March 24th, 1692. Salem, Massachusetts.

I am so distraught that I can barely write. My hands are shaking something terrible. Dorothy Good, Sarah's four year old daughter, was taken into custody today. Mary Walcott and young Ann Putnam have both come forward claiming that Dorothy had viciously attacked them, biting their arms repeatedly, like an animal. They claimed to have the marks to prove it. Justice John Hathorne wrote and signed the warrant for her arrest himself, like he has done for all the others before poor Dorothy. And then he sent out the sheriff to find Dorothy and take her into custody.

I saw the whole thing. Dorothy had been walking down the road that passes by my house. Most likely to pay me a visit. She had been doing that very frequently since her mother was arrested. It has taken quite a toll on the poor girl and I was more than happy to do what I could to console her, even if my neighbors and friends would frown on it. I have tried to be careful, not wanting to draw any attention to myself in times like this. Most days-every one but Sunday, I mean-I was helping run the tavern that my husband owned, but I would return home by the mid to late afternoon to attend to duties at home, and that is when Dorothy knew to visit. I would do my best to sneak her inside in ways that nobody would notice. It sounds horrible and rude, I know, but it is necessary. We are all trying our best to prolong what danger inevitably awaits many of us. As I've said before, no one is safe. The hysteria and accusations are spreading like wildfire, faster and faster each day. It is getting out of control. I wonder how much time we have before everyone is accused for some reason or another. Reasons that do not even have to do with slipping up. Perhaps someone angered their neighbor. Their husband. Their sister. Perhaps someone dared to look at someone the wrong way. Perhaps someone cursed under their breath. People are pointing fingers to get revenge. Accusing out of spite. Accusing people simply being different. It is unthinkable.

In any case, today, Dorothy was on the side of the road, a few houses down from my own, when the sheriff appeared from the other direction. He spotted the poor little girl and began walkng hastily towards her, loudly ordering her to halt. Dorothy froze for a moment before turning and running in the opposite direction. The sheriff began to walk as fast as he could, ordering at other passerby to stop her. At this point, I had heard the commotion and come out of the house. I stood outside my front door and watched as Thomas Putnam, father of Ann Putnam, one of Dorothy's accusers, lunged forward and grabbed Dorothy around the middle. She thrashed and screamed in his arms to no avail. Thomas Putnam, struggling some, managed to bring her to the sheriff. He immediately tied one end of a length of rope around Dorothy's wrists, binding them together. And then he held tight to the other end as Thomas Putnam set the girl down on the ground. She screamed and flailed and threw herself on the ground, refusing to move an inch.

But that did nothing to stop that sheriff. He simply began dragging her down the road. Dragging her! Like an animal! That is when I had had quite enough. I could not stop myself. I ran out into the road, shouting for them to stop, shouting for them to leave her alone. They paused for a moment and looked at me curiously.

"Mrs. Proctor," the sheriff said, "this child has been accused of witchcraft! Two young women have already shown the bite marks on their arms. The bite marks they have received from the attack of this witch!" He pointed down at Dorothy.

"She is but a child!" I cried. "She is not capable of such evil. Please, I beg you, release her!"

He scoffed. He told me Dorothy's age meant nothing. He told me they had proof of her evildoings. I tried to protest, but John, my husband stepped outside the house at that moment and asked what all the fuss was about. I explained, quite near hysterics at this point. John sighed heavily and turned to the sheriff.

"Two other girls have come forward? Having fits?"

"Claiming a young Dorothy Good has been torturing and biting them, John," the sheriff said.

My husband scoffed. "I must ask, why is their word worth more than the ones they are accusing?"

"The girls have the bite marks on their arms, Mr. Proctor. It is not only their word."

John pursed his lips, but said nothing. I hissed at him to do something, but he just shook his head sadly. There was nothing he could do. Unless he wanted to be next. He sent me a look that said I should do the same and keep my mouth shut.

The sheriff excused himself and began to roughly drag Dorothy down the road. She began to scream again, howling like the animal they were treating her as. She was making it tough on him, but he was still bigger and more powerful. There was nothing any of us could have done. I let out a cry of anger of my own and started after her, but my husband held me back. I tried to fight him, but he was too strong. He dragged me into the house.

"You must control yourself, Lizzie," he ordered, slamming the door behind him. "Unless you wish them to come for you next?"

At this point, I was in tears. I could not even stand anymore. My legs refused to work. I could not even argue with him. All I could do was sit down on one of the kitchen chairs and wail, covering my face with my hands. "She is a child!" I cried. "None of us deserve this treatment, but she least of all!"

It was silent in the kitchen for a moment. I heard the floorboards creak as John came to stand beside me. He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently before leaning forward and pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to my temple.

"Someone should notify poor William Good," he finally said, clearing his throat. And before I could stop him, he'd grabbed his hat and was out the door.

That was nearly eleven hours ago. It is close to midnight now and I am still awake. John was gone for a long time. He returned and said he had found out Dorothy was going to be examined, like all the others who had been brought in. And then the court would make their decisions.

I cannot sleep. I have been writing this entry to occupy my time and thoughts. But the ink is running low, and so is my candle. My hand has grown tired and so have my eyes. But my mind is ever so awake. And my heart is aching.

"Sophie! Your birthday is just under two weeks away! Are you doing anything?"

"What do you think she's doing, Al?" Kayla snorted.

"Don't be rude," Rachel's voice chirped.

It was Saturday night. May 29th. I was closing in on almost two months here in England, and as Allie had just mentioned, my birthday was approaching. But I had barely heard her. My birthday was the last thing on my mind, anyway. It hadn't been a big deal to me in a long time, so that was nothing unusual. But today I also had the latest diary entry I'd read tumbling around in my mind.

I had been thinking about it all day. I had done my job on autopilot, come back to the flat and gotten cleaned up on autopilot. And now I was sitting in my bedroom with Rachel, Allie and Kayla, still on autopilot.

I had started to think back to my time in Salem and what I'd learned about the witch trials. It'd been a while since I learned about them and it had been a while since I'd actively explored Salem and all it's history. And I'd done so much to erase all memories of the place I used to love from my mind that things had become a little fuzzy. Thinking about it, the names I was coming across in the diary were familiar. Specifically the name Proctor. John and Elizabeth Proctor. I had seen that name before. John's name in particular. And Sarah Good. The Proctors and the Goods had been talked about at school, I remembered that much for sure. Probably in my History of Magic class. But while I had been a good student—a great student, really—History of Magic hadn't been my best subject. A lot of information had been thrown at us and there had been so much to cover that we didn't spend much time learning about the witch trials. Ilvermorney wasn't too far from Salem either, so I suppose what Salem residents had missed in class we could make up for by walking through the streets at home.

But that was the other thing. I'd explored Salem a ton with my mother as a kid. She'd taken me to all the interesting places. And we'd go out on Halloween and people watch. Halloween was big back in Salem. But after my mother disappeared, there wasn't much time to go out. I'd gone into the foster system and bounced around from house to house. I'd had chores to do and I attended Muggle school until I was eleven. I'd been able to go out more often in my earlier foster homes, but I'd also snuck out at night a few times and wandered around for some peace and quiet. And once I'd turned eleven, I was actually away at school from September to June. And now I was wishing I'd taken advantage of some of the history more just so I could remember where else I'd seen the names Proctor and Good.

"I think the lights are on, but nobody's home!"

Rachel suddenly appeared in front of me, a large, amused smile on her face as she waved a hand in front of my eyes. I blinked and snapped out of my trance.

"What?"

Rachel, Allie and Kayla all laughed and I blushed furiously as my body tensed. They were laughing at me.

Rachel smiled wider and raised an eyebrow. "Your mind got up and wandered away, daydreamer," she said.

"You okay?" Kayla asked, through a mouthful of popcorn. Martha had brought us a bowl not too long ago, a thrilled smile on her face at the sight of us all hanging out. It was sweet. As much as I wanted to distance myself from people, I couldn't bring myself to do it. My willpower was weakening, and fast. I actually liked the girls I worked with. I wanted to be their friend. And seeing Martha so happy only weakened me further.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, pulling my legs to my chest. I couldn't help but feel as if the girl's' laughter was directed at me.

"You know you can talk to us," Allie said kindly. "We're very good listeners."

"You, mostly," Kayla admitted.

"Yeah, true, you're more of the blunt truth teller of the group," Allie said, nodding. "And Rachel's the kinder truth teller."

"And you're just kind," Rachel added. She looked at me. "It's why we make such a good team." She turned and sat herself down beside me instead of in front of me as she gave me a serious look. "Honestly, the last thing we want to do is make you feel like you're uncomfortable or can't be yourself around us or talk to us about anything. We're your friends."

They were? I chewed on my lip as my body relaxed slowly. If what Rachel said was true, then they weren't laughing at me earlier to be mean. They were laughing because they were having fun. They weren't making fun of me. They weren't laughing at my expense. Stop getting so defensive, Sophie, I told myself.

I sighed. Of course they weren't making fun of me. They actually liked me—for reasons I wasn't quite sure of yet. They weren't like the people I knew back at school in America.

I swallowed thickly and looked up at Rachel. "I'm not used to having friends," I said. "I haven't had very many."

"Well, you'd better get used to it," Kayla said. "Because you have friends sitting right in front of you. If you'd get your head out of the clouds, you'd notice."

Rachel giggled as Allie rolled her eyes. Even I let out a tiny snort of laughter.

"See? She's the blunt truth teller," Rachel said.

I half-smiled as I gazed down at my lap. It was quiet for a moment before I let out a puff of air through my mouth and raised my head, staring aimlessly across the room at the wall.

"I was just thinking," I said with a small shrug.

"About what?" Rachel asked through her own mouthful of popcorn.

"Do you happen to know anything about the Salem witch trials?" I asked suddenly. "The ones that took place in America?"

The girls looked at me in slight surprise.

"We learned a little about them in History of Magic, but not much," Rachel said. "I mean, there were witch hunts that happened here in England and we focusesd mainly on those."

"What she said," Kayla nodded. "She's the one who'd remember. I always fell asleep in History of Magic." She shook her head wistfully. "It always pained me that Professor Binns was a ghost. It meant he'd never age and retire. And he was already dead." She shrugged. "Never any hope for a new teacher."

Rachel rolled her eyes before turning back to me. "Why do you ask?"

I shook my head. "Just wondering. Does the name Elizabeth Proctor mean anything to you?"

Rachel frowned in thought. "She was one of the victims, yeah? Didn't they kill her? Her last name certainly sounds familiar. Maybe it was her husband that died...I don't remember."

My stomach clenched unpleasantly. Had Elizabeth died during the trials? I wished I could remember! I should know this stuff inside and out. I came from Salem, for goodness sake.

"Wouldn't you have learned more about it at school?" Allie asked. "Ilvermorny's not even far from Salem, is it?"

"No, it's not. But History of Magic wasn't my best subject either. And we spent some time on the witch trials, but it wasn't a big lesson. Most people grew up practically having the stories, legends and history infused into their blood." I rolled my eyes and snorted.

"Not you?" Allie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"When I was younger," I said quietly, "but I can't really remember the details. As I got older, I had less and less opportunity to explore Salem. And I had a lot more to worry about than things of the past. The present and the future were a lot more worrisome."

The room was silent before Rachel spoke again. "Look, I don't know what it is you've been through," she said, "but as we've said, we're very good listeners. You're so guarded, but so sad at the same time. We want to help you. Honestly."

I looked up and studied her face. It wasn't full of pity like I'd feared, but compassion. "I believe you," I said. "And thanks. I'll work on letting myself accept it. Your help, I mean."

Rachel nodded. "Okay."

It was quiet for another moment before Kayla set down the popcorn bowl and jumped up. "Since we're on the serious topic of emotions and helping each other, I'm going to use that as an excuse to get some chocolate!" And with that, she hurried from the room.

Rachel and Allie laughed. "Kayla may be the one with the blunt honesty," Rachel said, "but she does know her comfort food. Now pass that bowl of popcorn."

I actually let out a brief breath of laughter before reaching over and grabbing the bowl.

I thought long and hard about what I was going to say to Noah about getting ice cream. And by long and hard, I mean long and hard. By the time I'd made up my mind, it was the first week of June. He'd asked me two weeks prior. And he'd reminded me every few days since. Politely of course. And in the end I told him I'd go. As friends only. But I didn't tell him that I actually was really looking forward to this ice cream I'd heard so much about.

We agreed to go on the first Sunday of June. Noah got off work at three and I had the whole day off, so it worked out pretty well. I spent the morning nervously puttering around my bedroom, doing anything I could to occupy myself. Except read that diary. The last entry had not only spooked me-like all of the entries had so far, at least to some extent-but it had also upset me more than the others. I was afraid to keep reading. Afraid of finding out for sure-from a first hand account-what had happened to these people.

At fifteen minutes to three, I made my way down the back staircase to the kitchen. Martha and Kyle were in there, busily cooking away. Martha was fussing over a big pot of soup while Kyle prepped a bunch of sandwiches.

"How busy is it out there?" I asked as I made my way towards the counter.

Kyle jumped about a foot into the air. "Merlin!" he gasped. "You've got to stop sneaking up on people like that! I didn't even hear you come in. And I'm working with knives over here."

I smiled faintly. "Sorry."

"At least you're true to your nickname, I guess," Kyle muttered as Martha chuckled from over by the stove.

"It's not Sophie's fault that you're so jumpy," Martha laughed.

"But it is her fault for scaring me just now," Kyle added.

"So you're saying that you want her to cause a ruckus every time she enters a room?" Martha asked, shaking her head as she gave me an amused smile.

"No, not a ruckus," Kyle sighed. "I just-forget it." He let out a dramatic groan and rolled his eyes. "It's no use."

"What's no use?" Rachel asked as she breezed into the kitchen. She did a double take when she saw me. "Oh...no. No, no, no. That will not do."

"Excuse me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're wearing that?" Rachel asked, pointing at me. "On your date with Noah?"

"It's not a date!" I protested. "And I can wear what I want."

"First of all, it looks as if you picked the oldest jeans and sweater you owned. Secondly, those Converse have seen better days. Way better days. I mean, I know you don't like to spend much on clothes, but you own some cute stuff! I've seen it myself. The least you could do is put in some effort. Come on, let me help you pick something out."

"No, that's okay, I'm comfortable in what I have," I said quietly, staring at the ground. My cheeks were heating up and my stomach was in knots at Rachel's comments. I knew she didn't mean them to be rude, but they'd felt that way. Suddenly, I felt as if I were back at Ilvermorny, listening to that group of girls-always the same group-whispering about me every chance they got.

Look at her hair-she just wears it down. She doesn't even try. Everyone knows braids are the coolest right now, would be the taunts of one week. And by the following week, it would be, Oh, look at poor Sophie. She braided her hair! She's trying too hard! And her braid looks like crap. My cat can braid better than that!

If I thought hard enough, I could still hear their laughter.

"Soph," Rachel was saying now, "really, come on. Let's go upstairs. I don't mind finding you something to wear. It's not all that busy out in the pub right now." She stepped closer and reached out to grab my arm. "I have time."

"No, it's okay," I insisted, crossing my arms and stepping away from her. "Just-please-"

My discomfort felt like it was spreading through my entire body. I felt flushed all over and my skin felt like it was crawling.

"I really don't mind," Rachel plowed on. "You're so pretty and if you'd just accentuate it instead of trying to hide yourself, you could turn some heads so fast, necks would be breaking."

"That stuff doesn't matter to me," I muttered. I understood she wanted to build up my confidence and that she was, in her own way, complimenting me, but she and I were so different. Everything from our looks to our personalities to our interests.

"That's why I said I'd be more than happy to help you," Rachel insisted. She took another step closer and reached out for me again, but that's when I felt myself snap.

"I said I'm fine!" I said forcefully, stepping backwards. My cheeks were heating up with embarrassment. My skin was still crawling and I suddenly felt it hard to breathe. The room was starting to spin and I felt sick. And then I turned and walked quickly from the room before it could get any worse.

I headed straight out through the side door that led to Diagon Alley, purposely steering clear of the back kitchen door to the alley where I usually took my breaks. I knew someone would easily follow me there and there was nowhere else to go once I did make it out there. So instead I headed for the other exit, hoping to make an easy escape to Diagon Alley and lose anyone who followed me in the crowd.

I hastily started tapping my wand against the bricks leading to the alley, still struggling to get air into my lungs. My hands were shaking so much that I couldn't even hit the right bricks. I kept having to start over and my frustration only made my current anxiety worse. Eventually, I accidentally even dropped my wand. I let out a curse word and knelt down to look for it, but found myself simply crouching there as I struggled breathe, each breath coming in sounding long and shaky.

Suddenly, I felt a presence at my side. Someone crouching beside me, close enough for me to know they were there, but far enough away to give me space. "In through your nose, out through your mouth," a quiet voice said. "It'll help calm you down more efficiently than breathing in through your mouth."

I did as the person had said and took a breath through my nose, exhaling through my mouth.

"Slower," the voice said, just as quiet and calm as before. "Breathe in for five seconds, hold it for five, exhale for five. If you need to hold on to something, you can hold my hand."

A hand extended into my vision. I kept my eyes downcast for a moment before grabbing it and squeezing.

"Ready...breathe in. One, two, three, four, five. Hold it now..." The voice counted to five again. And then once more as I exhaled. We repeated the process twice more before I shakily lowered myself onto a crate and put my head between my knees, letting go of the hand I was holding and resting both of my own hands on the back of my head. I felt woozy and shaky still, but I knew it would go away eventually. I'd had this sort of thing happen to me before. Back home, every so often. But I'd never had anyone come to my aid before. That was new.

I finally looked up with bleary eyes to see Fred crouched a few feet away, right where I'd left him. He was unmoving, staring at me seriously.

"You'll be okay," he assured me. "It looked like you were just having a panic attack."

I groaned and put my head between my legs again. It was silent for a few more beats before I spoke again, my voice muffled and quiet. "This isn't the first time I've had this happen."

"No?" Fred asked quietly. I heard him shift so that he was sitting on the ground instead of crouching. He bent his legs at the knees and rested his elbows on them. "It looked like it, to be frank. You looked like you were freaking out about freaking out...on top of you freaking out about whatever it is you were already freaking out about. If that makes sense."

I raised my head and looked at him. I swallowed. "They didn't happen all that often. But I never knew how to calm down from one before. Not properly. I never even knew what was happening. I suspected...but I couldn't ever be sure." I paused. "How'd you know about that breathing stuff?"

Fred shrugged. "Personal experience." It was quiet for a beat before he spoke again. "A Healer at St. Mungo's-the magical hospital here-told me about it. It always worked for me so I took a chance. Even though I know it wouldn't necessarily mean it worked for you just because it worked for me. It's not always that simple, you know?"

I stared at him for a moment, studying him. Finally, I nodded. "Thanks. It did help."

Fred gave me a small smile. "Good. I'm glad."

I looked at him a moment longer, thinking over what had happened and how I felt about it. Fred and I had been insistant so far that we weren't here to help each other. And yet, here he was helping me feel better when I thought I'd wanted to be left alone. When I felt as if I couldn't handle someone's presence in my face. Because he hadn't been in my face. He was calm and helpful. It had seemed like such a contrast to what I thought his personality was. Then again, he'd been through a lot and did a decent job of keeping it hidden. At least to people he didn't know well. And I didn't know him well at all. He had a lot of secrets too-still so much that I didn't know about him. And he knew next to nothing about me.

I suddenly felt as if I owed him an explanation. At least something. Which was so unlike me and so terrifying. I didn't know where to begin.

I suddenly found myself opening my mouth to speak, but before any words could come out, the door to the pub opened and Noah came out. He looked between the two of us, a concerned look on his face.

"Hey, is everything okay?" He turned to me. "Rachel said you got really upset and ran out here."

I swallowed. "I'm fine. I just had a-a moment. I'm okay."

"You're sure?" Noah asked.

I nodded and took in a deep, shaky breath as I stood up and dusted off my jeans. "I'm fine."

"Really? You don't want to sit for a little while longer?" Fred asked.

"No, I'm fine," I argued firmly.

"Okay," Fred said slowly. I glanced up at him to see him looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I felt like I should say something to him. Apologize, maybe, for being so blunt after he'd just helped me. But before I could, Noah spoke.

"Rachel said you were really upset and that you looked almost sick. She thought she did something wrong."

"No, she's fine. I'm fine," I assured him. "She meant well-I just...misinterpreted. Couldn't help it, really."

"Do you still want to go get ice cream? Or would you rather just go a different day?"

I actually smiled at the expression on Noah's face. He looked so genuinely concerned for my well being and what I wanted. I knew he was looking forward to getting ice cream. And I knew he was looking forward to spending time with me-that was the whole point of him setting this up. And yet he was offering to put it off for even longer. The girls and Martha were right-he was sweet.

"I'll go," I told him, nodding. "I could use some ice cream more than ever, actually."

"You're going to Florean Fortescue's?" Fred asked. He looked from me to Noah and then back to me again.

"Yeah," Noah said, letting out a breath of laughter and jerking his thumb towards me as he rolled his eyes. "She's never been."

"Unsurprising," Fred said with an amused smile as he looked at me.

I bristled slightly as the feeling of being made fun of suddenly returned, but then I forced myself to relax. It was in Fred's nature to joke around. He owned a joke shop. Joking around was his thing. It didn't necessarily mean he was poking fun at me to be mean. A lot of his other actions said differently. A lot of what he'd done showed that he wasn't mean.

"Well, have a banana split for me," Fred continued. "They're the greatest."

"I've heard," I answered. "You're not going to your parents' house today?" I asked after a pause.

"George and I are just going over a little later today. We usually go in the late morning and spend all day, as you know. And this week, George and I got roped into bringing food. We got into a debate with Bill whether or not we could actually cook something edible-something besides a sandwich. And we're trying to prove it to him."

"You're trying to prove to your brother that you can cook by picking up food and passing it off as your own?" Noah asked.

"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds so awful," Fred said with a lazy smile and a nonchalant shrug.

"That's cheating," Noah said with a teasing smile of his own. "Not to mention plagiarism. Maybe I'll tell Tom and Martha. And Kyle, since he does a lot of the cooking himself too."

"Wow, that's low," Fred answered with a smirk as he shook his head. He looked at me and smiled. "Sophie will defend me though, won't you, Soph?"

I blinked at him, surprised by the use of the nickname. "Erm..."

"No, she's going to defend me," Noah argued. "Co-worker honor and all that. Isn't that right, Sophie?" He turned to me and slung an arm around my shoulders. I instantly flinched and stiffened, but he didn't seem to notice. Fred did, though, and I saw his eyebrows shoot up.

I could tell he was debating whether or not to say something, so I shook my head and mouthed that I was fine. He stared at me a second longer before nodding and gesturing towards the door. "Well, in any case, I'd better go get that food and get back before my family decides to kill me in a hunger induced murder spree," he said. "You two enjoy your ice cream." He met my eyes once more and I gave him a reassuring smile, letting him know that I would be totally fine. And I would be. I could handle myself. But that didn't mean, I oddly found myself thinking, that I hadn't appreciated him coming after me. I had. Greatly, actually. While I could handle myself, Fred's help had made it easier.

"See you around," Noah told Fred, giving him a smile as he moved out of the way so that Fred could pass him. Fred's eyes lingered on mine for a second longer before he smiled back at Noah and reached for the door.

"Yeah, I'm sure you will. I'll be here Friday night for sure."

Noah nodded and turned back to me. "Are you ready?"

I nodded in return. "Yeah, let's go."

Noah started tapping his wand against the bricks leading to Diagon Alley. I watched from behind him as the bricks began moving, revealing the long, bright alleyway behind them. I had to admit, I had found the alley charming when I first arrived-I still did, actually. Part of me had wanted to explore every inch of it, just like I'd used to do in Salem. But another part of me didn't have the energy at the time. And I didn't see the point. The same hesitancy to get attached to people applied to places and things. Why bother if I was only planning on leaving the second I could? It would only make things harder.

"So...what other shops around here have you missed out on?" Noah asked as we began our walk towards the ice cream shop.

"Probably a good amount of them," I replied. "I went to Ollivander's pretty early on after Tom and Martha took me in to get a new wand...I lost my old one not long after I arrived in London. I've been to the bakery and to the general store on some errands for Tom and Martha. I've been to the apothecary. And to the twins' joke shop. That's basically it."

"That's actually a fair amount," Noah said, his tone impressed. "I'm surprised you've been to the joke shop. What brought you there?"

"Curiosity," I shrugged. "And Martha's suggestion. It took me about a month of being here, but I finally made it."

"I'm surprised it even took you that long. Most people can't resist coming here to see the joke shop. According to Tom and Martha, the alleyway was packed for the shop's opening day. That whole week, really, it was pretty crowded."

"They mentioned that," I said. "I heard the twins dropped out of school to open it, too."

Noah nodded. "Yeah, it was pretty amazing. The whole school was talking about it for days."

"I've heard," I said. "I've been meaning to ask Fred and George about it, actually. I've heard they enjoy telling the story."

"They love it," Noah said. "In fact, I'm surprised they didn't tell you the day you went to the shop. You know, to give you some history of the place."

I shrugged, but didn't say anything else and we fell back into silence until we finally came across Florean Fortescue's.

"Well, here we are," Noah said, gesturing to the small gathering of tables and chairs set up outside the shop, perfect for people who wanted to sit outside, especially when the weather was relatively pleasant. "Ladies first," Noah continued.

Flashing him a tiny smile and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I slipped by him and chose the first empty table I spotted. I was only vaguely surprised when Noah pulled out a chair for me before taking his own seat. I was now blushing a bright red and found myself fiddling with the hem of my shirt.

It didn't take long for someone to come to the table to take our order. At Noah's strong suggestion, I caved and ordered a banana split. Noah did as well, and once the waiter had walked away, the two of us were finally left alone in an awkward sort of silence. Or maybe it was just me who found it awkward. Because situations like these always made me feel awkward.

"So...what happened back there? If you don't mind my asking," Noah finally said. "With you and Rachel."

I bit my lip and shrugged. "It was a misunderstanding. She told me I should change my outfit. She was just trying to help, but I thought-I thought she was making fun of me."

"Why would you think that?" Noah's eyebrows came together in confusion. "Rachel's not the type to make fun of anyone."

"I know that. I do," I answered with a shrug, turning my head to look out into the alley at the people passing by. I absentmindedly traced my finger on the edge of the table as I did so.

"Did people back in America give you a hard time?" Noah guessed, his voice gentle.

I looked back at him in vague surprise. Although it probably wasn't too hard to put together, it surprised me a bit that he'd addressed it so outright, yet so nicely. He'd asked directly, but not to pry. That much was obvious. He just genuinely cared.

"I guess you could say that."

Noah was silent for a beat before he smiled slightly. "I can't see why they would."

I snorted before I could stop myself. "Oh, please. It's obvious I'm a little odd. The quiet, extremely private, awkward girl. I know what I am, Noah. I know how I come across."

"But did they make fun of you for being quiet or because of your clothes?" Noah asked. "Because your reaction back at the Leaky Cauldron suggests it had to do with your appearance."

"It was all of it, Noah," I sighed. "My clothes, my hair, my personality. We had a uniform back at school, but on the weekends we could wear our own clothes. I didn't own much and what I did own was never what the other girls were wearing. They made fun of me for wearing my hair a certain way, then when I wore it the way they did, they said I tried too hard. They said I was too quiet, but if I spoke, they'd tell me to stop talking. It was endless."

"Sounds like they were just picking on you to be mean," Noah said. "It had no real merit. It really doesn't matter what you wear or what your hair looks like."

"Don't say it's what's on the inside that counts, Noah," I sighed, closing my eyes.

"It is, though," he said firmly. "Do you think I asked you to get ice cream today because I liked your hair?"

I snorted. "No."

Noah smiled. "For the record, though, you have great hair."

I actually laughed. "Oh, come on."

"It's true," Noah answered. He was laughing now as well.

Silence fell between us as I blushed and looked down at the table. I had to admit, I felt a lot better than I had earlier. Noah had that effect on people. He always knew just what to say.

Noah finally cleared his throat. "Look, I don't know what it is exactly that you've been through. And I don't even want to know unless you want to tell me. But...we all actually want to be your friends. Me, Rachel, Kayla, Allie...we're all pretty genuine."

"It's just not something I'm used to," I said. I swallowed and looked up, studying him for a moment before words spilled out of me. "People at school back home did give me a hard time. I didn't have any friends. I had one, actually. One. And then of course that same group of girls that used to make fun of me pretended to be my friend during my fifth year as a joke." I stopped and shook my head as my chest tightened unpleasantly at the memories. "So I'm not used to having people like me. I'm not used to genuine friends." There was a pause again as I looked away, down at the table. And then I glanced up at Noah and whispered hoarsely, "But I want them."

Noah's face melted into a warm smile. "Well, then you've come to the right place."

I couldn't help but give him a big smile of my own. "Thanks. For being nice to me. Genuinely nice."

"It's not like I have to try," Noah answered with a smirk. He shrugged as he suddenly looked at me seriously. "I mean treating people with basic kindness and respect should be expected, no?"

I shrugged one shoulder as our ice creams were delivered to us. I had to say they looked amazing. "You'd think so," I said in response to what Noah had asked. I slowly picked up my spoon and fiddled with it. "But surprisingly it doesn't happen."

It was quiet for a moment before Noah smiled and gestured towards my ice cream with his chin. "Try your banana split. I promise it'll cheer you up. If I know anything, it's that ice cream can put anything right. Especially if there's a cherry on top." He scooped up his own cherry and stuck it into his mouth with a grin.

I found a giggle bubbling out of me before I could even stop myself. It was still an unusual sound to me-the sound of my own laugh-but I was oddly hearing it more and more ever since I'd arrived here, which had not been what I'd expected at all. I was constantly being surprised here. And I sure wasn't sure how to feel about that. I liked it, mostly, but old habits died hard. I still couldn't help but feel, in some part of my mind, as if I should be on edge, cautious and afraid. My instincts had been fine tuned to sense anything that might be off.

Which was why I instantly felt my skin prickle a moment later as I felt the sense of being watched. I instantly looked up and did a quick sweep of the outdoor seating area. And then my eyes fell on a table sitting by the corner of the ice cream shop, near the front window. It was shaded by the awning hanging above the window, but I could see there was a woman sitting there. I couldn't see her face clearly due to the shadow from the awning and the fact that she had a menu blocking half of her face, but she looked to be around forty or so. And even though her eyes had darted to her menu, I knew she had just been staring at me.

I instantly looked away, back down at my ice cream. I was just blowing this out of proportion. Perhaps she had just coincidentally been looking or glancing in my direction. It didn't have to mean she was staring. I didn't have to be so paranoid here. I was far away from home.

But yet again, that diary came into my mind, reminding me that while I was still in posession of it, maybe I wasn't so far away form home after all. I stil didn't know where it had come from or if they'd dropped it in front of me accidentally or on purpose. And if it was intentional, than it meant someone was spying on me after all. Which meant that I still had to be on alert anyway.

I decided to look back at the woman again and get a better look at her features. That way I'd better recognize her if she showed up again in the same place I was. But when I looked up at her table, it was empty, the menu lying flat and neat on the black wrought iron table as if no one had been there at all.

A/N: Sorry for such a delay in posting this chapter. Writer's block is a killer! But I hope everyone enjoys the update. Thank you for reading and for being so patient!