Author's Note: Well, it took me a bloody long time to update, didn't I? I apologize, as a fan-fiction writer I'm absolutely rubbish. I only turn out worthwhile bits much after the deadline. But I'm working, while I've got this muse sitting on my shoulder. I wrote this one all day today. Besides writing this chapter, I updated the previous ones. There's a bit more dialogue in Chapter 1 and little tid-bits of information that will make sense much later in the story. Just general improvements all around. I tend to do this to stories I really care about. So enjoy!

(I do not own Harry Potter or his world. Just Ella and her friends).

CHAPTER 4

The rest of that night was miserable. Mum and Dad just dismissed it as the aftermath of my fainting spell. Then, when it didn't let up by the next morning, they became concerned.

"Are you alright, Ella?"

Grunt.

"Anything you want to talk about, dear?"

"No."

And so it went on. They would converse in low voices when they thought I wasn't around. The rest of the family started avoiding me. I wasn't pleasant to be around. I wouldn't look anyone in the eye; I couldn't be distracted from my misery. I just…couldn't shake this feeling of … of…I don't even know what.

All I could think about was what Fred had said to me.

"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…"

"Do you believe in magic?"

"...Six brothers and one sister, two parents, not too far away, all living, and magical abilities…"

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

"Magic is real. Always has been. We wizards live in secret…"

"Haven't you ever done stuff like that before? …Make things happen? …What happened if your power got to be so much you killed someone?"

It was like a broken record in my brain. Just repeating over and over and over and over. But the part that skipped the most on this record was not Fred's words, but my own.

No, Fred. I can't do this. You're nuts. I'm nuts…keep me from going crazy, too.

Ella, now you're just being ridiculous.

No. I can't.

No, I can't do this. No. I can't. No, I can't do this. No. I can't. No, I can't do this.

No, I can't.

What couldn't I do? Go meet my family? If that was all there was to it, that decision wouldn't bother me like this. I don't know if I'd go, but once I'd made my decision, I'd have gotten on with my life.

Instead, I sounded like the Little Engine that Couldn't.

It was the magic that bothered me. I mean, I've devoured nearly every fantasy book there is: J.R. Tolkien, Hans Christian Anderson, C.S. Lewis, Tamora Pierce—as a kid, I never gotten enough of the stuff. I had wished desperately that magic things like unicorns and dragons and witches were real. And once upon a time, I'd believed that maybe magic could answer why I made things go boom.

I'd pushed them aside when I knew that I couldn't have it. I was sensible. It was all tales and imagination, just stories. All children go through the age where their innocence is more or less stripped from them, and they emerge as adults, or trying to be ones.

I felt like I was beating my head against a wall over and over again. Angst. Angst. Angst.

Could I go back and believe it all? Why wouldn't I want to go back and believe it all?

Magic is real and I can do it.

No, I can't.

I had had a chance to know my real family, where I wouldn't be adopted, where I'd belong completely. Where, according to Fred, things happened. An explanation of why. Why I made things explode. Why I didn't always seem to fit in. Why I had been given up for adoption. Why I couldn't remember anything before my ninth birthday.

Why couldn't I just believe Fred? Besides his jokes, he was one of the most honest people I'd ever met. Most people, I mused, would jump at the chance to fly on a broomstick and cast spells.

Two things held me back.

One was the Smiths. They'd been my family for all of the life I could remember. Mum and Dad…Sophie, Charlie, Colin…Aunt Emily, Josh, Ethan…I fit into their lives, didn't I? I was their daughter, sister, niece, cousin. I belonged with them, didn't I?

"Ella, you are a witch. You are not a Muggle."

"…you can't help being different from them."

Were the Smiths the 'them' Fred had spoken of? What if it was true and I didn't actually belong? Was I like a puzzle piece who had been put with a completely different set and somehow had managed to fit myself in, standing out without realizing it? What if they didn't actually want me here? They only took care of me just because they had to? The thought stung and hurt so badly it was almost a physical pain.

No, I told myself over and over. They love you. They wouldn't tell you so if they didn't. They wouldn't care for you if they hated you. This took away from the pain, relieved it like an antidote and the pain would lessen after Mum would smooth back my hair or kiss my cheek good-night. But the pain would sharpen if someone said something without thinking. Like a burr, each jib stuck more and more tightly to my heart.

The other thing that held me back was my dreams.

Ever since that first, horrendous nightmare, I couldn't sleep without seeing some new horror. Playing the major roles in my dreams were the woman, the evil red-eyed man, and the snake. Other faces and names flitted through, usually in shadows, covered by dark hoods. Why would I want to go back to a world where they were this evil? Where I was treated this cruelly? Where terror reined, night and day?

I barely noticed my surroundings, even at school. I didn't go back at first. Actually, I didn't go back on Tuesday. I just couldn't get myself out of bed. Wednesday, I got down to the breakfast table, but Mum shooed me back to bed. Charlie brought home my homework for me and I attacked it. Homework lent me a reprise from my moodiness. It was numbing, but at the same time, required all of my attention. Nothing in the boring history books or in the complicated math problems reminded me too much of a magical world that might or might not exist.

By Thursday, I was determined to go back to school. School, at least, I thought would have my friends and I had loads to catch up on. I hopefully thought that I maybe would be able to avoid the heavy depression at Stonewall.

At first, everyone welcomed me back, asking questions about what happened, what made me so sick. I just smiled and said that I had fainted and couldn't get out of bed. I didn't have the patience or the energy to make up an elaborate excuse.

My friends, bless them, noticed my melancholy right away. At first, I think that they thought I was depressed because Jeff had expressed an interest in only being friends. But this was beyond that. If anything, a small voice inside my head told me, Jeff seemed to display an interest in being more. The part of me that would have obsessed and squealed and giggled about every little thing that he had said and done was squashed by the clouds Fred's visit had brought.

They all did their best to cheer me up, teasing and joking and trying to make me laugh. It did help a little. There were moments where I joined in the laughter and added a comment or two, but nothing held my attention very long. Soon, I was swallowed by their happiness. I couldn't make myself be happy like them. I felt just so detached from their world. I felt like an outsider.

"You can't help being different from them…"

Stop it, Fred, stop it! I wanted to shout, to cover my hands over my ears so that I wouldn't hear his words. But it was in my head, and there was no way for me to mute his earnest voice.

After class, I was headed back to my locker. I avoided Jeff as best I could without looking rude. Why I was dodging the boy, I don't know, but he reminded me of that awful car ride with those awful things…

I shuddered at the recollection and pushed them out of my mind.

"Ella!" I heard.

I turned and saw Allie Walpole, running full steam in my direction.

"Geez, wait up! I must've yelled your name a hundred times!"

I grinned weakly. "Sorry, just…thinking."

"Yeah, I noticed," she murmured. I pretended not to hear her. An awkward silence descended.

"So, how'd you do on your Social Circles assignment?" Allie asked kindly.

"Uh, I, um…B+." I hadn't actually looked at the paper when she handed it back. I looked now.

"Really? Ew, I hate you. I got a C. Stupid Burbage."

"She's awful," I said, now reading what she had written on my paper.

Well done, Miss Smith. Not exactly what I expected, but you put effort into this, that much is obvious. You must have a very interesting social niche. Your family and friends sound wonderful and you managed to capture most of their personalities. What touched me the most was what you wrote about your brother, Fred. He sounds like an interesting person and you seem to have found a unique balance between the family you know and the family you don't.

She had circled what I had written about Fred.

A unique balance… The woman had no idea what she was talking about.

"Fred? That's your brother's name?" asked Allie, somewhat surprised.

"Yeah. Didn't I tell you that?" I thought I had.

"Nah, you just always call him 'your other brother'."

"Oh, yeah, well. He's Fred."

"S'cool," Allie said, nodding her head in a way that implied she was thinking of a conversation topic for us to cover that was safe.

"Hey, how come we've never met him?"

"Dunno. Reckon just never got around to it." I shrugged my shoulder. "Though I doubt I'll see him for a while," I muttered.

"Why? Is he going off somewhere?"

"No, we got into an awful row Monday night."

"You did? Oh, no, Ella. What was it about? If you don't wanna tell me, it's alright."

I stared at her. Should I tell her? She'd probably have me sent to Bedlam. Or tell me he ought to be sent there. But…Fred wasn't crazy.

Yes, he was. Talking of magic and me being a witch. Of course, he's crazy, you dolt, I scolded myself. You're crazy for thinking he's not.

"Ella," Allie said softly. "Look, something's bothering you. We all know it. Bottling it up is not gonna help in any way. You can injure yourself physically if you hold too much emotion inside yourself. And I'm not gonna train a new goalie."

I gulped. Despite her gentle teasing, Allie's eyes were concerned. I smiled. She wasn't trying to make things worse. She was here, trying to be the best friend she could to someone who wasn't letting her.

"We just…came to words, is all," I muttered. I longed to confide in her. To have her tell me that of course I was right, Fred had to be crazy.

"About what?" She wasn't letting up.

"Uh, err, well, he wanted to take me to meet my biological parents…"

"Oh, Ella!" Allie wrapped her arms around me, squashing me and the books I carried. This was the opposite of the reaction I had expected.

"Legome," I muttered.

"What?" she asked

"Let go!" I gasped.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to strangle you. But, Ella, I understand now!"

"You do?"

"'Course I do. You've always been touchy about the adopted thing; I've known that for years. But you've never known them! You can't just be thrown into something new without having time to think about it and approach it. You've never been able to do that. You're much too shy. And he probably just grabbed you and was like 'Let's go!' And you'll have questions you'll want answered but at the same time, don't. And you're bound to be concerned how you can have two families without choosing one over the other! Oh, Ella!" Impetuously, Allie threw her arms around me again.

Well, she was mostly wrong. Not completely off the mark, those were similar to the thoughts that bounced around me before Fred had sprung the magic thing on me.

For a moment, as Allie hugged me, I felt lighter…not an awful lot, but just enough to make a difference. But there was a very full bottle still inside me, and I wasn't willing to pour it all out. I couldn't.

"Thanks, Allie."

"No problem, Ella."

Smiling, Allie continued walking with me in the direction of my locker.

It was remarkable, but my heart felt lightened; a little of the burden had gone away. We began chattering eagerly about cricket again, and I even started to tell a little bit about my car ride home with Jeff, Allie squealing when I told her how he took my hand and called me 'his girl'.

I felt almost as if I was sliding back into my old self, the old Ella Smith. Just for a moment, I had hope that this would all go away.

We went to Allie's locker first, as it was closest. Then, after she had dumped her stuff and gotten her bag, we headed up the stairs to my locker. I was telling Allie in detail what Jeff and I had talked about while sitting in the parking lot when we got there.

As per usual, the soccer players and Charlie and Miranda were all standing around his locker. And, as per usual, Randy was leaning against mine. Her high laugh hurt my ears, but the past few nights I had heard a laugh that chilled my bones worse than hers ever could.

"Hey, Miranda," I said politely, "Mind if I get through to my locker?"

"Oh, Ellie, you're back! These past few days, with you all laid up in bed, I almost forget that this is your locker!"

You'd think some things would change.

"Nope, I'm still here, Miranda. And this still is my locker."

"What was wrong with you?" she asked, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Didn't feel well." I kept my eyes down, focusing on intricacies of my shoelace.

"Is that all? Your little date with Jeffy-poo didn't turn out so well?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, head shooting up.

"We've all heard about it. You begged Jeff for a ride home from the match, saw your old boyfriend there, pretended to hate him, and then made Jeff late to the after-game party by pretending to faint. Couldn't face everyone?"

Anger rushed through me, humiliation and hurt closely following. Had Jeff told everyone that?

"Who the hell told you that, Miranda?" It was Jeff. He looked just as angry as I felt.

Miranda, startled, turned to face him. "It isn't true, then, Jeff?" she asked, batting her eyes.

"Not at all," he practically growled.

"What's this?" asked Charlie, who hadn't been paying attention. He took in Miranda's, Jeff's and my faces.

Miranda smiled fakely at me, then tilted her head back and laughed. "Just clarifying some rumors I heard about Ellie and Jeff, Charlie."

"What rumors?" he asked.

Miranda repeated them. Charlie shook his head.

"Ella doesn't have any ex-boyfriends. And she didn't pretend to faint, trust me. She sucks at faking sick." He grinned at me, teasing slightly.

My brother's a git and a bit slow sometimes, but I saw right away, that he was protecting me—through the truth, but still protecting me. He never does that. My heart swelled a little bit with love for Charlie.

See, said a little voice inside, he is your brother. Maybe not by blood, but through other ties. You are wanted here. You are loved here.

"…And Jeff offered to pick her up, she didn't ask him. He told me about it."

Charlie's glance switched from me to Jeff; they made eye-contact and there seemed to be an unspoken message in them.

"Well, rumors sometimes have a grain of truth in them," Miranda said, simpering. "I just wanted to clarify with Ella before it got out. Only looking out for my adopted sister."

My fingers clenched into my fists. My control was starting to slip.

"Yeah, rumors have a funny way about them. I've heard a few about you, Miranda," I said recklessly.

She froze. "Oh, really? Well, like the ones about you and Conroy here, they probably simply aren't true."

"I hope so, for Charlie's sake," I spat.

"What?" asked Charlie.

There was something different about me, I was practically attacking Miranda. Counterattacking, actually. She attacked first.

"Kidding, don't worry." I panicked. I wasn't sure of this new Ella that didn't let her brother's girlfriend walk all over her. So I tried to slide back into being a doormat.

"You're so funny, Ellie." Miranda's dark brown eyes told me she would like to bludgeon me to death.

The nickname set off another small wave of anger.

"Thanks, Randy," I said, not thinking.

"Randy!?"

Oops. Shouldn't have said that. "Randy" didn't seem to like the pet name very much.

"Since when did you come up with that little nickname?"

I was back-wheeling really fast now.

"Uh, right now? You, um, were calling me Ellie so, uh, I gave you a nickname."

"I see." Her eyes were narrowed. "I suppose you weren't trying to say that I…?" She trailed off, leaving it for me to figure it out.

I stared at her for a minute. Crap. Oh, no. She thought I was using the slang word 'randy.' She thought I was calling her horny…or to imply she was easy. Well, it's not like it wasn't true.

"Oh no no no no no no, um, not at all. Why would I get that idea?" My tone was as bland and as innocent as I could make it.

"Nowhere," she snapped, "I'd prefer if you didn't call me that. I can't be sure you have the right intentions."

"Humorous intentions only, Randy."

Allie nudged me. I was going too far. Miranda looked ready to drag me out and shoot me. But I felt like I was driving a car, with really faulty brakes that sometimes worked.

"I'm just messing with you, Miranda. Don't worry about it," I backed down quickly.

"That's what I thought," she smiled sickly-sweetly at me. "We're just the best of buds," she informed the boys, "we're practically sisters. Well," she smirked, "adopted sisters." And there she went, cackling again.

My ears began to burn. Miranda's grin grew wider. She placed her well-manicured hand on my shoulder.

"Oh no. Did I hurt your feelings, Ellie? I didn't mean to." Her voice was that pouty-fake-puppy-dog-talk.

"Hey, Miranda, babe, knock it off."

I was surprised that it was Charlie who spoke up again. Twice to my rescue? Only this was the first time he'd made an overt attempt to put a stop to Miranda.

Miranda was just as surprised as I was and looked at him, wide-eyed. He gave her an apologetic grin and wrapped on arm around her waist.

"Babe, you know that it sets Ella off, so lay off? She's not herself lately, and she's just joking around with you. You know she's not trying to say anything bad about you. Who could? You're perfect. "

Ew, okay? Perfect, Miranda? But…Charlie was defending me. I had to appreciate it. However, his defense of me angered his girlfriend, despite the flattery.

"Excuse me? Your adopted sister calls me a whore and you tell me to lay off—"

She said it. I, Ella Smith, never called Miranda Cavendish a whore.

I may have been thinking it.

But she said it.

"She didn't call you a whore, Miranda," he sighed.

"I see you're picking her over me." She pulled herself out of his grip and pointed one of her manicured nails at him.

Charlie's brown eyes grew wide. "I am not!" he said hotly. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"Fine." She turned on her seven-inch heel and stomped away. Charlie gave a strangled yelp and ran his hand through his hair. The guys laughed.

"Thanks a lot, Ella! Now she's pissed at me!" he huffed.

My great big bubble of love for him popped.

"What the hell did I do? She started it. I didn't even bring you into it!"

"Ella, couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut? You always ruin shit."

"I ruin shit?" My voice went high and shrill. My vision was beginning to go red.

"Yeah, you do. I don't know what the hell's been up with you lately, but you've always been so good at this."

"What's 'this'?" I demanded.

"At making stuff explode. Things and people. You just push people's buttons until they explode. You had to keep pushing the Randy thing? Couldn't you see that it pissed her off?"

That was it.

My fists clenched around the strap of my bag. I felt the familiar snapping inside of me, the snapping that said my control on my emotion was gone.

I didn't notice one of the big school windows at the end of the hallway shatter into a million pieces.

"Then I'm supposed to let her keep calling me 'Ellie' when I hate it? But if I call her a nickname she flips out and I get yelled at? What the hell, Charlie! Couldn't you just be a man and stand up to your girlfriend? I am your sister. She's the one who has been picking on me since day one. If I have to hear one more crack about being adopted—"

This had turned into a Smith screaming match in the middle of the hallway of Stonewall High. People were making a wide circle away from us. Charlie and I were ringed by his friends. At least I had Allie, who stood, somewhat uncomfortably, at my side.

"Why is it always about you? Just 'cause you're the 'special' one!? Guess what, Ella. You are adopted, so technically you're not my sister. You could just be another girl in this hallway. You are just another girl in this hallway." And with that, Charlie stomped off after his girlfriend.

I slumped against the lockers, feeling as if Charlie had taken a car and slammed it into my gut. Things I wanted to scream at him churned in my brain.

He had never played the adopted card before. No one in the Smith household ever had. They knew it was a bad subject.

The small voice in my head, the one that had kept me sane for the past few days, gave a feeble attempt.

He's just angry. You've had fights before and you always make up. He's still your brother.

You're not my sister.

The sentence was burned into my brain.

Why did I have to open my big fat mouth? Why couldn't I just let Miranda walk all over me, as I've let her do for the past year? Why do I have to be so good at triggering explosions? Why couldn't Charlie be wrong?

I didn't belong here. I belonged with Fred, I thought blindly. Fred. Fred. Fred. Fred was a way out of this mess. Fred would take me away, away from the Smiths who didn't want me.

Charlie is only one Smith, said the small voice.

But I didn't want to listen to reason. I just wanted to cry.

Allie touched my arm, letting me know that she was here for me. Charlie's friends awkwardly started to shuffle off.

Any happiness that I had recovered disappeared. I reached for the bottle inside, the one where I'd so carefully kept everything. It was gone, smashed to shards of glass inside of me. Maybe that was the crash I had heard. Everything I had been holding inside was still there, but not so tightly kept. They were bouncing around my insides, tearing me to pieces.

Attempting to do something, anything, to keep myself from breaking down, I turned to my locker and slowly began to turn the combination, hoping I'd just automatically turn the right one. My stomach turned over and over, churning words.

"You are adopted."

"You can't help being different from them."

"You brat! You little bitch! Look at what you've done!"

"You push people's buttons until they explode."

"Do you believe in magic?"

"Technically, you're not my sister."

"Hey, Ella?"

I twitched at the sound of my name. I looked up at the speaker, expecting another attack of some sort. It was Jeff. He smiled crookedly at me.

Dully, I wondered what happened to the reactions my body used to have to him. I felt empty.

His smile disappeared when I didn't return it.

"Ella, look. Don't worry about Charlie. He doesn't mean it."

"What?"

"Charlie. Elle, he didn't mean any of that."

Yes, he did. He meant every single word of it! my brain screamed. And I deserved it.

I shook my head, blocking his words.

"Ella, you can't think that any of what he said is true! I mean, hey, you're adopted, but you're still as much a part of his family as Sophie and Colin. He's talked to me about it, you're like his twin."

"Sure. His twin…" I spat bitterly.

Jeff sighed and leaned against the lockers. "Look, Ella, I'm just trying to say that Charlie doesn't think. You should know that, better than anyone. And sure, you said a few things that pissed him off, but he'll get over it. If not, I'll talk him 'round, okay?"

"Sure." Whatever. There was a dull throbbing in my brain that didn't really allow any kind of thought.

"Ella, listen to me," he snapped.

I looked up, surprised. He was still talking to me?

"I've watched Miranda bully you for the past year. And you've dealt with enough. If I were you, I would have exploded sooner."

I winced at the word 'exploded' and he noticed.

"Oh, cheer up, Smith. Gloom doesn't suit you. Besides, that ginger fire-hair ought to be used to explosions," he grinned, desperately.

I raised my eyebrows. Poor bloke, I thought. He's really trying to make me feel better. I gave him a tiny smile, trying to show him that I did appreciate what he was trying to do. The stupid sick feeling wasn't gone from my stomach.

"Look, Ella…" he growled in frustration. He ran his hands through his hair, looked this way and that, than grabbed my shoulders and kissed me. Hard.

I froze. What the hell was going on? He pulled back and looked at me. I stared at him.

"Err, sorry. I've wanted to do that…for a while."

The line I've dreamed of and wanted to hear for ages was being said to me and I couldn't move.

You want this! You want this! Say something, stupid girl! For once, in your life, don't mess this up!

"Errr, it's alright. Thanks," I said.

Thanks?

He grinned, but there was a question in his eyes. A question that I understood and wanted with all my heart to answer. Finding it somewhat difficult, I smiled and kissed his cheek.

His grin grew so big that I thought his poor face would be split in half, and then he turned and ran down the hallway.

"The boy is positively skipping," Allie murmured next to me.

I jumped; I had forgotten she was there.

"Jeff Conroy just kissed you!" she squealed, throwing her arms around me for the third time that day.

"Yeah," I said dully, wondering why I wasn't more excited.

"Ella, what's wrong? I thought you fancied him…Oh, Ella!"

"No, I do. I do," I told her, and myself. "I just…it's just… Charlie," I whispered.

"Ella Smith! I mean, I'd understand if every thought flew out of your head when he kissed you, but didn't you listen to the boy? He's right. You guys are siblings, just not blood related. Sibs fight all the time—I know for a fact that you and Charlie fight like cats and dogs. He'll get over it and then it'll be just dandy. And then, when Jeff asks you out, Charlie can beat him up."

Charlie wouldn't care if I lay dead in the street right now.

"You're crazy, Allie." I was crazy.

"Ella, Jeff fancies you. After all that, there's no way in hell, he doesn't!"

If this was any other week, I would have been so wrapped up in a haze of happiness, no one could have brought me down from the heavens. I'd always pictured it—Jeff Conroy falling in love with me, his best friend's sister. Why wasn't I beyond the moon and stars?

You're not my sister.

Right. That's why.

"No, no, Allie. I got that part. It's just…I doubt Charlie will beat him up."

"Ella! Just last week, we were saying the likelihood of Charlie beating him up and Jeff falling for you was as unlikely as broomsticks flying! I wouldn't be surprised if one whizzed right past me right now!"

Flying broomsticks.

I started sobbing hysterically.

"Oh Ella, it's been a rough week for you, hasn't it?" Allie clucked, helping me up. "Come on, let's get you home. I'll drive you, okay?"

I nodded my head. We were walking down the stairs, as the announcement system crackled to life.

"Students and faculty, a window on the second floor has been shattered. This is a serious matter because it is expensive to replace and dangerous to those the glass might have hurt. We suspect vandalism; if anyone knows anything, please report to the main office. Oh, and would the custodial staff please report the second floor hallway to clean up the broken glass?"

Well, that was rather angsty, wasn't it? Poor Ella. Reviews will make me..errr...her happier! :D