When Malfoy insulted your family, you tried to beat him up. When Snape gave George detention on the third day of our first year at school, you put a dungbomb under the man's chair. When Umbridge ended the D.A., you and George turned a hallway into a swamp, set fireworks throughout the school, flew out the front doors on your brooms and never looked back."

"You think all that was crazy?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were impressed by George and my grand exit from Hogwarts."

Angelina sighed before continuing, her voice a whisper. "And when Percy died, you reacted by drinking, missing the birth of your niece, and jumping into this very pond trying to tempt fate."

Fred halted in his walk along the dock's edge and turned to look at Angelina. "Can you blame me?"

"Not completely," she said.

I continued to watch from behind the tree, still trying to breathe as quietly as possible. Part of me hated that Fred had brought Angelina here to talk. I thought-well, I didn't know what I'd thought it was. Fred had once called it his sulking spot, and it had almost become mine, too. And we'd had quite a few talks out here ourselves, one of them where Fred was goofing off on the edge of the dock, just as he was now. Balancing backwards on the edge. I still had the photo on my camera, waiting to be developed.

I wondered how many times Fred and Angelina had come here while they were dating. How many times they'd talked on that dock, how many times they'd swam in the pond together, laughing and splashing each other. It wasn't like this dock or the pond was mine-or even mine and Fred's. It had been here long before I'd shown up and it would be here long after I left. I didn't even have the right to feel possessive over it.

"I brought you here," Fred was saying now, "because I just wanted to say I know things have been weird between us and I've been an asshole to you for a long time. You didn't deserve to be treated the way I treated you after Percy died and the way I've continued to treat you in the past year and a half. I pushed you away and then acted like it was your fault. And I'm sorry for that."

"Apology accepted," Angelina said, her eyes slightly widened in surprise.

"But," Fred went on. "I need you to know how hurt and angry it made me that you left me for Oliver."

"Fred, what was I supposed to do?" Angelina asked pleadingly. "String you along?"

"No-but I just thought you'd-you'd keep trying."

"I did try!" Angelina said, her voice suddenly breaking with tears. "I tried for six months! And whenever I tried to get you to pull yourself together, you'd start a fight and yell at me because I was-in your words-hovering. So I was, and still am, really unsure of what you wanted from me!"

"I wanted you to just be there!" Fred cried. "I didn't want you to keep reminding me of how much of a mess I was. I already knew that! But I couldn't stop. I was so angry. At Percy, at my family, at You-Know-Who for being the reason for the whole war in the first place. I was angry at you and I was mostly angry with myself. I handled it poorly-I knew it then and I know it now. But every time I saw you, you were telling me to sleep or to eat or to clean up the flat or to stop leaving my dirty clothes on the floor. You were telling me I should go to Percy's grave and that it might help. You were telling me to talk about him. You were telling me to go easy on the fire whiskey."

"And, what, because I told you what to do, you did the exact opposite?" Angelina asked.

Fred shrugged. "It made me angrier. That you felt like you knew all about what I needed and that you acted like it was easy. Even I didn't know what I needed. I had just lost my brother and it was all my fault and nobody understood how it felt, yet everyone wanted to tell me how to handle myself."

"Because we all care about you, Fred," Angelina said, her voice still watery with tears. "So much. Don't you know what seeing you like that was doing to me? It hurt me! It physically pained me!" She was gesturing wildly now as she spoke, tears falling down her cheeks. "And I couldn't help you! I didn't know how to help you and you wouldn't even tell me! You wouldn't talk to me!" She paused before continuing, her voice lowered to a whisper. "I couldn't help falling in love with Oliver, Fred. I didn't plan it. It just happened because he was there for me when I was sad. He let me cry on his shoulder when the person whose shoulder I was supposed to cry on wasn't around. I know you were going through a lot, but you never seemed to get better. I was lost, scared, confused and lonely. You shut me out. You admitted you did."

Fred looked at her for a moment before walking forward and pulling her into a hug as she sobbed into his chest.

"I didn't mean to fall in love with Oliver," she cried. "But I did. I couldn't help it."

"I know," Fred whispered.

Angelina sniffled and pulled away. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, but it wasn't something I did with the intention of hurting you. It just happened and I thought you deserved my honesty about it." She paused. "And he's good to me. You were, too. But you just lost yourself after Percy died. You needed to let go and forgive yourself. Not for what happened, but for taking the blame for it so heavily. You needed to accept that it was beyond your control. And I think you are because you're trying to make things right again. You're happier."

"I'm trying," Fred whispered, clearing his throat and swiping his hand across his nose. He looked at her almost sadly. "Not to make you feel bad, but, Ange-you found Oliver. In the midst of everything, I had to watch the girl I loved enough to marry be with someone else while I remained alone-and once again knowing that it had happened because of me. So all the times I've avoided you, or been curt, or made a snarky comment-I just need you to know that it wasn't just the pain of losing Percy. It was also the pain of losing you."

At that, I turned away from the tree and slipped away, back towards the Burrow, my stomach in knots and my heart beating erratically as I tried not to cry. I didn't want to listen anymore. I tried to tell myself it was a good thing Fred was making peace with Angelina and his feelings towards what happened-I knew it was a good thing. And I was happy he was finally expressing himself to her. But that wasn't what had me so upset.

Fred had said that he'd avoided Angelina because it was too painful to see the girl he loved be with someone else-too painful to be reminded that he lost her. He'd avoided her until today. So, to me, that meant he still had feelings for her. If not, he would've had this discussion with her long ago.

And as much as I had been trying to push away the voice in my head telling me why the possibility upset me so much, I knew that voice was right. Fred and I had spent so much time together. We'd grown closer and actually bonded over the pain and loss we'd been through (despite being so set against it at first). And he'd been so nice to me from the moment we'd met. He'd proven to me that pranks and jokes do not always directly correlate with malice.

He'd done so much for me over the past five months, including pushing me to face my past because we both knew what it was like to want to shove it down as deep as possible, but we also both knew that would never help us move on.

Angelina had said she hadn't planned on falling for Oliver, and that it had just happened. It had been something, like so many other things in life, that was beyond her control. My mother leaving, getting placed in terrible foster families, Percy's death, Angelina falling in love with Oliver-they were all things that simply couldn't be stopped. Events that still left one person standing there broken hearted and blaming themselves.

I hadn't planned to develop feelings for Fred Weasley, but I had. And he was still struggling to get over Angelina, leaving me once again brokenhearted over something I couldn't control.