Author's Note: I didn't think Chapter 2 was that much of a cliff-hanger, but okay! Here's Chapter 3! I don't own Harry Potter! :(

CHAPTER 3

I pulled myself up, sweat running off my face. I smacked into something. Panicking, I pulled myself backwards, only to realize I had hit Jeff's forehead. He was bent over me, concern written on his face. I blinked and took a second to transport myself to this world.

"Elle? Elle? Are you okay? Don't ever do that again!"

"Jeff? Jeff. Oh, I'm sorry. What happened?"

"You passed out! I've been trying to get you around for…hours!"

"Really?" My head was spinning and I still felt weak. A dull throbbing pulsed in my leg. Jeff's face, so close, was very anxious. I made myself focus on that.

"Not quite hours. More like one hour, dear. It's eight o'clock."

I looked around and realized that I was in my bedroom. Mum was in the doorway.

"How long was I out? Seriously? How'd I get here?"

"Dear, Jeffrey brought you home almost twenty minutes ago." Mum crossed the room calmly over to me and placed her hand on my head.

"You passed out right after we left the match. I started freaking out when you wouldn't answer back. I must've flown through town."

"How did I get up here?"

Mum nodded in Jeff's direction. He had made room for her and was now sitting on the end of my bed. Looking around, I realized my room was clean, not in the state it was in when I left. Thank you, Sophie. I owe you.

"Jeff carried you upstairs. Charlie isn't home yet."

I felt my ears reddening, Jeff had carried me?

"Well…err…thanks a lot, Jeff. Seriously, I don't know what's wrong with me. I'll be fine though. Really."

It was the truth. I think.

"Sure?" Jeff seemed really worried.

"Yeah," I smiled, "All I really want to do now is sleep."

As I said this, I realized that if I went to sleep I was going to have nightmares. But my body wanted sleep and I could not suppress the yawn that cracked my jaw. I settled back against my pillows and faked drooping eyelids, which wasn't that hard. Mum pulled down my blinds and signaled to Jeff to leave. I kept my eyes slightly opened as I listened to their conversation.

"Thank you so much, Jeff. I appreciate you giving her a ride home tonight and I am very grateful you were with her when she fainted."

"No problem, Mrs. Smith. Glad to help her out. She'll be alright, won't she?"

"Of course, Jeff. A little sleep and everything will be right as rain."

They were leaving the room and heading down the stairs, their conversation muffled when suddenly I heard my mother gasp and someone running up the stairs.

For a fleeting moment, I saw the woman from my dream charging in to attack me again and panic surged through me again.

"You can't go in there—she's not well—!"

My door flew open and standing in the doorway was a stocky young man with wild red hair and freckles. It was Fred. His usually laughing eyes were serious and anxious.

"Alright, eh, Elle?"

As concerned as his eyes were, his manner was teasing, as always.

Jeff entered the room moments later, followed by my mother. Jeff glared at Fred, sizing him up. Fred seemed unaware of Jeff, his eyes were on me.

I gave Fred a look and he turned to Mum.

"Hullo, Mrs. Smith. I do apologize for this. I was on my way over and Emily's owl—err, I mean, uh, I ran into Emily and she told me something happened."

"Well, good day to you too, Fred. Honestly, you gave us all a fright. Almost more of a fright than Ella has given us."

Fred had had dinner at our house a few times and Mum and Dad loved him. He was like a cousin to the rest of the house. But Jeff didn't know who this stranger was.

Jeff was standing there with a confused expression on his face. He looked at Fred, Mum and me. He shrugged and offered his hand to Fred.

"I'm Jeff Conroy, friend of Ella's."

"I'm Fred, Elle's brother."

"Brother?" Jeff was really confused.

"Biological. The resemblance is uncanny, I know," he grinned. "Y'know, red hair, freckles, and the like. Honestly, she looks more like Ro—," Fred stopped, glancing at me, "Anyway, I need to speak to Elle alone for a moment. Please."

Mum took the dumbstruck Jeff by the arm and steered him out of the room, closing the door behind them. Fred looked thoughtful as he sat down at the end of the bed.

"Your boyfriend?"

My ears, as always, turned bright red. "No! He's just a friend."

"Better stay that way."

I glared at him. He was infuriating when it came to boys and me.

"Don't get me wrong, sis. He's good-looking, great personality, I'm sure…"

Rolling my eyes, I folded my arms.

"Look if you're just here to bash Jeff, I'll go downstairs."

"Actually, I am here for another reason. I mean, I can't try Puking Pastilles on you; you're already a bit queasy looking. What happened? You're not usually in bed this early?"

"Puking...Pastilles?"

"Makes you vomit as to get out of class. Downright useful."

"How's the joke shop?" Fred had dropped out of school last year to start a practical joke shop. It seemed like it was going well, though Fred wouldn't share details.

"Excellent. But no changing the subject, why are you in bed?"

I was embarrassed by what happened by now. But maybe, I wasn't crazy.

"You're going to think I'm mental."

"Too late."

I kicked him under the covers before telling him what happened.

"Jeff was giving me a ride from his game and this one bloke I can't stand was annoying us. Every time I see him, I think of how he and Dudley treated poor Harry Potter in grammar school—"

"—Wait, did you say Harry Potter?"

"Yeah. Why? You know him?"

"Matter of fact, I do—never mind." Fred's face was very odd.

"You went to the school for criminal blokes?"

Fred looked really confused. Finally he told me to continue the story. When I got to the hooded things coming out of the sky, he cursed. I continued, telling him about my dream. As I went more into detail, Fred's expression became more and more pained. When I finished, Fred got up and paced the room. This was so different from the brother I knew, the mischievous prankster, that I thought maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe he really thought I was crazy. But then again, he hadn't made any disbelieving faces when I told him what happened.

Finally, Fred whistled, a low sighing whistle. He turned to me, his eyes dead serious.

"Ella, what do you know about me?"

"You're my brother. You like pranks. You like keeping secrets from me. Your name is Fred. I don't know."

"Exactly, you don't really know bloody anything about me, do you? No. You don't. I've managed that for a few years now. But, Ella, I don't think I can hide anymore from you now. Dumbledore had wanted you to grow up normally, but you can't help being different from them."

Dumbledore? Normally? Them? What was he talking about?

"How am I different? How are you different? What the hell are you talking about, Fred?"

"Ella, do you believe in magic?"

"What!?"

"What if I were to tell you that you have six brothers and one sister, two parents, not too far away, all living, and magical abilities?"

"What? Fred, you've lost it. I'm not the crazy one. You are."

"Ella, listen to me. How can I prove to you that magic is real?" He pulled a wand out of his pocket, very similar to that of the ones I had seen in my dream. I cringed away from it.

"Please, put it away."

Fred looked confused, but tucked it back into his pocket.

"I'll Apparate."

"Apparate?"

"Disappear from one place—Disapparate—and then reappear somewhere else—Apparate."

"Err…okay."

With a loud crack, he was gone. No smoke, nothing to make me think he was a street magician. No, silly, he's a practical joker. He's trying to lead me on some wild goose chase. Yet…why would he tell me about my family? He was always careful not to reveal anything, even in jest.

Suddenly he appeared standing next to me. I blinked.

"Believe me?"

"Smoke and mirrors! Fred, it's impossible. You did something."

This went on and on, Fred trying all sorts of tricks to prove to me magic was real. I marveled at the extent of his talent, but he only became more and more frustrated. Several times he shook me, but I refused to believe him. How could I? Magic was not something a mature, smart, practical person believes in. Finally, he slumped down on the bed.

"What else can I do? I tried, I tried." Suddenly his head snapped up. "If this doesn't work, nothing else will. You're coming with me."

"Where? Fred, it's a school night. Mum won't let me out!"

Ignoring me, Fred walked downstairs and I heard him talking to Mum. After a few minutes he returned.

"C'mon. We're going to meet your—our—parents."

My eyes widened. My real parents? Immediately anxious, I glanced around the room, desperate for something nice to wear. But Fred wouldn't let me change. He pulled me down the stairs past my family and outside. There was no car. Fred looked both ways, as if he was going to cross the street.

"Accio brooms!"

I stared at him in confusion. I hadn't the slightest clue what 'Accio' meant but what was the nonsense with the brooms? His face was so concentrated I didn't dare ask or laugh at him.

And then…two broomsticks, two every-day, ordinary household brooms, came hurtling towards us. I blinked again and again. They stopped in front of us. So maybe they weren't every day broomsticks. If a broomstick could be described as sleek, that was the one in front of me. Or it once was sleek, it looked a little worn. On the handle was painted in gold letters the words 'Cleansweep 11.' I looked at Fred's—his looked a bit worse for the wear and read 'Cleansweep 5.' I pinched myself. I was not waking up. Or this was real. Fred slid his leg over one and turned towards me, his mischievous grin returning, probably from the sight of my jaw dropped down to my stomach.

"Well, sis?"

I had no clue what to do. A broomstick? I looked around for strings or a remote control.

"It's impossible. Broomsticks can't fly. It's all fairytale. Witches and—"

"Exactly. Exactly! Ella, you are a witch. I'm a wizard. You are a Weasley."

"A what?!?"

Fred sighed.

"Look, Fred, if this is one of your bloody jokes, I'm not in the mood. Alright?"

Today had already been crazy and confusing and I was sick of it. I felt the same way I had when Piers had said I wanted him or when I thought about Harry Potter—who Fred apparently knew or heard of—and this, this, was the last straw. I was so angry I could…

But before I could even finish the thought, I was distracted by an explosion across the street. Mrs. Broadhurst's potted plant had burst! The flowers, the ceramic pot, the soil was spread all over the porch. There were no boys throwing anything nearby. There was no explanation. Bloody hell, was that me again?

Fred grinned at me. Fred! Somehow, I thought desperately, he's done some sort of trick. Oh, Mrs. B was going to be furious!

"What have you done?"

"Me?" Fred looked surprise, "Oh no, dear sister, that was you."

"I can't do that! I don't know any magic tricks! I'm not like you!"

Could I? That might explain why things exploded when I was mad...Was he right, was he not in jest? Could I be magic? Why was I trembling? What was wrong with me?

"Ella. Listen to me," Fred sighed, "you are a witch. You are not a Muggle. I can't take you to Mum and Dad and all without you realizing this. You just made that plant explode. Not me, not some bogus magic card trick. Magic is real. Always has been. We wizards live in secret, away from all these Muggles with their technology. Blimey, Ella, haven't you ever done stuff like that before? Become angry and make things happen? Personally, I think you should've been told long ago, keeping a powerful pure-blood witch from learning magic is rubbish. What happened if your power got to be so much you killed someone?"

I just shook my head dumbfounded.

Fred sighed again, and then looked down at himself. He slapped himself suddenly. "Ella, get on the broom and I'll explain it all on the way. Please. The Ministry'll have my head if we get caught."

Get on the broom? He had to be crazy. He was crazy. There was no way in hell he was sane.

I backed away slowly.

"Ella…"

"No, Fred. I can't do this. You're nuts. I'm nuts. Our parents must be insane. That's why I was adopted. To keep me from going crazy, too." I desperately clung to the thought.

"Ella, now you're just being ridiculous."

"No. I can't."

I turned around and ran back into my house, past Jeff and Charlie at the kitchen table, past Mum and Sophie making supper, past Colin playing with one of the little neighborhood boys, back to my room. I glanced out the window, expecting to see Fred standing there with his trick broomsticks. He wasn't there. I could just make out a figure on the horizon that looked like a boy on a flying broomstick. No, I was just seeing things. I dove under the covers, pulled the pillow over my head and prayed that this would all go away.