It didn't take long for Fred to fill George in on the plan. Only a few moments after we returned to the Burrow, Fred passed behind me as I was helping set the table and whispered, "George is in," into my ear.

"Why am I not surprised?" I asked with a tiny smile as I continued my task of setting out silverware. "I don't think I've ever seen you two away from each other for more than ten minutes. Wherever you go, he goes, and vice versa. You do everything together."

"Well, not everything," Fred answered with a laugh. He smiled back at me and leaned backwards against the edge of the table, crossing his arms and looking down at me. I had finished with the silverware, but now he was blocking my way, so I reached down and began fiddling with the table setting at the seat I was standing in front of. I straightened the napkin and smoothed it out before fixing the corner of it. I adjusted the plate slightly to the right and straightened the silverware.

"Just going on pure observation here," Fred said raising his eyebrows as he watched me, "but you seem nervous. Honestly, Soph, what's the worst that can happen by you sneaking out?"

I finally looked up at him, my expression one of complete disbelief. "Are you serious?" I asked, my voice full of disbelief. "One of us could very well end up dead."

"Well, that's dramatic," Fred snorted. He then quickly became serious. "I'm sorry," he added. "Noah and his mother are both dead and you've been running away from Eric for a long time. You're scared and he's dangerous. I know that. I just—"

"You're used to laughing in the face of danger," I said, turning away. "I know."

"Sophie," Fred said quietly, reaching out to grab my hand. "If Eric shows up-tomorrow or ever-I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

I looked down at his hand on mine before looking back up at his face. Part of me was still figuring him out, still getting used to his relaxed attitude and his jokes. But I trusted him, and when he said he'd protect me, I actually believed him. Or I at least believed he'd try his hardest. But just like Elizabeth had written in her diary, sometimes things happened beyond our control. Just because Fred wanted to protect me, didn't mean he could. I didn't say any of this out loud, though. Instead, I just whispered, "Thanks."

Fred smiled softly and released my hand. "Of course."

Over dinner, he and George let their mother know they'd be staying at the Burrow overnight. They brought it up so casually, telling her they were doing it to keep me company-they figured I'd been lonely with little to no contact with people my own age. Meanwhile, I was trying not to get my bite of chicken lodged in my suddenly dry-with-nerves throat.

Luckily, Mrs. Weasley bought it. She even told them it was a thoughtful idea and that they were sweet. It made my stomach churn because all of this was part of some kind of sneaky plan to betray her. I almost wanted to back out.

"You know," Ginny said, "I'm here at least four or five times a week-when I'm not staying with Harry."

"Yeah, but surely Sophie's sick of looking at you by now," Fred said, lazily picking up his wand and deflecting the glob of potatoes Ginny had hurled at him with her spoon.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. "Behave at the table, please." She looked at Fred. "Both of you."

Ginny ignored her mother and kept talking to Fred. "What makes you think looking at you is much better?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You and George are the biggest pair of monkeys."

"Why are you dragging me into this?" George asked through a mouthful of potatoes.

"Ginny," Mrs. Weasley began. "That's enough. Can't we all just enjoy our dinner without calling each other names?"

The table was silent for a moment before Fred spoke again. "You know, Gin, if I'm a monkey, you're a monkey."

I glanced over at him to see him looking at Ginny, the corner of his mouth hitched up in a smile. She looked back at him, her eyebrow raised again. "Excuse me?"

"We're related."

"I'm guessing now's a bad time to tell you you're adopted," Ginny fired back.

"Weird, I thought Ron was adopted," Fred said thoughtfully.

"I thought it was Charlie," Ron chimed in.

"Charlie told me that Bill was adopted," George went on, effortlessly carrying on the joke.

"Ah, no, that's right-it was Percy," Fred said. He said it completely casually, but the whole room fell into shocked silence, even Ginny. But Fred just smiled slightly. "It had to have been Percy. I always thought he was part owl. With those glasses and all..."

"Maybe we're all adopted," George said, a smile coming over his face as he looked at Fred.

"None of you are adopted," Mrs. Weasley said fondly, blinking back the tears I could see in her eyes. She looked around the table at everyone and beamed, taking in one member of her family after another. "Although, it wouldn't make a bit of difference if you were. I'd love you all just the same."

I looked down at my lap, feeling slightly uncomfortable. It was a sweet moment, especially after how much they had gone through as a family. But I was almost feeling just how much I stuck out at that moment. Hermione and Fleur weren't here at the moment, which left Harry and I as the only two at the table that weren't family. Harry also just so happened to be sitting across the table from me and when I glanced up, I met his eyes. His mouth twitched into a smile as if he were fighting a laugh and I knew he realized the same thing I did. That were were the only two non-Weasleys in the room. Except he'd grown up with them. He was marrying one, for Merlin's sake. He essentially was one. The same went for Hermione. And Fleur was already married to Bill. Me, however...I wasn't sure I truly belonged, however kind the Weasleys had been to me by taking me in.

"And then, of course we have our family members through marriage," Mr. Weasley said as if he were reading my mind. "Fleur, and shortly Harry as well."

"And Hermione if only Ron would get a move on," George said as Ron turned a deep pink and turned his attention to his plate.

"And of course we can't forget Sophie," Fred said, beaming at me.

I looked up in surprise. "What?"

"You heard me," he said. "You hang out with us regularly and you actually live here now. You're one of us. Soon your hair will turn red, freckles will appear all over your body and you'll have fully morphed into a Weasley."

I couldn't help it-I laughed.

"But the induction into the family isn't complete without a Weasley Christmas sweater, isn't that right, Mum?" Ginny asked.

"A Weasley Christmas sweater?" I asked.

"Mum knits us all sweaters every Christmas," Ron said. "I always get maroon."

"What's wrong with maroon?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "I thought you liked maroon."

Ron shrugged. "It is better than that mustard yellow you gave Charlie that one year."

Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "I agree-that wasn't my best choice of yarn. But I didn't want to let it go to waste. I had to use it for someone's sweater."

"I guess we all know who the least favorite child is," Fred said, "since you chose to gift it to Charlie."

"No, I just knew he wouldn't complain about the color," Mrs. Weasley argued. "He never cares-he just loves the sweaters."

"I think Ginny's mentioned these to me before," I said. I looked at Mrs. Weasley. "How many do you knit?"

"Last Christmas I made eleven," she said. "One for everyone-including Fleur, Hermione, Harry...and I couldn't bring myself to skip over Percy. I'm so used to it and it was our first Christmas without him..." She stared aimlessly at the wall for a moment before looking at me. "Do you know how to knit, dear?"

"Mum, how old do you think Sophie is?" Fred snorted. "Eighty?"

"Fred Weasley, are you implying that I'm old because I knit?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Not at all, Mum," Fred said quickly, going back to his dinner.

"I don't know how to knit," I told Mrs. Weasley. "Neither magically nor the Muggle way. But I'd love to learn."

"Oh, I could teach you!" Mrs. Weasley said eagerly. "I usually get started on the sweaters fairly early. Around early November. There are so many to make and even with magic, it takes a little bit and there are always the other holiday preparations to worry about so I try to start early to get them done before the rush of the season." She was talking quickly now and she finally turned to look at me. "You really want to learn? No one's ever expressed an interest before."

Fred rolled his eyes. "No, I can't see why your family of predominantly males would want to learn how to knit," Fred said.

"My, my, you are certainly on a roll with the jokes and sarcasm tonight, young man," Mrs. Weasley said. Her face softened. "I like it."

"You like it?" Fred asked. "That is a first coming from you."

Mrs. Weasley chuckled. "Oh, hush," she said quietly.

"I'd love for you to teach me," I whispered, looking down at my hands and fiddling with them before glancing at her. "Given that I'm still here by November and that you'll have me."

"Of course I would!" Mrs. Weasley said. "As Fred was so kind to point out, this is a predominantly male family. It's nice having other women around sometimes. Just so I know that I'm not going completely insane." She smiled warmly at me. "I've loved having you here, Sophie. Not just because you're another girl, but because you've been such a pleasure to have. You've kept me company during the day now that my once full house is empty of children. You've helped around the house more than you know. You actually enjoy letting me teach you how to cook and now how to knit. And you're a wonderful listener when I feel like talking about, well, life."

I stared at her, trying to stop the tears that were welling up behind my own eyes. "Really?" I asked.

"Really," Mrs. Weasley said softly.

"Oh, bloody hell," the twins said in unison. They both stood up and began to clear their plates from the table. "We're clearing out before the emotions get underway."

"Motion seconded," Ron agreed, getting up as well, Harry and Mr. Weasley joining him a second later.

"Men," Ginny sighed, rolling her eyes.

I looked back down at my plate, feeling slightly embarrassed, but smiling nonetheless.

But now, after all the nice things Mrs. Weasley had said about me, how could I lie to her tomorrow?

Later that night, I stood right outside Fred and George's bedroom door, anxiously fiddling with the Fever Fudge and the Puking Pastil that Fred had given me. I wanted to talk to them about using them-or, rather, not using them.

I simply couldn't make up my mind. I wanted-needed, actually-to talk to that mystery lady. I did need answers. I deserved them, after all that had happened. And the only way to get these answers was to leave the Burrow because as wonderful as it was here, it wasn't going to help me tie up every single loose end that had been hanging pretty much since I'd arrived here.

I had spent a good amount of time after dinner wracking my brain for another way of doing this without having to lie to Mrs. Weasley, but couldn't think of anything. I could always just leave, but that might be worse. Besides, the whole point of me faking sick was to give me a reason to be left alone upstairs. Although, I had wondered if believing I was sick would cause Mrs. Weasley to leave me totally alone. I had a feeling she'd try to dote on me and take care of me anyway, which made the thought of betraying her that much worse.

But how was I going to articulate my thoughts to Fred when I could barely articulate them to myself? I'd thought he'd be a good sounding board and that even if I babbled, he'd get it. I'd thought his creative brain could come up with an alternative plan. So I'd wound up here, outside his bedroom door.

I raised a fist up to it to knock, but stopped for a second and bit my lip. What was I so afraid of? That he'd be offended? Or mad at me? I was being ridiculous. I just had to do it. Just knock on the door and tell him I couldn't go through with the plan. I suddenly couldn't tell which option was more awful. Going through with the plan and betraying Mrs. Weasley or not going through with it and being a complete coward.

Before I could do anything else, the door suddenly flew open to reveal Fred, who jumped and let out a few curse words.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I was just on the way to the toilet-you're lucky I didn't wet myself," Fred joked. "What are you doing lurking around out here anyway?"

"I don't lurk," I said indignantly.

"Then what do you call standing in a dark hallway right outside someone's bedroom door?" Fred looked down at me, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Standing in a dark hallway right outside someone's door," I shrugged.

Fred smiled. "Funny," he said lightly. "But okay, fine. Regardless, the question still stands. What are you doing out here?"

"I wanted to talk to you," I said.

"Okay," Fred answered slowly. He stood back from the door to let me in. "Make yourself comfortable. Socialize with George. I'll be back before you can say Bludger."

He jogged off to the bathroom while I wandered over to the window seat and sat down, resting my back against the wall and propping one foot up on the seat in front of me, leaving the other dangling off the side.

"Are you okay?" George asked me gently.

I shrugged as I looked up at him. "I actually don't know."

"You're having second thoughts about tomorrow, aren't you?" he asked.

I averted my gaze to the window and stared out through the glass.

"When I ran away from my foster home," I said quietly, "I couldn't wait to get out of there. Running away didn't feel like a betrayal because those people weren't nice to me. Well...Andrea tried, but she could only do so much. I think she wanted a family—wanted a child. I think she genuinely cared for me. But Eric was so...controlling, it prevented her from acting like a mother. So I never felt like I had a real family. Here, though, it's different. I've finally found people that actually give a shit about me and I don't like the idea of betraying their trust."

"It's a really big deal to you, isn't it?" George asked, looking at me seriously.

"It is and I just told you why," I answered, turning to look him in the eye. "I want to know where I came from, but I can't ruin the relationships I've managed to build here. I can't just throw it all away. Not now that I've finally managed to even get something like this."

"But if we can't figure out all these mysteries involving your past and Eric, how can you live here in peace?" George asked. "You barely can as it is. You've tried to leave, what, twice now? If you keep wanting to leave anyway, what difference does it make? At least leaving now is so that we can try to figure out your past, put it behind you where it should be, and in the process get rid of the man who continues to terrorize you."

I swallowed. "I know. There are just too many unanswered questions right now, including where Eric is and what he's planning. And I have to do something to start getting some of the questions answered. I just..." I let out a deep sigh and glanced at George. "I've wanted a family for so long. A real one. And here I have Tom and Martha, your parents...I have friends. I'm afraid of it all going away. And I love your family. I don't want to hurt them. You've all been through so much already."

George smiled at me sadly. "And if we can make it through all of what we have—if we can get through Percy's death—we can get through anything. Besides, you leaving for a little while isn't as bad as you running away forever and leaving us wondering whether or not you're safe."

"I may not be safe leaving here for a day or two anyway," I said. "Eric already attacked me once. He could do it again."

"Eric had you alone that time," George pointed out. "This time, Fred and I aren't planning on letting you out of our sight."

I smiled slightly, but before I could answer, Fred came back into the room. "I heard my name," he said, crashing onto his bed and sliding his hands leisurely behind his head. "Who are we not letting out of our sight?"

"Sophie," George said. "She's nervous about tomorrow."

"You're backing out?" Fred asked, sitting up and staring at me.

"No, Fred, I—" I broke off and sighed, burying my head in my hands before looking up at him. "I want answers, I truly do. I really don't think I can move on without them, no matter how much I try. But as I was just saying to George, I also don't think I can lie to your mother and sneak out like we've planned. Especially after all she just said to me at dinner."

"Because she offered to teach you how to knit?" Fred asked with a frown.

I set my jaw as anger began to boil inside of me. I scoffed and stood up, heading for the door. "You don't get it," I said, shaking my head. "You have a family that's loved you your whole life. You don't know what it's like to have the people who are supposed to take care of you leave."

Fred jumped off his bed and grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving. I wrenched myself out of his grasp, but didn't move to leave the room. I continued to stand facing the door, half looking at him over my shoulder.

"Percy left us twice," Fred said firmly. "We've talked about this so many times, Soph. And okay, maybe the second time he didn't have a choice, but the first time he did. So, yeah, I do know what it's like to have someone leave who you thought would always be around."

"He's your brother, not your parent." I finally spun around to look at him. "And my parents both left and never came back. By choice. What happened with Percy isn't the same. I'm not saying it hurt less or wasn't terrible or awful or that it didn't affect you, but-"

"It seems to me that it is what you're saying," Fred snapped. "It sounds like you're telling me what you went through is so much worse and that lucky me could never imagine what it's like to go through what you did."

"That's not what I'm saying at all!" I cried, feeling more frustrated by the second. "All I'm saying is that it's different. We may both have had family members leave us, but afterwards, I had no one left. I didn't have a twin or any siblings at all. I didn't have friends or extended family or...anyone!" I was on the verge of tears now, no matter how much I was trying to hold them back. "I spent my whole life thinking nobody even loved me! And despite what happened with Percy, you always knew you were loved. You were always wanted. By him and the rest of your family. I was never wanted. By anyone."

Fred stared at me for a moment before wordlessly stepping forward and pulling me into a hug. I stiffened, but then found myself relaxing. I let him put his arms around me and his chin on my head as tears dripped from my eyes onto his shirt. I tried not to look at George, who was watching with wide eyes.

"You are wanted," Fred whispered. "You are."

"I know, that's the point," I whispered. "It wasn't specifically your mother offering to teach me to knit, you know," I went on quietly. "But the fact that she offered to teach me how to do something. The fact that she wanted to share something she enjoyed with me. My own mother taught me a lot in the five years before she left-walking, talking, reading, ice skating...that was all her. But ever since she left, there was a lot she didn't get to teach me. And none of my foster parents were interested. And to have your mother say she liked having me here...Between Tom and Martha and your family, I've felt wanted for the first time since I was five. You even said it yourself that you consider me one of you. How can you tell me that and then expect me to turn around and jeopardize all of it tomorrow morning?"

"I'm sorry," Fred muttered. I felt the movement of his chin against my head. I pulled away from him and swiped at my eyes in embarrassment, staring down at the ground as I did so. "Look," Fred went on with a sigh. "I know for a fact that Mum would forgive you if you snuck out. I don't think you'd jeopardize anything. But if you're really this worried about this, then..." He cleared his throat and I saw him glance at George and then back at me. "Give us five minutes."

"Mm, I'd say closer to ten," George argued.

"You think?" Fred looked at his brother and scrunched his nose.

"What are you talking about?" I looked back and forth between them in confusion.

Fred walked past me to his desk and grabbed a few tissues before turning and handing them to me. "You'll see in ten minutes," he said with a sly smile. "Feel free to sit and relax while you wait."

I slowly sat down on one of the beds while Fred and George left the room together. I heard them head down the stairs and then say something once they reached the kitchen at the bottom. Mrs. Weasley answered them and then things were quiet.

I continued to sit where I was, feeling a bit restless. I didn't know what Fred and George were up to and I couldn't hear any voices. I knew they were talking to Mrs. Weasley, but what were they saying? Were they telling her about what we'd planned to do tomorrow?

I stood up and began pacing around the room, wondering what exactly was happening. Five minutes went by, then seven. And then, once exactly ten minutes had passed, I heard the twins coming back up the stairs again. I turned towards the door as it opened and looked at them expectantly.

"What'd you two do?" I asked.

"Went and talked to Mum," Fred answered casually, flopping back down on his bed again.

"Told her the plan," George added, sitting down on his own bed. "Partially, anyway."

"You told her?" I asked, my mouth falling open. "How does that make any of this better?"

"We asked her right out if we could bring you out with us tomorrow," Fred went on. "That way we're being honest and no one has to do any lying or sneaking around."

"We told her it was all our idea," George added. "And we told her how you felt about upsetting her in any way. We even said you cried."

"Why?" I asked, taken aback that they'd even told her that.

"You did cry," Fred answered simply, shrugging his shoulders.

I shot him a look. "Yes, but why would you tell her that?"

"Tears almost always help someone's case," Fred told me. "The more innocent you are, the better. For example, if George and I cried to get something we wanted, Mum would tell us to bugger off. But you're a different story."

"So she wasn't upset?" I asked incredulously.

"No, she was," Fred said. When he saw my face, he quickly added, "but not at you. And she only yelled at first."

"She just hated the idea," George went on. "She thinks it's dangerous and she said there's a reason you're staying here and the house is protected and all that, which is true."

"However," Fred said, "we managed to calm her down and use our award winning persuasion skills and your tears to get her to agree."

I was quiet for a moment as I thought that over. "You said she was upset at first," I said. "I didn't hear any yelling."

"Ah, well, of course not," Fred said, twirling his wand between his fingers and smiling wryly. "Muffliato charm. We didn't want to make you nervous when Mum lost it."

"But she can't possibly have completely come around to the idea," I said, sitting down on the window seat.

"No, she hasn't entirely," Fred said. "But she's allowing it."

"But why?" I asked.

"Must you ask so many questions?" Fred sighed.

"I don't think she asks a lot of questions," George said. He paused, then smiled. "It's sounds just like the same one over and over to me. Why. Why, why, why."

He and Fred laughed as I just stared at them. "Ha ha," I said, rolling my eyes slightly. "Didn't your mother ask questions? About what I was searching for and how? You didn't tell her about the necklace or the mystery lady, did you?"

"No, we didn't," George said.

"Then wasn't she curious about what kind of digging we're going to be doing?"

"No one said anything about digging," Fred said with a mischievous grin. "At least not to Mum."

"We told her we were bringing you outside for fresh air and a change of scenery," George said. "We said it's not healthy for you to be cooped up at the Burrow all day every day."

"She argued that you get fresh air here and the whole point was that so you could be protected and all that good stuff," Fred went on. "But we also told her you wanted to see your friends as well as Tom and Martha and that since they're all usually working, we had to take you to them. Again, we played the sympathy card on your behalf. Mum almost began bawling at that point." He shook his head and chuckled.

I looked between the two of them in awe. "Amazing. You two are really something." I hesitated. "But you still lied to her."

"Sort of," Fred said. "You do need a change of scenery and to see your friends, so that wasn't a lie. But we couldn't tell her everything without going into detail. She knows about the diary from what we told everyone the night Eric attacked you at Noah's house. But they don't know about this mystery woman or the necklace or what it does."

"Do you think we should be telling people?" I asked. "Kingsley or someone? About the necklace?"

"Well," Fred said slowly. "We don't know yet if it connects to Eric. We know it connects to this mystery woman and to your past-your past from before foster care. I think we should wait. If it's not relevant to finding Eric, why say something right away?"

"But this lady could be working with him. She could be the one helping him into the Leaky Cauldron and to brew Polyjuice Potion. If I saw her in Hogsmeade and at your shop and if she gave me this necklace, she must be magical. And she had that postcard from when I was in foster care. It kind of connects the two."

"Again, we don't know that," Fred said. "She hasn't seemed dangerous so far, just mysterious and strange. If we can find her again and actually talk to her, maybe we can get some answers."

"If she's working with Eric, she's not going to just tell us," I pointed out. "And just because she hasn't seemed dangerous so far doesn't mean anything either."

"No, but she might be able to tell us something else," Fred said. "By the way, I think you'll like this bit of news. Since we told Mum we were taking you to the Leaky Cauldron, we kind of have to do it to give us an alibi." He smiled. "So we actually are paying Tom and Martha a visit tomorrow."

"We are?" I asked eagerly, a smile spreading over my face. I'd missed Tom and Martha immensely. I hadn't seen them since I'd come to the Burrow and I hadn't seen Rachel, Kayla, Allie, or even Kyle since then either. I wondered about them constantly. I almost even missed the girls' gossiping.

"We are," Fred repeated with a smile.

"Wow," I said, letting out a breath of laughter. "I have to admit-you two are pretty impressive. Thank you...so much."

"What are friends for?" Fred said quietly, smiling over at me.

Later that night, after leaving the twins' room, I headed back down the stairs, hoping to find Mrs. Weasley. Luckily, she was in the living room, digging through a bag full of different colored yarn.

"What color do you think Victoire would like for a hat?" she asked, sensing I was in standing in the doorway without looking up.

"Um," I said, entering the room and sitting down on the couch as I gazed at the balls of yarn sitting in the bag. "I've always liked purple. Maybe she will too."

"Purple's lovely," Mrs. Weasley said, selecting a deep purple colored yarn and setting it in her lap.

"Where's Mr. Weasley?" I asked.

"Out back in the shed," Mrs. Weasley said. "It's where he keeps his Muggle things that he constantly likes to tinker with." She rolled her eyes slightly. "It baffles me that he can have such an interest in things like plugs."

I smiled slightly. "So Fred and George told me they came to talk to you earlier."

"They did," she said, pulling out her knitting needles and getting started on Victoire's hat.

I watched her for a moment, almost mesmerized by the movement of the needles. She worked so fast. And it didn't look like much of anything right now-just a bunch of yarn looped around the needle, but soon it would become a hat.

"Thanks for letting me go with them tomorrow," I said. "It means a lot."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "I know you must miss Tom and Martha and your friends from work. Everything happened so fast and you didn't really get to give them a proper goodbye. I've thought about that quite a bit since you first came here."

"You have?"

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said. "Your life got even more turned upside down and Fred and George were right-you need to get out and see people besides the small group of us that you do see daily."

"I don't mind seeing you daily," I said. "You're all wonderful, and as I told Fred and George, I don't want to hurt or upset you in any way. I'm so grateful for what you've done. I don't want to repay you by doing something stupid."

"I do want you to be safe and I don't want any of our protective measures to go to waste," Mrs. Weasley admitted. "But Fred and George swore they'd keep you safe. And however reckless they've been known to be, they're good on their word and they are protective."

"You must be worried about them as well," I said, watching the knitting needles move quickly in her hands, gently clacking together.

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said. "But I know that it's just like with my brothers-once they've made up their minds about doing something, it's hard to change them. They'll find a way to do what they want and if I argue with them about it..." She trailed off and sighed. "If something were to happen, I don't want our last conversation to be an argument because I didn't want them to do something. And in a lot of cases-not all, but a lot-they want to do something good. Like what they're doing for you." She shrugged. "I can't refuse to let them go about doing things because I'm worried, either. There are numerous dangerous things out there. Several things that could hurt them and many ways they could be injured or killed or..." She shrugged. "I've raised them the best I could and I have to trust that they can make good decisions and survive as adults."

"Does it help?" I asked. "Ease your worry, I mean."

"Not always. A mother always worries," she said.

I bit my lip as I thought of my own mother again. Had she ever once worried about me or even thought about me since the day she'd left? I had no idea. I didn't know for sure. I didn't have all the answers. I had none, in fact. I had no idea why my mother had left me or if there was any reason at all. I could bury my head in the sand all I wanted and try to ignore the past as much as I could, but it would always be there, nagging at me. If I was being honest, it did bother me not knowing the truth about what happened. As afraid as I was of digging too deep into the mess that was my life, I had to. Being able to put together the puzzle of my past was becoming suddenly calming to me. I suddenly just wanted nothing more than to tuck everything away in neat little boxes in my head instead of having it be all one big jumble.

"Do you do all your knitting by hand?" I asked Mrs. Weasley, gesturing to the needles in her hands.

"Good gracious, no," she laughed. "Can you imagine me knitting eleven Christmas sweaters completely by hand? Even starting early wouldn't give me time to finish them all if I did them that way. I knit the Christmas sweaters mostly by magic, doing a little by hand when I have time. But other times, like now, I'll do something almost completely by hand, using magic if I'm in a pinch. Doing it by hand can be quite relaxing at times. Keeps my mind and hands occupied."

I watched her for a moment until I saw her look up and meet my eyes with a warm smile.

"There's an extra pair of needles in the bag," she said. "I can get you started on a scarf, if you'd like. They're fairly easy."

"Really?" I asked with a grin.

She nodded and I crossed the room to kneel down by her bag of yarn, digging in until I found the needles.

"Now go ahead and pick out a color," she instructed.

I stuck my tongue between my teeth as I carefully rummaged through the yarn, finally choosing a cranberry red color.

"That's lovely," Mrs. Weasley commented. She finished the row of stitches she was working on before turning to me. "Now, let's get you started on that scarf."