One of my earliest memories of my mother was of her trying to teach me how to ice skate. There was an indoor rink back in Salem that my mother used to go to as a kid, and her mother before that. And my mother brought me as early as three. I only had two years of walking under my belt and she was already attempting to get me to skate.

It had always been the two of us, ever since shortly after I was born. I never knew anything about my father and had never really thought to ask at such a young age. I didn't really know any other children to compare my home life and family to. Besides, I was happy with just me and my mother. We had fun together. And besides that, she was all I had. She taught me a lot in my first five years. Most of which I didn't remember, like walking and talking. But other things, I can remember a little better, although even those memories are vague. Two of them are learning to read and learning how to ice skate.

One of the memories I can remember more clearly was when I was around five. My mother was facing me and holding my hands as she skated backwards, pulling me along in her wake. I had spent a good amount of the past two years falling and clinging onto the side of the rink for dear life and this was my first time venturing away from the sides. I gripped my mother's fingers for dear life and my legs were stiff as a board.

"Relax a little, Soph," she said, her clear, light blue eyes-the same as mine-crinkling at the corners as she grinned at me. "I've taught you everything you need to know about how to skate on your own. You just need to do it." She tried to wiggle her hands from my grasp, but I only held on tighter.

"No, Mommy, don't let go!" I screeched as she laughed and shook her head.

"It seems hard now," she told me, "but it's just like learning to walk. One second you're struggling and the next, you're flying."

"I can't remember learning how to walk," I told her.

"But you did learn, didn't you?" she asked.

I had simply shrugged in response.

Not even a week later, I was doing exactly what she'd predicted. I was flying around the rink without any support. I still fell occasionally, but luckily never got any serious injuries and was able to get right back up and keep going.

"I told you, didn't I?" my mother laughed as we left the rink that day. She grabbed me and pulled me to her as she tickled me and I giggled hysterically. "I told you!" She released her hold on me and slipped her hand around my small one as we kept walking. "I was completely right, wasn't I? One second you were struggling, too afraid to let go of anything, and the next, you were flying across that ice."

"It's so much fun!" I exclaimed. "I'd rather skate than walk, I think."

My mother laughed. "See? It's going to become second nature before you know it. And you know, this goes for anything difficult in life, not just skating and walking. Remember that. Whenever you're struggling with anything-it'll be hard for a while, but before you know it, you'll be flying."

"Can we get hot chocolate?" I asked in response, completely ignoring my mother's attempt at advice.

She laughed. "You got it."

It was less than a year later when she was rushing me out of our house in the middle of the night, telling me nothing except that we had to move quickly. She handed me a small bag of some of my belongings and rushed me down the street, glancing over her shoulder every so often.

When I had asked her where we were gong, all she said was, "Somewhere safe."

She brought me to the place where she worked-an old but beautiful white house, preserved and converted into a museum. She quickly unlocked the back door, dismantled the alarm, and hustled us into the hallway, still looking over her shoulder. She slammed the door shut and locked it behind her. Without bothering to turn on any lights, she knelt down in front of me and planted a hasty kiss to my forehead, taking my face between her hands as she did so. "It's okay, don't worry," she whispered.

"What are we doing here?" I asked her quietly as she stood up and began looking in her bag.

She didn't answer my question. She was too preoccupied with what she was doing. She began rummaging around in her bag, becoming more panicked as she did so. "Shit," she hissed. "Shit. Fucking shit."

"Mommy-" I began in alarm. She hardly ever cursed in front of me, and when she did, it was always an accident-a slip-up. And she always apologized and made me promise I wouldn't repeat it to anyone. This time it was intentional.

I was able to understand at the time that something was wrong, even if I didn't know exactly what it was. I was frightened. I began to cry silently as my mother knelt in front of me again, gripping my shoulders and looking at me with a smile that even I could tell she didn't mean. She was scared, too. And if she was scared, that meant something was really wrong.

"I want you to stay here for a little bit, okay?" she said, brushing my hair off of my face. "Mommy just has to go get something from home and I'm going to come back for you. I forgot something, but I'm going to get it and come right back. You and I-we're going to go on a lot of fun adventures. We can go anywhere we want. We can go to New York City and see that giant ice rink we talked about, remember? Skating in New York-how great would that be? We can even go to Europe. We can see the Eiffel Tower...or go to England! Remember how we talked about my family-our family-used to live there before coming here? A long time ago..." She trailed off and looked at me lovingly, her eyes wandering over my face as if she were taking me all in.

"What about our house and your work?" I muttered, gripping my teddy bear in my hand tightly as I rubbed my eyes. "I like it here. I like Salem!"

"Maybe we'll come back one day," she said, giving me another quick kiss on the forehead before instructing me to sit down on the floor. She covered me with a blanket and smoothed my hair. "I'll be back soon," she whispered, rubbing a thumb over my cheek. "I love you to the moon and back."

"Mommy, I'm scared," I whined, reaching out for her as she stood up and backed away.

"I'll be right back," she assured me. "It's safer for you here than out there. But I promise you I'm coming back. I promise. Before you know it, I'll be coming to get you okay?" She leaned down for one more swift kiss. "Stay here and stay quiet. I love you."

And with that, she hurried back to the door, unlocked it and put her hand on the knob. Before she turned it, she took one last look over her shoulder at me. I could see her bright blue eyes in the tiny amount of moonlight streaming through the window. Her wavy, dark brown hair spilled from under her hat and framed her face as she smiled at me. And then she turned and left, shutting the door behind her. I heard the lock click and then she was gone.

She never did come back.

The diary that I had found got tossed into the back of my closet and remained there, untouched. I had no idea what to do with it. I was curious, sure, and that part of me wanted to keep the diary and actually spend some time reading it. But another part of me wanted to burn it. Permanently destroy anything that reminded me of home.

It scared me that something like this could have ended up in my hands. It seemed too spooky to be accidental, which made me paranoid. But if the person from home that I was so afraid of had followed me here, why would they simply drop the diary? Why would they waste time playing games? I didn't think they would. I had no idea what to make of any of it, but I did know I was afraid to read that diary. Because maybe it wasn't a game. Who was to say it was even just a normal diary? As far as I knew, there could've been some kind of magic hidden inside. If someone wanted to hurt me, a cursed diary would be an inconspicuous way to do it. No one would ever know who the culprit was.

"Are you all right?" Rachel asked me at work on Thursday. It had been four days since I'd picked up the diary and I'd told no one about it. I had been debating it, but couldn't make up my mind. So far, it had been pretty harmless sitting in the back of my closet. I just needed to decide if I wanted it to stay there or not. Or if I wanted to even open it.

I paused at Rachel's question as I levitated the last of the dirty dishes from my stack into the sink. "I'm fine," I finally answered, turning to give her a brief smile as I tucked my hair behind my ears. She was standing at the doorway, staring at me with her head tilted.

"You look even deeper in thought than usual," she said. "Is something bothering you? Or someone? One of the customers?"

I shook my head. "No."

"I heard about what happened two weeks ago when I went home sick, you know," she said. "Those boys are jerks. You just have to know how to deal with them."

"And how's that?" I asked quietly, fiddling with my shirt.

Rachel was quiet. "Listen, why don't you hang out with us Saturday night? Tom and Martha have me scheduled until seven and you until eight. You could come over to my place after work. And you can come with me when we go out. Some of us are going into Hogsmeade. We could get to know each other a bit more." When I didn't respond, she pressed on. "I think we're pretty friendly people."

"You ask me to hang out with you nearly every week," I said. "I'm surprised you haven't given up yet," I said, turning back to the sink and turning the water on before adding some soap to it. It was quiet for a moment before I looked back up at Rachel, who was staring at me with a familiar expression on her face, her expressive dark brown eyes also giving her feelings away. "You feel sorry for me, don't you?" I asked, a tinge of annoyance in my voice.

"No," Rachel said quickly, widening her eyes and shaking her head rapidly. "I just...I like making new friends and I also do want to help you feel welcome. You're new around here. I think you could use a friend more than anyone, no matter how tough you try to act."

I stared at her. It was true that Rachel had certainly felt like a persistant, one person welcoming committee ever since I got here. She was friendly, with a large warm smile and an infectuous laugh. She was talkative, outgoing, and not to mention gorgeous. Her long, straight hair hung halfway down her back and was such a dark brown it was almost black. And she was tall. She had a good five or six inches on my five foot three frame. And I had to admit, her personality made her all the more likeable. A few times I'd found myself actually forcing myself to turn down her invites for my own good, when really, I had almost wanted to hang out with her.

"You're not insulted that I keep turning you down?" I asked curiously.

"No," Rachel said brightly, shrugging her shoulders. "I know not everyone can be a chatterbox like myself and I respect that. According to my mother, I'll talk to anyone who will listen and could make friends with a tree." She laughed and shook her head as she started preparing a tray of drinks. She glanced over at me and seemed unphased by the fact that I was still silently staring at her-gaping slightly in bewilderment, in fact. "By the way," she said, leaning towards me and lowering her voice, "Noah's coming out with us Saturday."

"Okay," I said slowly, looking at her expectantly.

"He's cute, right?" she asked.

"Uh..." I answered, not sure what to say. Was this some kind of a set-up? I was barely allowing myself to make friends, so dating was definitely out of the question.

"I think he has a thing for you," Rachel said matter-of-factly. She paused. "Or at the very least, thinks you're cute."

I raised both my eyebrows as I blushed red and my stomach churned. "He can't have a thing for me. It's not possible. We don't talk. The extent of our conversations consist of hello and goodbye.

Rachel shrugged. "So? Like I said, he could also just think you're cute. I mean, he has eyes."

I blinked at her. "I-uh-I sincerely doubt that's possible. He can't-he can't possibly-" I shook my head. "That's absurd."

Rachel looked at me in amusement as she nodded her head slowly. "Okay, well, first of all, it's not. Secondly, if you want him to like you for more than just your looks, you should actually talk to him. A good time would be Saturday night." She eyed me up and down. "Do you have something to wear?"

"I own clothes, so yes, technically I do have something," I said.

"Ah, she's funny," Rachel said with a grin. "And sarcastic. Who knew? Okay, so I'll give you my address later and then on Saturday, just come over right after work and I'll help you out. With everything. You'll catch on quick and you'll fit right in in no time."

"Rachel, I don't think I-"

"See you then!" Rachel chirped, picking up her tray and hurrying out of the room.

I groaned and put my head in my hands. Shit. What had I gotten myself into?

Saturday night, after my shift ended, I tried to head straight upstairs. I really did. I tried to sneak right on up to the flat, planning on making up some excuse to tell Rachel on Monday morning, but I had no such luck. Rachel was not one to give up-clearly-and I found her sitting at the kitchen table with Martha when I went upstairs.

"Uh...hi," I said slowly, staring between the two of them as they smiled at each other, then at me. It was creepy, to be honest.

"Rachel tells me you're going out with everyone tonight!" Martha beamed and looked at me hopefully.

"Oh...no, not quite-"

"I'm so glad," Martha went on, clasping her hands together as she looked at me. "So, so glad."

I swallowed and stared at Rachel nervously.

"Come on," Rachel said with a grin, grabbing my wrist and leading me towards my bedroom. How she knew where it was was beyond me, but I didn't bother asking any questions. Not that she would have let me ask anyway. She was already rambling on.

"I know I originally said we'd go to my place and get you ready, but I decided it would be easier for me to come here. Less of a chance that you'd bail, which you were already planning on doing, weren't you?" She looked at me knowingly, but didn't allow me to answer before continuing. "I invited Kayla and Allison over, too. You know, two of the other waitresses from work. And then I already told you that Noah will be meeting us there with his friend Alex. And then you never know who else will show up because Saturday nights tend to get pretty crowded over at the Three Broomsticks."

We had entered my room at this point and I had felt myself pale as I plopped down onto my bed. So many people. I already felt uncomfortable. Rachel had already gone to my closet and was searching through it eagerly, too busy to notice my expression. I looked around the room and saw clothes that weren't mine draped over my desk chair, and on my desk sat a bag of makeup. Rachel had brought her things over. No wonder she'd already known where my room was.

"I should probably ask Martha about having more people over," I finally said slowly, feeling as if my brain were lagging. "Kayla and Allison, I mean."

"Already did!" Rachel said, sweeping hangers across the rack in my closet as she looked for an outfit. "She said it was fine. She's overjoyed, actually." She sighed and stepped back, putting her hands on her hips and blowing a puff of air out of her mouth. A tendril of hair shot upwards before fluttering down again.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"No," Rachel said slowly as she tilted her head to the side, still studying my wardrobe. "You're clothes are fine. Just not what I had in mind for tonight."

"What did you have in mind?" I asked.

Rachel turned and walked to my desk chair. She held up a black, off the shoulder shirt and a dark pair of jeans. "Something like this. You know, nice, but not trashy. Your clothes are just...very plain and very casual."

I shrugged. "Sorry, I've just-"

"Never come out with us before so you don't know what to expect," Rachel said. "I know. Which is why it's good that you start hanging out with us and learn what to expect. You'll get the hang of it in no time." She smiled and turned back to my closet. "There has to be something in here we can make work until we can go shopping."

"I, um, I'm trying to save up my money. I don't want to spend a lot on other things."

"That explains why you only seem to own the basics," Rachel said, nodding. She turned to look at me. "I respect that-you wanting to save up. I really do. But I also respect splurging on yourself once in a while." She wiggled her shoulders and smirked. "We're only young once, yes? We have our whole lives to save money, but only a limited amount of time to pull off outfits like that." She nodded towards the clothes she'd brought for herself.

I was quiet for a moment. "I don't know," I said with a wry smile. "It depends on the person. We could have Tom and Martha model for us to settle the debate, though."

Rachel gaped at me in amusement. "That's the second time you've shown off your sense of humor and I love it."

I blushed and smiled timidly as I looked away. Rachel turned back to the closet.

"You know, this shirt will work fine," Rachel said, pulling out a maroon colored, long sleeved shirt with off-white lace adorning the hem. "It's cute." She looked at me. "Please tell me you own jeans."

"I'm wearing some right now, aren't I?" I asked.

Rachel studied the ones I was wearing for a moment. "Don't you have any darker ones? Ones that aren't so faded?"

I nodded and crossed the room to the dresser. I selected a pair of jeans and turned around to face Rachel again.

"Perfect. Put them on. This too." She tossed the shirt at me.

I stared as Rachel turned to her own clothes and then started changing right in front of me. There was no way I felt comfortable enough to do the same, though. I almost wanted to insist I'd go change in the bathroom, but I forced myself to stay put. I felt that if I tried to leave, she might get suspicious of why I wanted to change in another room and I didn't want that. I didn't want to tell her about the part of my body I was most insecure about her seeing. The part I was trying so hard to hide. It wasn't anything along the lines of I hated my thighs or something, either. My thighs were fine. The thing I was insecure about was something else entirely. Something that would involve an explanation of things that had happened to me back in Salem. So far, only Tom and Martha knew and I didn't want anyone else to find out.

Double checking to make sure that Rachel was distracted with her own outfit, I quickly stripped off the clothes I'd worn to work before pulling on the shirt and jeans we'd just picked out. I made sure to face Rachel and keep my back to the wall. If she saw the state the skin on my back was in, she'd surely ask questions.

Rachel finished with her own clothes and turned to face me just as I was pulling my hair out from beneath the collar of the shirt. Perfect timing.

"You look wonderful," Rachel said. "Now, sit." She pointed to my bed.

I did as she said, knowing better at this point than to try to argue with her. It was easier to just go along with whatever she wanted. She grabbed her makeup bag and studied my face thoughtfully.

"Nothing too crazy," I told her.

"No, of course not. That's just not you," she said absentmindedly. "Shut your eyes."

I did as she said and heard her rummaging through her bag, objects clinking around as she did so. The movements stopped and I could sense her hands close to my face.

"Don't close your eyes that hard," she said. "Relax them a little."

I did as she said and felt her sweeping something along the bottom of my eyelid, near my lashes. I flinched and squeezed my eyes shut again.

"You don't wear makeup much, do you?" Rachel asked.

"I never wear makeup," I replied.

"Why not? If you don't mind my asking," Rachel said as she moved on to my other eye. There was a pause before she hastily added, "Not that I'm implying that you need it or anything. You're so pretty either way. Your eyelashes for example-they're so long that you'll hardly need any mascara."

"Oh, um...thanks," I said in slight surprise, looking up at her.

Rachel nodded and smiled slightly. "Shut your eyes," she reminded me gently. There was another pause. "So...why don't you wear makeup? I'm just genuinely curious. Personally, I just find it to be fun."

I hesitated before shrugging. "I just ever owned any."

"But-"

Before Rachel could ask any more questions, there was a knock on the door. It was Kayla and Allison. Rachel let them in happily and the three of them immediately began talking amongst themselves, discussing outfits and shoes and what people were and weren't supposed to be at The Three Broomsticks later on.

"I heard that Angelina Johnson was there last week," Kayla said. She paused dramatically. "With Oliver Wood." She raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes.

"Alone with Oliver Wood?" Rachel gasped, grabbing something else from her makeup bag and turning back to me.

"Alone," Allison said. "I'm devastated."

"You've never spoken to him, Al," Kayla said with a roll of her eyes. "Angelina was actually friends with him in school. She has a head start unfortunately. Besides, I thought you were over him."

"I am, but still," Allison muttered.

"Anyway," Kayla said, "like you said, her being there alone with him only confirms what we've suspected since December. That she moved straight from Fred to Oliver."

"It doesn't confirm anything," Allison insisted. "They're friends. Have been since Hogwarts. You said so yourself."

"Uh-huh," Kayla said with a roll of her eyes.

I sat there, looking from Kayla to Allison to Rachel with a frown on my face. From what I was understanding, this Angelina girl was Fred's ex-girlfriend-the one that Marcus Flint had mentioned. The one that had dumped him. Now that I thought of it, Fred had mentioned her too when I'd been at the joke shop. He'd mentioned her by calling her his ex-girlfriend, and then he'd mentioned her by name. Angelina. He'd said she'd been an it's not you, it's me kind of girl. And then he'd said something later about it being too soon after Angelina. So from what I could gather, he was still reeling from the breakup, but from the looks of things, she certainly wasn't. She'd apparently had no trouble moving on to someone else. I wondered why. What had happened with Fred to make her feel like she couldn't be with him anymore?

As I was thinking it all over, Allison finally looked at me and smiled. "Sorry, we've been rude. We barged into your bedroom and didn't even say hello."

"Hi," I said with a tiny wave as Rachel finished digging more makeup from her bag and twisted the cover off of a tube of mascara.

"Look down," she demanded as she held the mascara wand dangerously close to my eyeball.

"Sorry."

"To fill you in," Kayla said, lightly tapping my shoulder so I'd know she was talking to me, "Allie was madly in love with Oliver Wood while we were in school. It lasted a whole two years. Our entire fifth and sixth years were consumed with discussions on Oliver Wood. And he wasn't even at school during our sixth year! But he'd gone off and gotten a spot on a professional Quidditch team and was all over the papers, so there was always plenty of new information for Allie to yammer on about. She was obsessed."

"Was not!" Allison protested.

"Was too!" Rachel and Kayla chorused together.

Allie made a face and plopped down on my bed. "Well...can you blame me?"

"Sort of," Kayla shrugged, wandering over to my mirror and turning her head from side to side as she began fixing her hair. "Oliver was always a little batty. Loves Quidditch a bit too much if you ask me. I'd hear Alicia Spinnet and Angelina complaining in classes about his long-winded rants and early-morning practices."

"But he's still nice," Allie said. "And smart. And gorgeous."

"I'll agree with you there," Rachel admitted, still working on my mascara. "Look down," she told me again.

"I am," I insisted.

"Not enough," she retaliated.

"I don't know," Kayla sighed, referring to what Allie had said about Oliver Wood. "He's a little too short for my liking."

"He's five feet eleven inches!" Allie exclaimed.

"How do you know that?" Kayla asked, turning from the mirror to gape at Allie as Rachel laughed.

Allie blushed a light pink. "No comment," she murmured.

"To be fair," Rachel said, "Five eleven is tall for Allie. She's only five feet two."

"Exactly," Allie said. "You and Kayla are both five feet eight. He's only got three inches on you." She glanced at me. "How tall are you?"

"Close to your height, I'd say, Allie," Kayla said. "You finally have another compact sized friend."

"I'm five foot three," I said slowly, still almost struggling to keep up with their conversation. I wanted to bring Fred up, but I still felt like I was a few paces behind in the fast paced conversation. Besides, I reminded myself firmly, what happened with Fred and Angelina wasn't my business. And it wasn't the business of Kayla, Allie and Rachel to be telling me things about Fred that he may not have wanted anyone to tell. I certainly knew that feeling. I was the one who had begged Tom and Martha to keep quiet about me for exactly this reason.

Allie sighed at my response about my height. "Damn-I'm still the shortest." Her head snapped up as she looked at me again. "What year were you born in?"

"Nineteen seventy-eight," I answered, glancing up at her.

"Don't look up," Rachel ordered, "or else you're eyeball will end up skewered on this mascara wand. And I am so not in the mood for kebobs tonight."

"Gross!" Kayla and Allie squealed.

Allie flopped backwards so that she was lying down now, her hair fanned around her head. "So, nineteen seventy-eight, huh? Month?"

"June," I said after a pause. "June tenth."

Allison sighed again. "So, I'm still the youngest, too!"

Kayla snorted with laughter and rolled her eyes and even Rachel laughed as Allie turned her head towards me and kept speaking.

"Kayla and I were also born in seventy-eight. Kayla in January and me in August. Rachel's a year older than us. The seventh of July. Her birthday is entirely sevens."

"Seven, seven, seventy-seven," Kayla recited from across the room where she was now looking out the window. "Huh, you can see nearly the whole alley from here. Not a bad view."

"My birthday isn't as cool as they make it out to be, you know," Rachel told me. "It's just a bunch of numbers in the end...Okay, your makeup is done. You can open your eyes. I didn't put a lot on, just as you requested."

"You look beautiful," Allie told me earnestly. She grinned. "Are there any cute boys you're interested in at the moment?"

"She's only been here a month," Kayla reminded her. "And she rarely leaves this building." She glanced at me. "Sorry, it's just the truth."

I nodded. "I know. But honestly, I don't think I have time for a boyfriend right now."

"I told you, you should get to know Noah a little bit," Rachel said. "Come on, trust me. I'm good at setting people up."

"You've set up one couple," Allie said. She turned to look at me. "Kayla and her boyfriend, Chris, who also just so happens to be Rachel's cousin."

"Yeah, but it was an effective set up, henceforth making me good at it," Rachel said.

"You can't know that based on one effective set up," Allie argued.

"Allie's right," Kayla chimed in. She was back in front of my mirror again, doing her own makeup.

I sat on my bed and listened as the three of them went back and forth, debating Rachel's matchmaker skills. For a moment, I almost started feeling jealous of their friendship. They were clearly close. It was interesting because while they all had their similarities, they were different too, both in looks and in personality. While Rachel and Allison were bubbly and talkative, Kayla was a bit more serious and blunt than the others. She was tall like Rachel, and Allie was shorter, as we'd discussed. Rachel's hair was long and dark brown, while Allie's and Kayla's were both shoulder length. Allie's hair was medium brown, like mine, and Kayla's was blonde. Kayla had blue eyes and freckles, while Allie had hazel eyes and Rachel had dark brown. But despite their differences, they were close to each other-that was obvious. I was envious. Although, maybe if I let them take me under their wings, I could one day be able to effortlessly join in their conversations as well.

But that all depended on a lot. I didn't know how long I was staying here, but I had told myself that I hadn't intended it to be long. The plan had been to keep moving, but ever since coming here, the plan had been thrown off. I had already stayed here a little longer than the other locations I'd stopped in because Tom and Martha had actually been kind enough to take me in, give me a home and a job. And I did need the money, which was another thing enticing me to stay for a bit. And actually finding some people who were interested in me and who were actually bothering to include me threw yet another wrench in the plan. A big part of me wanted to stay. A big part of me was tired of running. A big part of me just wanted to feel loved for the first time in a long time.

But I couldn't. I knew that I had simply ran away from my problems back in America. They still existed and I worried that I stayed still, they'd catch up to me. And now, it looked like they were, what with that diary being dropped in front of me last weekend. It had spooked me just enough to start immediately considering running again. Keeping on the move. Of course, it could have been a coincidence, but I wasn't totally sure I believed it. It scared me enough to want to run, but at the same time, I didn't want to leave. I was already growing attached to life here. To the people here. And that freaked me out the most of all.

An hour later, I found myself squished between Rachel and Noah at a table at the Three Broomsticks. We'd had to actually push two of the smaller tables together to make a larger rectangular one due to the amount of people that had shown up. It was pretty much everyone Rachel had mentioned so far. The four of us, plus Noah, and his friend Alex. And then Kayla's boyfriend, Chris-the one who was also Rachel's cousin-showed up. There was seven of us total, not to mention the fact that the rest of the pub was pretty packed.

I tugged the ends of my sleeves over my hands and examined them in interest as everyone began loudly talking about their days at Hogwarts. I had nothing to contribute and felt completely out of my comfort zone so I just sat and listened as I fiddled nervously with my sleeves. Merlin, I looked like such a misfit.

"What school did you go to?" Alex asked suddenly.

My head snapped up suddenly. "Me?" I squeaked, mentally kicking myself after the word had left my lips. Of course he was talking to me. He knew what school everyone else had gone to.

"I'm guessing Ilvermorny, right?" Rachel asked, taking another long sip of her firewhiskey. She was nearly done with hers at this point-so was nearly everyone else-but I'd barely touched mine.

I nodded. "Mhm."

"What's it like there?" Allison asked eagerly, leaning forward to look at me around Rachel.

"Um...big," I said. "Although, I think it's still the smallest out of all the magical schools. It's very pretty there though. Peaceful. I imagine it's very similar to your school in a few ways."

"Did you have to be sorted into a house like at Hogwarts?" Noah asked. "I was in Ravenclaw with Alex and Kayla. Rachel and Allie were in Hufflepuff."

I nodded and began fiddling with my sleeves again, pulling them over my fingers, then back again. "My house was called Thunderbird."

"Now that is a cool house name," Rachel said, downing the rest of her drink. "Thunderbird. Loads better than Hufflepuff."

"There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuff," Allison said hotly.

"I didn't say there was. It's just the name..." Rachel shrugged. "I'm going to go order another drink. Everyone else want one?"

Everyone agreed while I simply remained quiet and chewed on my lip.

"Drink up," Rachel said with a grin, noticing my mostly full glass. She leaned forward to whisper in my ear as she started to stand up. "They don't call that stuff liquid courage for nothing. It'll loosen you up. Make you less nervous."

"I-" I began, but fell silent as Rachel headed back up to the bar to order more drinks.

"So," Noah said from my other side, "what'd Rachel say to convince you to come out tonight?"

I shrugged. "She really just didn't give me much choice in the matter. She was just waiting for me once my shift was over." I took a drink of my drink, just to have something else to do with my hands at that point besides fiddle with them. I fought back a cough as I swallowed the mouthful I'd taken.

"Sounds like Rachel," Noah said.

I could feel him staring at me, so I took another drink, a bigger one than last time. Now, however, I wasn't able to hold back from coughing and wincing a bit as it went down.

Noah looked at me in amusement. "You okay?"

I nodded. Honestly, in addition to being nervous, this was only the second time I'd had firewhiskey. I'd pretty much reacted the same way the first time trying it, but it had been years ago and I'd forgotten, especially now, sitting at a table full of people in a crowded pub, with Noah practically staring me down with large brown eyes. Rachel was right. He was cute.

"So, I was wondering," Noah began slowly, turning in his seat so he was facing me. He leaned in closer and I felt myself stiffen.

"Yes?" I squeaked out, glancing up as I saw Rachel returning with seven drinks floating along in front of her. She sent them to each person at the table-even to me for some reason-before scurrying to stand behind Allie and Kayla's chairs as they whispered in excitement.

"I'd like to get to know you a bit more," Noah said. "I think you're really pretty—and I know there's more to people than their looks, and it's not all I'm after, but—well, I'm rambling now aren't I?" He took another sip of his drink. "I know you're really closed off," he whispered, "but I think if we hang out a bit, you could-well, I just wanted to know if you'd like to-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Rachel practically crashed into her seat beside me and grabbed my arm. "Oh my gosh, so Allie is freaking out."

I could have hugged her for her interruption because Noah instantly leaned back in his seat and away from me, looking a bit disgruntled as he picked up his second drink and took a sip.

"Why?" I asked Rachel, turning to her in confusion.

Rachel pointed to another large table nearly on the other side of the room. "See that guy that just walked in and is standing at the end of that table? He still has a jacket on and he's talking to the boy with black hair sitting down?"

"I do," I answered. I raised an eyebrow. "Why is Allie freaking out over the guy in the jacket if I'm fairly certain that the one sitting down is Harry Potter? He's pretty famous over here, isn't he?"

"Sounds like he is in America, too, if you've heard of him," Rachel answered.

"News travels," I shrugged.

Rachel smiled. "He's gotten his fair share of girls ogling at him, don't worry. He won't mind if Allie passes him over for someone else. Why, are you a big fan? Want his autograph?" She smirked at me as I blushed and shook my head.

"No, not at all. I just-I was just curious."

"Mm, he's not my type either, to be honest. He's a bit too scrawny if you ask me. Still. At first I thought it was just because he lived under a staircase for the first eleven years of his life, but even throughout school, he still remained on the skinny side." She shrugged. "Quidditch helped a little, though, I will admit."

"He lived under a staircase?" I asked curiously.

Rachel nodded. "Apparently his Muggle aunt and uncle were pretty horrible."

"How do you know that stuff?" I asked, gazing over at Harry, who was still talking to the guy in the jacket, who was now taking off his jacket and sitting down.

"News travels," Rachel said with a smirk and a shrug as she took a sip from her drink. "Anyway, the important thing is that the guy in the jacket is Oliver Wood."

"The guy Allison's practically in love with?" I asked, peering at the guy. I had to admit, he was good looking. I could see why Allison was drawn to him.

"Yep," Rachel said with a nod. "That's him. Oh, and the girl sitting next to Harry? The one with the red hair? That's Ginny Weasley, Harry's girlfriend. You know, in case you still had any ideas." She jokingly bumped my knee with hers under the table.

"Weasley," I repeated. "As in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes? The joke shop in Diagon Alley?"

"The very same," Rachel said. "Ginny is Fred and George's little sister. How do you know about the joke shop?"

"I-I went there. Last Saturday."

"You did?" Rachel asked. "I'm impressed. You ventured out! To a joke shop, no less. Interesting." She paused before giving me a look. "Or did you not go there for jokes?"

"I went there because I needed something to do," I assured her. "And Martha insisted it would be a good idea."

"Come on, you have to admit that the twins are both gorgeous. You have met them, haven't you?"

I shrugged. "Briefly. One of them stepped on my foot the day you went home sick." I decided to leave out the fact that I'd actually spoken to them that night-and also hung out with them when I visited the joke shop. I didn't need Rachel making something out of nothing.

Rachel let out a squeal of laughter. "I'm sorry, it's not funny, but it's funny." She suddenly stopped laughing as she noticed something by the door. "Speak of the devil," she said, pointing.

I turned to look and froze for a second as I saw the twins themselves coming into the pub with another red head boy, just about as tall as they were. Another sibling from the looks of it. I watched as they made their way over to the table where Oliver, Harry and Ginny sat, yelling out words of greeting as they slid out of their coats. Fred, however,, while he happily greeted Harry and Ginny, barely met Oliver's eyes. Made sense, if what the girls had said was true and Angelina really was dating Oliver now.

"Oh, look, and there's Angelina, Katie and Alicia," Rachel said, pointing to three girls who'd just walked in. "It's like a Gryffindor Quidditch team reunion or something."

"I bet that's exactly what it is," Kayla chimed in. "Either that or it's just that they're all friends." She turned in her seat to look at the group in question. She snorted. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Al, but Angelina's sitting next to Oliver and I'm pretty sure they're holding hands under the table."

"Shut up," Allie muttered, taking a long sip of her drink.

"Fred looks less than thrilled about it," Rachel commented. "He's already got a firewhiskey in his hands and he's also got a death grip on it. And there's been, what, a ten second interval between sips?"

"Probably needs something to do with his hands and mouth," Kayla said. She snorted. "You know, since it's Angelina they used to be all over."

"Kayla!" Allie exclaimed. "The breakup was hard on him."

"He technically brought it on himself," Kayla said.

"Kayla," Allie chastised again, swatting Kayla's arm. She lowered her voice to a whisper as her face became solemn. "He was really affected by what happened, and can you blame him?"

I looked between them curiously. I wanted to ask what had happened, but I still didn't think it was fair to Fred to be nosy. I was sure he didn't want his information-certainly something as big as whatever this was-blasted all over the place. Although, it sometimes seemed as if it were public knowledge around here. And something told me that Rachel was going to tell me anyway. As nice as these girls were, they sure did like to gossip. I wasn't even sure if that was normal or not.

Sure enough, Rachel turned back to me with a sad smile. "Fred-and his whole family really-went through an especially tough time last May. I don't know how much you know-the whole story is pretty long-but essentially there was a huge battle at Hogwarts where Harry ended up killing Voldemort. A lot of other people died in the process, and-" she broke off suddenly and sighed, shaking her head as she gazed towards Fred and the others.

I suddenly found myself freeze and my breath hitch in anticipation of what she was going to say. I wasn't even totally sure if I wanted or deserved to know. It wasn't fair for me to know when nobody else knew anything of my past and I didn't plan on telling them. And besides, I had gotten the sense that Fred and George didn't want people to know-at least, strange, new people. From the way Tom had stopped Martha from talking about it, and from the way Fred had behaved, I'd thought it was something the twins didn't want talked about much. "Maybe you shouldn't tell me," I began quietly, but Rachel didn't seem to hear and began talking again.

"One of the twins' brothers died saving Fred's life."