Angel Wings

by alb925

Sophie McConnell wants to start over and forget her past. Putting enough distance between herself and her old life seems like the perfect solution. But even miles away from home, Sophie can't shake the feeling that her past is following her, bringing with it ancient family secrets that even she didn't know about. Will the past destroy her or can Sophie find the courage to face it?

21. Chapter 21

In a matter of seconds after I'd screamed, Kyle came rushing out of the kitchen door to find me crouched on the ground again, gasping for air and still shaking.

"Sophie?" He asked, his voice panicked as he crouched down beside me and gently put a hand on my arm. "Sophie, what happened?"

His voice sounded far away, but I forced myself to look up at him. I couldn't even bring myself to speak. Instead, I blinked up at him almost dumbly, hoping he'd just look up and see what was wrong so that I didn't have to explain it myself.

"Kyle..." I managed to get out, my voice a whisper as I looked up at him.

"What happened?"

All I could do was shake my head. I couldn't bring myself to answer him. I couldn't say the words out loud. That Noah was dead.

Luckily, my silence forced Kyle to look around and take in the scene to figure out what had me so freaked out. It only took him a second.

"Shit," he muttered, his eyes falling on Noah's body lying across the alley. "Shit!"

Martha came running out of the door just then, nearly tripping over the both of us, still knelt by the door. "Kyle? What's going on?"

He didn't need to answer. Martha noticed what had happened a lot quicker than Kyle had and she covered her mouth as a muffled, pained cry escaped her.

"Go get Tom," Kyle said firmly. When Martha didn't move, her eyes still staring over at Noah and her hands still over her mouth, Kyle looked up at her. "Martha-go!"

In an instant, she'd turned on her heel and raced back into the pub.

"Come on," Kyle said to me, "let's get you out of the doorway." He helped me to my feet and led me over to a stack of crates near the side of the building. I sat down and Kyle kept an arm around my shoulders. I didn't mind, oddly enough.

I did everything I could not to look across the alleyway at Noah. I still felt sick to my stomach. Wobbly, nauseous, terrified, lightheaded. I could avoid looking over at him all I wanted, but the image was already burned into my mind. His unblinking stare, his pale skin, the dirt that covered his face. The blood dripping from his nose and also from the back of his head. There were marks on his neck as well. It was almost too much to take in.

"Soph, what happened?" Kyle asked me quietly.

I opened and closed my mouth, the words unable to come out. "I don't know," I whispered. "I just found him like that! Behind the bins." And then I turned my face into Kyle's chest and started sobbing. He tightened his grip on my shoulders and began running a hand up and down my arm.

"I know," he whispered. "I know. Let it out."

A second later, a burst of noise came from the door. It was Tom, as well as the twins. Nobody seemed to mind this time around-understandably-that the twins had cut through the kitchen again in order to get out here.

"Merlin's beard!" Tom exclaimed, his eyes going wide as he took in the scene. The twins seemed shocked into silence as well, but Tom recovered first and rounded on me. "Sophie, what happened?" he asked, kneeling in front of me. He urgently reached out to grab my hand, but I pulled away and stood up, suddenly feeling like there were too many people that were too close to me. I backed away from everyone, wrapping my arms around myself and trying my best to steady my breathing as I shook my head over and over, refusing to speak.

"Sophie," Kyle said, reaching out for me, but I pulled away.

"You have to tell us what happened!" Tom demanded.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes as another sob escaped my lips. "I can't," I whispered.

"Woah, hang on," I heard Fred say, holding up a hand to stop Tom from saying anything else. "Just give her some space for a second. Martha's alerting Kingsley and the other Order members, isn't she? Let's have Sophie explain this once and only once." He squeezed by Tom and slowly came to stand in front of me. "Sophie?" he asked, gently taking my hands and lowering them from my face. I let him, but still refused to look up from the ground.

"I have to leave, Fred," I said quickly, hiccupping through my tears as I swiped at my face. "I have to go. I have to get out of here. Enough is enough! I-"

"Absolutely not!" Tom said loudly. "You're not going anywhere!"

"Tom," Fred said as I flinched.

"No," Tom went on, his volume quieter, but his voice still firm. "Nobody is leaving right now. The only place Sophie is going later is to the Burrow, as planned. But not until Kingsley, the Order, and the magical law enforcement team get here and she talks to them. She can't go anywhere until she gives them a statement about what she found."

Fred turned back to me with a sigh. "He's right, Soph. You can't just go running off without talking to them. It would look-"

"Like I had something to do with it?" I whispered.

"Well, it wouldn't look good," Fred said. "Look, we all trust you. Even Kingsley trusts you. But if you ran off...it would make other people suspicious. The magical law enforcement department still has their own job to do, you know? They're the ones who typically look into these cases. That's why the department exists. The Minister of Magic can't look into every one personally, you see." He smiled slightly, but there was still not really any humor in it.

I shot him an exasperated look. "Why is he looking into this particular case, then?" I asked.

"Because he's also a member of the Order," Fred said. "And it's a lot safer and easier for you if the Order handles what's happening instead of the Ministry."

"Tom told me the Order of the Phoenix was created to fight against Voldemort and Death Eaters," I argued. "Eric is neither, so I don't understand-"

"Soph, between you and me," Fred interrupted, "sometimes the Order is a lot quicker than the Magical Law Enforcement at tracking down these kinds of people. That's why Kingsley decided to keep the Order intact after the war. There are still threats out there. Not as many, but they still exist."

"You're saying that the Order of the Phoenix is better at catching criminals than your own Ministry of Magic?" I asked, looking up at him skeptically.

"Not better necessarily," Fred shrugged. "Just quicker. The magical law enforcement has to go through more avenues and procedures and even paperwork. It takes longer. Besides, the Order usually has more personal ties to cases. They'll have your best interests at heart. With the magical law enforcement, you're just another case to them. Another day at work. That's why the Order is a better fit for you. I always thought so and Tom and Martha clearly thought so, too."

"But the Magical Law Enforcement team is coming now," I said. "They're about to get involved whether we like it or not."

"Yeah, because there's been a murder, Soph. They need to investigate that no matter what. But as far as how it relates to you, that's where Kingsley is going to get involved."

Before I could say anything else, Martha came back outside. "They're on their way," she said, looking around at everyone. She crossed over to where Tom was standing and lowered her voice. "There were only two or three tables of guests out front, but I've told them there's been a family emergency and that we were shutting down for the night right away. Luckily, they were pretty much finished and didn't put up a fight. In any case, the front is emptied out now."

"Good," Tom said, nodding. "Did you send the staff home?"

Martha sighed. "I tried. Most of them listened, but-"

The back door suddenly opened again and this time, Rachel, Kayla and Allie rushed outside. Martha looked at Tom in slight exasperation, as if to finish her sentence. I got it. Of course the girls wouldn't leave. They'd know something was very wrong if Martha was suddenly sending everyone home.

"What's happened?" Rachel asked. "What are we sending everyone home for? What's the emergency? Is everyone alright?"

"Girls, go back inside," Tom said with a sigh, stepping in front of Rachel to block her view of the alley, and Noah's body. "You don't need to be out here. There are quite enough people out here already, and there's been a-"

"No," Rachel insisted. "We're not going back inside and we're not leaving. Martha wouldn't tell us anything-she just came up to me and told me there'd been an emergency and we were shutting down right away. You can't just say that and expect us to not be worried!" She suddenly stopped abruptly. "Is it Sophie? Is she okay?" She looked around and suddenly saw me, standing there with my face red, puffy and covered with tears. "Sophie, what's going on? What happened?" She started to make her way towards me, but then Allie let out a scream as she noticed Noah's body lying across the alley.

Kayla noticed as well and let out a string of curse words as her eyes widened. "Holy fucking shit," she breathed, her hands going up to cover her mouth.

Rachel whirled around at their outbursts, her eyes falling on Noah, and I saw her mouth drop.

"No!" she cried, clapping her hands to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. She looked around as if she expected one of us to tell her it wasn't true. No one moved. "That can't be Noah. It's not him." She let out a laugh-it was entirely too high pitched-and shook her head rapidly. "There's no way. He was fine the other day." She looked around at us again and her face fell as she took in all of our somber expressions. "He's not dead! He can't be!" she cried. "He's fine! He's fine...right?" She turned to Martha. "Martha?" she whispered tearfully.

"I'm sorry, honey," Martha whispered. "I know the two of you were good friends..."

"He's not dead!" Rachel screamed, lunging for Noah, but Tom grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back as she continued to scream and fight him. "Noah!" she screamed, her voice strained with tears. "Noah!"

I turned away and closed my eyes as I leaned against the wall, resting my head on the cool brick.

"Hey," Fred murmured, reaching out for me, but I pulled away.

"Don't, Fred," I whispered, feeling as if I could throw up again. "Please don't touch me."

"You don't look so good," Fred said quietly, his eyes wandering over my face.

"Really?" I snapped, opening my eyes and shooting him a glare. "I wonder why."

Fred pulled back a bit and shot me a look of irritation, but then his expression softened and he sighed. I saw him look over his shoulder, following my gaze to where Rachel was now sobbing into Kayla's shoulder as Martha quietly told them what had happened so far.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, glancing at him quickly. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"Don't worry about it," Fred answered, shaking his head. "I get it."

There was a moment of silence between us before I spoke. "I should never have come here," I whispered, my voice coming out feeble and dull sounding. I was still staring at Rachel, watching as she continued to cry. I couldn't help but feel as if it were my fault.

Fred turned to look at me, almost stonily. "You know, if you hadn't come here," he said, "that could've been you lying dead in an alleyway."

"Maybe it should've been," I answered, still gazing over at Rachel. "This is between me and Eric. There isn't any reason why anyone else should be getting in the way."

"Okay, first of all," Fred said, his voice firm as he fully turned towards me, "we don't know for sure if Eric was behind this."

I scoffed and finally averted my gaze from Rachel so that I could look at Fred. "Of course it's him, Fred."

"Secondly," Fred plowed on, ignoring me "even if it was Eric, it does not mean, under any circumstances, that you should've died in Noah's place. You were so keen on telling me that I shouldn't have died in place of Percy, weren't you? So now I'm telling you."

"I guess," I answered stonily. "But I also told you that if you had died instead of Percy, people would still be left grieving you instead of him as well. I don't have anyone. No one would be grieving me."

"Bullshit, Sophie," Fred snapped. He gestured around the alley with a sweep of his arm. "Look around! Stop feeling sorry for yourself and look the fuck around. These people care about you! I care about you! And it's high time you stopped pushing us away and pretending that we don't. It's time you stop trying to assume how everyone feels. And it's time that you finally start caring about yourself."

I gaped at him, at a loss for words. "Fred-"

"No, do not argue with me," he demanded. "Everything's changed, whether you like it or not. You have a family now. You have people willing to show up for you because we care. We want to protect you, and we can't do that if you keep trying to run. So you should stay here and let us help you!"

I was prevented from answering by Kingsley suddenly arriving with a group of about five wizards from the magical law enforcement department. They all immediately went to Noah's body, and began circling it, taking photos and searching for any evidence they could find on site. The back alley of the Leaky Cauldron had become an official crime scene.

The wizards from the magical law enforcement department immediately began circling Noah's body, making notes and taking photos. I saw Kingsley briefly wince at the sight of Noah's body, but the others remained completely straight-faced. I decided that was almost worse than seeing the way Rachel had reacted. How could these people have no reaction at all? How could they not be bothered? I knew they weren't entirely unfamiliar with death and crime scenes. I understood that this was their job. But Noah was a person. A wonderful, sweet, amazing, innocent person.

It suddenly felt as if there were too many people crowded into one space and too much noise as well. Flashbulbs were going off from the cameras as they clicked, one after the other. The murmuring of voices felt like a buzz in my ear. I felt like my skin was crawling and I was getting overwhelmed by it all again. By the people, by the grief, by the noise. I started to feel lightheaded and I leaned against the wall even more for support, practically sagging against it as one of my hands went to my head. I needed to get inside. Taking a deep breath, I pushed off of the wall, the world seeming to spin as I did so.

"Fred..." I whispered. He turned, took one look at me, and immediately reached out to steady me. I was too lightheaded to even flinch away from his touch.

"Do you need to get out of here?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yeah," I whispered.

"Okay." He turned to Kingsley, keeping his hand on my arm. "Kingsley, can I take Sophie inside? Away from all the noise?"

"No," Kingsley replied. "Keep her out here until we can get statements from everyone."

"I'd just take her in the kitchen where it's quiet," Fred persisted. "She's traumatized-freaking out, actually. Look at her-she just needs some space."

Kingsley glanced at me and his stony, anxious expression softened slightly. He didn't answer right away. Or maybe he did, but I didn't hear it. The chaos and commotion was continuing to buzz around me, but it all felt a million worlds away again. The walls of the alley were closing in on me and I felt claustrophobic and dizzy. The alleyway seemed to spin for a second and then I was falling. Someone's arms grabbed me and that was the last thing I remembered.

---

I was running through the woods, gasping for air. My feet were bare and covered in scrapes and blood. My shirt was ripped and the slashes on my back stung. My lungs ached and so did my legs, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. Or else he'd get me.

Twigs and branches snapped as I ran. Leaves rustled and dirt flew up in the wake of my quickly moving feet. Blood pounded in my ears. I could have sworn I heard footsteps behind me-gaining on me. So I ran faster, ignoring the ache in my lungs. Branches kept snapping, leaves kept rustling and blood kept pounding in my ears. But then every sound seemed to stop as my feet collided with something in my path, pitching me forward onto the ground with a thud and and 'oof' sound that escaped from my mouth. I winced as I rolled over and sat up, looking at what I'd tripped over. When I did, I immediately scurried backwards.

Noah's pale, dirty face, stared back at me, his brown eyes unblinking as blood dripped from his nose as well as the scratch on his cheek. There were marks on his neck and blood was pooling on the ground from a spot on the back of his head. Just like in the alleyway. I let out a cry of anguish and tried to stand up to get away from the horrific scene in front of me, but as I did, Noah's hand shot out and grabbed my ankle, pulling me back down. I let out a cry and turned to see that it wasn't Noah anymore, but Eric, holding that gleaming knife and wearing a sneer on his face.

"You're next," he said. And then he lunged for me.

I screamed.

---

I sat bolt upright, gasping desperately for air.

"Sophie!"

I made out the form of someone moving to my left and sitting on the side of the bed, lightly resting their hand on my own clammy one. I was drenched in sweat and shaking uncontrollably.

"It was only a nightmare! It's not real, darling, it's not real."

A hand was on my cheek now as I continued to suck in breath after breath. I closed my eyes again and placed my hand over the other person's hand that was on my face. Once I'd gotten some control over my breathing, I turned my head to see Mrs. Weasley sitting beside me. I whimpered as I met her eyes before lowering my hand from hers and taking in another shaky breath.

"You're okay," she whispered, stroking my cheek, both her tone and her touch gentle and comforting. "You're at the Burrow—in my son, Charlie's old room, in fact."

I swallowed thickly and looked around as I collapsed backwards into the pillows. The room was average sized, and complete with the bed I was lying in, a dresser, a desk, and a window overlooking what appeared to be the back yard. A few photos remained on the dresser and a couple of Quidditch posters hung on the wall. A box in the corner was labeled Clothes. Another box on top of it read Quidditch Gear.

"I passed out, didn't I?" I asked Mrs. Weasley, my voice hoarse.

"You did," she nodded. "Everyone's been worried. Fred sat with you most of the night, but he and George had to leave this morning for work. Ginny and I have been taking it in turns sitting with you ever since. You've been tossing and turning and crying out in your sleep almost the entire time."

"How long have I been out?" I asked in slight horror.

"Almost a whole day," she said. "Probably around seventeen hours to be exact. It's early afternoon on Thursday."

I groaned and buried my head in my hands. I'd just told everyone the other day how I wasn't afraid to get involved with any of the hard stuff while dealing with Eric, but now I'd gone and fainted and been completely out of it for almost a whole day! I must have seemed so pathetic.

"Kingsley wanted to speak to you the second you woke up," Mrs. Weasley went on. "I was supposed to alert him immediately, but I think I'll wait a little bit to give you some time. I'm sure you're starving. I'll go make you some lunch, you can eat and then we'll call Kingsley. Is that all right?"

I looked at her. I really didn't feel in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment, but I supposed I didn't have much of a choice. I didn't have any choice, really. Finally, I just shrugged one shoulder. "Sure. That's fine."

"I know this is all too much at once and I know the last thing you want to do right now is talk about what happened," Mrs. Weasley said. "But you have to tell him."

"I know," I answered quietly, nodding my head. I knew she was right, no matter how much I didn't want her to be.

"Kingsley is wonderful, as I'm sure you've realized already," Mrs. Weasley went on. "He's very patient and he'll make sure you feel comfortable."

I nodded. "I know," I said again.

There was a beat of silence as Mrs. Weasley ran a hand over my head, her touch just as gentle and motherly as it had been when she'd touched my cheek earlier. "I'll go fix you something to eat," she said softly, giving my hand a squeeze and standing up. "Fred and George are working, like I said, but they'll be around later. I'll write them, though, and let them know you've woken up. They wanted to know the second you did." She paused. "Ginny's here, too. I'm sure she'll want to stop in and visit if it's okay with you."

I shrugged again. "Okay."

"And please, if you need anything-anything at all-don't hesitate to let one of us know."

I nodded. "Thank you."

Mrs. Weasley stared at me a moment before giving me a tiny smile and leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

Not long after she had left, I found that I actually didn't like being left alone with my own thoughts. Being alone allowed me to picture Noah's lifeless body in my mind. It allowed me to replay the events of the last few days over and over again. It was driving me mad. But actually talking about it was just as bad.

A second later, there was a soft knock on the door. I looked up to see Ginny slowly opening it and peering inside.

"Can I come in?" She asked quietly.

"Sure," I whispered, feeling glad to see her. It meant I didn't have to be alone anymore. It had started to become unbearable.

Ginny slipped into the room, shut the door behind her and came to sit in the desk chair that Mrs. Weasley had moved to the side of the bed and had been sitting in earlier. Ginny sat down in it slowly as if she were afraid of disturbing me.

"How are you?" she asked before grimacing. "Sorry. Stupid question. I know the answer-you must feel like shit." She grimaced a second time. "Sorry. Again. For being so blunt. Mum says there must be a catapult inside my head because my thoughts sometimes get flung out without me thinking them through." She let out a snort of laughter. "If that's true, then Fred and George have the same problem." She suddenly stopped and cleared her throat. "I've also just been rambling."

I actually smiled slightly as I stared at her. "It's okay. I know you must not know what to say to me. A lot's happened, it's weird, my life is weird..."

Ginny snorted. "If by weird, you mean you've experienced tragedy, then I know all about what being weird is like." When I didn't answer, she changed the subject. "Mum's making you quite an impressive lunch downstairs. I hope you're hungry."

"Um...yeah, I am actually," I said, suddenly realizing just how true the statement actually was. As if to prove my point, my stomach let out a loud growl. I blushed and clamped my hands over it as Ginny giggled.

"Don't worry, that won't be an issue anymore once Mum's done cooking."

I looked down at my hands as we sat there in silence for a moment. "So...have I missed anything in my day of being pathetic?" I finally asked.

"You're not pathetic," Ginny argued. "You've experienced a traumatic few days."

I shook my head. "I told everyone the other day that I wasn't afraid to help deal with Eric and I meant it. But now I look like I can't even handle—"

"Handle seeing someone that was not only your friend but someone you'd been dating lying dead in an alleyway?" Ginny asked. When she saw me flinch she gave me an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Like I said: catapult. No filter. But my point is that this is not something that's easy to deal with. And when you count what happened at Noah's house the other day, it's a lot for one person to take all at once."

"I thought I was stronger than that," I said quietly, staring down at my hands.

Ginny was quiet for a moment. "You must think I'm pretty weak then."

I looked up at her in surprise. "What do you mean? Why would I think that?"

"After Percy died, I didn't sleep for a week," Ginny explained. "I couldn't get the image of him lying there dead out of my mind. It haunted me. It was almost engrained in my mind. I saw it every time I closed my eyes."

"That's how it's been for me with Noah," I admitted in a whisper.

Ginny nodded. "Mum could be heard crying herself to sleep night after night. Wailing actually. It's not a joking matter, but she almost rivaled the ghoul that's in the attic. Dad would stare off into the distance absentmindedly and got quieter than usual. And this was just all in the first week or two. We've gotten better, but we're still healing. I still sometimes sit there and think...Percy's really gone. He's actually dead. And I get angry at the unfairness of it all. So angry I could throw something. Mum still cries sometimes. They haven't gone through any of his old stuff yet. All they've managed to do is pack it in boxes and put it in the shed, and even that took months for them to get to. Sometimes when dad sits out there, he goes through it. Ron and I once found him just sitting in there holding one of Percy's sweaters that Mum knits for the family every Christmas. He was just sitting there, holding it, tracing his finger over the big, orange P in the center. P for prat, Fred and George used to say."

"Ginny..." I said quietly, unsure of what to say.

"And then Fred...you know what he's gone through. You know how hard he took it. He was in St. Mungo's for a bit afterwards for his dislocated and broken bones. He wasn't there long, but he had such horrible nightmares every night he was there, that the Healers thought something else was happening to him health-wise. They'd all come rushing in when they heard his screams, thinking he was in pain. But he wasn't—at least not physically. The emotional pain was just unbearable. Merlin, Sophie, he was practically trying to drown himself in the pond out back. If you think you're pathetic, what must you think of us? We've all done a lot more than pass out in the face of grief."

"None of you are pathetic or weak," I said firmly. "You've been through something awful and even though it's hard and you still have your moments, you keep picking yourself up and you keep fighting."

"And so have you. That's what you've done your whole life. And you'll do it now. You experienced a loss and you reacted. It might stay with you the rest of your life, in fact it definitely will. But you'll pick yourself up and fight. No one blames you for falling down, but we might if you don't get back up." She smiled at me wryly. "That's what strength is. It's not having zero reaction to things, but continuing on in spite of them."

I took in a long, deep breath before letting it out. "You're right," I said. "You're totally right."

Ginny smiled wider, but before she could answer, Mrs. Weasley appeared with a tray full of food.

"Please tell me half of this is for Ginny," I said in disbelief.

"You haven't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours," Mrs. Weasley said. "You need food in your stomach."

She set the tray down and I closed my eyes and sighed as the scent of the food reached my nose. It smelled wonderful, I had to admit.

My stomach let out another growl and despite my initial shock of how much I'd been given, I was suddenly feeling capable of eating it all.

"This is so good, Mrs. Weasley," I said after taking a few bites. "Thanks...really."

"Don't mention it, dear," she said with a smile. After a second, it faded slightly. "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged one shoulder. "Physically, I feel fine. Just a little tired. Emotionally, though, that's another story."

Mrs. Weasley nodded slowly. "I'm sorry you had to see what you saw yesterday. It's a terrible feeling, seeing someone you care about..." She trailed off and cleared her throat.

I nodded. "I know."

Mrs. Weasley seemed to get that I didn't want to talk about it and she let me finish my lunch before she cleared the plates away and left to go alert Kingsley that I was awake. Once she'd left the room, I buried my head in my hands and groaned.

"I don't want to do this," I whispered to Ginny. I looked up at her. "I don't want to talk about what happened."

"I know, but look at it this way-once you talk to Kingsley, you'll never have to talk about it again if you don't want to," she answered with a half smile.

I nodded. "So, you never did answer my question from earlier, though. Have I missed anything?"

"Not really," Ginny said. "Noah's mother is still missing, I know that. Tom and Martha are okay-well, as okay as they can be, at least. Rachel's not. I heard Mum telling Dad. The poor girl's a mess. She's been going to work, but she's acting as if she's dead herself."

"She and Noah were really good friends," I said quietly as my chest ached with sadness. "All through school. She must be devastated. I wish I could be there for her. Although...I wonder if she blames me."

"Did you kill Noah?" Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow. "No. So it's not your fault."

"But I meant it the other day when I said we wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for me. I led Eric here."

"We don't know if Eric killed Noah either," Ginny said.

"Who else would it be?" I asked with a bitter laugh.

Just then, there was a polite knock from the door. I looked up to see Kingsley standing there with a blonde, curly haired man that was wearing the navy blue and black robes worn by the magical law enforcement department. I somehow recognized the robes from the other night, although I wasn't sure how I'd even retained information as unimportant as colors of someone's robes.

"Good afternoon, Miss McConnell," Kingsley said. "It's good to see you awake."

"I'm sorry for passing out in the first place," I told him. "I know you wanted me to talk to you right then, but-"

"No need to apologize," Kingsley said. "Your reaction was not uncommon for people in your circumstance. I know it must be hard for you to relive what happened, but I'm afraid we must."

I simply nodded in return.

Kingsley paused before gesturing around the room. "Do you mind if we come in and sit down?"

"No, of course not," I said.

Kingsley perched himself on the edge of the desk, while the man he was with sat on the window seat. He pulled out a notepad and a quill and set them down. I eyed the objects wearily.

"We're just going to ask you about the events of the other night," Kingsley said gently. "We need a record of it. You understand."

I nodded, my eyes still on the pad and quill. "Sure. Of course."

Kingsley gestured towards the man sitting in the desk chair. "This is Roger Campbell, by the way. He works in the magical law enforcement department at the Ministry. He's just going to be taking down your statement of events."

"Nice to meet you, Miss McConnell," Roger said, tilting his head towards me in greeting.

"You as well," I said quietly, looking back and forth from him to Kingsley.

"Before we begin," Kingsley said to me, "how are you?"

I shrugged. "Pretty much how you'd expect."

Kingsley nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss, and also that you had to witness what you did yesterday."

"Thanks," I whispered. I looked up at him with a sad smile.

Kingsley took in a deep breath. "Okay...so let's get started."

I glanced nervously at Ginny, who gave me an encouraging smile. "Ginny can stay, can't she?" I asked Kingsley.

Roger opened his mouth as if to object, but Kingsley cut him off before he could speak. "Of course," he said.

Roger sighed heavily and tapped the pad and quill with his wand. They both rose into the air and hovered there, ready to write.

"So, Sophie" Kingsley began, "would you be able to just give us a detailed account of what happened when you discovered Noah's body?"

I inhaled slowly and stared at the ceiling. "My shift at the Leaky Cauldron was about to end," I said. "I had about ten minutes left. I was bringing out the trash to the bins in the back alley. When I got out there and got closer to the bins, I noticed an awful smell. I thought maybe someone had forgotten to get rid of the trash. We usually do it before it starts to smell, but..." I trailed off and shook my head. "Anyway, I got closer and the smell got worse. I lifted the lid of one trash bin and flung the bag of garbage inside, in a hurry to get out of there. But the bag jostled the bin and then a hand-Noah's hand-fell out from between two of the bins."

"Did you know it was Noah's hand right away?" Roger interrupted.

"No," I answered, thrown off by his interruption. "I didn't."

Roger nodded as he stared down at his notepad. "Continue," he said, gesturing with his hand for me to go on, without even looking up once.

I looked at Kingsley, who nodded encouragingly, before speaking again. "I knew I shouldn't have pulled the bins away. Part of me wanted to go get someone, but-"

"Why didn't you?" Roger interrupted again. "Why didn't you get someone else right after you saw Noah's hand. Wouldn't you know something was very wrong right then?"

I blinked. "I really can't tell you why I didn't go to get anyone at that moment. I don't know if my brain had fully processed what was happening or what I was seeing. I think I did know something was wrong, and I was definitely scared. But I couldn't stop myself-I pulled the bins aside anyway. And that's when Noah rolled out from behind them. He was dirty and there was blood on the back of his head and coming out of his nose and there were those marks on his neck. You've seen him. You know what he looked like." I shrugged and repressed a shudder. "I couldn't even scream for a bit. It was a delayed reaction. But then I did. Kyle came rushing outside, then Martha. Then they alerted you."

"And just to confirm," Kingsley said, "the last time you saw Noah alive was..."

"Tuesday night," I said. "That was the day he told me and Rachel that his mother was missing. I went over to his house to stay with him. It was the night of that storm." I gave Kingsley a knowing look that I knew he understood. It had been the night Eric had attacked me, but I didn't want to say that in front of Roger. Maybe I should have. Roger was assisting in investigating Noah's murder and if I thought Eric did it, I should mention it. But I knew Kingsley had a big hand in this as well, and if Fred was right, I might have been better off leaving my personal problems strictly with the Order. I certainly didn't want to turn my personal life into something that an entire Ministry department was looking into anyway. Having the entire Order of the Phoenix know was enough, and probably for the best. Besides, I wasn't sure I liked Roger all that much and I'd only known him for a few minutes. I didn't trust him with any of my personal business.

"So," Roger said, frowning. "Tuesday night was the last time you saw Mr. Thompson alive? Tuesday, the fourth of September?"

"That's what I said," I told him with a raised eyebrow.

Roger frowned even more his expression a mix of confusion, exasperation and almost disbelief. Even Kingsley looked unsettled.

"Why?" I asked. "What's going on?"

"Sophie," Kingsley began, "we've done an analysis on Noah's body to determine not only cause of death, but time of death as well." He paused and looked up to meet my eyes. "You say you last saw Noah on Tuesday night, but he's been dead since last weekend."

His words were met with a long silence. Ginny's mouth had actually dropped open.

"That's impossible," I said. "I saw him Tuesday. Rachel saw him Tuesday. Kayla and Allie. Tom and Martha, Kyle, the guests at the Leaky Cauldron, we all saw him on Tuesday!" My voice had risen in pitch and volume with every word. I was sitting up straight in the bed and staring at Kingsley wide eyed. I felt practically ready to start freaking out again. None of this made sense.

Kingsley held up a hand. "Yes, of course. We believe you. We've talked to everyone you've mentioned, including some of those guests at the Leaky Cauldron. Everyone claims the last time they saw Noah was on Tuesday."

"Then what the hell is going on?" I asked.

"We're still in the process of figuring that out."

"So you've already told everyone else that you think he's been dead for almost a week now?" I asked. "What did they all say?"

"No, we haven't told everyone," Kingsley said. "The information we have about when everyone last saw Noah came from initial statements we got-after Noah's disappearance and then the initial discovery of his body yesterday. We've told Tom and Martha what we've found about his time of death as well as Molly and Arthur. And now you and Ginny, but no, no one else knows."

"Just to confirm, Miss McConnell," Roger went on, looking down at his notepad. "Where were you on Saturday night? Saturday the first of September?"

I thought for a second. "In the flat above the Leaky Cauldron. Tom and Martha's. Where I've been staying. Why?"

"And you worked that day?" Roger asked.

"Yes, I did. In fact...that was the day Noah came over after his shift. He stayed late and then he went home."

"What time did he leave the flat?" Roger asked.

"Late," I responded. "We fell asleep on the couch and Martha woke us up after she was done closing up the pub. So he probably left at, I don't know, twelve-forty in the morning? Twelve forty-five at the latest. Again, why are you asking?"

"Our reports show that Noah Thompson died at approximately twelve forty-seven in the morning on Sunday, the second of September," Roger said. "He was killed almost immediately after leaving the Leaky Cauldron-or more specifically, your presence at the flat. You were the last person to see him alive, Miss McConnell."

"What are you implying?" Ginny asked, almost rudely, staring at Roger with a raised eyebrow and an expression daring him to say something she didn't like.

"Are you saying I had something to do with it?" I asked, feeling as if my blood had suddenly turned to ice.

"She would never," Ginny insisted. "She's been devastated about this whole thing. And before you say anything, no, it's not acting, either. No one's this good of an actor-or actress. Not even Fred and George."

"Miss Weasley-" Roger sighed.

"Trust me, I've been devastated before. I've experienced loss and death and murder. I know what it looks like when someone else is going through it." She tilted her head towards me. "She's still in the shocked phase now."

"Not everyone experiences grief the same," Roger pointed out. "So, how can you recognize-"

"Because I'm not an idiot!" Ginny retaliated, sending Roger a look that said she clearly didn't know where he was getting the audacity to question her. "Sophie didn't kill anyone! If she did, do you think she would've passed out? If she was guilty, wouldn't she have run away? Or done anything else besides faint of all things?

"I just can't even believe this is happening," I said quietly, burying my head in my hands with a groan.

"Ladies," Roger said wearily, holding up a hand. "Please understand-we're just gathering all the information we can. We're not accusing anyone just yet. All we're saying is that Miss McConnell was the last person to see Noah Thompson alive."

"Tom and Martha saw him, too," I said, raising my head from my hands. "Are you going to start accusing them of having a hand in it as well? Because I can tell you with complete certainty that they would never-"

"Thomas and Martha O'Reilly were both in their flat at the time of Noah's death," Roger explained. "We've checked the charms covering the perimeter as well as the door. They were entirely undisturbed, showing no one had gone in or out since they were activated at twelve forty-two in the morning, around the time you say Noah left the flat."

"Yes, Tom locked up himself right after Noah left," I said. "We have certain protective charms around the building during the day, but at night, Tom activates a few more for added security. If everything was undisturbed, that proves we didn't leave! Tom, Martha and I-we all live there! All three of us are accounted for."

Roger ignored me as he continued to scan his notes. He'd barely looked at me since he'd come into the room. "Miss McConnell, you had some sort of romantic relationship going on with Mr. Thompson, correct?"

"Erm, yes, sort of," I replied.

"What do you mean by sort of?" Roger asked, glancing up at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Well-I suppose I shouldn't say that. Officially, yeah, he was my boyfriend."

"Do people in exclusive relationships typically they're sort of in a romantic relationship when asked?" Roger looked at me curiously, his eyebrows raised.

"It's just that-it was all relatively new," I said. "He and I were-"

"They were definitely friends, first and foremost," Ginny interrupted. "And they have been officially dating, but also taking things slow."

"Miss Weasley, I must ask that you don't speak out of turn. I was directing the question to Miss McConnell," Roger sighed.

"What Ginny said was correct," I answered. "I didn't want to move too quickly into a relationship, or even move too quickly within a relationship. But I liked Noah. A lot. I truly did care for him quite a bit."

"See?" Ginny asked Roger hotly. "Why would Sophie want him dead?"

"You'd be surprised, Miss Weasley," Roger said. "There have been many murder cases where the significant other has a hand in it. They're always the first to be questioned."

"But not always, and not in this case," Ginny said firmly, cutting Roger off. "Sophie has nothing to do with this."

Roger turned to me. "Regardless, Miss McConnell, you were close with Mr. Thompson, yes?"

"Well, yes, fairly. I've only known him for nearly five months. But we were seeing where things went and we were growing even closer with each day, but-"

"Sophie takes a while to open up to people," Ginny interrupted again. "She's had a difficult past."

I fought back a grimace. I knew Ginny meant well, but I wished she hadn't said that.

"Yes, speaking of that," Roger said, much to my dismay. "Where is it exactly that you come from, Miss McConnell?"

"America," Ginny said shortly as I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my forehead on them, curling up into a ball.

"Yes, I'd gathered that," Roger said, looking at Ginny in slight exasperation. "But where?" He turned back to me. "And what brought you here, exactly?"

"Is this an investigation?" Ginny asked. "Is she an official suspect? Because otherwise you don't have reason to be questioning her like this."

The tiniest and most fleeting of smiles turned up one corner of my lips. As much as I'd wished Ginny hadn't given Roger an excuse to bring up my past, I was also suddenly really glad she was here. There was no way I would have talked to Roger like that or even thought to ask the questions she was asking. At this point, my brain felt like it was melted.

"Miss Weasley, it is my job to-"

"Alright, alright," Kingsley said, holding up a hand to stop them from arguing further. "That's enough."

"He's supposed to be here getting Sophie's statement of what happened the other night," Ginny said fiercely. "Not questioning her about her past and accusing her of murder."

"Please, enough," Kingsley said. He turned to Roger. "Roger-considering Sophie is not a suspect in this case, something you know I don't even believe is possible, I don't find it relevant to question her on her backstory. She has simply come here looking to start over. That's not an uncommon thing to do. Just because she came here from somewhere else doesn't mean she has intentions of murder. And don't forget that Tom and Martha stated they checked her backstory out themselves with Veritaserum."

I inhaled sharply. Had Tom and Martha told Roger about my past? I didn't think they'd give him details as long as they had a choice and could avoid it. But had he given them a choice?

Roger looked perturbed. "Yes, they said that, but they didn't tell me the details of what they were told."

I let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. I hadn't even realized just how badly I didn't want Roger to know a single thing about me until right that moment.

"They don't need to at this time," Kingsley told Roger. "They checked Sophie's backstory and said she has never had any ill intentions. They even offered to swear it under Veritaserum themselves."

"If we don't find any suspects, we may have to bring Veritaserum into play," Roger muttered. He sighed as I shifted uncomfortably. While I appreciated Tom and Martha's fierce defense of me, if they were asked about my intentions under Veraserum, there was a good chance they could also be asked about why I was here. And they'd have no choice but to spill my backstory to Roger.

"Veritaserum may not be necessary," Kingsley said. "In some cases, it ends up being a waste of time if the people we're questioning truly don't know anything and are honest from the start. I trust Tom and Martha, and if they trust Sophie, I trust her as well.

Roger let out a huff of annoyance. "I'm simply trying to question everyone who may or may not be involved, which is my job." He looked at Kingsley with narrowed eyes. "And you know, you've never followed this closely on a case before, Minister. Part of me wonders why."

Kingsley's eyebrows shot up. "What are you implying now, Roger?"

Roger's cheeks reddened. "Nothing," he said quickly, looking back down at his notepad.

"I don't need reason to follow a case," Kingsley went on. "But perhaps I'm following you closely to make sure you don't waste time prying for information you don't need at the time." He glanced over at me with a wry smile and winked, and I couldn't help but smile back.

Roger scowled at Kingsley's words but didn't say anything.

"Anyway," Kingsley went on. "We don't have to dig into Sophie's past unless she's been named a suspect," Kingsley said. "We stick to the basic questions only until then. As I've said, I don't believe it's possible for Sophie to be a suspect." He looked at Roger knowingly. "Are you forgetting the cause of death already?"

"Nothing is impossible," Roger muttered, but he fell quiet after that.

I looked up at Kingsley. "What's so important about the cause of death?"

Kingsley cleared his throat. "I'm not sure if you're currently in a fit state to-"

"I am," I insisted. "I can handle it." Despite what I said, however, the truth was that I wasn't sure if I could handle it. I was almost afraid to know the details on what had happened. But I still felt that I needed to know. I deserved to know.

Kingsley cleared his throat again. "Noah's cause of death was blunt force to the back of his head. Hence, the bleeding that you saw. It appears he was in a physical altercation with someone beforehand, leading to the scratches on his face. He also had markings on his neck as if someone had their hands around his throat, trying to choke him. It appears to us that someone had Noah against a wall or lying on the ground-somewhere against a hard surface-with their hands around his neck. But before they could finish him off by restricting his airway, his head was slammed against a hard surface, killing him instantly."

I let out a whimper and covered my mouth with my hands as my eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Merlin," I breathed. I'd seen the results of what had happened to Noah, but now having a story to go with it and having more details of what most likely happened in his last moments was harder than I could have imagined.

Ginny got up and came to sit beside me, putting a hand on my arm comfortingly. It was a way of letting me know she was there without being too overwhelming and I actually appreciated it. For the second time in about five minutes, I felt glad to have her there.

"Frankly, Sophie," Kingsley said, "you don't have the strength to overpower Noah like that. He's taller than you by about a foot, and heavier and stronger than you. Enough that you simply wouldn't have been able to succeed in attacking him in that way."

"So, he was killed without magic, then?" I asked, looking at Kingsley.

He nodded. "He was."

"That's what's unbelievable to me," Roger said with a frown. "Why would any witch or wizard kill him with Muggle techniques when they could have just used their wand?"

"A few reasons," Kingsley said, glancing at him. "Some people get some kind of sick pleasure out of causing pain and spilling blood. But, in my opinion, that further proves that Sophie couldn't have had a hand in it. If she wanted to overpower Noah, she wouldn't have been able to do it without the aid of her wand."

"She could have immobilized him and then-"

"She is still not strong enough to hit Noah's head against the ground hard enough to kill him," Ginny snapped. "Didn't you hear a word that Kingsley just said?"

"Miss Weasley," Roger said hotly. "I must insist that you-"

"Enough," Kingsley interrupted with a heavy sigh. "Both of you. I don't want to have to ask you again." He looked at me. "Sophie, would you mind-just for investigative purposes, if we looked at the spells casted from your wand over the last week?"

I hesitated and glanced at my wand before shrugging. I didn't have anything to hide. "Sure." I reached over to the bedside table and grabbed my wand, holding it out to Kingsley.

He gave me an encouraging smile as he took it. He held it in his palm as he waved his own wand over it.

"Summoning spells, cleaning spells, Aguamenti-" Kingsley glanced at me-"I'm assuming for something cleaning related...?"

"I use it to help me clean the tables when I'm working," I said. "And sometimes for cleaning purposes when I'm cleaning a guest's room after their stay."

Kingsley nodded and continued looking back through my previously casted spells. Finally, he stopped and handed my wand back to me with a smile. "You're all clear." He looked at Roger. "No Immobulus Charms or any other charms that could have been used to aid in attacking Noah."

I took my wand back and let out a sigh and leaned back into my pillows as I stared up at the ceiling.

"So, let me just go over this again," Roger said, staring at his notepad. "You were with Noah on Saturday night. You fell asleep on the couch together, were woken up by Martha, and then Noah left the flat at about twelve forty in the morning, just before the extra protection spells around the flat went up at twelve forty-two. Approximately five minutes later, Noah was dead. Killed somewhere between exiting into the Leaky Cauldron's back alley and Apparating to, presumably, the home he shared with his mother, who has also been missing since last weekend."

"Correct," I said, looking away from the ceiling and back at him.

"And you have no knowledge about what could have happened to his mother?"

I shook my head. "I didn't even know about her being missing until Noah told me on...Tuesday," I said, frowning slightly.

"Right," Roger said. "After he'd already been dead."

All I could do was nod my head.

"And then...after Saturday night, Noah showed up to work Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. Again, after he'd already died."

"You said that already," Ginny said dryly, looking at Roger scathingly. "Several times."

Roger shot her a look, but then turned back to me expectantly.

I shrugged. "His time of death was your discovery. I knew nothing about that. As far as I knew, he'd only been missing. And only since late Tuesday night. But I saw him. Multiple people saw him and you've already said that you have their word on that, so it's not as if I'm making it up."

"How was he behaving?" Roger asked. "When you saw him after Saturday?"

I hesitated for a second. "Odd," I finally said. "Kind of unlike himself. But then he told us that his mother was missing, so we kind of attributed everything to that."

I didn't elaborate, but a wild thought did pop into my head. Was it possible that the Noah we'd all seen after Saturday night hadn't actually been Noah? If he had already been dead, then it had to have been someone else disguised as him. But who? Eric? I pushed the thought out of my mind as soon as it came. I didn't want to think about it or what it might mean. I couldn't go down that path. Not now. If I did, I felt certain I'd pass out again.

Roger was tapping his chin in thought now. "So then...you stayed overnight with Noah on Tuesday at his house, he disappeared at some point during the night and was missing all day Wednesday until you stumbled upon his body in the alleyway."

"Yes," I answered.

"Okay," Roger said, looking over his notes once more before closing the notepad. "Thank you for your time, Miss McConnell. We'll be in touch if we require your assistance with anything else." He stood up and headed for the door, rubbing his head. "I don't know about you," he said to Kingsley, "but I could use a very strong cup of tea."

Kingsley looked at me and Ginny in slight exasperation and amusement as he stood up and headed for the door himself. "Excuse him," he said. "He's always been a very thorough investigator-perhaps almost to a fault. But lately he's been acting even more thorough than usual." He looked at me and smiled slightly. "I think I make him nervous."

I let out a tiny breath of laughter and gave him a quick smile in return.

"In any case," Kingsley went on, "thank you for talking to us, Sophie. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon-sooner than you'll be seeing Roger."

"Good," I said with a nod.

Kingsley looked down at me seriously, meeting my eyes. "We'll find him," he said quietly. "Eric, I mean. Whether he's behind this or not...we'll find him."

I nodded. He sounded so reassuring and confident in his statement that I truly believed him.

Kingsley gave me once last smile, gave both me and Ginny one more goodbye, and left the room.

"Merlin, that Roger guy was an imbecile!" Ginny cried once Kingsley was gone. "Honestly, the nerve of him to accuse you of murder."

"He only really implied it," I shrugged, letting out a heavy sigh. "And he is just doing his job. But I'd also be lying if I said the whole thing didn't make me sick."

"I hope Kingsley just takes over the whole case himself," Ginny went on, crossing the room to the window and looking outside. "And fires Roger from the Ministry while he's at it."

"He doesn't have time for that," I said with a curt laugh. "Taking over the whole case, I mean. He's the Minister of Magic." I let out a quiet scoff and looked up at the ceiling in amusement. "In America, we have a magical congress, not a ministry. It's run by a president, and I never even met him. I can't imagine him getting involved in my personal affairs."

"We're just lucky enough that Kingsley was involved in the Order before he became Minister," Ginny said with a shrug. "And also that he continued to be involved with the Order afterwards. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't be involved. Believe me, none of us were exactly best pals with previous Ministers."

I closed my eyes and tipped my head back against the headboard. "I just...can't believe this is happening. I want it all to end."

Ginny was quiet for a moment and I heard her move away from the window. "It will," she said. "It'll get better. I promise."

---

Ginny left me alone not too long after Kingsley and Roger had left. She said that she would give me more time to rest, but resting was the last thing on my mind. Instead, I forced myself out of bed and started pacing around the room. I even peered into Charlie's box of old Quidditch gear before I told myself not to be nosy. I just couldn't stay still. Eventually I sat on the window seat, but then moved to the desk, and then back to the bed. And then I was up and moving around the room again.

At one point, I found myself curled up on the bed, fighting back sobs as reality began to hit me again in fresh waves. Noah was dead. He wasn't coming back. He'd been murdered, most likely by Eric. Eric was here. In London. He wanted me to come back to Salem with him. How many people was he willing to kill in order to get to me?

The on and off crying and the restless pacing continued for a bit longer before I eventually heard the sound of a sudden burst of voices downstairs before it got quiet for a moment, the voices picking back up every now and then. Then, I heard footsteps on the stairs and finally a knock at the door.

"Sophie?" Fred's voice asked from the hallway. "It's Fred and George. Can we come in?"

By now, I was standing just to the side of the window seat, leaning against the wall and gazing out the window, but I turned my head when I heard Fred's voice. "Yeah," I finally said, hastily wiping some leftover tears from my cheeks. "Come in."

The door opened slowly and Fred stuck his head in. "Hi," he said, giving me a small smile.

"Hey," I answered quietly.

"How are you?" Fred asked gently, leading the way into the room and making his way over to me. He stood on the opposite side of the window, leaning against the wall himself and looking over at me while George made himself comfortable in the desk chair.

"Everyone keeps asking me that," I said with a scoff, turning to gaze out the window again.

Fred was quiet for a moment. "I shouldn't have asked." When I glanced over at him, he continued. "The answer's obvious, isn't it? I should know. My family should know. We got asked that question a lot. And yeah, people care, they're concerned, it's a routine question-an expected question. But a dumb one. Sorry I asked it. I know how you are. I can tell you've been crying. You're sad. You're heartbroken. You're scared. You feel like shit."

I actually smiled fleetingly. "Ginny said the same thing. Right before she told me that she takes after you in not having a filter."

Fred chuckled. "She's right. Drives Mum up the wall."

"Did she talk to you at all?" I asked. "Your mother? About what they found when they examined Noah's body?"

Fred shook his head. "No, she didn't."

"We don't know anything," George said. "All Mum mentioned was that you'd woken up. Why, did Kingsley come by? We know he wanted to talk to you as soon as you were awake."

I nodded. "He came by. With this guy, Roger-a member of the magical law enforcement team." I sighed and ran my hands through my hair, closing on to fistfuls of it near the back as I bowed my head and closed my eyes.

"How'd that go?" George asked gently.

I slid my hands to the back of my neck and opened my eyes, continuing to stare at the floor. "Roger basically said things that made it seem like I had been the one to kill Noah. I was the last one to see him alive, after all, which he pointed out before trying to pry into my past and figure out why I was here. Oh...and there's the fact that Noah actually died last weekend." I let out a bitter laugh.

"Last weekend?" Fred and George both asked in horror.

"Weren't you with him at his house on Tuesday night?" Fred asked.

"And wasn't he working up until then?" George went on. "The only day he was unaccounted for was Wednesday-the day you found him in the alleyway."

I nodded. "Yes and yes."

Fred and George looked at each other before both turning to gape at me. "What the fuck," Fred whispered.

I rolled my eyes and let out a weak laugh that sounded more bitter and distressed than anything. "I know," I answered. "I know."

"So, hold on," Fred continued . "Let me get this straight. Noah's been dead for almost a week, but multiple people saw him after that. And the prat from the Ministry thinks you had something to do with his death?"

"He said he was just looking into all options and because Noah and I had romantic interest in each other and because I was the last person to see him—both Tuesday night and last weekend."

"So he assumes you're a murderer?" Fred scoffed. "Did they figure out what the cause of death was?"

I nodded and explained to the twins what I'd been told and how Kingsley believed it wouldn't have been possible for me to use that sort of force on someone.

"Well, obviously," George snorted.

"Seriously, look at the size of you, Soph," Fred added. "No offense, but you don't look like you can take someone in a physical fight. Definitely not to the point of death."

"You just don't have it in you, either," George said. "You're too nice to murder someone."

"Roger doesn't know that," I answered as Fred let out a snort of laughter. "He knows nothing about me, so technically he is doing his job, but it just...it hurt to be practically accused of something you didn't do."

"Like Elizabeth was?" Fred asked and I instantly looked up to see him smiling at me slightly.

"Yeah, I suppose so," I answered, my voice a hoarse whisper. I hadn't even thought of comparing the false implications from Roger to the diary. It was another strange parallel, though. Guilt, false accusations, and finding freedom from whatever chains holding you down—literally or figuratively—seemed to all be common themes tying me and Fred to this one small, old book and the story from the past that it told. It was eerie, but I actually felt grateful for it.

"You didn't kill Noah," Fred said, his voice low as we continued to stare at each other. "We all know it. Even Kingsley knows it. And like you said, there's proof. Proof that you were at home when Noah died, and proof that you didn't use your wand to overpower him in any way. They won't be able to pin a thing on you. They can't, so don't worry."

I smiled slightly, but it faded quickly. I continued to stare at him, though, the setting sun streaming through the glass of the window and hitting one side of his face. It cast light over his freckles, making them stand out more than ever. It also was only reaching one of his eyes-the right one-and illuminating it a bright blue, while the other remained a darker shade. I almost couldn't look away.

"Fred and I stopped by the Leaky Cauldron before coming here," George said, abruptly pulling me out of my thoughts. I tore my eyes away from Fred and turned my head to look at George as he continued. "We thought we'd check up on everyone for you."

"Yeah? And how are they?" I asked, turning fully towards him eagerly.

"Tom and Martha are trying to go on like all is normal, but they're grieving over Noah, too. And now you're not there anymore. And Rachel hasn't been on top of her game. Which is understandable, but it's been hard for business. They're missing two staff members and the rest of them are dealing with the death of one of those two."

I sighed and crossed over to the bed, sinking down on it and resting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

"They all miss you," Fred said, still standing at the window, but turning to face me so that he was now leaning with his back against the wall instead of his shoulder. "They asked about you."

I looked up at him, a small smile on my face. "They did?"

Fred nodded. "All of them. Even Rachel."

"At the time, we didn't have much new information to give them," George said. "All we knew was that you'd woken up and Kingsley was coming by to question you. But everyone was at least happy to hear you were up and about."

"Well, I wouldn't quite say about," I replied with a dry laugh. "I haven't left this room all day. I haven't done anything but pace and cry."

I looked down and took in the clothes I was wearing. At some point, someone had put me in different things than what I'd been wearing the day before. They were my own clothes, too-a pair of pale yellow pajama pants, a black tank top and a zippered hoodie over it. Someone must have grabbed the bag I'd packed from Tom and Martha's. But in any case, I felt a mess. My hair was unwashed and piled in a messy bun on the top of my head. And I knew from when I'd glanced at myself in the mirror earlier that I was pale. Except for my eyes that were rimmed with red from the off-and-on crying I'd done all afternoon.

"Ah, but you're still up," Fred told me. "You're halfway there." He paused. "Mum's got dinner almost ready. Why don't you go get cleaned up and come downstairs? Mum said she put your stuff away in the closet. She wants you to make yourself at home, so..."

"That was really nice of her," I said quietly.

Fred smiled and pushed off the wall, holding out both of his hands for me to grab them. "I'm offering them to you to help you up," he teased with a smirk. "Just to clarify."

I gave him a weary smile before reaching out and taking his hands, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

"You're up," he said quietly. "Now you just need to get working on the about part." He gently nudged me towards the closet as he and George headed for the door. "Get to it," he said with a smile. "Pick out a change of clothes. Everything else you need should be in the bathroom."

And then he and George were gone, shutting the door with a click.

I did what Fred had said, taking a hot shower and putting on different clothes. I even put jeans on, despite it being the end of the day, because I'd hoped that putting on clothes that weren't pajamas would help me feel better. It worked, but only a bit. I felt better physically, but it didn't do much for the odd feeling in my chest and stomach-almost as if they were empty but heavy at the same time. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't scrub away the grief in the bath.

I sighed as I took one last look at myself in the mirror. I may have put on jeans and switched the black tank top for a forest green one, but I'd kept the zippered sweatshirt on. It was slightly too big for me and would always slide off one shoulder if it wasn't zipped enough. But it was soft and comfortable and I didn't feel like taking it off right now. I kept my hair down in one last attempt to look like I'd put in at least some effort to be presentable, but my skin was still pale and my eyes still felt slightly puffy, even though they didn't look it as much anymore.

Figuring this was as good as I could manage right now, I left the bathroom, turning off the light as I went, and then taking the stairs down to the kitchen.

In addition to the twins being over, Bill and Fleur were joining us for dinner as well. Everyone else had been tied up with prior engagements. Which was honestly fine with me. The last thing I wanted right now was a crowd. Oddly, no one brought up the events of the past few days. They asked me how I was, but that was it. Again, I was grateful. It was exhausting going over everything time and time again. I was already doing that in my mind, trying to make sense of it all.

I picked at my dinner for a bit, staring down at my carrots as I moved one back and forth across my plate. Finally, Fred leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"You're examining that carrot more thoroughly than the Healers at St. Mungo's even examined me after I was nearly crushed by a wall," he said.

"Fred, honestly," I sighed, shooting him a look.

He shrugged. "Me joking about it is better than me throwing things." He paused. "Would you prefer that I get up and start throwing dishware around?" When I shook my head, he smiled and tilted his head towards my plate. "You need to eat, Soph."

I shrugged one shoulder, my hoodie slipping down off of it with the movement. I yanked it back up and returned to poking at my carrots.

"If you don't finish, you won't get any dessert," Fred taunted.

I shrugged again. "Am I seven years old?" I whispered.

Fred only grinned. "Mum made cherry pie. You like pie, don't you? I've heard you do."

I slowly shifted my eyes to look up at him in slight exasperation. Finally, without breaking eye contact, I speared a carrot with my fork and slowly stuck it in my mouth, chewing it just as slowly.

"Wonderful," Fred said, still grinning. "Keep going."

And I did. I ended up finishing the rest of my dinner, and even had a slice of cherry pie, which tasted amazing.

Once dinner was over, I offered to help Mrs. Weasley clean up, but she shooed me away and insisted that I not even so much as lift a finger. "Not tonight," she said. "Just relax for tonight."

"But—" I started to protest, but Fred interrupted.

"Listen to the lady, Sophie," he said. "Besides, I need to borrow you for tonight."

I glanced at Mrs. Weasley, who nodded. "Go on, dear," she said with a smile.

I turned back to Fred, who smiled and gently took my hand, lacing his fingers with mine and leading me out into the backyard and across the grass.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see in a minute," he answered, his eyes trained on the line of trees ahead of us.

Once we reached them, we took a pathway that was clearly made by the constant flow of foot traffic through the leaves and dirt. Once we came out on the other side, I looked up and sucked in a breath. We were at the pond. I'd never been out here before, but I'd obviously heard about it.

It was beautiful. There was a slightly lopsided wooden dock jutting out over one side to our right. The trees behind us secluded it from the house and then curved partway around to either side. Directly across was a field of grass and then more trees. I could see a rope dangling from a tree branch not far to our left. I figured they used it to swing into the water from the shore. It was easy to picture the Weasleys out here having fun. I could almost hear laughter and the splashing of water.

But then again, it was the same pond Fred had submerged himself in over and over again, holding his breath as long as he could each time, tempting fate.

"The infamous pond," Fred announced, gesturing with a grand sweep of his hand and smiling wryly at me.

"How are you so nonchalant about something like that?" I asked, looking up at him in confusion.

Fred shrugged. "It's better than the alternative," he said. "And it is part of who I am. You said you wanted to know, didn't you? All about who I am, who I was, what makes me, well, me?"

"I suppose I did," I answered quietly.

Fred led me around to the dock and proceeded to take a seat, pull off his shoes and dangle his feet down into the water that was now ink colored in the darkness.

"Sit down," he said, patting the space next to him. "Make yourself comfortable."

"What are we doing out here?" I asked, finding myself following his lead and sitting down on the dock. I pulled off my own shoes and tentatively stuck a toe in the water to test it.

Fred snorted as he watched me. "Really?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

I looked back at him and shrugged. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," he said, smirking as he shook his head and continued to watch me.

"Answer my question," I said, slowly submerging my feet in the water entirely and allowing myself to get used to the cold temperature.

"I already told you, you wanted to know all about me, didn't you? You might as well see the place where I expressed my feelings in the worst way possible." He paused. "Or didn't express them, rather. What I did was a result of them turning inwards."

"Are you ready for me to know?" I asked. "I mean, I do want to know. But only if you're ready to tell me."

Fred nodded. "I am. We were supposed to hang out tonight anyway, weren't we? I was going to tell you all about my grand escape from Hogwarts. And since we're not going to Hogsmeade as planned, I thought we'd do it here." He glanced at me. "I promise I'm ready. But if I do decide to jump in...how good of a swimmer are you? Good enough to come get me out?"

"Not funny!" I chided.

"Sophie, I've already told you-twice-that this is better than the alternative. Way better."

I shrugged. "Maybe. But it still doesn't mean that I have to find it funny."

"No, I suppose not," Fred said, leaning back on his hands. His fingertips accidentally bushed against my own fingers as he did so, and I quickly moved my hand, startled by the touch. Fred looked at me in amusement, and I pretended not to notice.

We were quiet for a moment after that. I stared out at the surface of the water stretching out in front of me, rippling slightly in some spots and reflecting the moonlight. "Were you ever scared?" I finally asked quietly. "Even once?"

Fred didn't answer right away. He followed my gaze out to the water. "You mean when I was holding my breath out there?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"I didn't think so at the time," he admitted. "Every time I did it, I was too angry to be scared. But I must have been afraid to some extent because I always came back up to the surface. I pushed my limits as far as they would go, but never further." He paused. "I regret doing it, though. Every last instance I jumped in here, even the most recent one."

"You do?" I asked, looking up at him in slight surprise. "You don't seem to be the type to regret anything."

"I'm not. Usually. But I regret this." He swung his submerged foot forwards, up out of the water for a brief second so that the water splashed slightly.

"Why?" I asked. I hesitated. "I mean, I can guess. But I want to hear your reason."

Fred glanced over at me. "Because it was selfish," he said. "My family had just lost Percy and I was acting so erratically and then jumping in here and essentially taunting death...My mother said it herself. She was afraid of losing another son. I'm horrified I even put her through that. I never thought about it that way, which proves my point. I was selfish and consumed with my own pain and grief."

"I get it and I'm not saying you're completely wrong in what you just told me," I said. "You do have so many people who love you. People you hurt by doing what you did. But at the same time...I get it. People process things differently, too, and at different paces. Things like grief and fear...I'm pretty sure they warp people's minds to an extent."

"I believe that," Fred snorted.

"Look at the witch trials!" I continued "People were so afraid of the unknown and afraid of magic that they falsely accused people of doing things they weren't doing. They treated them like crap. People died!" I took in a slow breath and lowered my voice to a whisper as I swirled my feet through the water. "And look at me. I'm so afraid of Eric that I crossed an ocean to get away from him. And I had planned to keep moving. I was more willing to eat out of the garbage in one strange country after another. I was willing to completely be on my own for the rest of my life—or at least for as long as Eric was alive. That's a little crazy too, don't you think?"

"Not as crazy as what I did," Fred said. "You know, you're part of the reason why I regret doing it."

"Me?" I asked, looking at him as my mouth dropped open. That was probably one of the last things I'd expected him to say.

"Yeah, I mean, here you are fighting for your life," he said, "and all this time there was some part of me not caring if I threw mine away."

"I didn't always want to fight, Fred," I said quietly. "Believe me, I grew tired on several occasions." It was true. There were quite a few instances where I'd wanted it all to end as well. Where I'd just wanted it all to stop. Where I didn't care what happened to me. I couldn't bring myself to actually be specific about this to Fred, though. Not yet. But I still wanted him to know I understood.

Fred shrugged. "Even still...I should be fighting for my life. I began to realize that. It's what Percy would have wanted. And how I started acting after he died...it isn't me. I acted like a whole different person."

"What is you, then?" I asked. I leaned back on my hands and looked at him expectantly.

Fred took in a deep breath through his nose. "Depends on who you ask, I suppose. Most of my teachers from school would say I'm a troublemaker. Anyone you ask would say I'm a prankster. My mother would say I'm trouble, but sweet when I want to be. George would say I'm his best friend. I'm a brother, a son, a friend. A Quidditch player-a fantastic Beater if you ask me. I love making people laugh. I can be brutally honest. I like to take risks. I don't like to play by the rules. In fact, I hate them. Always have. I almost function better when things are in disarray. Except after the war." He shook his head. "The battle happened and suddenly my life was turned upside down and I couldn't function at all anymore."

"Well, to be fair that's a completely different kind of disarray," I said.

"Still not an excuse for acting like a complete nutter."

I was quiet for a moment as we both looked out over the water. Finally, I looked over at Fred with a tiny smile. "So, tell me about this infamous escape from Hogwarts. I've been dying to know."

Fred gave me a smile. "Okay, okay. So...George and I had wanted to open a joke shop pretty much as long as either of us can remember. It was almost as if it were the most natural thing in the world. We loved jokes, we loved pranks, and we certainly had the personality for it. A lot of people didn't think we were serious. Or they did, but tried to convince us to do something else. Like Mum. She wanted us to go into the Ministry for a while. But that's not us. Be honest-can you see George and I going to work in an office every day? Wearing office clothes and doing...office things? Paperwork?" He scrunched his nose in disgust.

I actually giggled. "No, you're right, I can't quite see that. But don't you have to do some extent of paperwork for the shop? It is a business, after all."

"Well, sure," Fred said. "But that's different. It's not as bad because the shop's everything we've ever wanted. Doing paperwork is worth it when it's something we love."

"How romantic," I commented as Fred looked over at me and grinned, letting out a laugh as he did so.

"Shut up," he said, reaching down to dip his fingers into the water and flicking a few drops at me. I flinched away, but smiled nonetheless.

"Okay, okay...continue," I said.

"So anyway," Fred went on, "George and I worked so hard to finally get everything up and running. We saved up for years. By the time we were in our sixth year, we were so close. So close. And then we lost all our savings betting on the outcome of the Quidditch World Cup. We actually won, but the guy we made the bet with was in a spot of trouble with some goblins. He was in debt and owed them money as well. So he paid me and George in leprechaun gold. By the next day, it was all gone and George and I spent all year trying to pin this guy down, only to find out in the end that he didn't have the money and couldn't pay us. So it was back to square one. Or so we thought."

"It wasn't square one after all?" I asked with a small smile.

Fred shook his head. "Actually, we'd tried to enter the Triwizard Tournament earlier that year-despite being underage. We thought an Aging Potion would do the trick." He smiled nostalgically. "It didn't. All it did was give George and I identical beards."

"I heard about that tournament," I said. "It was in the newspapers. Harry won, didn't he? But it was the night-"

"You-Know-Who came back, yeah," Fred said. "And yes, Harry won. On the train home for the summer, he gave me and George his prize money. A thousand Galleons. George and I couldn't believe it. We tried to refuse, but Harry wouldn't let us. He actually threatened to hex us. Can you believe it?" He clucked his tongue and smiled. "But we finally had our money. A few weeks later, we'd purchased our premises-the place we're at now."

"A few weeks later?" I asked in shock. "You bought something so important that quickly?"

Fred smiled. "Impulsive, remember?" He shrugged. "It was almost a good thing because then we had to go into hiding. We were in danger of being targeted-with us being blood traitors and all, so we had to hide out at the Order's headquarters. George and I started an owl order business to get things going, but Mum would throw out our forms as well as products we'd already invented."

"She'd throw them away?" I asked. "Your mother? Really?"

Fred nodded. "I told you she really didn't support George and I going into the joke business."

"Yeah, but I didn't realize the extent of it. That's terrible. What'd you do?"

"What do you think? We kept doing it anyway. In secret. She'd been throwing our stuff away for at least a year at this point. We were frustrated and angry because it was our hard work, time, and energy-all in the trash. And we'd have to make more. But we kept going. We debated not going back to school for our last year. We thought about just opening our shop right away. But we knew Mum would freak out. She already couldn't handle the fact that George and I only got three OWLs each. And if we ditched school and didn't even take our NEWTs. And then that summer was the summer that Percy walked out on us. She was already high strung, so we decided to go back. We figured it couldn't help to do a little more research and a few more tests anyway."

"But you didn't end up staying the whole year," I said.

"Right," Fred said. "Once Umbridge-that teacher from the Ministry that I told you about-found out about the D.A., George and I didn't really have much to hang around for anymore. She'd already banned us from Quidditch..."

"She did? For what?"

"For fighting," Fred answered. "Well, it was George and Harry really. They managed to actually get some punches in. Angelina, Katie and Alicia managed to hold me back, but if they hadn't I would've beaten Malfoy up, too." He paused. "Malfoy was this complete arse of a kid in Harry and Ron's year. Son of a Death Eater. Pureblood. Completely entitled. He was having a go at my family and my Mum after his team lost a Quidditch match. He was being a sore loser, but it wasn't an excuse. Anyway, Umbridge banned the three of us for the rest of the year."

"But you said you hadn't even done anything," I said, frowning in confusion. "So why did she ban you?"

"Just because she could and because I'd tried to join in the fighting. And would have succeeded if I hadn't been held back."

"Wow," I said quietly. "Umbridge sounds like an awful woman."

"Yeah," Fred answered with a curt laugh. "So once the D.A. was done, George and I were too. We planned an escape. One of our inventions was a portable swamp, which is exactly what it sounds like. We set it off in one of the upstairs corridors as a distraction and then we were supposed to just summon our brooms from Umbridge's office and go. But she knew the swamp was our doing right away and she ended up cornering us in the entrance hall in front of most of the school. Her plan didn't do much, though. George and I just moved on with our plan. We told everyone listening they'd get discounted merchandise if they used it on her. Then-" he broke off and began laughing.

"What?" I asked curiously, a small, amused smile turning up the corners of my mouth.

"George and I summoned our brooms," Fred went on, trying to talk through his laughter. "They were chained up in Umbridge's office after she banned us from playing Quidditch. And get this-George's still had the entire chain dangling from his. As well as the peg that was holding the brooms to the wall."

"You're kidding," I said as Fred dissolved into laughter once more. He leaned back on his hands and threw his head back as his eyes squeezed shut. "No, I'm not kidding," he said. "And George just mounted the broom as if the chain wasn't even there. When he kicked off the ground, the swinging peg nearly hit Malfoy in the face."

"I'm not sure that was as accidental as George probably made it seem," I commented.

"No, it wasn't," Fred laughed. "Anyway, as we were hovering in the air, in the middle of the entrance hall, above nearly the entire school, we look up and see the school poltergeist floating in the air across from us, and-"

"Hang on," I interrupted. "Your school had a poltergeist?"

"Yeah," Fred nodded. "Peeves. He was quite the menace to mostly everyone at Hogwarts. Particularly Filch, the caretaker. And Umbridge as well, while she was there. But George and I got on with him just fine."

"So what I'm hearing is that you and George were so lonely, your best friend was the school poltergeist?"

Fred turned to gape at me and he even tried to shove me into the water, but I let out a laugh and shoved him off.

"George and I had lots of friends," he said defiantly.

I studied him with a small smile. "I'm sure you did," I said quietly.

Fred's face fell slightly as he looked back at me. "I didn't mean to make you feel badly-"

"You didn't," I shrugged. "I'm the one who made the joke first."

"I'm impressed that you did, actually," Fred said quietly.

I shrugged again. "I don't know why I did," I answered. I took in a deep breath. "I mean, yeah, I used to be the girl that was incredibly lonely during school. I used to eat my meals in the kitchens with the house elves to avoid eating with the rest of the school. I was the one befriending magical creatures instead of human beings. But I'm not that girl anymore. I'm not lonely anymore." I looked over at Fred and smiled. "I have human friends."

Fred laughed. "I'm so proud."

I giggled again and the two of us continued to look at each other until I broke the silence. "Okay, so-go on. You and George saw the poltergeist and did what?"

Fred grinned and looked up at the sky nostalgically. "We told him to give Umbridge hell. Give her hell from us, Peeves, we said. And-and the nutter actually bowed." Fred chuckled again and shook his head. "He never took orders from anyone. Even Dumbledore had trouble with him-although not as much as everyone else. But Peeves was all to happy to listen to me and George that day."

"Well, you gave him permission to do what he does best," I said.

"He never needed permission, though," Fred said. "He always did what he wanted anyway." He inhaled again and looked over at me. "So, anyway, after that, George and I just...left. Right out the front doors, the chain still dangling from George's broom, almost the whole school watching us and Umbridge standing there, completely outraged." He smiled as he stared off into the distance, reliving that day over in his mind. "Honestly, it was probably one of the best victories of my life. Not only did we completely cause some hell for Umbridge, but we left to open our joke shop. Our dream was finally a reality. And it was a huge hit. You've seen it. You've seen the crowds. We're still doing so well, and although I'm not exactly surprised, I am grateful."

"You worked hard for it," I said. "And it paid off. You're clearly good at your job. You're friendly, charismatic, funny. You're pretty much a natural born salesman."

Fred grinned at me. "You got any more compliments at the ready?" he asked curiously.

I rolled my eyes. "You know, I can only imagine what a complete charmer you were when you were in school."

"What makes you say that?" Fred asked with a laugh.

"Because you still are one," I snorted. "Mr. Personality. You know I think that even after all you've been through, you still have it in you." I looked at him thoughtfully. "I'm kind of getting a better sense of who you used to be."

"Are you?" Fred asked. "Go on, tell me."

I studied his face. "I was beginning to fear that you used to be the totally arrogant, popular athlete and prankster that didn't care about consequences and thought he was above everything. I was afraid that you'd go back to that eventually. Part of me was still afraid that you befriending me was a joke. That's how I was used to being treated, so I thought it would be the same here. I was cautious about you, but at the same time, I had this feeling that you were somehow different. I just couldn't quite figure it all out. All I had to go on were bits and pieces of your life that I wasn't even always hearing directly from you."

I stared out at the water again for a moment, listening to the sound of crickets chirping before I went on.

"I have no doubt that you were popular in school and that you had plenty of friends. Lots of people probably liked you, even the teachers, despite all the trouble you caused. Also, being an athlete automatically gives you popularity points. I think you're smart, but not exactly studious. And you're obviously funny. And you know all those things about yourself, but you're not arrogant. You're just confident. You're a prankster, but you never use pranks or jokes to bully people. That's what originally set my alarm bells off with you. I couldn't understand how jokes and pranks could be used for anything besides bullying. I thought I knew your type. An arrogant, cocky, flirtatious jerk who wanted to pick on people for fun. Or flirt with girls for fun or for the chase, not because you actually liked them. Like I said, part of me automatically assumed things about you because of how I'd been treated at school. But despite your jokes and your humor and your reckless, nonchalant attitude, you're loyal and protective of people you love. In fact, I'll bet a lot of pranks were on people who gave you or your friends or siblings hell, am I right?"

"You are," Fred said slowly, smiling over at me. "I noticed that most of what you said was in the present tense, though. I thought you were trying to figure out who I used to be. You even used those words yourself. Used to be. You really don't think my old self is lost?"

"I don't," I answered. "You always talked about yourself as if there were two of you, and-"

"There are two of me," Fred said with a smile. "I have a twin brother, or have you gone around thinking George and I were one person?"

I smiled slightly. "Shut up," I teased. "You know what I meant. You always talked about your old self and your present self. And I meant it when I could see your love of pranks and laughter was still there. Your old self wasn't as gone as you seemed to think. But I kept getting other bits and pieces that I wasn't sure about. Bits and pieces that worried me, but also didn't quite add up to the impression I had gotten about you. But no, Fred, the big things-the important things-haven't changed about you. And I was wrong about a lot, like I said. I made assumptions and I'm sorry about that. And you know...I thought there was a before and after too. I thought that maybe someone would be one way for a certain amount of time and then something life-changing happens and then they'd be completely different." I shrugged. "But I don't think that's the case. You've changed and grown and evolved, and Percy's death did have an impact on you, but you're not an entirely new person, Fred. You may have changed, but you're also still the person you used to be. You're maybe a little more mature, but you're still you."

"If that's true for me, then it must be true for you as well," he whispered. He pulled his legs out of the water and turned to face me, sitting cross-legged on the worn wood of the dock.

I mirrored his actions and turned to face him, crossing my legs under me as well. "What do you mean?" I asked. "My whole issue is that I don't know who I am at all. What I've gone through-it's been my whole life. My issues started when I was five years old. Now, at twenty-one, I'd be different than a five year old regardless of my upbringing. At least I'd hope so." I smiled slightly. "So it's hard to know how my life has changed me. It's hard to know what about me has always been that way or if it's an effect of my past."

"Of course it's changed you. But you never became someone you're not," Fred said. "You probably became tougher because of what you went through. Scared, sad, paranoid-you became a lot of things, but you never lost the traits you started out with. You're kind, you're smart, you are funny when you allow yourself to be. You're independent. You're a good listener." He shrugged. "Speaking from experience, it's really easy to become bitter over your life falling apart. To become angry and destructive. But you never have. You're a good person now and I think you always have been. Remember what Martha said the other night? You haven't let the things that have happened in your life change you. You haven't grown mean or bitter or resentful. A lot of people might have in your situation. Or even in different shitty situations. I certainly did."

I thought that over for a second, staring down at my hands as I did. Finally, I let out a breath of laughter and peered up at Fred with a wry smile. "Do you give this speech to all the girls?" I asked. "Compliment them on how completely not bitter they are?"

Fred gaped at me as he let out a laugh. "You'd better watch out or I really will push you in the water," he said, leaning over and lightly shoving my knee.

"Don't," I laughed, swatting his hands away.

Fred let out a slow breath as his face became serious. "I don't know," he said. "People have always said I'm charming and it's not that I don't believe them, because I know what I am. I already told you I always thought I was born to do the job I'm doing and sometimes-well, usually, actually-in order to sell things to people, you do have to be charming. But I wasn't some kind of..."

"Ladies man?" I suggested. "Womanizer? Casanova?"

"Casa-what?" Fred asked, wrinkling his nose.

I snorted. "Muggle thing. Never mind."

"Well, anyway," Fred said, "no, I wasn't really any of that. I mean, I guess I'm good with girls. But I'm good with people in general." He shrugged. "Ange was the only girl in school I ever really pursued. And I had her for three really great years. Nearly four, actually. Until I screwed up."

"Fred," I said quietly.

"I did screw up," he argued. "So don't even say I didn't. I should've done better. The way I reacted to Percy's death wasn't the way to react."

"You can't always help how you react to things," I said. "But I suppose what matters is if you change your behavior or not. And it seems like you are. You have a lot of people around you willing to help. People who want you to be better."

"But Angelina left," Fred said. "That's part of why I'm so...angry. I never thought she would."

"I don't think she left," I said. "I bet she'd still be there for you if you needed her. I could tell from the day I met her when we went out to that Muggle pub. She cares about you."

"But—"

"I know she stopped dating you and moved on to another guy," I said. "And I'm not saying that wouldn't hurt. And I agree that if you love someone, it doesn't mean leaving the second times get hard, but is that was she did? How long did she stay? How long did she try? And just how easy did you make this on her?"

"What are you saying?" Fred asked, frustration crossing his face. "That I'm trying to put some kind of blame on her she doesn't deserve?"

"What I'm asking is-well, is there more to the story you don't want to admit? Just because she fell in love with someone else does not mean she stopped caring about you at all. It's never that simple."

"Maybe the same goes for you and your mother," Fred answered. "I don't know what happened to her, but maybe what happened isn't simple. It doesn't have to mean she suddenly stopped caring about you completely."

"I never saw her again," I whispered. "You at least know what happened to Angelina. I spent years-years, Fred-wishing I could talk to my mother and ask her what happened. Just like with knowing where you stood with Percy, you also know what happened to Angelina. She was never really gone. You could have talked to her about it whenever you wanted."

"I couldn't," Fred answered, shaking his head as he looked down at his knees. "I couldn't. I can't."

"I'm not saying it's easy," I said, "and I swear I'm not judging you. Not now. All I'm saying is that when you are finally ready, you can get your closure."

"I'm going to help you get yours, too, Soph," Fred said, his voice full of determination. "I've just-I haven't been able to find anything else on your mother. She's been nearly impossible to track further than what I've already told you."

"Don't worry about it," I told him. "I know better than to get my hopes up."

"But you shouldn't have to feel that way!" Fred exclaimed, looking up at me.

I found myself actually smiling. "I appreciate that. I do. But unfortunately it's the truth." I took in a deep breath.

Fred was quiet for a moment as he thought. He stared down at his hands as he did so. "Angelina didn't dump me the second Percy died, if that's what you wanted to know," he said bitterly. "Or even the day after. Or a week. Or a month. She waited six months. She hung around for six months, hoping I'd stop getting drunk and hoping I'd stop being so angry and miserable and guilty. She tried in her own way, but I think she made things worse. Her efforts only made me angry. She hovered just like everyone else, maybe even more so. She'd cry, she'd yell, she'd cry and yell some more. And I'd yell back and end up just pushing her further and further away." He let out a sigh of frustration and rubbed a hand over his face. "I played a part in her leaving and I know it. I almost hate myself for it. But at the time, I felt like she wasn't giving me the kind of support I needed, even though I felt like I couldn't even articulate what I needed. But then when she left, it felt like she'd given up on me. And when she moved on to Wood so quickly, I began to wonder if she'd ever loved me at all."

I reached out and tentatively placed a hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I know," I whispered. "I know just how you feel. I've felt that way all my life. With my mother of all people. But then I came here. And I met you. I met Martha and Tom and Rachel, Kayla and Allie. I met Noah." My eyes filled with tears again at the mention of Noah's name and I quickly brushed them away. "I met people who refused to let me feel as if I weren't loved. You have a lot of people that care about you and I think Angelina is still one of them. I know she broke your heart and I know it'll take a while to heal, but you'll get there. I promise."

Fred looked up at me and gave me a sad smile. "You too. You'll be okay, you know."

I nodded as I felt one last stray tear spill onto my cheek and make it's way slowly downwards. "I hope so."

"I know so," Fred said. He reached up and gently tilted my chin up so that I was looking at him. He used his other hand to brush away my tears. "Remember all that confidence you were directing towards me a second ago? Use some of that on yourself."

"If I have to, you have to," I said. I smiled and held out a hand to him. "It's customary to shake it when you make deals," I said. "Do you not have handshakes here in England?"

Fred smiled and let out a breath of laughter. "Cheeky," he muttered under his breath. But then he looked up at me, a smile still lighting up his face as he took my hand and gave it a slow shake, his eyes still locked on mine as he did so.

"It's a deal," he said.