12. Harder Than Before
It was only after George had left that I realised he said he was going to be coming down at midnight, meaning I would have to forego my nightly roam around the castle. Until then I'd just have to keep myself occupied from any lingering thoughts on being with George and Fred and rather focus on explaining everything to them.
"Bonnie," I called to the house elf covered in suds by the sink, "What's on the menu tonight?" I clapped my hands, priming to immerse myself into the preparation of tonight's dinner. Food is, after all, the greatest distraction.
I paced around the kitchen, shuffling all the dishes, ingredients and condiments on the benches and counters to alleviate my jitters. The house elves had cleared up everything as soon as Dumbledore announced the end of dinner but I needed to move around. I checked the clock for the umpteenth time: 23.24. Still over half an hour until George would be arriving with Fred in tow.
"Is Miss Ella needing some assistance?"
"No thanks Bonnie, I'm alright," I reassured the house elf. She was perched on a bench, her spindly legs swaying back and forth as she watched my every movement. "You go off to bed, Bon, I'll be up for a while."
Bonnie never retreated to the dorm unless I was with her. She had taken it upon herself to be my personal guide, making sure I was always comfortable and attended to. She had even refused to sleep in her own bed for the first few nights, insisting I use it even though I had my own, although it was slightly small (Dumbledore had since enlarged it).
"Is Miss Ella giving order to Bonnie?"
"No, no! Of course not, Bonnie," I almost yelled out. I still wasn't used to the enslavement history of the elves and couldn't tolerate to order them about. "It was only a suggestion, Bonnie. I know you must be tired, what with working all day. You need your rest."
The house elf jumped off the bench and bowed low, her long nose inches from the gleaming ground. "Bonnie is very tired, Miss. Thank you for being so kind."
She paused for a moment, her overly large tennis ball-like eyes inspecting her pillow case covering that was morphed into a dress. I smiled, knowing her hesitance to leave but not wanting to question me. "Bonnie."
"Yes, Miss Ella? Is you needing something?" she asked eagerly, dropping her covering and clasping her hands together.
"You can take the book from my bedside table. It's bookmarked from where we were last."
Bonnie grinned. "Oh! Thank you! So kind is Miss Ella. Bonnie will try her hardest. Bonnie will make Miss Ella proud."
A whoosh sounded through the room before Bonnie made it to the cupboard. The flames from the mounted candles flickered and several dishes rattled off their shelves and crashed, dispersing sharp, jagged pieces of glass across the floor. Soap flew away from the sinks and glided across the benches and floor before flying up and rubbing itself into my hair.
"PEEVES!" I yelled, swatting the bottle of soap away from my head. The damned poltergeist had bothered the occupants of the kitchen daily and it was bordering on ludicrous the mischief and mayhem he caused.
The giggling, maniacal poltergeist appeared high above, floating on his side with his arms behind his head, his orange hat tilted on his head, close to dropping. "Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees? Did a teeny-tiny voice call for Peevesy?"
Sopping wet hair clung to my face. Bonnie shrieked and hid behind my legs. All the house elves were frightened of the damned poltergeist and scurried away in his presence – mostly behind me. "What the bloody hell d'you think you're doing, Peeves? You shouldn't be down here at this time."
Wind rushed past me, and in the blink of an eye Peeves blew a raspberry right in my face. "Little Miss Ellie should be sleeeeeping! Or does you have a date tonight," he sang with a suggestive smirk. "Oooooh, a secret rendezvous in the kitchen! Oh, how ROMANTIC! Making a candlelit dinner, are weee? I firmly suggest the asparagus. I hear it's woooooonderful." he bellowed, twirling in dizzying circles. "Big nose Ellie with a boooooooy! A wizard boy!"
He resumed cackling once again and drifted from corner to corner, breaking as much as possible in his way. "Is that the Baron I hear?" I called out, recalling one of Dumbledore's useful hints ("The Baron has a reputation for solving even the most meddling predicaments, even when he is not present"). And then he was gone, leaving the room in a hell of disarray.
I sighed, surveying the damage. "Bonnie, you go on and sleep. I'll clear up here."
Without another word the little house elf darted off to the cupboard and vanished. I blew out another huff of breath, pulled my hair back from my face into a sloppy bun and began clearing up the aftermath of Peeves' disaster, starting by discarding the glass into a little pan with a broom. The soapy floor made it incredibly difficult so I mopped the slippery surface. I moved onto the mess on the tables once I was done clearing the floor, my face scrunching in disgust when I slipped my arm in a puddle of mayonnaise.
I was crouched on the floor, wiping the last remnants of some mush from under a table when the soft giggling of the pear rang through the kitchen. They were here! Hastily, I pulled my arm out from under the table and raised myself off my knees. If I had been paying any attention to my surroundings rather than my pounding heart, I would have noticed I lifted myself too early, thus smacking my head on the underside of the bench with a loud thump!
"Ouch!" I cried as quietly as I could, nursing my sore head. I shuffled myself further back – a safe distance away from the table – and stood up. I turned to see a red head standing in the middle of the kitchen, his hands in his yellow pyjama pockets and a thick red jumper with a G.
"Hello," I greeted, feeling my hands begin to warm. He smiled back, and with a quiet greeting of, "Ella," made his way over to me.
The mess Peeves had made was all cleared up, but I hadn't noticed the buckets and brooms left scattered all over. Neither, it seemed, did George, as he slipped on the mop leaned up against a table. Everything moved in slow motion. His hands flew out of his pockets as he stumbled and kicked a bucket up off the floor. The soapy water hovered in the air for seemingly long seconds, almost floating as I watched, petrified, before dropping, drenching the floor and the unfortunate Weasley twin making him skid across on his bottom.
"Oh my god!" I cried, my hands covering my mouth from the laughter and groans attempting to escape. "I'm so sorry! I thought I'd put those away. Here, lemme help."
I shuffled over to the soaked red head and held my hand out. He gripped it tightly, slipping once again as I tried to haul him up. I chuckled, thinking of how heavy he had gotten compared to us as kids, back when I could easily give him a piggy-back ride. "Careful," I warned, as I attempted to help him up once again. He looked up at me and grinned. I couldn't help but smile back. Then his grip on my hand tightened even more, and instead of pulling himself up, he yanked me down into the sudsy pool atop him.
A shriek escaped my lips when the cold water seeped into my clothes. My hands flailed for a second before resting on George's chest to push myself as far away from the floor.
"Oh, that's cold. So, so cold. AH!" George's arm sneaked around my waist and he rubbed the sponge across my face and neck. "Stop!" I yelped against a mouthful of dirty water, failing to push his hand away. "You arse! Get off me!"
George laughed but threw the sponge across the room and brushed my loose, messy hair out of my face. "Careful," he mocked with a lopsided grin. I smacked his chest and stood up, frantically keeping my mind fixed on a certain greasy haired professor decked in a dungaree and straw hat to dispel the fluttering in my stomach. It had been months since I'd felt like this and a few minutes with George had me feeling like a little schoolgirl again.
"Help?" he asked, opening his arms out and crumpling his face up in a goofy smile.
"Pfft, help yourself, git." I emphasised with a kick to the shin.
"Someone's crabby," he taunted and jumped up, jabbing me in the ribs and shaking his hair out, eliciting a squeal from me. I whacked his hand away.
"I was already soaked before, you didn't need to make me wetter, George." I would have blushed at the undertone of my statement but George frowned.
"I'm Fred."
Oh. "Oh!" Awkward. "I'm – I'm sorry. It's just…your jumper. It has a G, I just thought that…" my words stumbled over each other. Boy, was that embarrassing.
Fred, not George, shrugged nonchalantly and returned his hands to his pockets. "S'okay. We swap them all the time. No one really knows who's who anymore so they just call us Weasley." Fred grinned. "A lovely way to introduce yourself though. Simply smashing."
"Glad you think so," I laughed. "So, uh, where is George?"
"Talking to a friend. Said he wouldn't be too long," Fred answered and sat on a bench.
Silence clouded over us for a moment. What was I doing? This was Fred! The boy I was dreaming to meet ever since George first told me of a prank of theirs on Percy involving breakfast, ants and soap. Think of something clever. Think! Think!
"So," I started, my mind buzzing, "you like…French food?"
Fred grinned. "Do I like food? I'm sorry, are you sure you've known my brother for years? Bottomless pit of a stomach? Inhales everything edible in sight? We are twins, remember. Although – I must confess that I'm far more handsome."
I chuckled. "I should've guessed. So sorry oh handsomer twin."
"I knew you'd agree! Can't resist my charms," he winked.
I grabbed a plate of the dessert I saved – and made especially for the twins – and sat beside Fred, offering him a sweet.
He quirked an eyebrow while eyeing the sugary bliss on a plate.
"Croquembouche."
"Cock-a what?"
"Cro-quem-bouche," I giggled, accentuating the segments of the word. "What? Scared of a bit of food?"
"Pfft," Fred grabbed a white ball covered in caramel swirls and ate the sweet hole. "Loofs lie fearbax."
"Chew and swallow, please."
He did, licked his lips, and then corrected himself. "Looks like giant bloody earwax on cotton balls."
I rolled my eyes. "But what did you think of the taste?"
"S'alright I guess. Different." He peered at me from the corner of his eyes and chuckled. "Ok, ok, it was fantastic! Happy? I have to admit though, I never expected a girl to be cooking for me this soon - I haven't even started my courting properly yet," Fred winked, propping his elbows on the table behind him and setting his legs wide apart.
"Make yourself comfortable," I mumbled. I hadn't expected my first meeting with Fred to go as it was – he was so comfortable to be around. But it was a lovely feeling.
"Where d'you learn to cook?" he asked, taking another sweet.
"The house elves taught me all the fancy French and Bulgarian food. I help them cook all your meals in fact. But I've been cooking for years now – since I was a kid." I ate a sweet.
"Next time I'm eating in the Great Hall I'll be sure to think of you," said Fred. "Wait – d'you eat here?"
I nodded. "Yup. Dumbledore said I can eat with all the other students…"
"But?"
"Guess I'm not comfortable yet," I shrugged. "So...how does it feel being a twin in a large family?" I asked, successfully changing the topic with a terrible question that made me internally cringe.
Fred chuckled. "You're on fire today. It's alright, having someone the same age as me who I get on with. Everyone's either years older or younger. We make things interesting."
"I'm sure! George told me loads of stuff you guys used to do, the devils of the family, didn't you mum once say? I'm sorry, you don't know who I am, do you?" I asked, suddenly discomforted. Here I was, talking to the boy I'd known of for years but never actually met, and he had no clue who I was.
"Don't worry 'bout it, George explained everything to me and how you were the reason he was always sneaking off to town," Fred said, casually waving off my worry and smiled. "In fact, I reckon you owe me."
"I'm sorry?"
"Well, more George than you, but you're involved too. The amount of times I had to cover for George when he wanted to 'pop down to the shops'. You can imagine my surprise when he returned home empty handed. No – wait, he usually had something open and half finished with him."
The pear giggled again, slightly louder this time, and in waltzed the other Weasley twin. "George!" I welcomed a bit too eagerly.
"Ella!" he grinned, opening his arms wide. I jumped into his arms and embraced him for a short second before being put into a headlock. "Aha! What did I tell you, Princess? Never let down your guard."
"Ger'off, you bloody lunatic!" I shrieked, blindly batting away his hands from my hair.
George tutted. "Now, now Ella. I'm sure you were brought up with finer manners. What kind of a suitor wants a woman with the mouth of a troll?"
"Get off me before I castrate you and feed it to the Giant Squid!" He let go as soon as the word 'castrate' left my lips. "Twat," I muttered and attempted to fix my wet, stringy and knotty hair. What a fine impression to make on Fred! I thought bitterly. First the water incident that made me look like a drowned rat, and now this: my hair resembling a bird's nest. I felt as if I needed to make an effort to impress him, ensure his acceptance of me. It was only right, having befriended one twin I would need to get on with the other. Right?
"I know you don't mean that love, so I'll let you off this once," George said and took my seat beside Fred. "What in the name of Merlin's saggy underpants is that?" He asked, scrunching his face at the French dessert.
"Croquembouche," Fred answered, popping another meringue ball into his mouth.
"Cock-a what?"
"Bloody boys, only cocks on their minds," I huffed, walking over to the bench. I contemplated sitting next to Fred but diverted at the last second and sat on George's other side.
"Trust me love, that's the last thing on our minds. We only have two things on our minds – one of which I'm sure you could guess. Ain't that right, Freddie?" George said, flicking some hair out of his face and eating a sweet.
"You're disgusting," I stated, just as Fred replied with, "Alicia's always on your mind, mate."
George glared towards Fred who completely ignored the look. Was that George's perfect girl? Alicia? Even her name sounded perfect.
"And you're in Hogwarts," George said, diverting the conversation.
"Remarkable observational skills, George," I said dryly.
He jabbed me with his elbow and lobbed another sweet in his mouth, moaning from the sugar melting in his mouth before asking the all-important question. "So how come you're here at Hogwarts?"
Inhaling air didn't do me any good no matter how many times I stalled to answer. What could I say? Oh yeah, you remember Bill: my guardian? Well he was secretly a wizard and died but then Dumbledore came and invited me to come here as a favour to Bill as his dying wish. Oh, by the way I'm a squib.
Yeah, that doesn't sound so appealing.
"Where do I start?" I muttered to myself, pushing my loose hair behind my ears, contemplating all the ways I could start but deeming none of them acceptable.
"How 'bout you start with when you got here?" Fred suggested. "We've never seen you here before – which is shocking for one Weasley twin let alone both of us." I nodded.
"Since mid-October, I think," I answered.
"In the middle of the month? How comes? Why weren't you here before then?" George asked.
I twiddled my fingers together, keeping my eyes on them as I thought of how to explain.
In the end, there was only one way to say it. "Bills gone."
"Where'd he go?" George asked, frowning.
"He's dead."
Both boys were in complete shock. George must have explained everything to Fred, from my sudden appearance in Ottery at eight years of age, to Nanny Anne, for he looked just as sympathetic as his twin.
"Bill died?" George repeated.
"He was a wizard."
Their eyes widened. "Bloody hell," they whispered in unison.
"Was not expecting that," George continued, running his hand through his hair.
I carried on. "Ever since Nanny Anne, he was just a shell. He changed. He wasn't the same again. And he started to go out on these wizard missions for god knows what, going away for days at a time. He never explained any of it to me. But he always came back. He always saw me off to school before a new term or year. And then one day I come home and Dumbledore's there."
The red heads were in silence as they took in everything I'd said. I had deeply edited the information, hoping that they wouldn't pick up on all that I'd missed that involved me.
"So, you're a witch? Were you home schooled all this time?" Fred asked.
"No," I answered quietly, keeping my head down to avoid their gazes.
"Huh? But we've never seen you here. And you knew that Bill was a wizard. You wouldn't have been able – or shouldn't've been able – to know that unless you were a witch," one of them said.
"And if you're a muggle...how are you here? It's hard to believe Dumbledore allowed it, regardless of who asked him."
"But I do know about wizards and witches, I've always known." I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm a...squib."
Silence followed my declaration. I dared not to open my eyes, and instead focused on keeping my head down, and the loose tendrils of my chestnut hair to curtain my face off from them. The pain in my hand alerted me to my clenched fists. I relaxed them slightly and rested them in my lap.
Internally I was battling with myself on how they would react. Not only had I told George, my childhood best friend, but I had also opened up my biggest secret to Fred, who I had only met hours ago. Would they shun me just as my parents had? Of course they would, all wizards looked down upon squibs, those born to magical parents who harboured no magical abilities themselves. My kind were not welcome. We were mocked, spat at, laughed at. Muggleborns were treated worse, yes. But squibs were just disdained, only recognised to suffer from hexes and jinxes as we couldn't protect ourselves.
I wanted to leave. I wanted to go back home, back to Ottery. It was a stupid idea, surrounding myself with witches and wizards. This was even harder than when I had told Nanny Anne and Bill. I had even seen from personal experience how the students treated poor Filch. What would make me any different?
Warmth enveloped my hand. Eventually, I opened my eyes and saw a much larger hand covering mine. George was looking down at me, his blue eyes twinkling and full of life. His lips twitched, and he smirked.
"So?"
"What? What d'you mean 'so'?" I asked, dumbfounded.
George shrugged. "So what if you're a squib. You're still my smelly Ellie."
"You don't…you don't hate me?"
"Hate you? How can I hate you, Ella? So what, you can't do magic. You've never been able to for the last seven years we've known each other."
A smile spread across my face. "You mean it? You don't care that I'm a squib?"
"'Course not! In fact, I'm quite glad."
"Why's that?" I asked. Never before had I heard a reason why a wizard would like a squib.
"You're here now. If you were a muggle I'd have to wait forever before I got to see you again," he answered and squeezed my arm.
I laughed and threw myself into George's chest, relieved that I wasn't about to be taunted any time soon by my best friend. He was George Weasley! How could I ever have thought he'd hate me based on my blood status and magical ability?
"Easy there, Princess. You're going to break something," he laughed, patting my head roughly with his hand. I was sure a few tears escaped my eyes, but I paid no mind to them.
We separated our limbs and laughed.
"Well, now, Ella, I do believe we have a few stories to share," George said, tapping my nose with his finger. I smacked his arm. "Feisty. Oi, got any more sweets?"
I rolled my eyes and went to get another dish of dessert. I set it down on the table. The rest of the night (technically morning) was spent with the twins regaling stories of their pranks in Hogwarts and at their home, The Burrow. They told me all that had happened over the years at Hogwarts, the Quidditch World Cup and their future joke shop.
Nothing could break the elation warming me from the pit of my stomach as George intensely impersonated a prank carried out on some Slytherin students. I was accepted. Truly accepted for what I was by wizards!
The cloud of bliss I was floating on distracted me from Fred's glares and scoffs throughout the night.
"Ella, why do you stink of mayonnaise?"