CHAPTER 30

It feels like years have passed before the Hogsmeade weekend finally arrives, probably because I'm becoming more and more excited about meeting Tonks. Despite my growing anticipation, the morning I wake up for our Hogsmeade trip, my stomach rolls with nausea, tempting me to remain in the castle and pretend that I'm too ill to meet up with her. Standing her up would likely ruin any chance of ever meeting her after this, but at least it would allow me to continue procrastinating confronting my parentage for a short while.

You can't do that.

With a groan, I roll off the bed anyway and force myself to my feet. My evil-ridden past does not matter. It does not matter. I am not Bellatrix, no matter what I have done. I am not Bellatrix, no matter what I have done.

I am not my mother.

As per my usual luck, I will be walking to the village alone. Astoria and Daphne won't be going into the village until after lunch, and I don't have time to wait with them because Tonks is supposed to meet me at the Three Broomsticks around noon and I refuse to risk being late to meet one of the only relatives I might actually be able to claim as mine.

Another shining example of how wonderful my luck is: I am stuck walking uncomfortably close to Pansy and the rest of the girls in our year. As the group of Slytherin girls pass Harry and Cho (Are they together now?), Pansy sniggers, "Potter and Chang! Urgh, Chang, I don't think much of your taste . . . At least Diggory was good-looking!" My heart clenches for Cho as the Slytherins walk on, still giggling at Pansy's attack on Harry.

How Daphne ever tolerated them, I will never know. Though I guess the same could be said about my tolerating Draco. At least that only had to go on for a couple of months rather than multiple years.

I slow down considerably, now realizing that merely being close to the Slytherins will associate me with them, which is the absolute last thing I need right now.

Footsteps approach me quickly from behind, and suddenly Hermione is walking beside me, looking curious. "Where's Ron?" I ask her.

"There's a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, and the team has to practice all day." She sounds nervous, like she's anticipating something, which peaks my curiosity immediately, but as I do not want her to be suspicious of me, I can't ask her.

I almost ask why Harry isn't practicing until remembering how Draco had provoked him, causing Harry to attack him and later be banned from Quidditch for life, or something to that effect. Fred complained to me during one of the D.A. meetings. The thought spurns an anger in me towards Draco that I have never felt before. How could I have been so blind? Draco was an awful person. At least I no longer have to remain quiet when he's being a prick or ignore the way he acts toward the other students—finally, I am allowed to be just as frustrated with him as everyone else is. And I'm beginning to realize why so many people not in Slytherin dislike him so much. I wish I had noticed all this earlier. That would've spared a lot of heartache. Avoiding Draco for being a prat would've spared me from going to the manor, which in turn would've spared me from learning about my mother.

What would have happened had I met her later? Would she have been able to realize who I am? Would I have ever found out?

Hermione breaks me from my reverie. "What are you planning on doing in Hogsmeade?"

"Meeting my cousin," I answer without thinking. My breath catches. No one is supposed to know that I've discovered my family.

"Your cousin?" she asks, obviously interested and even slightly stunned. "I didn't realize you had family outside of—wherever Durmstrang is located." She watches me closely. "Where is that, by the way?"

I swallow. "It's—we're not supposed to talk about it." She keeps watching me. "It's cold and mountainous, but I can't say more."

"Because you don't know."

"That's ridiculous."

"You've never been to Durmstrang, have you?" I cut her reproachful look. "I asked Viktor Krum in my latest letter to him." My fingers tap against my thigh as I try to figure out what that could possibly mean. "He said there was never a Charlotte Rodgers at Durmstrang."

"And you're just going to believe him, are you?"

"Admittedly, I did find it strange. Then I saw your pocket watch in the library, and I thought I might have an idea about why you would lie."

"Dumbledore told me to," I confess.

This seems to genuinely shock her. "Why would he do that?"

"To explain why someone arrived at Hogwarts as a fifth-year without drawing too much suspicion." I look over my shoulder to ensure we're still relatively alone. "Lucius Malfoy captured me and handed me over to—" I stop myself. Do any of them know Snape is a Death Eater?

"Captured you?"

"I've been running from the Death Eaters since I was ten. Can't say why, and I won't entertain questions about it. Too dangerous. Tell me what about my watch made you start questioning things."

"The crest. I spent so much time this past summer cleaning dishware with that crest on it, looking at it every day. The Black family crest, isn't it?" I remove the watch in question from my pocket and hand it over. "That's what I thought. Pretty roughed up, but it's definitely the Black family crest." She returns it to my waiting palm. "Do you know how you're related to them?"

"Yeah," I say, my voice flat and dead. "Found out over Christmas."

She nods. "Malfoy's mother is a Black, isn't she? Is that why you and he—"

"Yes. I don't want to talk about the Malfoys."

We walk a few steps in silence. Then she says, "What's your cousin's name?"

For a moment, I think about ignoring her question altogether, but I don't really want to because maybe talking about it will help me lose some of these nerves. "Nymphadora Tonks."

Hermione stops completely and grabs my arm, forcing me to stop with her. Panic surges through me. "Nymphadora Tonks? Nymphadora Tonks is your . . . your cousin? Is she your first-cousin?"

I clear my throat awkwardly, wishing for the ability to rewind these past few minutes, almost wishing I would have stayed with Pansy and the others just so this conversation never had to happen. "Y-yeah . . . do, uh, do you know her?"

"Is her mother Andromeda Tonks, used to be Andromeda Black?" she asks softly. I nod because there's really no use in lying at this point. "But . . ." I can practically see her piecing the information together to draw her conclusion. "Her father is an only child, right? Ted Tonks was an only child, a Muggle-born." I shrug because there's no way I could possibly know that. Though taking the opportunity to lie could maybe be a good idea—I could claim to be related to Tonks through her father—Hermione seems to know Tonks, and her tone doesn't actually convey much of a question but seems to be more of a way to confirm something she already knows. Then she says, more to herself than to me, "Andromeda Tonks only has two sisters . . . Bellatrix Lestrange . . . and . . ."—her eyes light up—"Narcissa Malfoy."

"That's right," I whisper through my thick voice.

"You're not . . .?" I won't fill in the question for her. If she wants to know, she must ask me. She must realize this after a few moments of my silence, for she then, very gently, asks, "You're not . . . Narcissa isn't . . . she's not—she's not your mother, is she?"

"No. As evil as the Malfoys are, it's unlikely Narcissa would never have let her child grow up without her."

Watching her intently, I see the comprehension flicker in her face. She is hardly audible when she whispers, "Bellatrix Lestrange?"

My silence answers her question.

After a few moments, she concludes, "So, so that's why you and Malfoy . . .?"

"Yes," I say, keeping my voice light, "we're cousins." I laugh for good measure. "I snogged my cousin for nearly four months."

"Merlin, that . . . that's awful," she says, and she actually looks sympathetically at me, like she truly does feel bad for me.

"I agree. Just imagine when we found out . . . the shock, the embarrassment, the humiliation . . ."

"How . . . how did you find out?"

We start walking again. "Same way you did. The pocket watch. It belonged to my great-uncle, Alphard Black." I give her a brief explanation of how I was taken in by him, subsequently left at the orphanage, and later found the letter from him explaining some of my history (albeit with loads of falsehoods).

Hermione takes about twelve seconds to process everything before speaking again. "So Bellatrix Lestrange is really your mother? I thought—this morning when I saw her picture in the Prophet, I thought you looked similar."

"My given name was Aurelia Lestrange—I don't claim it or my parents though." I frown. "Do you know what the first thing my dear mum said to me when she found out that I was her daughter—" I stop. The first thing she said was something about how it should have been who was to bear Voldemort's child, but there is absolutely no need for Hermione to know about that particular part of my life. The only reason I'm even caving and telling her all of this now instead of denying it is because there is something calming, reassuring, to be talking to someone my age about this rather than a professor. "She said that she could Cruciate me long enough so I wouldn't remember any of it, if I wanted her to, of course. She said that she could send me St. Mungo's so I wouldn't have live with the pain of being Draco's cousin. She said that she's done it before, sent someone to St. Mungo's with an addled mind before. Bragged about it, really."

"St. Mungo's?" Hermione asks quietly.

"Yes. She drove them insane. And bragged about it."

She's quiet for a minute. "That had nothing to do with you. You can't blame yourself." I don't say anything, and another few seconds pass before she asks, "Who else knows?"

"Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall. And of course me, the Malfoys, and Bellatrix." I glance at her and quickly add, "Tell no one, Hermione." She nods. "I'm still Charlotte Rodgers. I want nothing to do with that woman."

"Of course," she promises.

"Not even Ron and Harry."

"I won't."

I clear my throat and change the subject. "So what are you planning on doing in Hogsmeade?"

"I'm meeting with Luna Lovegood. Her dad runs The Quibbler." Something about the tone of her voice suggests that she is debating going farther. Whether it's because she can't hold it in anymore or because of what I've just told her, I'll never know, but she continues, "I'm trying to get Rita Skeeter to interview Harry about what happened when You-Know-Who came back."

"That's brilliant! People deserve to know the truth." Hermione smiles at me, relieved. "I won't tell a soul."

"We're meeting in the Three Broomsticks around midday."

"That's where I'm meeting Tonks."

We don't really talk much after that, and when we get to Hogsmeade, Hermione leaves with Luna who is already there waiting while I go to a place I've heard quite a lot about: Zonko's Joke Shop. The Weasley twins often talk of this place, so I figure, why not check it out? What have I got lose other than time? I step inside. Shelves everywhere are stocked with loads of tools for practical jokes, the likes of which I have never seen or would ever have dreamed of. I don't really know what any of them do or what any of them even are. A quick survey of the shop tells me that this is not the place for me. It probably takes a special kind of personality to be attracted to Zonko's Joke Shop, and it seems I do not have that type of personality.

I turn around to leave and instantly collide with someone. "Sorry," I mutter, looking up for the first time to see none other than Fred Weasley, who is closely followed by George and Lee, all of whom are trying to contain their laughter. My face flushes.

"Look who's decided to lighten up a bit and visit the best shop in Hogsmeade!" Fred says. "Figured you'd follow our lead and make Filch's life hell, yeah?"

"I was just leaving."

I try to go around him, but Fred stops me. "You haven't even bought anything yet!"

"I wasn't interested. Hence the reason I am leaving."

"Then you're not looking in the right place! Follow us, we'll help you. Experts like ourselves love helping beginners like you." I watch him closely for a minute before he adds, "What've you got to lose?"

I smile and offer him a slight nod. "Nothing, really. I have time to kill."

"That's the spirit." Fred puts his hand on my back and parades me around the joke shop, pointing out things that he thinks I might like. "I remember fifth year. Lots of essays and writing. Miserable."

"Unfortunately."

"George," Fred says. His twin reaches up to the top shelf and grabs something as if he can read Fred's mind. Then he tosses it to Fred. "A Self-Writing Quill. Use it when your hand gets too tired. It'll do all the hard work for you. Not really. You've still gotta figure out what to write. But you can just speak what you want to say, and it'll do the rest. Highly recommended—would you mind holding it for me? Thanks."

Lee veers off to another aisle. "Where's he going?" I ask.

"To stock up for us," George says. "Who knows when our next Hogsmeade trip will be?"

"There's literally a schedule—"

"So we need to get everything while we're here. Speaking of, I'll be right back." Then George rushes off to the cashier and begins talking with him very seriously.

Fred and I continue searching through the aisles. "Oh!" he says suddenly, reaching out for a small package. "An Electric Shock Shake!"

"A what?"

"You hide it in the palm of your hand—like this—and then you go to shake someone's hand." He holds out his hand for me to shake, which I stupidly do, sending a jolt of electricity running through me that stings and shocks me enough to make me yelp. Fred and I both laugh as I shake the pain out of my hand. "I didn't mean for you to shake my hand!"

"Merlin, that hurt." He smiles at me. Had one of these been in my possession at the time, I would've loved to use it when Snape and I shook on our truce after our short attacks on one another.

"Oh, that look says there's someone you wish to use that on. Malfoy perhaps?"

"No, but I wouldn't be opposed to it. I was thinking more along the lines of Snape."

At this, Fred throws his head back with laughter. "You gotta let me know ahead of time when you plan to do that! I need to see it!"

"I don't have a death wish, Weasley. It was just a thought."

"Thoughts can turn into actions before you even realize it. And I think it's time you start calling me 'Fred,' don't you?"

I smile but say, "I don't know. After all, you're a Gryffindor and I'm a Slytherin. Are we supposed to that friendly?"

"Are you supposed to be a member of the D.A.?"

"Good point." My gaze lands on a section of the wall behind him, and I watch it very intently for a moment before Fred, curious, turns around to see what I'm looking at, probably to see if he can convince me to buy it. While he's distracted, I reach up and grab one of the Electric Shock Shakes. Fred then turns back around with a questioning look. "Fine. I'll call you 'Fred' if you call me 'Charlotte.'"

"It's a deal, Charlotte." I offer him my hand, which he accepts, only to jerk away once our palms meet, a quiet groan in his throat. He smiles and takes my hand, turning it over so he can see what I'm holding. He nods approvingly. "I'm quite proud."

"What else do you think I'd find interesting in here?"

He smiles. "This way." His hand on my back again, he leads me to another aisle. "This," he says, taking something else off the shelf, "is a Screaming Yo-Yo. Not very useful, but when you use it, it screeches incredibly loud. If you were to give it to an unsuspecting child . . . well, it might be fun to watch them get startled, yeah?"

"This would be fantastic if I had any younger friends or siblings to use it against. But . . . I guess the screeching is annoying, right?"

He nods. "Very much so."

"Then it'd be a good bit of fun to annoy a certain Pansy Parkinson . . . say . . . early in the morning? Or extremely late at night?"

"See, joke shops can be amazing places. You've just gotta know what you're looking for." His eyes light up. "Dungbombs!"

"What?"

"C'mon, c'mon." He swiftly walks down another aisle where Lee stands in front of whatever Fred is looking for. "Dungbombs. The single greatest thing to use when you just want to piss off Filch. Set one of these off, and he'll spend the next few hours trying to clean it up. Well, he and that cat of his."

"Just don't get caught," Lee warns. "That's never good. Especially now that Umbridge is in charge of discipline." He shudders. "Have you had one of her detentions?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "The last night before the Christmas holidays."

Fred watches me for a moment before saying, "Thank you, by the way, for helping McGonagall get Umbridge away."

I didn't know he knew about that. "It's nothing."

"It helped my family, that's not 'nothing.' In fact"—he takes the Self-Writing Quill from my hand—"I'll even get this for you as a thank you."

"You really don't have to do that."

"Of course I do. Right, George?"

"Absolutely." George now stands right behind me. "It's the least we can do." Then he looks at Fred. "He's a bit behind on the Dungbombs. Says that what he's got on the shelf is the last he'll have for a few weeks."

"Then we'll take them all!" Lee laughs, gathering all the Dungbombs he can fit into his arms, dropping one every few steps.

All of us laughing, we head to the front of the store to buy everything they want to. As everything the three of them bought is placed into bags, I must admit to myself that I no longer regret walking into the shop. This is quite possibly the most fun I've had in a long while. When we finally exit the store, Lee waves at us before walking away, his arms loaded down with bags. "I'll see you back at the castle."

"See ya, mate," the twins chime. Fred then turns to me and says, "If you like that, you'll love the shop that George and I are going to open."

"'Course, Mum is dead set against us opening a joke shop," George says with mocking sadness.

"I can't imagine why," I say sarcastically.

Fred either doesn't register my sarcasm or just ignores it. "That's what we're saying! There's no harm in opening a joke shop! We're doing pretty well as it is, and we don't even have a real shop. Imagine when we actually have a physical shop."

"It's not like we have enough O.W.L.s to enter the Ministry like she wants us to!" George says. "So opening our own shop is the next best thing, in my opinion."

"If she had her way, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes would never see the light of day."

"Luckily though, we already have a donor who has so generously given us the money we need to start it. All we have to do is get out of school!"

"And we'd better see you buying a load from our shop when it opens!" Fred says, giving me a pointed look.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Freddie here and I are about to go to Honeydukes for a snack if you care to join us," George suggests.

"What about Lee? Is he coming back?"

"He has some things he needs to get done before tomorrow, so I doubt he'll be coming back," Fred says. "We can go hunt him down, though, if that's the only way we'll be able to get you to go with us."

I smile. "That won't be necessary. I'll go either way. But I have to be at the Three Broomsticks at noon to meet a friend."

"Friend meaning Malfoy?" George asks.

"Merlin, no. He's hardly a friend." He's more of a cousin.

"Finally seeing the light," Fred says. "Finally realized how much of a git he really is."

I smile the best I can. "Yeah."

The three of us start towards Honeydukes, passing a small side road leading to a place called Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. Even from here I can see it decorated with frills and lace and other very romantic decorations. "It seems Madam Puddifoot rather enjoys decorating for Valentine's Day," Fred says.

"It's . . . it's Valentine's Day. How did I not make that connection?"

"Maybe because you didn't want to," Fred suggests.

I clear my throat. Draco and I would probably be in there today had Bellatrix not been my mother. We'd be celebrating our first Valentine's Day together. Instead, I am walking through the village of Hogsmeade with the Weasley twins. Instead, I am planning to meet my other cousin.

Why am I not more upset about my lost Valentine's Day with Draco?

"As much as I hate to end your few minutes of silent staring, we're here," Fred says. He and George have stopped walking and are now waiting by the door of Honeydukes, and we all enter. The place is simply the sweetest-smelling place I have ever had the pleasure of entering. It's like I've just stepped foot into a chocolate chip cookie, one baked to warm, gooey perfection.

"Everything looks so good," I say. "What do you suggest?"

"How do you feel about chocolate?" Fred asks.

"It's a favorite."

"George, Chocolate Cauldrons or the Choco-Loco?"

He seems to ponder this for a moment before saying, "Both."

Fred nods. "Both. Get both, Charlotte, and we swear you won't regret it."

"And I'm to assume this isn't some type of payback for the Electric Shock Shake?"

"She shocked you, Fred?" George laughs loudly. "This is the best news I've heard all day!"

"I'm glad the pain of your brother brings so much joy to you, you traitor."

"How'd you manage it?" George asks me.

"I tricked him into turning around so I could grab one of the shockers. Then I offered him my hand in friendship—meaning we were to agree on referring to each other by our first names now."

George's laugh somehow manages to get louder. "Tell me you didn't fall for that, Fred!"

"Let's just order our sweets and pretend she didn't say any of that, yeah?"

"I'll let this go for now, but I'm not done discussing this yet," George says.

The three of us order our treats and take a seat in the shop to enjoy them before heading to the Three Broomsticks to wait for Tonks to arrive.