Warning: Verbal/emotional abuse, mention of physical abuse
V. Candy Solves All of My Problems
After tea with Hagrid, I went straight to the library to work on homework with Hermione. I didn't want to miss her; after all, I desperately needed her help. To my relief, when I arrived, she was sitting at a table poring over a unreasonably large stack of books.
"What are you going to do about the Howler?" she asked without even looking up. Tea at Hagrid's had succeeded in making me forget all about the dreaded letter. I realized seven hours had passed since I first received it, meaning I had to come up with a plan soon.
"I'm not sure," I confessed. "Any suggestions?" I figured Hermione could help. She always knew what to do.
"I was thinking you could open it in the common room," she said, finally making eye contact with me as I took a seat in the chair across from her.
"The common room?" What was she thinking? "Everyone would hear it!"
"Not if you do it after bed," she said. "They've enchanted the dormitories and common rooms to be soundproof. No one will hear it if you're alone."
"Of course!" I exclaimed at Hermione's brilliance. "Why didn't I think of that? I'm sure they said that in Hogwarts: A History somewhere…"
"You've read Hogwarts: A History?"
"Took me a while, but yes," I said.
When I was first starting to learn how to read and write, I chose to read Hogwarts: A History and tried to copy down the words for extra practice. It was extremely thick, hundreds of pages, but that meant thousands of words for me to learn to comprehend. Now, you might be wondering "Oh, Sadie, why didn't you just read a lot of smaller, easier books?" To that I say, as I've told you before, there's a reason I'm not in Ravenclaw.
"I can go with you to open the Howler," Hermione offered, pulling me from my thoughts. "I mean, if you want me to, of course."
"Thanks, but I'd rather be alone." I didn't want to make her worry about me. The last thing I would want to be is a burden.
She handed me a book from her tower titled One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore. "You should get started on your essay for Professor Sprout. It's due Monday." How did she know I hadn't done that yet?
By the time I finished all of my homework for Monday and Tuesday, Hermione had finished her work for the week. We took off from the library, but stopped dead at the sight of Mrs. Norris. She hissed at a box of chocolates dozens of pimples and warts emerged from her fur, a wretched sight. I was about to run away, for fear of Filch catching us in the wrong place at the wrong time, but just then, Fred and George popped out from behind the wall laughing.
"That'll show her!" Fred said between giggles.
"What are you laughing at?" Hermione snapped. "Whatever happened to Mrs. Norris, it isn't funny!"
"Relax," George said. "We were just testing one of our products." He burst out into laughter again.
"Products?" I questioned.
"Carbuncle Chocolates." Fred picked up the box of chocolates next to Mrs. Norris and presented it to us. "Eat one of these and you'll look worse than Filch on a hangover."
"You made that?" I asked, and they both nodded. "Amazing! I should use that on Draco sometime."
"No, you shouldn't!" Hermione scolded. "That's probably illegal!"
"It's not illegal if you don't get caught," Fred and George said in perfect unison before turning the corner in the direction of our common room. I followed them to Gryffindor tower, dragging Hermione along.
By the time we got back, it was nearly nine o'clock. Hermione forced me to do homework for five hours. I couldn't believe her.
I spent the next couple of hours drawing the view from the window, watching the clock tick. Every second felt like a minute, and every minute felt like an hour. After the others had gone to bed, I rummaged in my bag for the Howler, my heart pounding in fear of what was inside that envelope. I searched until I touched something that instantly burned like fire. Reflexively, I yanked my hand out and bit my tongue to prevent myself from screaming from the pain. I remembered what Percy had said about how Howlers warm up until they explode from the boiling heat, so I fetched my thickest pair of winter gloves and touched the letter with just the tip of my finger. It was still a little scalding, but bearable. Like hot chocolate that needs just a few more seconds to cool before you can drink it. Except this wasn't a friendly, gentle kind of warmth, but an angry, fiery heat.
I grabbed the Howler and snuck downstairs, taking my sweet time with each step. Finally reaching the bottom, I crept to the couch by the fireplace, waking the portrait of Godric Gryffindor with my footsteps. "You should find a different frame," I suggested. "This won't be pleasant." I showed him the Howler. He took one look it at and ran off the left side of his portrait.
"Bloody hell," someone said from behind me. I turned around to see Fred and George leaning over the couch.
"Is that a Howler?" Fred asked. I nodded.
"Just get it over with," Fred continued as they both sat down on either side of me. "Howlers are never as awful as they look. We've gotten some from our mother before."
"You don't know Lucius Malfoy," I mumbled.
"We can open it with you," George offered.
"You don't have to—"
"We're not in a hurry," Fred said. "Go on, open it."
I didn't want Fred and George hearing what Lucius had to say any more than I wanted Hermione to, but the two of them didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. Besides, I had to open the Howler at some point. With a shaking hand, I ripped open the red envelope and braced myself for the shouting that would erupt from within. The Howler transformed into a mouth-like card with jagged edges of parchment for teeth and a forked ribbon for a tongue, and even thought it was completely incapable of showing human expression, it seemed to be enraged.
"HOW DARE YOU BE SORTED INTO GRYFFINDOR?!" shouted Lucius's voice, the Howler barking right in my face. "GRYFFINDOR IS THE HOUSE OF MUDBLOODS AND TRAITORS, NOT PURE-BLOODS RAISED BY A RESPECTABLE FAMILY SUCH AS MINE! AND ESPECIALLY NOT SOMEONE OF YOUR HERITAGE! I DIDN'T RAISE YOU TO BECOME SUCH A DISGRACEFUL BLOOD TRAITOR. IT'S THE SILVERWOOD BLOOD IN YOU, IT'S RUINED YOU. PATHETIC. YOU DIDN'T DESERVE TO GO TO HOGWARTS IN THE FIRST PLACE, BUT I HAD TO GET RID OF YOU SOMEHOW. YOU ARE A DISCREDIT TO THE MALFOY NAME AND NO DAUGHTER OF MINE."
Before the Howler could burst into flames, I grabbed it from the air, ripped it into pieces, and chucked it into the fireplace with all the strength I could muster. My face bright red, I lowered my chin into my hands, trying not to cry.
"All that just for getting into Gryffindor?" George questioned with a hint of disgust in his voice.
"What an arse," Fred muttered.
I stayed silent.
"Are you okay?" George asked. I didn't answer.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Fred consoled, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"Kind of." I shrugged. I never had anyone to talk to about life at the Manor before, and it would help to lift the weight of it all off my chest.
Fred gave me an encouraging smile. "Go ahead."
"We're listening," George added.
"Well, they've always hated me for being a Silverwood, you know," I began. "The whole feud, you know. So I don't know who decided to make them my godparents, but whoever it was was an idiot. So, I'm placing my bets on Voldemort."
The twins gasped. "Don't say the name!"
"It's not like he can hear us," I assured them with a chuckle. "And if he is watching over me, he probably hates me enough already that saying his name won't change a thing."
"True," Fred said. "Anyways, go on about the Malfoys. If you want to, I mean."
"Well, where do I start?" I let out a nervous laugh. "Basically, they think I've ruined their reputation. Being the godparents of Vol—You-Know-Who's daughter puts a big black mark on your record. I don't know what he's complaining about, though, he's still well-respected, well-connected in the Ministry, the richest wizard alive… but I guess I have made him lose some credibility."
George scoffed. "If they wanted a good reputation, they shouldn't have been Death Eaters in the first place."
"I second that."
"Sorry, go on."
"I mean, I've told you everything there is to tell you," I said." They hate me. They think I'm just inherently useless, tell me that every chance they get… well, most of the time they don't pay attention to me… don't care if I eat, never bothered to teach me how to read or write—"
"You don't know how to read?" Fred and George exclaimed, exchanging incredulous glances.
"No, the butler, Manuel, taught me." They sighed in relief. "He taught me Spanish, too. Only person in that place I can stand."
"But they're your godparents," Fred emphasized. "Who would put you in the care of someone who hates you?"
"Volde—" I paused at their cringing. "You-Know-Who, I mean. Pendejo."
"I don't know what that means, but I'm guessing it's an insult," George said.
"You guessed right."
"Sadie," Fred began, hesitance in his voice, "the Malfoys don't… they don't hit you, do they?"
"Well, of course they do," I answered with ease, confused by the lack of necessity of their question. "Don't your parents hit you when you mess up, too?"
Utter horror covered both of their faces. "No!"
I stared at them, confused. "What? Why not?"
"Merlin, Sadie," George started, distraught. "Parents hitting their children isn't normal at all. The worst our mum's ever done is lecture us."
Fred seemed equally concerned. "And sure, some of mum's lectures sound like they're coming from the devil himself, but what you're describing is child abuse, Sadie. It's illegal."
This was certainly news to me. Lucius had always called it "discipline," and although I hated him beating me, I figured I must have done something to deserve it. I didn't think for a moment that it was out of the norm, that there were people whose parents only gave them a strict talking-to. Of course I knew that Lucius's resentment of me was quite unfair, but I never considered his strictness to be abuse. "Illegal?" I questioned. "Not normal? You're just making stuff up."
"You do realize you have to report this to someone," Fred urged, "right?"
In that instant, I realized I shouldn't have been telling them this at all. Lucius would kill me if I threatened his reputation any further—let alone reported something that was apparently illegal. "There's nothing to report," I denied. "It's fine, honestly. There isn't a problem."
Fred sighed. "But there is a prob—"
"There isn't. I promise."
I saw Fred and George exchange some secret, troubled twin look out of the corner of my eye. "We were about to go to Honeydukes," George informed me. "Want to come with us?"
I realized they were only inviting me out of pity. "You don't have to—"
"We insist," Fred coaxed.
"But—"
"We insist," Fred and George repeated in unison.
"Okay, fine," I conceded, even though I felt guilty I was crashing their party. "But I thought we weren't allowed to leave the common room."
"No." A left-leaning smirk appeared on George's face. "That's why nobody has to know."
George took out a rolled-up sheet of parchment from his jacket pocket and unrolled it. It appeared blank, but George gave it a gentle tap with his wand and said, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Suddenly, words spread out on the page. It was as if an inkling was dropped in the center and spread out into beautiful, bold print that (I think) read:
MESSRS. MOONY, WORMTAIL, PADFOOT, AND PRONGS ARE PROUD TO PRESENT:
THE MARAUDER'S MAP
More words in smaller writing painted themselves below the title, like a sort of conversation:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would like to welcome Miss Silverwood. Remember, it's not illegal if you don't get caught.
Mr. Moony would like to proudly state that he has never been caught.
Messrs. Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs would like to tell Mr. Moony to shut up.
Below the writing was a blueprint of a castle, with groups of names scattered throughout it. To my surprise, the names "Fred Weasley," "George Weasley," and "Sadie Silverwood" were located in the same room with dots next to them. In two adjoining rooms, I could make out the names "Lavender Brown", "Fay Dunbar", "Seamus Finnigan", and "Neville Longbottom" out of the cluster of letters and dots.
"It's a map of Hogwarts, isn't it?" I wondered aloud.
"Correct," Fred said. "It tracks everyone in the castle."
"Where they are—" George continued.
"—what they're doing—"
"—every minute—"
"—of every day."
"And, it shows seven passages to Hogsmeade. This one," George traced a path with his finger, "leads straight into Honeydukes. And we're the only ones who know about it."
"Cool," was all I could say in my stunned state.
Fred smile, his gaze focused on the map. "We owe everything to Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs."
"Who are they?"
"We don't know. We nicked the map from Filch in detention," George explained, "and haven't gotten one since. Come on, we should get going."
We checked the Marauder's Map for names near Gryffindor tower, and seeing as our biggest threats were sleeping students, we left. It was pitch black, but Fred muttered "Lumos," and a ball of light emerged from the tip of his wand to aid our vision. He waved his now torch-like wand over the Marauder's Map again, and we saw that Peeves and Mrs. Norris were the only two moving dots in the castle. They were far enough away that there was no reason to worry, but we still kept an eye on them. Snape and Quirrell were in their offices, which was strange, since it was the middle of the night.
"Snape has an irrational fear of shampoo," Fred joked in a whisper. "It must keep him up at night." I held in a laugh.
The tiny dots of ink labeled with our names had almost reached the third floor when we saw Snape's and Quirrell's dots moving towards us.
George gestured for us to follow him, and we tiptoed halfway down the corridor that Snape and Quirrell were approaching. I didn't dare ask what he was was thinking, for fear of being heard, but, to my relief, he had a plan. He tapped the left wall with his wand and muttered an incantation so quickly and quietly that I couldn't understand a single syllable. At his words, a door appeared in front of us. "In here!" George mouthed, and we rushed through it into what looked like a hidden storage room. We all rested against the wall and caught our breath as the door vanished, leaving no trace of our narrow escape. The twins put a finger up to their mouth to tell me to be quiet. I nodded in understanding.
On the map, Snape and Quirrell turned into the corridor we were on, and stopped right in front of the hidden room.
"So?" an assertive, almost merciless voice demanded. I assumed it was Snape.
"W-what?" I could barely hear the trembling voice, yet I recognized Quirrell's stutter.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Snape snapped.
"I still d-don't understand w-why you w-wanted us to—"
"Have you figured it out yet?" Snape asked, his patience running out.
"F-f-figured out what?"
"You know perfectly well," Snape seethed in a tone that sent shivers down our spines, and probably Quirrell's, too. "I've given you all summer."
"I-I d-don't—"
"Very well," Snape interrupted. There was a silence until Snape lowered his voice, making me strain to hear what he was saying. "I'll give you some more time, and by our next little chat, you better have decided where your loyalties lie."
There was a loud thump that made all of us flinch, and Snape's dot on the map rushed away. Quirrell, whom Snape must have pushed down, took longer to start moving in the opposite direction. Once both dots were on different floors than us, George tapped the wall with his wand again, saying the incantation much clearer this time: "Ostium revelio." The door appeared again, and George opened it a crack to peek around the corner before signaling us that the coast was clear. We exited, and the door sealed itself back into the wall.
"What was that about?" I whispered.
"I'm not sure," Fred whispered back. "George?"
"I'm not sure, either," George said.
"Kinda creepy, don't you think?" I said.
"I wouldn't worry about it," George assured, but the quaver in his voice could rival Quirrell's. "Snape's a creep in general."
All three of us shut our mouths and continued along the corridor. We came to a stop at a statue of a humpbacked, one-eyed witch. Fred tapped the statue with his wand and said "Dissendium". The middle of the hump opened up, and the hole it had created kept expanding until it became human-sized, revealing a secret passageway. We each stepped in, and Fred and George led me through the twists and turns of the dark and mysterious corridor.
"So, why are you going to Honeydukes?" I inquired, no longer whispering. "I mean, don't third years get to go Hogsmeade anyway?" Hogsmeade was the town next to Hogwarts where Honeydukes was located.
"We don't get to go until later in the year," Fred explained.
"Besides, sneaking out adds the element of fun," George chuckled. "We buy some candy from Honeydukes and sell it to other students for more than we bought it for. Always make a good profit. Problem is, most of our friends are going to realize we've been ripping them off for the past couple years when we all go to Honeydukes on our first Hogsmeade trip."
"I think we can afford to lower the prices a bit, though, considering how successful we've been," Fred said with certainty.
"Yeah, and if you sell it for less than Honeydukes, then more people will be willing to buy," I pointed out. "So you'd still make good money."
"Well, we wouldn't want to compete with Honeydukes, per say," George argued, "but I suppose you're right."
After a few minutes, we reached a worn staircase, which led to an equally worn trapdoor. Fred opened it and hoisted himself up onto the floor above, then offered a hand to help me through. George followed, closing the trapdoor behind him. He clapped twice, and the room lit up at once.
One look at Honeydukes filled me with a rush of excitement. The shelves were stocked with candies the same bright, joyful colors as the baby blue wallpaper. They had every sweet you could possibly think of: Fizzing Whizzbees, Chocolate Frogs, Liquorice Wands, Sugar Quills, and plenty more. Free samples of Honeydukes Signature Chocolate laid on the desk in front of us, next to a bell that George rang three times.
A door behind the desk opened, and a tall, old, friendly faced wizard emerged from it. He was wearing a collared plaid shirt with a red tie and a black beanie, his grey hair sticking out from underneath. He smiled at the sight of Fred and George, as if they were old friends.
"Sadie, this is Ambrosius Flume," George said. "He owns Honeydukes. Am, this is Sadie. A friend of ours." I couldn't help but smile at his use of the word "friend."
I held out a hand, and Ambrosius reached for it over the counter, but faltered for a split second. The recognition was visible in his eyes, but the surprise left his face as he said, "A friend of Fred and George is a friend of mine." I beamed as he shook my hand. "Welcome to Honeydukes." He turned to Fred and George. "The usual, I presume?"
"As always," Fred confirmed, placing a handful of Sickles on the counter. "Plus something a little extra."
"Go ahead," George said to me. "Pick out anything you like."
"I don't have money with me—"
"Don't worry about it, really."
I felt bad, but I wasn't going to pass up their offer. It was candy, for Merlin's sake. "Anything?"
"Anything," Fred and George said in unison.
"And take a sample while you're at it," Ambrosius added, gesturing to the tray filled with fudge. "There's plenty for each of you."
I took a long look around the store deciding what to get. I had too many Chocolate Frog cards, Sugar Quills were too bland, and Peppermint Toads were too expensive. I decided on the treacle tart, one of my favorites, which a sign said costed a reasonable four Sickles ("Good choice," Ambrosius had said). After how upset the Howler had made me, I had the urge to steal something to cope, but I resisted it after realizing that wouldn't be a great way to thank Fred and George. I made a mental note to pay them back every Knut in the morning.
We each took a sample of fudge from the tray (which tasted like a chocolatey paradise), thanked Ambrosius, and ducked back into the corridor through the trapdoor.
"So, you really don't care?" I asked as we stepped back down the stairs.
"About what?" Fred and George said.
"You know, that I'm the reincarnation of Satan," I clarified.
"Should we?" Fred laughed. "It's not like You-Know-Who raised you himself."
"Yeah, I don't get why everyone's so scared of you," George added. "I mean, you're what, three foot?"
"Thanks, George," I muttered through a mouthful of treacle tart.
"I'm Fred, actually. He's George."
"No, you're not," I said, having seen them play this trick before. "Fred's hair stands up more than yours. And your smile curls a bit upwards to the left. Fred's doesn't."
"Merlin's beard," George said to Fred. "She's known us for a few days and she can tell us apart better than our own mum!"
"Well, when you're pushed to the sidelines a lot, you start to notice things," Fred said. "Don't you, Sadie?"
"Yeah," I replied. "I guess you do."
I had never met anyone like Fred and George Weasley. The only other person who had looked past my heritage was Manuel, but he had lived with me for six years before we started to become friends. Even Harry lashed out when he first discovered who I was. But Fred and George were different; they made me feel like I belonged at Hogwarts. Even though the Howler had tried to hurt me, they made sure it failed. And for the first time in my life, I felt invincible to Lucius Malfoy.