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3. Secrets are hard to keep

Just over a month into joining the little school in Ottery St. Catchpole, I came to the conclusion that I hated school. It was not that the subjects were bad; they were probably the things I enjoyed the most aside from spending time with my friends. Zoe and Nate made school slightly bearable by being with me as often as they could, which mainly consisted of break and lunch time as they were two years older, so I was not in the same class as them. No, it was the students.

The children in my class were atrocious. The majority of them were noisy and whiny and spoilt, thus ruining the learning I tried to engage in – I mean, who would not find the history of pharaohs and pyramids and the funny text of hieroglyphics interesting? Being a mini adult, as Nanny Anne so often referred to me as, I did not get on with anyone my age. I was frequently seen glowering at the whinging children who did not want to use their brains in a simple exercise such as adding two single digits together; something which did not do me any favours among the students. It was shocking how a few individuals could ruin the entire experience of school.

Ever since my encounter with George outside Imogen's Bakery two weeks ago, I had made sure to keep an eye out for his bright head of hair in school, but I never saw him. It crossed my mind that it was possible for him to be in another year group, but the school was so small I should have encountered him in the playground at least once, where all the students congregated at break and lunch times. Even out in the village there was no sign of him. He seemed to have just disappeared.

It was lunch time and I sat in the lunch hall with Zoe and Nate, nibbling on the chicken sandwich Nanny Anne packed for me using the previous night's dinner, before turning to my two friends.

"And then fat Mrs- sorry- Ms Crankshaw, the cranky old cow, had the audacity to-"

"Is there a George Weasley in the school?" I asked, cutting off Zoe from retelling the story of her teacher yelling out at her in class for interrupting Andrew 'Bogey' Smith, the slowest boy in the entire school in terms of brain power, as he tried to read out an extract from Shakespeare's 'A Midsummers Night Dream'. He barely made it through the first paragraph before Zoe got annoyed and requested the teacher to change readers.

"A what?" Zoe blinked.

"George Weasley. Do you know him? Does he come here?"

"Never heard of the weasel thing," Zoe replied, sipping her orange juice in a plastic green cup. Just as she realised I had met someone in the village whom she did not know of, she snapped her head up. "Where did you meet him? What did he look like? Where does he live?"

"Calm down, Zo," Nate chuckled, obviously used to his best friend's erratic behaviour, "one question at a time, remember?"

"Oh, get lost," Zoe mumbled.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine today," Nate teased.

"Well, if you didn't just hear what happened in class today, which, by the way, you should have because you were right there, then you'd know why."

"So, no George?" I interrupted before the two got into another one of their common famous spats.

Nate turned to me first. "Nope. Never heard of him."

A feeling of disappointment surged through me; I was hoping to have another friend in the rotten school. "Oh."

"So!" Zoe exclaimed, slapping her hands on the table and gaining the attention of the younger students nearby who looked on nervously. "Where did you meet him? When? How?"

I sighed. The rest of lunch was spent answering their – mainly Zoe's – questions on George. We moved out into the playground where the snow had now completely melted away and the beginnings of fresh green grass were starting to grow. Nate did not seem to be as bothered by the mystery boy as Zoe, so he stayed quiet most of the time.

We sat down at our usual spot: a bench in the little rotting gazebo at the top of the playground. I had just started to tell Zoe and Nate of the apple incident (how could anyone like green apples and not red? Madness!), when large footsteps stomped on the wooden floor.

"Oh, looky who it is," the familiar stuffy drawl sung. "It's wittle Ella and her two buddies."

Prunella Trunchball. The meanest girl in school. With small beady eyes and blonde wiry hair that stood out like – what was her name? Medusa! She had taken it upon herself to make my school life an absolute misery the second she set her eyes on me. The stumpy freckly blonde would trip me up in the hallways, 'accidently' fling food at me, drench me in water if I happened to be near the drinking fountain and scribble on my skin in felt tip pens. After my first week in school, she had somehow circulated a song about me to all the year groups. I had never bothered to learn it; I tried not to let it get to me, especially when I had Zoe to threaten anyone who sang it.

"What do you want Prune-butt?" Zoe huffed. Apparently it was a great insult to add the word 'butt' at the end of a name. Prunella instantly fumed at the nickname, her face taking on the hue of a tomato.

"Buzz off Zoe Pimple-butt," again with the butt. "I was just wondering whether Smelly Ellie here was ready for our art lesson."

I internally groaned, remembering she was in my next class.

The bell rang suddenly. Time for lesson. A grin broke out on her face, warning me of impending trouble, then she strode away on her small thick legs to class.

"Well," I drawled, "this should be a fun hour. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

I hopped off the bench and waved to my friends, following Prunella's footsteps to our class.

Two hours I had scrubbed my arms for and the paint looked to almost be a second layer of skin. Prunella had taken it upon herself to sit herself beside me in class and paint on me rather than her card.

"Oh Ella, didn't we teach you better than that! You could've been the better person in this situation, but no, you decided to take it in your own hands rather than tell the teacher. I mean honestly, she would've gotten into more trouble had you not bitten back."

Guilt gripped me as I recalled the afternoon's events. After Prunella had painted half my arm in a hideous orange and was about to brush some more paint into my hair, I grabbed the bottle of blue paint and squeezed it atop her head with a squelching frrrp. Her shrill shriek alerted the teacher to the mess and, with steam billowing out of her facial orifices, she instantly stormed over to us. We were both sent outside.

Needless to say I doubt Prunella will be bothering me anymore in art lessons.

"But Nanny Anne!" I cried, ready to defend my actions once again.

Nanny Anne scoffed, shaking her head and returned to the stove to stir her pot of stew. I sat at the kitchen table rubbing my now red arms to soothe them after the vigorous scrubbing they had undergone.

Bill was opposite me with a newspaper covering his face, but even so, after every futile attempt to get Nanny Anne to understand he would chuckle. A warmth spread through me every time he did, stomping the guilt out of me bit by bit. It was the closest I had felt to everything being normal since his outburst a couple of months ago. It felt good.

Jimmy bounded towards me and began licking my arm, growling softly in his chest.

"Oh, you're so cute when you're protective, Jimbo," I giggled, and stroked the top of his head.

Woof!

"He's been missin' yer durin' the day. Not used to yer not bein' home."

Bill's newspaper lay flat on the table as he sat back comfortably on his chair, watching me with the smallest, barely visible smile on his face. It was the first time he had said something to me other than "hello". Even Nanny Anne was shocked as she stopped cooking and stared at Bill, her eyes wide with joy.

"I've missed him too," I said.

Bill made a sound from the back of his throat and nodded before returning to his newspaper.

I beamed and looked at Nanny Anne. She too was smiling massively, no longer fazed by my retaliation.

"Ok, dinner's just about ready. Ella, set the table please love."

Dinner was a pleasant affair as Bill conversed to me as if we had never had a dispute. He asked me about school, all my lessons, and my friends. When he asked whether or not I was being picked on I gladly told him of Prunella Trunchball. He was angry at first at all the things she got away with, although he suspected there had been other situations similar to the paint scenario. But then I told him of the encounter that happened earlier in the day and he could not stop laughing. Nanny Anne could not even remove the smile from her face despite her disappointment over my temper besting me.

"Ooh-hoo, I'm proud of yer girl, that's some nerve you got. Great big ball-" Bill was hysterical, wiping the tears away from his eyes after seeing my impersonation of the Trunchball by squinting my eyes and poofing my cheeks out. He had not realised what he was saying. Or going to say.

"BILL!"

We were all stuck in a new fit of laughter after that. Even Jimmy joined with his barking laugh. The light bulb began flickering overhead but no one paid it any attention.

A deep sigh ended my laughter. Nanny Anne's laughter turned into small hiccups soon after, which gradually grew into great big hacking coughs.

Bill promptly sat up. "Love, you ok?"

He got up from his seat and hurriedly limped around the table to pat Nanny Anne's back. Her face had gone tomato red. I stared horrified. Surely a bit of laughter could not elicit such a horrific reaction? She did not even laugh as much as Bill and I. Was she even breathing?

With the aid of Bill patting her back and giving her room to breathe, Nanny Anne soon returned to normal. She took a few gulps of air before smiling shakily and patting Bill's hand in thanks. He gripped it back before standing to his full height.

"I've got a call to make," he moved to the fridge and pulled out the milk and sat it on the counter.

"Bill, it's fine, honestly, you don't need to-"

"Ella, make yer Nanny a cuppa. You'll be alrigh' with the kettle, won't yer?" Bill interrupted. I nodded slowly, vaguely recalling the process from the few times I watched Nanny Anne make it.

"Alrigh' then," Bill said and left quickly before Nanny Anne could object again.

Nanny Anne sighed. "That old fuss pot."

Without saying a word I got up and started on the tea. Standing up high on my toes, I reached up and skimmed my fingers over the nearest mug, sliding it closer towards me so it was easier to get a grip on. Grabbing the kettle and filling it with water, I stood in the middle of the kitchen glancing around the counters. Nanny Anne opened her eyes.

"We don't have an electric kettle, just pop it on the hob love."

I nodded and continued making the tea. The kettle whistled after a few moments and I poured it into the mug with a tea bag, followed by the milk. Once I finished stirring it I passed it over to Nanny Anne.

"Thank you darling."

We sat in silence for a while, Nanny Anne making small faces down at her mug from time to time.

Moments of worried silence passed, and then Nanny Anne spluttered on her tea and began coughing again. My eyes widened and a feeling of confusion and helplessness wash over me. Bill was so composed earlier when helping her whereas I had been frozen in my worry, clueless as to how he soothed her. My mind was blank.

"Bill!" I shouted before I realised what I was doing.

"No-" Nanny Anne wheezed before her coughs took over her voice again.

I jumped up from my seat and ran to the living room. "BILL!"

I skidded around the corner and through the archway. What I saw made my blood run cold, the all too familiar feeling of needles prickling me came crashing down full force.

Bill was hunched over on his knees on the floor, peering into the fireplace where it looked as if a face was imprinted in the fire. From my position I could just about hear a voice from the fire conversing with Bill. Their voices were hushed; apparently they were unaware of my presence.

"No," I gasped. No, this couldn't be happening. I was dreaming. No- a nightmare. This was a nightmare. The whole day never happened. I never asked Zoe and Nate about George Weasley. I never squirted paint on Prunella Trunchball. I never saw Nanny Anne get into a heavy coughing fit twice. And I definitely did not see Bill talk to someone in a fireplace without burning from the close contact with the flames. My new perfect family were no longer perfect. It was ruined.

Bill heard me. His head snapped up so hard and fast it was a shock his neck did not snap. From the corner of my eye I noticed the face in the fire also looked towards me but my eyes were riveted on Bill. His face transformed from one of confusion to one of utter anger in a flash.

"Ella."

His voice was so low I barely noticed he spoke. He shot up off the floor and moved his hand to his back.

Nanny Anne's intensifying coughs broke my transfixed state and I ran back into the kitchen. She looked even worse than before. Her face was no longer its usual creamy complexion, and nor was it the red hue she had adopted earlier. Now her face was a bright purple going onto blue.

"Nanny!" I cried, rushing to her side and patting her back similar to how Bill had done earlier.

"ANNE!" Bill lunged across the room, his limp completely disguised. He pushed me away, taking my place by Nanny Anne. "Come one, Anne, breathe for me love," he said. Bill rubbed her back roughly.

Bill's push had me on ground and I could not find the strength to move. Tears were streaming down my face as I feared for the worst. I prayed silently as I witnessed the scene before me. Oh God, please let Nanny be ok, please, oh please.

This went on for a while. Bill was softly whispering sweet words and instructions to Nanny Anne as I sat crumpled on the wooden floor, unable to tear my eyes away. The palms of my hands ached from the impact upon hitting the floor but I didn't care. It didn't matter.

Minutes passed and Nanny Anne, for the second time that day, slowly calmed herself and began to breathe again. Bill stayed by her side continuing to rub her back, making sure she was absolutely fine and her blue face reduced to its usual tone.

He took a deep breath and moved back slightly. He tilted his head back and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. As if suddenly realising what happened, he turned to me.

"You. Wha' did you see? Eh? Wha' were you doin'?" Bill began to stalk towards me but was stopped by Nanny Anne.

"Don't," was all her weak voice could manage. It seemed to snap Bill's attention back to her.

His voice went quiet. "Anne, I have to."

It was then I noticed he was holding something in his hand. He must have pulled it out as I ran out the living room. It was long and thin, with a wooden strip curled around it. It was thinner at the tip and thick where he held it. All over it was covered in intricate carvings. The only colour was the vine wrapped around it; it was a sparkly midnight blue that was barely noticeable, but gleamed in the light. The colour made it seem ethereal and magical, and it took every ounce of energy for me to take my eyes off it.

Bill and Nanny Anne were still having a low discussion, Nanny Anne looking weary and weak. In no time at all Bill nodded and rubbed his hand over her head.

Bill sighed. "You two go on inside, I'll bring yous a cuppa."

I got up on shaky legs and grabbed Nanny Anne's hand, helping her through the archway and into the living room. She sat down in her plush armchair while I made myself comfy on the pistachio green sofa. I watched the dwindling fires in the fireplace, the face no longer visible. We always opted to leave the lights off during the evening as it always seemed too harsh on the eyes, whereas the fire emitted a soothing radiance; its usual warm glow now casting an eerie ambience in the room.

My mind wandered to the nights events. Nanny Anne was ill – that was for sure. Very ill if her second episode accounted for anything. But what exactly was wrong with her? Was it serious? Could she be cured? And Bill…maybe I saw wrong? Perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was no way Bill was talking to someone in the fire without harming himself. I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe it.

Nanny Anne had her head tilted back against her armchair. The fire cast shadows to dance across her face, making her look far younger than she was. She looked so innocent and well. Her wrinkles seemed to disappear and her few freckles stood out. Despite her pudginess she had sharp cheekbones which just about poked out of her plump face.

Seconds later Bill appeared with two steaming mugs.

I accepted the smaller mug with a murmured thanks.

"Nngh," he grunted in reply.

"Cheers love," Nanny Anne said after being handed her mug.

We all sat in silence, just drinking our tea – hot chocolate in my case – with our thoughts being our only company. For the first time during the week my mind flitted to my parents and sister. What were they doing? How were they coping without me? Did they think of me often? At all? Would they be thinking where I was, or who I was with? Did they feel they did wrong; casting me out of their home? Were they guilty?

"Bill," I started. He didn't look up.

I continued to drink my hot chocolate. I hoped he had not heard me. I was not ready to say anything, but the silence was suffocating and I felt the need to break the silence.

"I'm sorry Ella," Bill said, his voice, although low, carried across the room. I looked up to see him looking back remorsefully.

"What…?" I said, confused. Why was he sorry? Why do I have so many questions tonight?

He drained his mug and placed it on the coffee table. He got up and, from his back pocket, pulled out his wooden stick again. Fear coursed through me and I instantly shot up.

"Bill," Nanny Anne said. Her voice took on a tone of pleading.

"I have to," he whispered, all of his previous anger now gone.

Nanny Anne sniffled. "Bill you don't have to. She can keep this quiet. Won't you dear? You didn't see anything did you love?"

My mind was jumbled with what seemed to be a million thoughts running through it, none which I could make sense of. Just then Jimmy entered the room and stood between me and Bill as if sensing the tension. He stood in a protective stance in front of me. But with his small figure Bill still had a clear watch on me.

"I'm sorry Ella, you won't remember this. Don't worry girl, you won't feel a thing."

He raised his hand again, aiming the stick to my head I blindly edged backwards away from Bill.

"Bill, you're scaring me," I breathed out. "Please, don't hurt me. I'm sorry, Bill, I didn't meant to, I swear, please Bill." I didn't realise I was crying. I was trembling so much. Not again. No. Bill wouldn't hurt me like that. Not like he did before.

Bill opened his mouth and began to utter his incantation. "Daddy did that!" I shouted. Immediately he stopped and stared but he didn't lower his hand.

"What?"

The air crackled in silence. They both looked at me with unreadable expressions. I fidgeted under their stares.

Moments passed and still no one spoke. The fire had died down into small embers flickering, like the light bulb in the kitchen, refusing to give way and die.

What did I just tell them? Bill wasn't going to hurt me. He wouldn't. He helped me. Thinking back to when Bill poised the stick to me he didn't look as if he was going to hurt me. The moment of panic reminiscent to previous similar occasions caused me to spill. I had to tell them otherwise who knew what was going to happen to me. Mum and dad did it, so what was stopping Bill? I was nothing to him compared to being a daughter to my parents.

"Your daddy, who is he? What does he do?" Nanny Anne asked. "And tell the truth Ella. We need to know."

Bill limped over to his armchair and sat, keeping his eyes to the floor. Nanny Anne moved to the side and I slowly walked passed her onto the sofa while she followed.

"Mum and dad told me not to say. Said people aren't supposed to know about our type. But you used the Floo. Only we can use it. Daddy used it all the time with his friends. And Bill, you have a wand! You're a wizard!" I said, the words flowing out of my mouth all at once. I couldn't stop. Nanny Anne was watching me with a hint of a smile on her lips.

"So you know?" Nanny Anne beamed. "Oh dear, that's lovely! Oh my, fantastic news, just…amazing!" she let out a giggle. I couldn't help but let one escape as well. We were fine.

The tension was gone in an instant. My earlier worries evaporated. Woof! Jimmy ran around the room.

But Bill was still quiet, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Bill?" I asked.

He looked up. "Ella…"

I walked across the room and stood in front of Bill. He sat up and held my hands.

"Ella, I'm sorry girl, so sorry, I didn' know and I- I'm sorry love."

"You had no reason to know Bill, it's fine," I smiled and lunged at him in a hug. It took him a few seconds but he reciprocated.

"Bill?" I said, my voice slightly muffled from his jumper.

"Hmm?"

"Were you…what were you going to do?"

"I wasn't goin' to hurt you love, never ever will I hurt you," his arms tightened around me before he released me altogether, allowing me to climb in his lap. "You know much magic?"

I shook my head, "Only the things mum and dad did."

"I was only goin' to alter yer memory so you would forget seein' me use the Floo," Bill said.

"What's that called?"

"Obliviate."

Jimmy lay on the rug in front of the slowly dying fire, tired from the day's activities.

"Tell us about your family," Nanny Anne said.

My eyes strayed to the floor. I might as well, there's nothing else to hide. They had just proved that they wouldn't hurt me. I could trust them.

"My mum and dad are wizards. They went to that big magical school in Scotland-"

"Hogwarts," Bill interrupted.

"-yeah, that one. Mum was in the clever house…oh, what was it called again- Ravencaw!" ("Ravenclaw, Ella," Bill corrected.) "And dad…dad was in Slytherin. All his family were."

Bill went silent. I continued.

"Him and mum wanted me to be in Slytherin when I was old enough to go Hogwarts. Said they would be so proud for me to continue the legacy," I stopped, unsure of how to continue.

Both Bill and Nanny Anne waited patiently for me to carry on. I took a deep breath.

"My little sister, Abigail, she's three years younger than me, so she's five. Mum and dad had been waiting ages for me to show my first signs of magic; they say it happens spontaneously from a young age," I paused. "I never did. Abi wanted a story before bed one night. So she conjured one. From her bed," another pause. My voice was almost muted, choked on the lump lodged in my throat. "She used magic before me. Mum noticed this, of course, and asked me whether I used magic when she wasn't in the room. I said no. I heard her telling dad, and that maybe I was just a bit slow, but it would come to me eventually.

"They waited a bit longer – a few days I think – before they confronted me. I'd never heard them yell so loud. They told me they had their suspicions all along but they wanted to be sure. They told me how I was dishonouring the family. How I wasn't good enough, that they were ashamed of me. They blamed me for not being the perfect Slytherin daughter. I didn't even understand what they were talking about. I mean, I was still their daughter.

"They kept calling me a stupid squib, shouting it whenever I didn't answer one of their questions. All I could do was cry. I cried so much over how I disappointed my parents and I begged them to tell me how to make it up to them. But being the Slytherins that they were they wanted nothing to do with me. So they did the first thing they could think of," I spat, glaring down at my hands clenched in my lap. Bill saw and covered a fist with his large rough hand. "They got rid of me. Chucked me out of the house straight after without any spare clothes or food. I don't know how long I spent on the streets on my own before you found me. Our house elf was treated better than I was," my tears blurred my vision so much that I couldn't make anything out. The large droplets fell on Bill's hand but he made no move to wipe it.

"I hate them. Daddy hurt me," I managed to choke out through my tears before the sobs took over. "He hurt me Bill, he did the bad curse."

Bill promptly wrapped his arms around me and held me tight, allowing me to cry into his chest. Soon after another pair of arms wrapped around us. Bill shuffled over on the armchair and Nanny Anne squeezed in beside him.

"I'm a squib," I muttered.

That night we all fell asleep on Bill's armchair embracing each other. We awoke impossibly sore with aching limbs but we all laughed it off. Our secrets were out in the open and we had nothing to hide anymore. The weight that was loaded on my shoulders since waking up on the sofa was lifted, and I felt light and happy.

All morning we couldn't wipe the smiles off our faces. Even Bill's scowl never lasted long after remembering my admitting that my dad had purposely hurt me. We were just so happy. Jimmy jumped and danced around the house with me. School didn't bother me, especially since Prunella made the wise decision to keep her distance. My time spent in the paper shop with Bill was full of laughter, and Nanny Anne and I danced to the radio while cooking that evening (she decided to teach me how to cook and make tea).

We were a real family now.