April 4th, 1692. Salem, Massachusetts.
I do not have much time. Judge Hathorne is knocking on my front door as we speak. I peered out at him through the window and saw the paperwork in his hands. Arrest warrants. John is letting him in now. Resisting him will do more harm than good.
Someone has accused us of some kind of witchcraft, though I do not know who accused us or exactly what they accused us of right now. But I suspect I will be finding out shortly. I suspect either Ann Putnam or her father, who saw me defending Dorothy the day of her arrest are our accusers. And that most likely means Abigail Williams is in on it as well. She and Ann are hardly seen without the company of one another.
I am concealing this diary in my dress with a few charms in the hopes of being able to continue to write in it as long as I can. But if all goes horribly wrong, this could be my last entry.
I am sorry to all of my friends and family members who have been or will be arrested and possibly executed over this madness. I am sorry that for someone with so many powers, I was powerless against this epidemic of fear that has taken over our village. I am sorry that I could not do anything to help. I am sorry that other people in this town are so consumed with hatred for people who are different-and those who stick up for them-that they will accuse them of evil.
My apologies will not do any good for those accused and sentenced. But if this diary and my story one day makes it into the hands of someone else, I hope that they learn something from it. I hope that they learn how much harm judging someone without evidence can do. I hope they learn how much fear can tear a village of friends apart. I hope they realize how much harm accusations can bring-especially false ones.
I also refuse to give out names of any other of my friends who have not been accused. I cannot do that to them. I know the guilt would eat me alive, even more so than the helplessness that I feel now. I am told that giving names will save my own life, but I do not believe that is truthful. Look at Dorothy. She broke down and accused her own mother, but she is still in custody anyway. So either way, I am in danger. There is no hope for me at this point. I am beyond saving myself now. My pregnancy will postpone my sentence for a little while, but it won't save me for good and it won't save the lives of my child, my husband, or my friends. It won't save Sarah or Dorothy.
But I will not stop trying. That is why I hope this diary will one day help someone. I may not be able to save myself and I may not be able to save my immediate group of friends and family, but I can postpone the accusation of others for at least a little while by not giving names. And with this diary, I can hopefully prevent another epidemic like this one from happening again.
And to anyone else who, like me, has felt so powerless when the people they love are in danger, or to anyone else who feels guilt for something they may not have been able to control...I have one last message. Forgive yourself. You don't have to bear such a burden. Some things are just...out of our control. But don't stop trying. Continue to be kind. Continue to be brave. Offer help to those who need it. Stand up for the people you love. But also remember to be kind to yourself when you can. Try to move on. Try to forgive yourself. It might just be the hardest thing you will ever do-trust me, I know. I am still working on it myself. But John has been reminding me that we have been nothing but kind to our friends and neighbors. We have been supportive and defended them as best we could. We were friends to Sarah and Dorothy when no one else would be. We are not responsible for the horrible actions of other people. We have done our best.
In any case, what is important is that we lead our lives with kindness towards our friends, family, and neighbors. As I said, there are some things that are beyond our control, but we mustn't let that affect how we continue to treat people. Allow that to ease your conscience as much as possible. Allow yourself forgiveness. Allow yourself to heal, but never forget the ones you lost.
There are footsteps out in the kitchen, coming closer to my room. My heart is pounding. I am so afraid.
Pray for me.
The entry was hastily written-so much so that I could barely read it. I also seemed to think that the page was a bit more crumpled than the rest, but I didn't know if that was just me or not, imagining Elizabeth's haste as she concealed the diary away before she was taken into custody.
My own hand was shaking as I held the diary in my lap. Fred had actually read this entry first. He'd asked me if he could read a few ahead the last time I'd let him borrow it and I'd said yes. And then he'd brought it over this morning-a few hours before Ginny's birthday party at the Burrow-and told me I might want to catch up and that he'd wait while I did.
Now, he sat backwards in my desk chair, his arms resting across its back, staring at me solemly.
"Wow," I sighed, looking up at Fred. "That was-"
"Intense?" Fred asked.
I nodded. "Yeah...to put it mildly." I let out a short breath of laughter. "And you say I need to stop leaving off on cliffhangers."
"And you were the one who said this wasn't exactly light reading."
"It's not," I sighed.
"Even I got too afraid to flip the page and see if anything else was written," Fred went on.
"Want to do it together?" I asked. "We don't have to read it, just flip the page to know if there's more."
Fred stood up and came to sit beside me on the bed. So close that our legs and arms were touching. "Together," he said.
I nodded and looked back down at the diary, taking in a deep breath and holding it. I counted to three in my head and flipped it. And then I let out a sigh of relief. There was another entry.
I smiled and looked up st Fred, who had a smile on his face as well.
"Would you look at that," he said. "She's alright at least for a little longer. Or, at least, she's alive. I'm not sure how alright she'll be after this." He paused and reached out to trace his finger along the ink of the hastily scrawled date at the top of the page. "Look at the date-it's a month later. The second of May, actually."
"That was the day Percy—"
"Yeah," Fred whispered, letting out a sigh and turning away from the diary as I slowly closed it.
"You okay?" I asked.
He nodded. "This past May marked one year," he said. "It was also the day Bill and Fleur had their baby and I had a complete meltdown."
"Oh," I said.
Fred rolled his eyes. "Oh," he laughed. "Your go to word when you don't know what to say, huh?"
I shrugged and blushed furiously. "I guess. Sorry."
"Don't apologize," Fred sighed. "I realize it's not something people know how to respond to. Believe me, I know. I've been seeing for the past year that people don't know how to respond."
"How do you want me to respond?" I asked. "I'll let you be in control. You tell me how to respond and I'll do it."
Fred let out a curt laugh. "Well, that's the whole problem, isn't it? I don't even know how I want people to respond." He shrugged. "Anyway, when Victoire was born, everyone kept saying how a year after someone special had left us, another special person entered our lives. I thought it sounded like bullshit. And then they went and named her Victoire. Victory? Seriously? Harry defeated Voldemort, yeah, but it didn't feel like a victory when we'd lost so many people. At least...not a complete victory. It was still somewhat of a loss. And I was already dealing with it being one year since Percy died. I wasn't in a mood to celebrate anything. I didn't even show up at the hospital. Instead, I forced George to go and leave me alone against his better judgement, then I got wasted in the flat by myself. And then showed up at the Leaky Cauldron trying to buy more alcohol. Tom gave me a stern talking to that I did not even comprehend and then made me go upstairs and sleep it off in one of the guest rooms. But first, I vomited all over the stairway."
"Oh my gosh, that was you," I said. When Fred looked at me in surprise, I went on. "I'd been working for about three weeks. I was working that night, actually, and Tom came back into the kitchen looking frustrated over something. All he said was that there was a drunk guest sleeping off the alcohol in room twelve and not to disturb him. On his way up the back staircase that leads here to our flat, he said there was vomit on the front stairway that needed to be cleaned up. And then everyone else did that stupid thing where they all said not me at the same time. Except for me. I didn't know it was a thing at the time."
Fred let out a noise that was almost a half groan, half laugh as he buried his head in his hands. "You cleaned up my vomit."
I actually found myself letting out a laugh as well. "I did." I paused as I thought back to that night. "I did it with magic, thankfully. But unfortunately, it didn't make it much better." I paused and a slight smile appeared on my face. "That was about a week or two before I met you officially, too."
"I'm glad you didn't realize the vomit was mine until now," Fred said with a quiet chuckle as he raised his head. "I'm glad I got the chance to actually make a good first impression when I met you."
"Fred, you stepped on my foot," I giggled.
Fred let out a laugh of his own as he grimaced. "You're right-sorry. But I think that's better than you seeing me vomit all over the place. Or me vomiting on you."
I made a face. "Yeah, I'd say so." It was quiet for a moment. "Did you get into an argument with someone the next morning, too?" I asked quietly. "Now that I think about it, I remember we could all hear lots of yelling from one of the guest rooms the next morning."
Fred snorted and lay back on my bed, crossing his arms behind his head and staring at the ceiling. "It was Bill who came to get me the next day. He was upset, and rightly so, that I couldn't drag my sorry ass to the hospital and at least pretend to be happy. He lost his head and so did I and we probably would've ended up in a fist fight if Tom hadn't come to break it up. It was the angriest Bill had gotten with me since the battle about how I was behaving. And I deserved it. Actually, in hindsight, I'm glad he yelled at me."
"You are?" I asked, looking at him in slight surprise. "It sounded like a nasty argument."
Fred shrugged. "Like I said, I think most of my family was afraid. Afraid of me falling apart, afraid of upsetting me. But they were all disappointed in what was happening. They just didn't know how to handle it. They thought by keeping calm and not upsetting me and not mentioning Percy, they were helping. Mum drilled it into everyone's heads that she didn't want anyone to upset me. Don't rile Fred, she'd say. But at the same time, they were always watching. Making sure I didn't do anything stupid. Like I've said before, it felt like they weren't letting me move on by doing that." He paused. "I think Bill yelling at me helped. It was like maybe the rest of my family was slowly coming around and not being so afraid anymore. They were treating me like a normal person."
"I get that," I said. "All I've wanted for so long was to be normal and live a normal life. And I know all about being afraid all the time, too. It's horrible, but it's also something I'm also working on being better at."
"Good," Fred said, looking at me with a smile.
I didn't say anything in response to that, but Fred didn't seem to mind. He rolled onto his side and traced a finger along the spine of the diary. "Intense entry, though, huh?" he asked.
I nodded. "Mm, but I think Elizabeth gives good advice." I hesitated. "It's advice I think you should try to follow." I glanced at him shyly.
"Me?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow, propping himself up on an elbow.
I nodded. "She literally said for anyone who is feeling guilt over something they may not have been able to control to forgive themselves. She said to give yourself time to heal, but never forget the ones you lost. It's a bit eerie, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess it is," Fred whispered, staring down at my comforter as he picked at a loose thread on it.
"She said to continue to be brave and kind and continue to help others who need it."
"I'm doing that," Fred said with a chuckle, looking up as he nudged my knee. "I'm helping you, aren't I?"
I smiled and nodded my head slightly. "You know..." I finally said, turning sideways so that I was sitting facing Fred. "The day I ran away from my foster home, my foster mother actually said something to me that was similar. She told me that sometimes things happen to us that we can't control or have no say in, but to continue being kind and brave regardless and to always remember to forgive yourself. Do you think that's odd?"
Fred frowned at me in thought. "No, it has to just be a coincidence, don't you think? There's no way she could have had that diary."
"If Elizabeth had it on her at the time it could've gotten passed down to anyone."
"So then your foster mother must have been the one to bring it to you here," Fred said.
"And that's what doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't she show herself?" I asked. "Unless she's afraid of being caught. Or afraid of Eric finding us again. It also must mean she would have gotten away from him...or she could have even brought him here. But again, I can't see him hiding for this long. And then there's that mystery woman. I have no idea who she is and I can't figure out how she fits into all of this. And the time at the ice cream parlor when I saw a woman watching me. Was that her or someone else? And what did Noah see in the alleyway in Hogsmeade? Or was it all nothing and I'm just...insane?"
Fred sat up and turned himself sideways to face me, his expression serious. "Soph," he began. "I know this is hard for you...but I think that if we're going to figure this out, you're going to have to tell me about your foster home. From start to finish. I can't fully help you if you don't tell me."
"Fred..." I said slowly. "I don't-"
"Sophie...please," he said quietly. "I told you about Percy."
"I don't have to tell you about my foster home just because you told me about Percy." I shot Fred a look. "This isn't about being even, or-"
"No, that's not what I meant," Fred interrupted hastily. "I just meant that I know how hard it is. It was hard for me to tell you about the day Percy died. It was the first time I'd talked about it since it happened. So I get it, I really do. But I'm genuinely trying to help you, Soph. You are my friend. You have to start trusting people."
"It's not that easy," I whispered.
"Soph, please," Fred answered. "Help me understand. I want to understand. It's not a trick or a joke or anything but genuine concern."
I looked up and met his eyes. They certainly looked earnest. The thought that Fred could simply be a good actor did float across my mind briefly, but I pushed it away. I realized I wanted to trust him. And he hadn't given me a reason not to so far. He'd been confusing and chaotic a lot of the time since I'd met him, but he had also been extremely kind to me. He'd welcomed me into his life, into his family's home, and he'd defended me when I'd been tripped by Marcus Flint and his friends. He'd trusted me with his own secrets. And even when he'd tried to push me away after I'd found out about Percy, he'd sought me out to apologize and admit he'd been wrong. It could have been all too easy to not say anything at all. To push me away and let me go. He'd asked me for a chance, and while I'd been wary of giving it to him at times, he did deserve one. We all did. I couldn't sit here being grateful for the chances I'd been given, but refuse to give any out in return.
I swallowed and took a deep breath as I stared down at the bedspread. "I told you that my latest foster home was my fifth. I was already pretty dejected and let down from always having to move around from one foster home to another. I had started to lose all hope that I'd find a real family that actually could keep me and wanted to keep me. There was a little part of me that hoped that home would be the last. That it would be my forever home. I was there the longest, but it wasn't a home and we weren't a family."
"You said your foster father used the money they got on himself?" Fred asked.
I nodded. "Their house was comfortable. It wasn't a dump or anything. But it was an old house, like a lot of the houses in Salem were, and it was drab. There were hardly any decorations, no pictures, no personality. My foster mother-Andrea-she tried, though. She had decorated my room a bit for me and tried to make it homey, but still...She seemed like she really wanted me and that she liked me, but she also seemed tired. Quiet. Afraid. Just like me. I think he wore her down, too."
"And your foster dad? What did you say his name was?" Fred asked.
"Eric." I let out a bitter laugh. "I remember the day I got dropped off there, the social worker told them it was my fifth foster home and he asked what was wrong with me to make the other families not want me."
"He didn't," Fred whispered.
"He did. And he acted so...flat towards me. As if he didn't care or didn't really want me there. And then, like I said he took the money that was supposed to be spent on me and spent it on stuff for himself. He'd always make me feel like a burden for being there. All of my stuff was bought second hand at thrift stores. Andrea and I did all the cooking and cleaning and any other household chores. I had to do it without magic because I was young, but Andrea would always do it the Muggle way too. He made her. He was a Muggle, actually. Hated magic. You know, I don't even think he would have sent me to school unless it wasn't part of the deal. He had to or else I'd get taken away and thrown back into the system. He already knew about magic because of Andrea, so it worked out that I got placed with them shortly after my eleventh birthday. When I got my letter for Ilvermorny, it wasn't a shock to either of them." I shrugged. "Although Eric wasn't quiet about his distaste."
"How did he end up marrying Andrea if he hated magic?" Fred asked.
I shrugged. "Andrea told me their relationship was complicated. She never told me the details. She never wanted to talk about it. She didn't want to be with him, but she wouldn't leave him either. Fear, I guess, which is understandable. He was a piece of work. For someone who seemed to hate us so much, he certainly didn't want to let us out of his sight." I paused. "Sometimes, not always-thankfully-he'd go out drinking with his friends and those were some of the times he was the meanest. Or if he was sober and in a bad mood and we did something to set him off."
"Such as?"
I shrugged. "Mostly stupid stuff. Once I broke a plate and he lost his mind. Called me all sorts of names and made me feel like some clumsy fool who couldn't even do something as simple as hold a plate."
"Did he ever...hit you?" Fred asked.
I shrugged. "Not regularly. But he got rough a few times with me, yeah. Shoving, pushing, throwing things. Stuff like that." I didn't mention the day I'd escaped and he'd given me the two scars on my back. That had been by far the worst and I couldn't bear telling Fred about that yet. It was still too private and painful to talk about. I'd been sure I was going to die that day and the scars were an ugly reminder of what I'd left behind and what was still out there. "As you've already figured out," I finally went on, "it's why I still flinch every time someone grabs me or makes a sudden movement towards me."
"I don't know what to say," Fred murmured.
I shrugged. "I think he was worse to my foster mother. They'd get into nasty fights. I'd see some bruises on her sometimes, even though she tried to hide them. And she always seemed so exhausted, like I said. In every sense of the word." I inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Couldn't you have reported him?" Fred asked. "There were so many signs that he should not have been a father of any kind. How were you even allowed to stay there? How was Eric even cleared to be a foster parent?"
"I don't know," I said. "He was a good actor. He was so good at acting like he was a great guy when it counted. When it got him what he wanted."
"But he didn't want you. Or Andrea. That's obvious."
"He wanted us around as-as-I don't know, people to bully. People to push around. That's what he wanted us for. And he wanted the money that came with being a foster parent. As for why I didn't report him-I tried. It was early on-maybe a few months after I'd gotten there. The social worker came to check in on me. I tried to say I wasn't happy." I swallowed and shook my head. "Eric talked his way out of it. Said I was still adjusting and I'd be fine. And then he punished me by giving me extra chores and then locking me in my room for three days. Andrea tried to stop him, but it led to a fight between them, too. I don't know what he did to her, but I could hear him yelling and her sobbing..."
Fred took in a slow, deep breath as he rubbed a hand over his jaw. He actually looked pretty speechless. After a moment of silence, I continued with my story.
"Anyway, when I was seventeen and done with school, I tried to run away. I was going to get a job-something photography related. But I also tried to get Andrea out with me. I didn't want to leave her. Or else I would've probably tried to run right from the train station. Eric still would've chased me-he always came to get me from the station. Probably so he could make sure I didn't run. But, anyway, I went back to the house that day to try and get Andrea to come with me. And we never made it out. Eric caught us. He and Andrea got into another massive fight and he locked me in my room for a week this time. And after that, he kept a closer eye on me. Kept me busy in the house with every chore imaginable. My duties around the house increased from what they were before. It felt like I was his servant. When I was eighteen, I'd aged out of the foster system and he wasn't making money off of me anymore, so he had me get a job at a local cafe. He'd take me there and hang around for a bit to make sure I didn't run away again. Then he'd come back later and take me home."
"Why didn't you try to run away in between?" Fred asked. "You still wanted to get your foster mother out?"
I nodded. "That and the fact that I was pretty defeated at that point. Defeated and afraid. I knew I had to have some kind of strategy. If I just left work, the cafe owner would tell Eric I'd left. I think Eric had made some kind of deal with him. Probably even paying him to make sure I didn't leave."
"Couldn't you Apparate and be long gone by the time he found out?"
"Eric kept my wand," I said.
"While you were working?"
"No, permanently. He held on to mine and Andrea's wands. Another reason why I didn't just run. I needed my wand. I'd never get anywhere fast enough on foot. And I had no money for Muggle transportation. I tried to save away as much as I could, but I had to do it in little bits considering he took most of the money I made and kept it. So I had to put away change. Quarters, dimes, nickels, pennies-it was all Muggle money, so it would only be good for Muggle stuff in the end. I could get transportation, clothes, food, that kind of thing, but only the Muggle way. It wouldn't have done anything if I tried to go to some all-magical place. It would have been useless once I came here."
"So...what happened? How'd you end up getting away?"
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Fred, I really don't like talking about it."
"I think you should," he said. "I think I need to know."
"I've told you enough," I said quietly, but firmly.
"Sophie-"
"No-I'm done. I can't." I shook my head and closed my eyes as I rested my forehead on my knees.
"Okay," Fred said after a pause. "So...you're living your life in fear that Eric will track you down because he's some possessive freak, right?"
I nodded. "Essentially."
There was another pause before Fred sat up and looked at me, biting his lip slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I have to tell you something."
"What?" I asked, instantly feeling myself stiffen with nerves. I didn't like where this was going. Mentally, I started running through all the bad news Fred could possibly have to tell me right now. I had to stop doing that-dreading the worst-but it was so hard not to.
"George and I-we might have tried to do some research on your birth mother."
"What?" I repeated, but this time it came out in a tone of shock. Of all the things I'd been expecting Fred to say, it had not been that. I knew he was curious and I knew he was determined and I knew he wanted to help. But I hadn't expected him to actually go and take matters like that into his own hands. I hadn't expected him to actively try to look for my mother like that. Something had always stopped me in the past. Fear, of course. And just defeat. I always just felt that it wasn't worth it to look for her. It wouldn't change things. But the funny thing was that now that Fred was telling me this, I found that I wasn't all that angry at him. I was shocked and surprised and afraid, but also curious as to what he'd found out.
"I know you're probably mad," Fred said, holding up a hand, "but hear me out. I-"
"I'm not," I said quietly, my voice filled with just as much surprise as Fred most likely felt. I could see it written all over the expression that he sent me after I spoke.
"You're not?" he asked. "You're not mad?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Not as much as you might think. I mean, I wish you had told me. Sooner, I mean. I'm a little surprised that you would do something like that, but then again, maybe I shouldn't be. I'm not sure you completely grasp the concept of boundaries."
"That's what people have told me," Fred laughed. "One time in my third year, I got a detention for asking my Transfiguration professor if she had a husband, and then asking why not when she said no. She made me copy the definition of boundaries at least a hundred times."
I giggled. "I'm not surprised about any of what you just told me." I sighed and looked over at him. "So what'd you find? Anything?" I looked up at him and nervously chewed on my lip as my stomach knotted.
"Not much," Fred admitted, "but we didn't find any death records. We checked. Thoroughly."
"How?" I asked.
"Believe it or not, we had to enlist Ron's help," Fred said, looking horrified at the mere thought. "I never thought I'd have to say those words."
"Get to the point, Fred," I said with a quiet laugh.
"Now who's anxious for this information, hm?" he teased. "Before, you almost wanted nothing to do with it." He rolled his eyes before continuing. "Anyway, Ron brought us into the Ministry and he talked to Harry and then they used their connections to get in contact with the American Ministry."
"MACUSA?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "They can do that? Just contact them and get answers?"
"Well...no," Fred said. "They had to ask Kingsley for help too."
"Kingsley. Your Minister of Magic," I repeated. "Merlin, Fred, did you get the whole world involved in this? I thought it was just you and George poking around."
"As brilliant as George and I are, we aren't miracle workers. We don't have access to death records for a town in another country." Fred let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. "You put too much pressure on me, Soph."
"I didn't ask you to do this," I replied hotly.
"Hey, relax, I'm kidding," Fred laughed, turning to me with an amused smile. When I rolled my eyes, he only laughed again. "We kept it as secret as possible," Fred said. "All we told anyone was the basic truth. That we're trying to reunite you with your mother and need to know if she's alive, first and foremost. Soph, no one batted an eye. None of this is suspicious. At least, none of what George and I told them." He paused. "Although, we may have added our own personal touch to the story."
I groaned. "Which was what? Fireworks? Stinkbombs?"
Fred chuckled. "Good guesses, but no. The correct answer would be dramatics."
"Dramatics?" I asked. "What kind of dramatics? Again, I could guess fireworks and stink bombs."
"We just kind of...made it into a really sad story," Fred said. "You know, to tug at people's heartstrings a bit. We figured we had a better shot of getting what we wanted that way."
"Fred!" I exclaimed. "Are you kidding? You know that's the last thing I want or need! I don't want to be a sob story. You should know that better than anyone."
Fred flinched a little, but recovered quickly. "I know, but if it helps us get what we want-"
"We?" I scoffed. "Or you?"
"You," he amended. "You keep trying to act like this isn't what you want, but I can see you want to know. If you didn't, you wouldn't be asking me all these questions about what I found and how I did it."
I sighed. "I suppose you're right. But somehow, oddly, I get the sense that you almost want this just as much."
Fred shrugged. "I want you to be happy. I want you to have closure." He looked at me seriously. "I do know how important that is. You were right when you said I don't have any unanswered questions about Percy. I did know where we stood. And while that hasn't necessarily made things better for me, it would have been worse if I'd never known what happened to him or if I hadn't known how he really felt. If he'd died before he got the chance to come back, or before he'd gotten the chance to tell us..." He trailed off and shook his head. "It may have been one thing I took for granted. I've always had people around who were willing to help me, too. People who love me. People I could turn to. And I never did. I ignored them and pushed them away. And you on the other hand, never had anyone at all, even though you wanted someone. Anyone. Your story kind of put things into perspective for me."
"It did?" I asked, peering up at him.
He nodded. "I want you to have that same, well, I want to say peace of mind, even though it doesn't always feel that way. Merlin knows my mind is not peaceful all the time..." He cleared his throat. "Even if the answers you get aren't what you want to hear, I still want you to have them so you're not wondering. I think that's worse."
I nodded. "Thanks." I looked up at the ceiling in thought. "So you didn't find anything saying she'd died?"
"No. Obviously the Ministry over in America keeps death records, just like we do here. And there's nothing."
"That doesn't necessarily mean she hasn't died. It just means that if she did, she hasn't been found or identified," I said.
"Right," Fred said. "There was an article printed in the Salem papers-years ago-reporting her missing. I'm assuming that was the day she dropped you off at the museum and left. The article said there was an investigation going on. But from what Kingsley could find out, your mother was never found. Alive or dead."
"Okay. Anything else?"
Fred shook his head. "Kingsley reported back that the case had been closed for years and that she was just assumed dead. But no body was ever found or identified."
I let out a bitter laugh. "This doesn't really move us forward, Fred," I said. "I know you tried, but-"
"We at least know that if anything happened to her, it's not government knowledge. So if she's alive, she's doing a really good job of hiding. All these years later. And if she's dead, then she must have been somewhere really secluded for nobody to ever stumble upon her. If she died, it must have been really well hidden."
"Which means what?" I asked.
"Well," Fred said slowly. "It doesn't appear to me that she left you for the fun of it."
"It doesn't?" I asked, looking up at him curiously. I wondered how he'd managed to work that one out.
"If she left you for the fun of it, don't you think she would've been spotted somewhere? She wouldn't have just gone missing never to turn up again. If she got lazy with her kid and just didn't care anymore, I don't think she'd care about being spotted. She'd just be another lady who abandoned her kid. And besides, you said you two were so close. It's never quite added up to me. How you two could go from being so close, making plans to travel, going ice skating together, to her just leaving you because she felt like it? Tell me, how was she acting on the day she left you?"
I thought back to that day, as hard as I could. While the memory was still pretty vivid in my mind, much of it had also faded quite a bit. The tinier details had, anyway. I tried to picture how my mother had acted as she woke me up, as she brought me to the museum, as she left me there, promising to come back, and then not following through. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to picture her face. It swam into view, her blue eyes staring at me right before she left the museum. Ice blue eyes, round and full of...fear. Her voice was breathless and shaky when she told me I'd be safe there and that she'd come back.
"She was urgent," I said. "Panicked. She looked...afraid."
Fred didn't say anything and I opened my eyes to see him staring at me, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. "There's more to this story than you've believed, I think," he whispered.
"Like what?" I asked. "What could have possibly happened to-what, give her no choice but to leave me? That's what you're implying happened?"
"More or less," Fred shrugged. "Either that or she at least felt as if she had no choice. And as for why, that's what I intend on finding out. With your permission of course."
I hesitated as I chewed on my lip. If it turned out my mother was alive, how would that make me feel? Would I want to see her? Talk to her? Would I want to find her and ask her why she left? Would finding all these answers make me feel worse or better? I thought all the old pain of her leaving had been healed, but had it really just been covered up on the surface? After all, a mess will always be a mess unless you clean it. You can sweep it into a corner and throw a blanket over it to hide it-out of sight, out of mind. But in reality, it's still a mess. It just became a mess with a sheet over it. And it would always be that way, lurking in the back of your mind, until you faced it.
And if I was being honest with myself, I did want to know why. If my mother was alive, I wanted to hear all of it from her directly. I wanted to hear her tell me the truth.
"Okay," I finally said with a sigh, looking up at Fred. "I'm in. But next time you decide to do a little digging...tell me. Agreed?"
"Definitely," Fred said with a nod. He smiled at me before getting up and crossing over to my desk, where Buttercup the Pygmy Puff was sitting, attempting to gnaw on a pencil. He scooped her up and held her against him. "How are you liking her?" He asked.
I grinned. "I'm loving her," I said. "She's come a long way in the last two months. She's not as shy."
"And neither are you," Fred said. He smiled wider. "I'm really glad I gave her to you."
"I am too," I told him, leaning backwards onto the palms of my hands as I watched him continue to run his fingers through Buttercup's fur.
"So...how did last night go?" I finally asked.
"Last night?" Fred asked, looking at me in confusion.
"With Ginny and Harry? It was the World Cup yesterday, wasn't it? And Harry proposed?" I asked, standing up and crossing the room to my desk where I slipped the diary into a drawer, burying it under some of the other stuff that was inside.
"Oh, right!" Fred exclaimed.
"You forgot?" I commented casually, looking at Fred in surprise. "Weren't you the one who got them those tickets?"
"Well...yes, but I also try to push the thought of my little sister getting married out of my head as much as possible." He smirked. "That, plus your very abrupt change of subject..." He trailed off and shrugged, still smirking. "Anyway, from what George and I have heard, it went well. I haven't spoken to Ginny yet, but I'm sure she's ecstatic. I have no doubt she said yes, either."
"Neither do I," I said with a smile, leaning against my desk.
"I guess we'll find out all the details soon," Fred said. "We have to be at the Burrow soon for her birthday party." He gazed at the drawer where I'd slipped the diary. "I just wanted to give you a chance to catch up."
"Thanks," I whispered.
Fred was quiet for another few seconds, still gazing at my desk drawer. Finally, he looked back up at me. "Are you bringing Noah to the party?"
I shook my head. "Your mother invited him, but he has to work today."
"You really like him, don't you?" Fred asked, his eyes wandering over my face.
I nodded. "I do. He's really sweet and patient and kind..." I let out a laugh. "I almost hate to admit it, but Rachel was right. He is good for me."
"Rachel said that?" Fred asked.
I nodded. "She's been trying to essentially set me up with him since I've been here."
"And you agree with her?" Fred asked. "That he's good for you?"
I nodded. "That's what I said. Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Fred said quickly. He set Buttercup back down on my desk. "I just wanted to make sure you thought he was good for you and weren't just letting Rachel tell you what's good for you."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"Rachel also put ideas into your head that I was going to end up hurting you. She doesn't always know what's best."
"And did I let her sway me into staying away from you?" I asked. "I think not, considering you're standing in my bedroom. I have a mind of my own, Fred." When he didn't answer, I continued to study him in slight confusion. "Me being with Noah isn't going to change anything between me and you. I thought we were clear on that now."
"We are," Fred said, reaching down and aimlessly stroking Buttercup's head again as she went back to trying to chew on the pencil again. "I just wanted to make sure you're happy. That's all."
"I am," I assured him.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine. He studied my face for a second as if he were trying to see if he believed me. Finally, he nodded. "Okay," he said he cleared his throat and stepped away from my desk, removing his finger from Buttercup's fur and sticking both hands in his pockets. "Ready to go?" he asked brightly, flashing me a smile.
I blinked, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. "Um...yeah, I'm ready." I nodded and gave him a small smile in return. "Let's go celebrate a birthday-slash-engagement."
Ginny's birthday party at the Burrow was even louder and more exuberant than any other gathering had been so far. Not only were we celebrating her eighteenth birthday, but we were also celebrating her engagement.
I found I actually didn't even mind the chaos either. I didn't know if I was simply getting used to it or if it was because everyone's attention and excitement was aimed at Ginny and Harry, but it didn't really matter. I could just sit back and watch, which was fine with me.
Everything seemed to go smoothly until later that night after Ginny had opened presents. We were all sitting in the living room, much like we had been for Harry's birthday. The topic of conversation had switched back to the engagement and the now upcoming wedding for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
"I wish Percy were here," Mrs. Weasley finally sighed.
Just like when his name was brought up the first time I had been here, everyone seemed to freeze and hold their breath for a split second, making it seem like the world had stopped turning briefly before continuing again. And then everyone seemed to glance at Fred, either quickly or out of the corner of their eyes as if they wanted to make sure he was okay, but didn't want him to know they were looking.
Beside me, he heaved a heavy sigh. "I'm fine," he said. "You don't have to worry. I'm not going to run off and jump in the pond again. I'm not going to freak out and start throwing things. I'm not going to down every last bottle of alcohol we have. You can all keep you pants on and stop staring."
Everyone was quiet for a moment as if they didn't know what to say.
"We just...know you don't like thinking about him," Bill said gently.
"It's not that I don't like thinking about him," Fred said. "No, what I don't like is thinking about the fact that he's dead and I didn't do anything to stop it. I don't like everyone going easy on me. I don't like being pitied because I lost a brother. I don't like being pitied because not only did I lose a brother, but I was there when he died."
"No one pities you, Fred," Mrs. Weasley whispered.
"It feels like it," he mumbled.
"I only told everyone to go easy on you because you were already acting so..."
"Unstable?" Fred scoffed.
"No...Irrationally," Mrs. Weasley shrugged. "I was afraid that if someone did something to upset you, it would be the final straw and you'd do something stupid. Something stupid that I wouldn't be able to stop you from doing. And then I'd-I'd lose another son." Her voice cracked on the last word and the room was eerily silent. Mostly everyone was staring awkwardly at their hands or the ground, but I saw Fred look up to meet his mother's eyes in surprise.
"Mum-" he croaked, his eyes wide as he looked at her.
"How do you think I feel?" she went on. "I'm your mother-I'm Percy's mother. How do you think I felt knowing I failed to protect him?"
"Mum, you couldn't have-there was no way-you couldn't keep track of everyone at once," Fred murmured. "You didn't fail at anything."
"And neither did you," she said. "You were so hurt...You couldn't move or walk...There was nothing you could have done. And yet you suffered so horribly and I've been afraid every single day since."
"I'm sorry," Fred whispered. "I didn't know." He stood up and went to kneel by her chair, gently putting a hand over hers. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Honestly, Mum, when have you ever known me to follow Percy's lead in anything?"
That got a chuckle out of everyone and the awkward tension started to dissipate. Mrs. Weasley let out a watery laugh herself and wiped her eyes before patting Fred's hand. "I'm glad you're able to talk about him a little more now...and so lightly."
Fred glanced back at me for a moment, a small smile appearing on his face. "Me too," he said quietly. He turned back to his mother and patted her hand before pushing himself to his feet, leaning over to kiss her cheek as he did so.
Ten minutes later, as I was helping bring all the empty mugs of tea to the kitchen for cleanup, I noticed Fred slipping out the back door, glancing over his shoulder as if he were trying not to be noticed.
Frowning slightly, I set the two mugs I was carrying onto the counter and followed him. I went out to the backyard and looked around in the darkness, trying to figure out which way Fred had gone. It wasn't until I saw a lantern turn on in Mr. Weasley's shed that I figured it out.
I made my way across the grass to the shed and slowly pushed open the door. Fred was at the far end, crouched down in front of an assortment of boxes as he tossed item after item out, flinging things over his shoulders with more and more vigor each time. A sweater. A coat. Another sweater. A few textbooks. Some Hogwarts robes. A Gryffindor scarf. A wand.
Finally, Fred let out a cry of frustration and grabbed the box he was searching through, turning it upside down and emptying out the remaining contents. A few more books tumbled to the ground along with some stray parchment and a few more clothes.
"Fucking hell!" Fred exclaimed, dropping the box and swatting it away from him.
"Fred?" I said, quickly stepping into the shed and crossing over to where Fred was kneeling. "Hey," I said, crouching beside him and reaching for his arm. "Hey, what's going on?" My eyes were wide and my heart was pounding in my chest as I looked at him. There was a small part of me-the cautious part-that was saying I shouldn't approach him if he was this upset. But I pushed those thoughts away. Fred wasn't Eric. He wouldn't hurt me. Just because Eric's behavior was all I knew, didn't mean everyone else dealt with anger the same way.
"I can't find it," Fred said, his voice strained with emotion as he swiped the back of his hand across his nose and reached for another box. "I can't find Percy's badge."
"Badge?" I asked in confusion.
"His Head Boy badge," Fred answered.
I was quiet for a moment as I let that sink in. "You mean one you and George used to charm to read Bighead Boy?"
Fred nodded. "I thought it'd be in with all of his things but it's not here."
"Did you look through every-" I began, reaching for another box, but Fred scoffed and swatted the box away.
"Checked that one," he said. "Checked them all. Figures the one item of Percy's I suddenly wanted-the one item I thought I could finally stand looking at-is the one item that's not here. I could have sworn we still had it, but maybe the stupid git was buried with the damn thing. It seems like something Mum would assume he'd want-and she'd probably be correct." He lowered himself fully to the ground and sat there with his legs bent and his elbows resting on his knees as he dragged a hand through his hair.
"Why did you suddenly want the badge?" I asked, sitting beside him.
Fred shrugged and lifted his head, staring furiously at the wall in front of him. "I don't fucking know," he said bitterly. "I guess to have as a reminder of Percy, but also as a reminder of who I once was. The person who would alter the badge to say Bighead Boy. I liked who I used to be. Before I became such a damn monster."
"You're not a monster," I said quietly, surprised to find an odd ache in my chest as if I were about to cry. Why was I suddenly so emotional?
Fred scoffed again. "Didn't you hear what my mother said inside about being afraid of losing another son? I didn't even realize she felt that way until tonight. I never stopped to think much about just how much my own actions were affecting her. I think that's what makes me a monster most of all. I want to start being my old self. Being the bloke who kept his mother on her toes, not broke her heart."
"I don't think you need a badge to do that," I said. "To get better, I mean. To fully pull yourself out of the slump you've been in since Percy died. I think you have enough willpower to do it on your own. Especially now that you've realized how your mother was feeling."
Fred let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes, laying his arms on top of his knees and resting his head on his arms. Finally, he raised his head, sniffled, and quickly swiped at his eyes as if he didn't want me to see he was emotional.
"I fucking miss the pompous prat," he whispered.
"Of course you do," I answered, my voice just as quiet.
"You really think I can get my shit together?" Fred asked, glancing over at me.
I nodded. "Yeah, I do."
Fred was quiet again. "Sometimes I feel too far gone," he sighed. "I feel like I'll never go back to who I once was."
"I don't think you can completely go back," I said. "I think a part of you is changed forever after what you went through. But you can stop drinking so much. Stop being destructive when you drink. Stop letting your emotions turn inwards and destroy you. You can stop jumping into the pond every time things get to be too much to handle. That's the stuff that's all in your control. Percy dying? Not in your control."
"It could've been."
I shook my head. "It couldn't have been, no matter what you think. There was nothing you could have done."
"I could've-"
"Could've what? Fought in battle with a broken pelvis and dislocated hip?"
"I told you I let myself get distracted by Percy's joke. If I hadn't done that, I would've seen the explosion coming. Percy wouldn't have had to protect me from that, he wouldn't have been hit with Impedimenta, which was what, in turn, caused my injuries. He wouldn't have been distracted trying to get me out of the way. And then he wouldn't have died. All because of a joke."
I was silent for a moment. "You don't know that. You don't know if you would have seen anything coming."
"I do."
"How?" I asked.
Fred just shook his head. "You know, I think that's part of the reason I began trying to destroy my own flat and my own shop. Besides the fact that Percy never got to see it. Jokes were the reason he was dead. I never loathed jokes so much in my life than I did then. And how could I go to work in a joke shop after that?"
"But you did," I said. "That takes strength, Fred. And you've fallen in love with jokes again. You told me you loved what you did the day I first visited the shop. You've seemed to at least remembered all the goodness jokes can bring. All the goodness laughter can bring. And you've started to show me that as well. Don't forget, up until recently, I believed it was all entirely harmful. You make me laugh, Fred. Something I haven't done in a long time."
Fred looked over at me, studying me in silence in the dim light. "I do want to be that person again," he finally said. "The person who thrives off of laughter. The person who does anything to get a laugh out of someone. I told you that's why I wanted the badge so badly. To remind myself."
"You are still that person, Fred."
"Usually," he sighed. "Sometimes. Not always. I used to always be that person. I want to always be that person again. I want to be whole again."
I felt that aching feeling in my chest again and I sighed as I closed my eyes. "I know. It's hard. I've been searching for missing pieces of myself, too, for a long time."
"Have you found any?" Fred asked.
I smiled. "A few since I've been in London, actually. But it's hard, Fred. It's painful. You've seen how I am. You've seen me trying to unlearn all my bad habits that resulted from all the shit I've been through. And I'm never going to be exactly who I was before. But I don't think that means that I-that we-can't ever be whole again."
Fred let out a long sigh. "I hope you're right," he said. He pushed himself back up on his knees and began slowly putting all of Percy's things back into their boxes.
I watched him for a moment before I began to help, reaching first for a sweater and folding it neatly before handing it to Fred, who put it in a box.
We worked in silence, and just as we were finishing, I heard the door to the shed open. I craned my neck to see over the table as well as some of the various Muggle objects that were lying on top like an old clock and a box labeled "plugs".
"It's just me," George said, making his way over to us. He took one look at Fred and seemed to know what had happened, despite the fact that Fred was a lot calmer and the area at the back of the shed was now cleaned up of the mess Fred had created. He opened his mouth to say something, but I spoke before he could.
"Everything's okay. We were just looking for something."
"Yeah?" George asked, eyeing the boxes of Percy's belongings.
"Yeah," Fred said, getting to his feet, then reaching down to help me up as well. He squeezed my hand once and his thumb brushed along my skin before he dropped my hand and turned back to George. "We were looking for my sanity. I realized tonight that I've lost it."
George snorted out a laugh. "You just realized that tonight? You lost your sanity a long time ago, even before Percy died."
"Huh," Fred said thoughtfully. "You think maybe I lost it when Ron was when born?"
"Maybe," George shrugged. "That's when I lost mine."
Fred laughed, then caught the look on my face as I stared at him. He raised an eyebrow as he gave me a small smile. "What's that look for?"
I shook my head. "Nothing."
Fred continued to look at me in confusion until George spoke again, this time to me.
"Are you ready to head home? I think it's time we got going."
"Yeah," I said. "Lead the way."
George turned to head back to the house and Fred and I followed in silence. Finally, Fred leaned in to whisper into my ear. "Tell me why you were looking at me like that back there."
"Like what?" I asked innocently.
"You had this knowing smile on your face like you knew something I didn't, but also like you were happy about it."
I smiled. "It's just that you say you sort of turned against jokes and that you're not fully the same person you once were, but I just watched you joke with George completely effortlessly. The way your mind works-you come up with things so quickly. Not just actual jokes, but ideas. Look at all the things you've invented and continue to invent. It comes naturally to you, Fred. It's who you are. I don't think you can completely lose that. It's always been there. You just turned against it for a while."
"So you're saying that essentially all my missing pieces aren't actually missing?" Fred asked with a laugh. "They're just invisible to me, the person actually looking?"
"Sort of," I said. "It's more like...say you lose something physical. Your wand, for example. You know it's in your shop or flat somewhere. You know you had it not long ago. It was just there a moment ago. You could've sworn it was on the table. But nevertheless, it's missing. You drive yourself crazy looking for it. And then someone else comes in and finds it within a second. Most likely in a place you'd already checked about ten times."
Fred laughed. "Are you saying you know where all my missing pieces are?"
"I'm saying that I see how naturally making people laugh comes to you. I'm saying I see how amazing your mind is to be so quick-witted and to come up with all the inventions you do. I'm saying that I've seen you joking effortlessly and genuinely-in my opinion, anyway-since the day I met you. I see it all. It's there."
"How?" Fred asked. "How can you see it so clearly?"
"The same way you can see parts of me that I couldn't see. You made that observation about me being closed off but not shy. You point out my own humor when it does come out. You see parts of me that I didn't even know I had anymore. Parts I'd stopped looking for."
Fred didn't say anything for a while. In fact, he didn't say anything until we reached the house and I'd said my goodbyes to everyone and grabbed my things. It wasn't until we were walking out the front door that he spoke.
"Want to hear something crazy?" He asked.
"I'm not sure," I said with a slight smile. "Depends on how crazy it is."
"I'm selling George to the local Muggle circus," Fred said. "He's going to be an acrobat."
I let out a breath of laughter. "I'd pay to see that."
Fred grinned. "So you think I could really make a profit off of this, then?"
I rolled my eyes. "So, what were you really going to say?"
Fred shrugged. "Just that right now, my mind oddly feels the clearest it's been in a long time. I still wish I could find Percy's badge, though."
I smiled sadly at him as we caught up to George, who was waiting out by the front fence. "It'll turn up," I assured him.
"Unless it actually was buried with him. In which case, it's gone for good. Although..." he trailed off and smiled thoughtfully.
"You're not going to rob the grave of your own brother," I said.
"You didn't tell me you could read minds!" Fred said, nudging me.
I looked at George. "Will you please tell your brother he's incorrigible?"
"Tell him yourself," George laughed.
I looked back at Fred. "You're incorrigible."
"Thanks," Fred replied earnestly. "I really appreciate the feedback. I'm always looking for ways I could improve."
A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it. Fred's already wide smile seemed to widen even more at the sound.
I let out a happy sigh and stepped forward to link my arm through Fred's so that we could Apparate together. "Come on, let's get me home before Tom and Martha start to worry."
The following Thursday night, I found myself at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, hanging out in the shop and waiting for closing time. My shift at the Leaky Cauldron that day had ended at four and I'd gone for a walk down the alley-a walk that ended at the joke shop. I'd decided to go in, then I'd gotten asked to stay for dinner afterwards, and I'd found myself agreeing.
"So, what is for dinner anyway?" I asked Fred as I leaned up against the shelf he was restocking. The box on the floor in front of him read Trick Wands-Chicken and he was pulling them out by the handful before setting them up on the shelf. "And what other types of trick wands do you have besides ones that turn into rubber chickens?" I gestured to the box with my chin.
"We have ones that turn into fish, worms, snakes, regular old tree twigs, and George and I are working on a vegetable variety next. Carrots and cucumbers to start off with."
"Seriously?" I snorted.
"Seriously," Fred answered with a wink. "And to answer your question about dinner, we're ordering out tonight. How do you feel about the Leaky Cauldron?"
"Oh, I don't know," I sighed. "I've heard it's rubbish. And the staff there..." I let a puff of air out of my mouth and shook my head. "I've heard they're real pieces of work."
"Mm," Fred said, looking at me and nodding seriously. "Especially that one blue-eyed American girl. I hear she does a lousy job cleaning up those tables. And what was it my gang of Slytherin pals said? She's unfriendly and...oh, yes-slow."
I grabbed a trick wand from the box and tossed it at him. He tried to duck, but it still bounced off his shoulder, turning into a rubber chicken with a very realistic squawking sound.
"Watch it," he said with a laugh.
I was giggling as well, but it suddenly died in my throat as I looked up and made eye contact with a woman across the room. The woman from the shop in Hogsmeade. The woman who'd slipped me the necklace.
"Fred," I breathed, standing up straighter, my eyes still locked on the woman's.
"What?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
"She's here."
"Who's here?" He turned and began looking around the shop, craning his neck to see who I was looking at.
"The woman who gave me that necklace."
"Where?" Fred asked. Suddenly, he was a hundred times more interested in looking around the shop. I thought his head was going to pop right off his neck from the way he was stretching it. At the very least, he was certainly going to pull a muscle.
"Over by the display of those shoes that silence the wearer's footsteps," shooting him an anxious look. The last thing I wanted was for the mystery woman to notice him gawking at her.
"Ah, yes, the Sneaky Sneakers," Fred said proudly. He winced as I nudged him sharply and then craned his neck again to look over by the display. "Are you talking about the lady who is blatantly staring at you?"
"Mhm," I said. "Although, that's pretty hysterical coming from the guy who is blatantly staring back at her."
Fred didn't answer me. Instead, he gazed at the woman for a moment before sending me a devious look and took off across the room.
"Fred, what are you doing?" I hissed, jogging to keep up with his quick pace and long strides.
"Going to talk to her and ask what her issue is," Fred answered. "If we want some answers, we have to work for them, you know. We can't just keep waiting for her to show up and actually say something to you."
"But-hang on-" I protested. Everything was going so fast. I had no idea what Fred was planning on saying to this woman. I'd only just spotted her and would have much rather spent some time actually formulating what I'd say.
"Sophie," Fred said, "sometimes you have to just act and not think. Sometimes the best things happen without being planned."
"Fred," I started to protest again, but by now we were closing in on the mystery lady, who suddenly turned on her heel and began hurrying away.
"Damnit," Fred muttered, speeding up himself and trying to catch up to her. I followed him, practically at a full blown panic by now. We weaved in and out of displays, shelves and customers and I began to think we'd actually lose the woman in the crowd. And suddenly, I felt myself feeling disappointed at the thought.
But finally, Fred managed to catch up to the woman just as she was nearing the door. A large group of teenagers had come in, slowing the woman down in her attempt to leave.
Fred reached out and gently touched her arm. "Excuse me," he said. The woman turned to look up at him just as I reached them myself, her light blue eyes staring into his own.
She raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" she asked as Fred faltered, suddenly seeming unsure of what to say now that he had her attention. I smiled smugly from behind him.
"The best things happen without being planned, huh?" I asked.
Fred nudged me and fought back a smirk, but he kept his eyes on the mystery woman. He cleared his throat. "I just noticed you were leaving in quite a hurry and that you're also very empty handed."
The woman glanced at me for a split second before turning back to Fred and smiling slightly. "Yes, I suppose so," she said.
"There wasn't a problem, was there?" Fred asked. "It's just that as owner of this shop, it's my duty to make sure customers are satisfied with their visit. Customer satisfaction is very important to me and my brother." He beamed charismatically.
"Yes, I'd expect it would be," the woman said with a raised eyebrow. "Seeing as without customers, you wouldn't have a business to run."
"Right," Fred said, glancing at me and raising his eyebrows as I simply shrugged. "But that doesn't mean my concern isn't genuine."
"Of course not," the woman said distractedly, looking over her shoulder at the door. "Not what I was implying at all. Listen, I appreciate the concern, but I've really got to get going. I'm just in a rush." She glanced at the door again.
"Wait," Fred, reaching out to stop her. "The thing is...my friend Sophie here needs to ask you something."
"Fred, what-no!" I tried to shuffle behind him, but he grabbed my arm and dragged me forward.
"Ask her!" he hissed as I continued to try and squirm out of his grip.
"Let me go," I said, my voice quiet, but also steady. Immediately, Fred released my arm.
"Sorry," he said. He tilted his head towards the woman. "Go on," he said gently.
I shot him a look before turning back towards the woman, who was looking at us quizzically. "I saw you in a shop in Hogsmeade," I began. "About two months ago now, actually. You talked to me about a necklace...and then I went home to find that necklace in my bag. I tried to return it to the shop, but they said it didn't belong to them. So I'm just wondering...well, I'm wondering a lot actually."
The woman smiled slightly and gazed at me with the oddest mix of expressions on her face. She was looking at me thoughtfully and almost fondly and with a little bit of sadness. "I'm sure you are, dear," she whispered.
"Well?" Fred asked, looking at her expectantly. "Can't you give her any answers? Like why you'd slip her a necklace? Where it came from in the first place? Why you're here now, staring at her from across the shop?"
"Did you keep the necklace?" the woman asked, looking at me and ignoring Fred's questions.
I nodded. "Only after Fred's brother tested it for curses and jinxes."
"Thoroughly," Fred added, staring the woman up and down with a scrutinizing look.
She looked surprised. "Really? And what'd he find?"
"Nothing," Fred said. "Which means you weren't trying to curse her." Fred tilted his head towards me. "At least not with the necklace. So what's the deal?"
"Interesting," the woman said thoughtfully.
"Interesting?" Fred repeated. "That it came back curse free? Was it not supposed to?"
The woman ignored him again and looked at me again. "Have you worn it yet?"
"No," I said.
"Ah." She stared at me, nodding slowly. She looked as if she wanted to say something else, but at the same time, was afraid to open her mouth. "I really should get going," she finally said.
"Hold on, you haven't given us any answers!" Fred exclaimed.
"Everything will make sense in time," she said with a tiny smile, backing towards the door. "I can't say much, but..." She trailed off and stared at me again, that odd, thoughtful look on her face again. "I'm hoping you'll understand everything on your own very soon. That necklace will help. And the diary."
"So you did give Sophie the diary!" Fred exclaimed.
The woman hesitated. Then, she nodded once and looked at me. "Yes, I did give the diary to you. I promise it'll all make sense. If you want to understand your past, the diary and the necklace are where you should start."
Fred and I both gaped at her and she stared back at us, almost nervously, before turning on her heels and dashing out the door.
"What in the name of Merlin's beard was that all about?" Fred asked, staring after her.
I, however, barely heard him. Something had caught my eye as the woman had dashed away from us. Something fluttering towards the ground. I bent down and picked up the worn, rectangular shaped paper. It had landed on the wooden floor facedown and as I stood back up, examining it, I could see that it had been ripped into pieces and taped back together. On top of that, it was worn, smudged, old and wrinkled. Frowning, I flipped it over and felt my skin prickle, my stomach drop and my blood nearly run cold.
"What's that?" Fred asked, peering over my shoulder. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Is that a postcard? Of an ice rink?"
I felt the blood draining from my face and I was sure I was going to faint. I wasn't even aware that I'd suddenly become unsteady on my feet until I felt one of Fred's hands on my arm and the other around my waist.
"Woah, what's going on? You okay?"
"No," I muttered. "I have to get out of here, Fred." It felt like the shop was suddenly closing in on me, despite the high ceilings and how spacious the room was. The noise, the colors, everything was suddenly too much. I would have started to run, if I felt like I could without falling.
"Come on," Fred murmured. He gently led me into the back workroom and once we were out of sight from the storefront, he swiftly put one arm at my back and the other behind my knees, sweeping me into his arms and carrying me up the stairs to the flat. Wordlessly, he set me down on the couch and waved his wand a few times. Seconds later, a glass of water flew in from the kitchen. He caught it and handed it to me.
"Thanks," I whispered, gratefully taking a sip. I closed my eyes and rested the side of my head against the back of the couch, relaxing the rest of my body into the armrest.
"What the hell happened down there?" Fred asked. His voice was quiet, but concerned.
"That woman," I said. "She dropped this." I held out the postcard to him.
"Right. The postcard," he said, taking it from me and studying it. He finally looked back up at me. "Is this significant to you?"
I nodded. "Remember the night you gave me the necklace back and I ran after you and came here, to the flat? Remember what I told you about my first foster home and how they couldn't afford ice skates?"
Fred looked at me thoughtfully for a moment before his eyes lit up with a spark of understanding. "You said they gave you a postcard of an ice rink instead."
I nodded again. "I kept it until shortly after I arrived at my most recent foster home, but by then I was so worn down and angry and tired of not being wanted that I ripped that postcard up into a bunch of little pieces." I leaned forward and reached out to where Fred's hand, still holding the postcard, rested on his knee. I slowly traced the lines of where the postcard had once been ripped. "I ripped it up and I threw it away."
"But the postcard-the photo on it-" Fred said. "It was this one? This exact photo? This exact ice rink?"
"Mm. It's the one in New York City. The one I've always wanted to go to. That image is etched in my memory at this point, whether I want it to be or not."
"But for this postcard to be the same one-for it to be here now-taped together. For that woman to have it. That's-that's impossible."
"Clearly not," I said. I furiously leaned back into the arm of the couch and let out a frustrated sigh. "You probably think I'm insane."
Fred was quiet for a moment. "No," he finally said quietly, looking down at the postcard. "I don't. I believe you. And I think there's something strange about that woman for sure-something I want to help you figure out. The thing is, I don't think she wants to hurt you, so I don't think you need to be afraid."
I swallowed and used my index finger to wipe away some of the condensation from my water glass. "Then why am I afraid, Fred?" I asked. "And when is it going to just...stop? When is everything going to just stop and make sense?"
Fred let out a long sigh and shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself. But if I find out, I'll give you a shout, yeah?"
The corner of my mouth twitched into a small smile as I peered up at him. "Please do. I'd like that."
Fred let out a breath of laughter and broke into a smile as he held out his hand. "It's a deal." He met my eyes and smiled wider. "It's customary to shake it. See, there are many forms of handshakes. I've already tried to offer you a handshake in both a greeting and an offer to help you up from the floor. I also tried to make a deal with you the last time you were here. It's funny-you seemed to just stare at me wordlessly in those situations as well, so I'm really beginning to think Americans aren't familiar with any form of handshake."
"No, we don't," I said, trying to keep a straight face. "We do have obscene gestures, though. I've seen plenty of those."
Fred laughed. "And yet, I haven't seen or heard anything obscene come from you once."
"Yeah, well..." I trailed off and shrugged before looking back at Fred and smiling. "For the record, I prefer handshakes." I extended my hand out to him. Fred stared at it for a moment before taking it, his hand gently enveloping mine. Neither one of us spoke or moved for a second.
"While I do appreciate a well deserved and well executed obscene gesture," Fred said, "the complete ladies man in me appreciates any excuse to hold hands with a girl." His mouth twitched into a smile as winked at me.
I groaned and pulled my hand away, covering my face as I laughed.
"Glad to see you've cheered up a little," Fred said a moment later as our laughter slowed. He cleared his throat. "Do you still want to stay for dinner?"
I thought about it for a second. "Yeah, I do, actually."
Fred nodded and checked his watch. "We close up the shop in another thirty minutes. Do you want to come back down with me or stay up here? I could stay with you..."
I shook my head. "I'll wait here, but you can go help George close up. Don't make the poor guy do it all by himself."
"You sure?"
I nodded. "Go."
Fred discarded the postcard on the table before standing up and heading for the door. "If you need anything, yell for me, okay?"
"Got it," I said. I held out my hand. "You want to shake on it again? Another reason to hold my hand?"
Fred snorted. "Remember when I told you I appreciated a well deserved obscene gesture?"
"You wouldn't," I gasped, fighting back a laugh.
Fred responded by giving me a slow, devious smirk, holding up a fist, and slowly raising his middle finger. I grabbed a pillow off of the couch and flung it at him as he practically cackled with laughter and darted through the doorway.
I collapsed back into the arm of the couch with a sigh. My eyes drifted back over to the postcard lying on the coffee table and I ran a hand through my hair as I stared at it. Fred was right. It sounded impossible that it could be the same postcard that I'd owned all those years ago, but I was sure it was. I just knew it. I had so many questions as far as this mystery woman was involved and talking to her today had gotten me nowhere. In fact, she might have asked me more questions than I'd asked her. And yet, she seemed so hopeful and sure that I'd understand everything at some point.
The thought seemed so impossible, and yet so many other things that I'd thought impossible had happened, especially lately. I'd thought it impossible that I could let myself get comfortable with anyone. I'd thought it impossible that I could get close to anyone. I'd thought it impossible for me to have a family or friends. I'd been starting to think being happy again was impossible. I'd started to think finding answers about my past was now impossible.
It was all so scary and there was no way of knowing if it would ever get less scary. But it was still comforting to know that I wasn't the only one who was scared. I wasn't the only one trying to figure things out. Fred was in quite a similar boat and it felt good to know that if I ever needed him, I could, in his words, yell for him, and he'd be there.
I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had that option.
A/N: I hope everyone likes the new chapter! Don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you thought! It's always much appreciated!
I hope everyone has a good holiday/holiday season and a great New Year!