August 26th, 1692. Salem, Massachusetts.

A week ago today, on the nineteenth of August, my dear husband was taken to be executed. A month to the day after Sarah was brought to the same location to meet the same fate.

I have been too upset to write much. Or at all, actually, which is made clear by the fact that this is my first entry in over a month.

By some stroke of luck, Dorothy has remained in the cell beside mine ever since her mother was removed from the cell to be executed. I could not even believe our luck when they were forced to share a cell in the first place. They are so small as it is and I did not think the two of them would be allowed to stay together, but on the other hand, the jail is crowded. It filled quickly and once it did, prisoners were brought to the Ipswich or Boston jails. I'm sure the conditions there were not much better than they are here, if they were even better at all.

In any case, these two bits of luck were the only ones. Everything else has been a complete nightmare.

Due to the fact that Dorothy was never actually convicted as a witch, only used for a testimony against Sarah, her father was told that she could be released from jail, but only if he could come forward with her court fees. Everyone knows full well that her father cannot come forward with that money. So for now, Dorothy remains in the cell beside mine. She has started crying every night again, just like she did when she first came here. Only now she does it quietly. She knows that if she is heard, a guard will be in to quiet her down almost immediately.

I try whispering to her through the hole in the wall. Sometimes it works and sometimes it does not. And sometimes I cannot do it at all if I hear a guard wandering too close to our cells.

As far as my pregnancy, it is quite noticeable at this point that I am carrying a child. I am about five months along and there is no denying it. I do worry on account of the fact I am not getting the best care while I am here. While I did not expect to get any kind of care, it does not stop me from worrying constantly about whether or not the baby will be healthy or even if the birth will go well. All this time I have been fighting for this child, to keep it alive so that it can have a life, even if I am not in it. The baby has been my reason to keep going. But sometimes I wonder if any of it matters. With every day that passes, I lose more and more hope that there is a way out of this for me. And if my child survives, what kind of life will they have? Will he or she end up in loving hands or will a lifetime of hardships lie ahead? What will it be like being the child of two convicted witches in the town of Salem, Massachusetts? Will anyone even bother to tell them my story or will the child grow up constantly wondering?

Perhaps this diary will follow to wherever he or she ends up. There is no guarantee and I realize that. But I can hope. I can hope that this diary will somehow be the way my future child learns what happened to his or her mother and father. I hope he or she realizes they are loved, despite not having much time together. I hope they realize they were wanted, but unforeseen circumstances prevented us from being together. Circumstances that may be entirely beyond anyone's control.

I sighed and chewed on my lip as I finished reading the newest entry in Elizabeth's diary. Each of the recent entries were all pretty much the same. She was exhausted, drained, hopeless and miserable and she was spending her days in the same tiny cell, all while carrying a child, so I could understand why the entries were the way they were. I was becoming more and more worried that she wasn't going to make it out of prison and that the diary would be coming to an end soon. It was even more devastating when I realized that if it ended while she was in prison I would probably never know what became of her child and of Dorothy Good. I'd be left assuming that they died there from complete lack of care.

I stretched my arms out in front of me for a moment before looking over the railing in front of me and down at the busy shop. I had taken perch at the top of the stairs leading to the upper level of the shop. I'd sat down in a spot all the way to the right, against the wall, and dangled my legs over the edge, resting my arms on the mid-level railing that ran below the main one. It was the most secluded spot I could find that was still out in the main shop in case Mystery Woman showed up. In fact, this spot gave me a view of the entire lower level. If she walked in, I would most likely see her.

Just then, I saw Fred walking just below me. He glanced up and smiled. "Anything?" he mouthed.

I shook my head and gave him a small smile in return. I hadn't been up here for very long, though, and we had all day. But I was also starting to become restless. Even if this lady was on the lookout for me, I wasn't exactly making myself a good target by staying inside of the joke shop all day. Although, if she'd noticed how close I'd become to the twins, maybe she'd suspect this would be a good place to check. I still couldn't even decide if I wanted her to show up or not. My stomach was constantly flopping with nerves and even reading the diary wasn't helping. Not as if it were exactly enjoyable reading anyway. But, I was still intrigued and curious by the story, despite dreading how it would end. And I hoped that if I kept trying, I'd be able to take my thoughts off of my nerves towards the Mystery Woman. So, with that on my mind, I opened the diary again and began the next entry.

October 20th, 1692. Salem, Massachusetts.

I may have found a way out of here. A way for me to make it out of here alive. It is not by any means a great plan, but it is something nonetheless.

Once a month, Judge Hathorne comes to the jail. Each remaining prisoner is dragged out of their cell just for a few moments to be questioned. We were essentially asked if there was anything we would like to say or share. As if they believed our time locked up would have worn us down in a way and we would be so desperate to get out at this point that we would say anything. So far, no one has given up any information. Most people who do have any kind of magic are either still here in prison, or have been executed already. There is almost nothing to tell anymore, even if we wanted to.

I must say, despite having remaining strong and keeping my mouth shut for months, I considered it. I considered giving Judge Hathorne any information he wanted, even if it was not true, just to ensure my freedom. But that would not ensure Dorothy's. I wondered if there would be a way to negotiate her release, despite the fact that she still has fees that need paying. Her father has no money and neither do I. Everything John and I owned has been taken from us. Our possessions, our home, even the tavern.

The idea I came up with this month is risky. Extremely risky. I worry that it could end badly. I worry that I could be executed sooner, taking my child along with me and leaving Dorothy alone, or to be executed herself after all. It's going to involve a lot of careful persuasion and negotiating on my part, but I have lots of time to myself day after day to think about just what to say.

If this works, life after this won't be easy. It might just be downright awful. At times, I think it may just be as bad as being here in jail, but then at the same time I'm not sure if anything can be as bad as this.

I overheard Judge Hathorne talking last month. Winnifred, his servant girl, packed up and left Salem. She took all her savings, packed up her things and left. She left no note, but I have a good idea of why. Can you imagine working for the man responsible for locking up groups of innocent citizens by the wagonload? I knew Winnifred. She was a sweet, kind girl with good morals that disagreed with Judge Hathorne's normally harsh rulings. But once all of this witch hysteria began, it must have become unbearable. I had heard people were even being unkind to her, as if they needed someone to indirectly take out the anger with Judge Hathorne one.

Judge Hathorne, of course, refuses to believe it has anything to do with him. He has called her more terrible names than I can list. He says she was useless anyway and that she will not be able to find work as good as she had here.

While Winnifred's well being and what might become of her now does worry me, this has given me an opportunity to save myself. So my idea is this: Judge Hathorne will be back on All Hallow's Eve-he always visits the jail on the last day of each month. When he asks to speak with me, instead of giving out names or information of any other residents in town that may have been 'overlooked', I shall offer that in exchange for my freedom, I will take Winnifred's place and attend to things at his home. He knows I helped John run the tavern. He knows I can cook and clean-and do it well.

It disgusts me that I have stooped this low. I have always been proud of who I am. I have always stood tall and spoke up for what I believed in. So offering to become somebody's servant-and Judge Hathorne's no less-makes me feel like I could vomit. I can hardly stand the thought of having to answer to him, having to take orders from him, and having him constantly degrade me for the rest of my life, as if he has not done enough of that already.

But I have become desperate. I would do anything at this point. Spending the rest of my days working for such a despicable man-and making Dorothy do the same-is anything but desirable. But I am tired. I am exhausted. And I see no other option. I know he is desperate for a new servant and no one else is available or even wants the job, despite the reasonable pay. Which is why I have a sliver of hope that this could work. I have to work out exactly what I will say-and make sure it is convincing. But as I said, I have lots of time to think.

The only thing is that I know I would not be able to get Dorothy released with me. She still has a living family member-her father. I cannot just offer her into servitude. It is not my place. So my idea was to save up enough money to pay her fees and get her released. I am not expecting Judge Hathorne to agree to pay me much-or even at all. But I do have some money saved up back home. In the secret room below the house. The only trouble will be getting to it. The house is not exactly mine any longer and if Judge Hathorne does agree to take me on as his servant, I am doubtful about the freedom he will give me. At least right away. He is very distrusting of me, clearly. In his eyes, witches are tricky. We can be, of course. But not always for evil.

I have ten and a half more days to put the finishing touches on this plan. Ten and a half more days until I have a chance at changing my fate.

I swallowed as I marked the page I'd left off on and slowly closed the diary. I couldn't help but feel suddenly hopeful. Just when everything had seemed terribly bleak for Elizabeth, there was suddenly a glimmer of hope—a chance of a way out. A chance to survive.

Granted, if her plan did work, she'd be forever indebted to the very person who had sentenced her to both prison and death. But she would be alive. Her son would survive. And Dorothy had a real chance, too.

But if it didn't work...

There was still a good chance the judge would turn her down immediately. There was a good chance he'd laugh in her face and send her back to her cell. There was a chance he'd think her as too audacious and move her death sentence up sooner. The entire plan could go horribly wrong, but she was willing to take that risk if it meant saving a few lives, including her own.

I suppose that was how everyone here felt about me. They'd been telling me to stay and let them help me since I'd arrived. They'd been willing to take multiple risks of it meant saving my life—and their own at this point, considering they were almost as far into this as I was. Eric clearly knew who I had grown close to by now.

I stood up and stretched my arms above my head, looking down at the shop below me. I was torn between leaving my spot to find Fred, and staying where I was so that I wouldn't miss Mystery Woman if she showed up. Even throughout reading the diary entry, I'd kept glancing up between sentences, just in case she walked in. But so far, nothing.

I finally made my way down to the shop's first floor, winding my way through the shop, my eyes scanning the crowd as I went, just in case I'd missed something while reading. The shop had a decent amount of people in it, but it was nothing compared to how it had been the week before school started, or even a few times over the summer.

Finally, I found George over by the Skiving Snackboxes, looking disgruntled. A mother was quickly ushering her son away from the display, and also the puddle of vomit on the floor.

"You were supposed to do it into the cauldron," the mother hissed to her son as they passed me. "There was a sign."

I raised an eyebrow as I closed the remaining distance between me and George. "Looks like someone had a little too much fun with the products," I commented.

George sighed and gestured to his right, where three candy dispensers stood lined up against the wall. They looked almost identical to the ones non-magical people used. Gumball machines. Except the coin slots of the machines here in the shop were designed to fit Knuts, Sickles and Galleons. And each machine was filled with a different Skiving Snackbox. At the end of the line of machines stood a cauldron with a sign hanging on the wall above: Please vomit into the cauldron.

"They're supposed to use the cauldron when they test the Puking Pastils," George said. "Or even the Nosebleed Nougats if the blood flow gets too heavy and it's dripping everywhere. But we also provide these for the nosebleeds." He pointed to a dispenser on the wall that looked like it was filled with washcloths or handkerchiefs that would soak up the blood.

"I can understand the frustration," I said. "But thank goodness for magic." I started to reach for my wand, but George stopped me.

"You don't have to," he said, shaking his head. "It's not your responsibility to clean up after customers." He pulled out his own wand and waved it, clearing up the mess instantly.

Just then, Fred appeared at my side. "Sophie's cleaned up enough vomit on our behalf." He nudged me and smiled before looking at George. "She's the one who had to clean up my vomit at the Leaky Cauldron the day Victoire was born and I skipped the hospital."

"My brother the charmer," George said to me, rolling his eyes. "You cleaned up his vomit before you'd even met him, and then when you did finally first meet him, didn't he step on your foot?"

I smiled and nodded as Fred looked sheepish for a moment.

"I apologized!" he said. "And tried to make conversation. But Sophie wouldn't even make eye contact and she didn't even say a word."

"Kyle made fun of me for that, too," I said, leaning sideways against a shelf and crossing my arms. He said he would bet that I didn't even say anything, not even something like, ouch, my foot."

Fred and George both snorted with laughter. "He's right," Fred said. After a pause, he tilted his head towards the spot at the top of the stairs, where I'd been sitting earlier. "So...anything?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. I didn't see her. But I read another few entries from the diary. Elizabeth came up with an escape plan."

"What?" Fred asked eagerly. "What is it? Tell us!"

"Don't you want to read it for yourself?" I asked, holding out the diary towards him.

"Yes, we do," George said. "At least...I do." He took the diary from me and gestured to the back room. "It's almost lunch time anyway. We can read this in the back."

"Tom and Martha also told us to come back at lunch time and they'd have some stuff ready for us," Fred told me. He smiled. "I think they were just really excited to see you."

I smiled back. "Do you want me to go grab it? You two can get started on reading."

Fred and George shared a look, worry flitting across their faces for a split second.

"What?" I asked. I crossed my arms and shot them a look. "You don't trust me to walk down the alley and back?"

"It's not that we don't trust you," George said. "Obviously."

"We just don't trust other people," Fred added. "We promised Mum we wouldn't let you out of our sight and we meant it."

"I thought you didn't play by the rules," I said.

"This isn't a rule, it's a promise," Fred said. "And it's not just something only Mum expected of us. We care about your safety, too."

I sighed. "Maybe this is our only shot. If Mystery Woman is watching...maybe she doesn't want to talk to me with a bunch of people around." I gestured around the shop.

Fred and George shared another look before Fred swallowed and pulled up his left sleeve. He reached for a thin piece of maroon and gold rope that encircled his wrist. In the middle of the rope bracelet was a shiny, circular object that looked like a coin.

"Is that a-"

"A Galleon?" Fred interrupted. "Yeah." He finished taking off the bracelet and looked up at me. "Hold out your wrist."

I did as he said and he began securing the bracelet around my own wrist. "I don't understand, Fred."

Fred finished with the bracelet and held onto my wrist with one hand, while tapping the Galleon with a finger of his other hand. "That's a fake Galleon."

"You wear a fake Galleon on a bracelet around your wrist?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Would you let me finish?" Fred chuckled. He shook his head before continuing. "We used them back at school when we formed the D.A."

I frowned in thought. "That secret defense group you told me about?"

Fred nodded. "Hermione came up with charming the fake Galleons to communicate about when the meetings were. Galleons are inconspicuous and Umbridge wouldn't have suspected anything about finding them in our pockets. It was a truly brilliant idea and took some advanced magic on Hermione's part. After the D.A. ended, a lot of us kept our coins on us anyway, and these coins were how Neville alerted us that Harry was back from being on the run and that we were fighting Voldemort. They're what brought all the members back to fight and how we were also able to spread the word of what was going on. They brought us all back together."

I didn't say anything for a moment. "That's great, Fred, but what does it have to do with me?"

"George and I charmed our own coins," Fred said, "and we both wear them around our wrists." He gestured to George who lifted up his own sleeve to reveal the exact same bracelet. "The colors are Gryffindor colors," Fred explained. "And we charmed the coins so that if one of us were to ever be in danger, the other's coin would heat up and then also reveal our location."

"And you talk about Hermione having brilliant ideas and using advanced magic," I said with a breath of laughter as I stared down at the bracelet. "Not that she isn't brilliant or isn't great at magic, but you two are quite amazing yourselves." I looked back up at Fred. "So you're telling me that if something happens to me, George's coin will heat up and tell you where I am?"

"Exactly," Fred said with a grin, dropping my hand from his. "We actually did the same for the rest of the family. Harry and Hermione, too. They, Ginny and Ron already had their own coins from the D.A., but we still thought it would be best for everyone else to have one, given what was going on. Mine and George's were the first we made, so they work as a pair. But then we got to thinking that it may be better to have them linked as threes in case both people were in danger or a bracelet was lost or stolen. Ginny, Luna and Neville have connected ones, and so do Harry, Ron and Hermione. And then we connected Mum, Dad and Bill, but also connected Bill to Fleur and even Charlie over in Romania." He paused. "We would've sent one to Percy if we weren't so certain back then that he'd send it back or fling it in the trash. Not that it would've made a difference anyway. I knew exactly where he was when he was in danger." His eyes almost glazed over as if he were going back to that Hogwarts corridor once more.

"Hey," I said, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm, shaking it slightly. He blinked and looked at me, snapping out of his trance. "These are incredible," I told him. "And they do make a difference. Believe me. You simply making them--directing your hard work into making them and handing them out-is a sign of love. A sign that you're willing to fight for the people you love most and that alone can mean the world to someone. Even just knowing that someone has their back."

Fred studied me, his eyes searching my face before he swallowed thickly and nodded once. He suddenly looked at me thoughtfully, a small smile hitching up the corner of his mouth. "With all that being said, and in light of recent events, maybe we should consider making you one of your own."

I felt my cheeks heat up in a blush as I looked down at the ground. My heart almost felt like it could burst right out of my chest. There were still times-times like these-when I couldn't believe that someone cared about me that much. Cared enough to want to protect me and come after me to help if I were ever in danger. I was slowly getting used to it, but at certain moments, it almost overwhelmed me.

I finally looked up at Fred again, my eyes meeting his. "Thank you," I said.

"For what?" He looked at me in confusion, as if he genuinely didn't know what this meant to me. As if caring so much about someone he'd just met four months ago was second nature. Then again, it probably was.

"Thank you for caring so much," I said, reaching out and squeezing his hand.

Fred looked down at our hands before looking back up at me with a wry smile. "When are you going to stop thanking us so much for things you shouldn't have to thank us for?"

"Probably never," I confessed, smiling sheepishly and letting go of his hand. There was a pause before I tilted my head towards the diary. "Well, go on-get reading! I'll be back soon with food."

"My favorite sentence of all time," George said as he led the way towards the back. "I'll be back soon with food." He sighed dreamily and patted his stomach as I giggled.

Fred followed his brother, turning around once to look at me over his shoulder. "Be careful, will you?"

I nodded, and only then did he turn back around and disappear through the back room door.

I, on the other hand, turned and walked in the opposite direction, letting myself out of the shop with a jingle from the bell over the door. I took a right and headed down the cobblestone street towards the Leaky Cauldron.

It didn't feel like that long ago at all that I was walking this same path and had gotten the diary dropped in front of me. Truthfully, it wasn't all that long ago. Only a few months-around four, actually, because I'd found the diary not long after I met Fred and George. But the day was still clear in my mind. How confused and scared I'd been, seeing the word Salem written inside the front cover and feeling my blood run cold and my stomach drop. And yet, I was still here, in London, which may have been one of the biggest surprises of all.

I finally reached the Leaky Cauldron and let myself in the side entrance. The pub had more people sitting in it now than this morning, but it still wasn't overly packed. My eyes swept the large room quickly, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. It seemed like it was just mostly people who worked in Diagon Alley coming in on their lunch break. I recognized some of them. Madame Malkin, from the robe shop was reading The Daily Prophet at a table near the window. Mr. Ollivander, who owned the wand shop was in a corner, looking exhausted and drinking a mug of tea. Martha had told me he'd been held hostage during the war and was lucky to have made it back relatively unscathed. He was still having a hard time now, though, and he was getting older. I'd heard he was training his nephew to possibly take over the wand shop.

There were also a few people I didn't recognize, which wasn't alarming. They were most likely either guests of the Leaky Cauldron or shoppers in Diagon Alley. There was a family of four over by a window, not far from Madame Malkin, and a man and a woman sat at a table across the room from me, talking in low voices. The woman's back was to me, but the man looked up and happened to meet my eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile before he went back to talking to the woman he was with. I hurriedly looked away, feeling a bit uncomfortable that he'd caught me looking at him from the doorway.

"Sophie!" Martha was suddenly hurrying towards me from the kitchen, a wide smile on her face. "I'm glad you're here!"

"Fred and George sent me to pick up lunch," I said, turning to face Martha as she came closer.

"It's almost ready. Come on back to the kitchen." She took my arm and led me towards the back, still beaming.

Kyle was still in the kitchen when I got there, this time cooking lunch items from the menu instead of breakfast.

"You're back!" he commented when he saw me.

"Just for a minute," I said, as Martha busied herself with finishing up with what I was guessing was the food I was supposed to bring back to the joke shop. While she was doing that, I leaned against the counter next to where Kyle was working. "So...how have things really been since I left?" I asked quietly.

"Honestly?" Kyle asked, glancing at me.

"Of course," I answered. "Why would I want anything but an honest answer? And I know you'll give it to me. Rachel won't. She'll downplay everything and so will Tom and Martha."

"Kayla would give you a brutally honest answer, you know," Kyle muttered, leaning over to look into the pot of soup on the stove that was magically stirring itself, while he worked on making a sandwich.

"I know, but I don't want a brutally honest answer. I just want honest."

"Is there a difference in this case?" he asked.

I shrugged. "You tell me."

Kyle sighed and stopped in preparing the sandwich. He rested his hands on the counter and stared down at it. "Rachel didn't come into work at all for a week after Noah was found. And when she finally did come in, it was like she didn't even care. She didn't even have a quarter of the personality she normally has. Kayla and Allie were working their shifts and then going to spend time with Rachel. They were upset themselves, and exhausted. We were all feeling the strain of losing two of our staff-three until Rachel came back. Kingsley came in to talk to us with that guy from the Magical Law Enforcement. They had talked to us all that night, but then they came back. They asked about when we last saw Noah and if he seemed odd." He paused. "The guy from the Ministry asked about you. How you were and where you came from and all that."

I swallowed, knowing exactly the reason he had done so. It was back when he was trying to figure out if I was a suspect or not. "Yeah? How did that go."

"We all basically told him to sod off. We told him you're quiet and mind your own business. We told him you'd recently moved to England from America purely for the sake of adventure and that you were big on seeing the world." He actually cracked a smile at that.

"You did not," I snorted.

Kyle shrugged. "It's pretty near true, isn't it? You do want to see the world. It was as close as we could get to the truth without giving the whole truth."

"Thanks, Kyle," I said. And I meant it. Tom and Martha knew every detail of my story, the girls knew most of it and even Kyle knew bits and pieces of it. But they wouldn't even tell all the details to someone from the Ministry of Magic. I'd asked them not to tell anybody else, sure, but even when a government official started to pry, they still wouldn't talk. It meant they knew my past wasn't Roger's business-not while I wasn't a suspect at least-and it also meant they trusted me enough to know without question that I wouldn't dare hurt Noah-or anyone. Lastly, it meant that they also respected me enough to not say anything. And that meant the world to me.

Kyle shrugged off my thanks and started going back to the sandwich. "It's none of their business, really, why you're here. It doesn't apply to Noah's case. It's irrelevant."

"They don't know that," I said. "Roger doesn't know me. He has no reason to trust me."

"Well...the rest of us do," Kyle said, glancing at me. "We all trust you."

I smiled. "That means a lot that you do."

Kyle nodded, but didn't say anything else.

"He suspected me, you know," I said. "That guy from the Ministry. He suspected me of killing Noah. I was the last person to see him alive."

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, well he also seemed like a prick. That was another reason why we didn't want to tell him anything. Besides the fact that he had no reason to be asking. Tom actually got a bit harsh with the guy. Told him you'd been through enough as it was and that he had a lot of nerve to jump to conclusions like that."

"I'm not sure he was jumping to conclusions," I said. "I mean, I had nothing to do with what happened to Noah or his mother, but I think it is his job to consider every option. I did just kind of show up here. My story's kind of suspicious. I know that. Although, I was horrified when he questioned me about it, too."

"I can imagine," Kyle said.

"Did he or Kingsley...say anything else about Noah's death?" I asked. I was curious about how much they knew. Did they know Noah's time of death had been days before he turned up in the back alley? Had it been pointed out that we'd all seen him alive and well in the time between his death and his body being found?

"Not that I know of," Kyle said. "They talked to us, questioned us, and that was that."

I nodded. "So all in all, things haven't been that great."

Kyle shook his head. "Of course not. But the show must go on. We're trying to deal with it the best we can, just like you are."

"Things seem pretty normal today though."

Kyle shrugged. "We've been slowly getting our momentum back. I think there's always going to be some kind of hole and there are moments-even days-when we can feel it more than others. But you're right. Today's been a good day. And it helps that you showed up. Worrying about you was just another thing on everyone's plates."

"I've been more than safe at the Burrow," I told him honestly. It was true. Never once while I was there did I feel like Eric or anyone else could reach me. Not only because of the protection charms, either, but because I knew the people there would protect me.

"We know," Kyle said, aiming a smile my way. "But that doesn't mean we don't worry and it doesn't mean we don't miss you. Besides, you've been through a lot. We didn't even get to see or talk to you before you left. We wanted to know how you've been holding up."

"The same as you, I guess. Slowly getting my momentum back."

"The twins have been helping with that, eh?" Kyle asked with a smirk. "Fred in particular?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "They have been," I said slowly. "But so has their whole family. So stop looking at me like that."

"Hey, it's obvious you've become close," Kyle said. "And I think it's a good thing."

"So does everyone else," I said. "Except maybe Rachel. She thought Fred could have been using me."

"Nah," Kyle said, shaking his head. "He's a pain in the ass sometimes, but as long as you're decent to him, he'll be decent to you. And if he actually likes you, he'll fight to protect you no matter what." He looked at me and smiled. "And he definitely likes you."

"We're friends," I shrugged, leaning over and looking into the pot of soup on the stove, watching it bubble away.

"Sure," Kyle said with a shrug of his own. "But according to Kayla, Fred's face lit up-and I quote-like a Christmas tree-when he saw you coming out to meet them at the table for breakfast this morning. She said he was looking at you longingly."

"And you believe her?" I blinked at him as my mouth fell open. "Kayla would say anything just to get a reaction out of someone-especially me. It's fun for her."

"If she wanted a reaction from you, then she would have told you. Not me," Kyle pointed out. "And I do believe her. Because he was looking at you the same way when he brought you back here first and he was watching everyone fawn over you."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Fred and I-things are more complicated than that between us. Noah just turned up dead. Fred's still getting over Angelina. I'm pretty much a flight risk." I shook my head. "A relationship isn't a good idea for us right now-so I think everyone else should stop getting their hopes up and also stop looking for things that aren't there."

Kyle looked at me as he fought back a smile. "Whatever you say."

"Rachel said that if Fred liked me, I would know because he'd tell me," I said. "He hasn't, so..." I shot Kyle a look that said take that and then stuck out my tongue.

He laughed and tried to lightly hit me with a spatula. "That's a good point. But maybe he realized what you said-that there's a lot going on right now and it wouldn't be a good time to tell you how he feels. You'd freak out. And probably try to run away again or do something equally as crazy."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could answer him, Martha appeared with a large bag of food for me to take back to the joke shop. "Here you are, dear," she said with a smile, leaning in to give me a warm hug. My throat constricted slightly as she did so. I almost wanted to tell her not to let go.

"I've really missed you," I told her quietly.

She pulled away and smiled fondly at me, taking my face between her hands. "We've missed you too, dear. Very much. But don't worry. Soon this will be all over and you'll be back here soon enough."

"I hope so," I said. I cleared my throat and held up the bag of food. "Thanks so much for the food and I'll probably be seeing you later after Fred and George close the shop. We'll be coming back through in order to go back to the Burrow."

"I look forward to it," Martha said. "I'll let the girls know, too, so they can say goodbye."

I nodded before saying goodbye to Kyle and heading out of the kitchen towards the entrance to Diagon Alley. Martha walked me to the door and stood watching as I tapped the bricks with my wand. Once they'd opened, I turned and gave one more goodbye to Martha before walking through the archway and towards the joke shop.

As I walked, I looked down at my wrist again, pulling my sleeve up just slightly to reveal the shiny Galleon attached to that band of maroon and gold rope. That one fake Galleon had meant so much to Fred once-and still now. Being in the D.A. had been important to him, a way to feel like they were doing something to prepare themselves to fight in a war that had ended up taking one of his brothers anyway. And now he and George had the Galleons charmed so that they could stay safe and protect each other. And today, Fred had given his to me for the same reason. He wanted to keep me safe. He wanted to protect me. He cared whether or not I lived or died, which was a sentiment I hadn't felt from someone in quite a while. I had even stopped caring at some points. Or at least I thought I had. Maybe I'd just been tired of running.

I was nearly back at the joke shop when I felt someone brush past me. I looked up to see the flash of an emerald green cloak and dark hair pulled into a bun as the person pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. My heart nearly stopped. It was her. Mystery Lady.

I found myself standing there frozen for a moment before moving into action, almost on autopilot as I hurried after her. She kept moving forward and I trailed behind her as she disappeared into the alleyway between the ice cream shop and the Quidditch supply shop. I was almost expecting her to have disappeared or to see that she'd led me into a trap, but neither was true. She was just standing there waiting for me. I came to an abrupt halt in surprise.

"Are you following me?" I asked her bluntly. Wow, what a way to ease into this. "You're just standing here like you knew I would follow you. You bumped into me on purpose."

"Of course I knew you would follow me," the woman said calmly. "You've been looking for me just as much as I've been looking for you."

"Why?" I asked. "Why have you been looking for me? Who are you?"

The woman sighed and I saw her calm expression break for a moment and worry appear on her face, but in an instant it was gone. "It's...complicated," she said. "But I am trying to help you."

"You gave me that diary, didn't you?" I asked. "You purposely dropped it in front of me. And then you gave me that necklace knowing I'd read the diary and realize what it did. And then when I put it on..."

"You did put it on, then?" she asked, a small smile appearing on her face.

"Yes," I said. "It made me invisible. And that diary said-it said-"

"I know what it said. And it's true."

"What, that I'm related to Elizabeth Proctor?" I asked. "I mean, I figured. But how did you know that?"

The woman rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment and began wringing her hands. "How far along are you in the diary?"

"Why should I answer your questions when you won't answer mine?"

"You already read about the secret room in Elizabeth's house?" The woman continued to wring her hands.

"Yes," I said impatiently. "Why does it matter?"

The woman swallowed and shook her head. "Look," she said, inhaling through her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut. She opened them again and looked at me. "I know you don't recognize me, but I-I knew your family."

My mouth dropped open. How was that possible? I didn't remember ever hearing about or meeting her. Although, it suddenly hit me that she did speak with an American accent. Not that it necessarily meant she was telling the truth about being from Salem and knowing my parents, though. For all I knew, she could even be faking. But that didn't stop me from asking, "You knew them? My mom and dad?"

She nodded.

"Do you know what happened to my mother, then?" I couldn't even stop the note of eagerness that appeared in my voice. It was surprising and almost a little embarrassing. I'd just gotten done thinking how this woman could still be trying to trick me and seconds later, I was practically begging her for information on my mother. My mother had left me. All these years, I had told myself finding her didn't matter and that I could take care of myself. And that even if Fred and George helped me find out what happened to her, it didn't mean I had to go talk to her-considering she was even still alive.

The woman hesitated. "I haven't seen her in years. But I do know that she loved you."

"You can't possibly know that!" I said, anger flaring up inside of me as my guard instantly went back up again. "Besides, you must have not known my family that well because I don't remember ever meeting you."

"You have to trust me," the woman pleaded, taking a step towards me. But I backed away from her.

"No, why should I?" I asked. "I don't know who you are, but I know you keep following me and watching me and you keep slipping me items from my past that leads me to information that I never knew about and don't even want. It has to end! I'm already going through way too much without you giving me a family history lesson. So please, just leave me alone."

I turned and started walking back towards the end of the alleyway, my hands and my lower lip trembling.

"Your mother didn't have a choice," the woman blurted.

I stopped short, but didn't turn to face her.

"She didn't have any other choice but to leave you. She was trying to protect you."

"Well for one," I said, slowly turning around, "she didn't do a very good job. I had a pretty miserable childhood anyway. Secondly, protect me from what? And thirdly, how could you possibly know what she was trying to do? I don't even know and I'm her own daughter!"

The woman stared at me pleadingly again. She almost looked as if she wanted to tell me the answers to all of my questions, but something was holding her back. She rocked back and forth again slightly and opened her mouth before closing it. Finally, she spoke again. "That man," she whispered. "You have to stop him. If you stop him-I can-if you, well-" She broke off and buried her face in her hands as she took a deep breath.

"You mean Eric?" I asked, taking a step closer to her. How did she know about him? We had considered the fact that she'd been working with him, but if she were, she wouldn't be telling me to stop him. "We're trying, but there may not be any other way to stop him besides-"

"Killing him?" The woman looked up at me. She swallowed. "Sometimes I think he deserves it." She hesitated again. "I know what he's done to you. I know he found you here once and I know what he's done to your back."

I backed up from her again, until I hit the wall of the alley. My eyes widened. "How?" I breathed.

She shook her head. "I can't tell you. He'll hurt me, too..."

"You've met him, then?" I asked. "Did he threaten you for wanting to help me?"

"Something like that," she said.

"Don't you have magic?" I asked curiously. "He doesn't..."

She shrugged. "You know how he is more than anyone, don't you?"

I did. That was true. I had magic as well and I knew how long he'd managed to keep me as essentially a prisoner back in Salem until I finally managed to escape. But I still wasn't free. He was here. Threatening me, most likely killing people I cared about, and threatening this strange woman, who I was beginning to believe might truly be here to help me, as odd as she was.

I reached up and rubbed my forehead. "None of this makes sense."

"You need to handle the real threat here," the woman said. "Eric. Handle him and then you and I can talk and I promise I will tell you everything you want to know. Everything I've given you so far was to help you figure out what it is he has against you and why he's treated you the way he has."

"You mean there's a reason? Besides the fact that he's an asshole?"

The woman chuckled slightly. "Sadly, there is a reason."

I thought that over for a moment. "Is it because I'm related to Elizabeth?" I asked. "I can't see why it would matter to him or how he would even know."

The woman smiled. "You'll figure it out."

"Why can't you just tell me?" I asked. "That would save so much more time and we could take him down sooner instead of waiting for him to kill someone else, because I know he killed Noah and his mother."

She shook her head. "Do you want him to get suspicious?"

I sighed and looked away in frustration. "For someone who's trying to help me..." I began.

The woman's shoulder's slumped. "I know, but I'm doing all that I can under the circumstances. Like I said, once this is all over, I'll tell you anything and everything you want to know. And believe me-I do care about you. I've always tried to look out for you. How else would I have had that postcard you threw away all those years ago?"

I turned back to her again. "So-you've been following me and-and watching me since I was a child. You, what, dug the remains of a ripped up postcard from the trash, put them back together and carried it around with you? Why? I don't even know you! I can't understand why you'd seem to care so much, but never come forward. Looking out for me is all fine and good, but what about all those times I needed someone? When I cried myself to sleep night after night, wondering where my mother was and why she didn't love me anymore? That's why I ripped that damn postcard up anyway!"

The woman flinched. "I know," she whispered. "And I promise...soon you'll know everything."

"Yeah, yeah," I said dismissively, turning to leave. "I've got to get back to my friends. They're waiting for their lunch and it's getting cold."

And with that, I turned and headed back towards the main alley, glancing back over my shoulder once to see that the woman was gone. I snorted. Figured.

I reached the end of the side alley and started to step out from between the buildings when a man stepped in front of me. He had been leaning against the front of the ice cream shop, just around the corner from where I was and I almost bumped into him.

"Sorry," I muttered. I tried to step around him, but he stepped to the side and blocked me.

I looked up into his menacing face and gulped as he started to walk forward, forcing me to step backwards into the alley where I'd just been. I saw a glint of metal and looked down. A knife was grasped firmly in his hand.

"Got any money on you?" he asked threateningly, looking me up and down.

My heart pounded in my chest as my legs started to shake. I was still walking backwards, but I feared that soon my legs wouldn't even support me and I'd end up on the ground. Not that it mattered much anyway-even if I managed to keep walking, I'd hit the back wall of the alley shortly anyway.

"No, I-I don't have any," I told him. It was the truth. Fred and George had paid Tom and Martha that morning for the food we'd be picking up for lunch and I'd left all my money safely tucked away at the Burrow.

The man clucked his tongue in disappointment. "Well, isn't that just. Too. Bad." He sneered down at me as I finally collided with the back wall of the alley. He held up the knife and rested the blade against my cheek. I whimpered, wishing I even had a Sickle to give him. Anything to get him away from me. All I had was the fake Galleon on Fred's bracelet, but I'd let this guy kill me before I turned that over to him. I was actually so overly aware of it against my wrist, that it almost felt as if it were heating up.

Hold on-the Galleon! It was supposed to alert Fred and George as to when I was in danger and it was working! At least, on my end it was. If it worked completely, which I was sure it did, George's would be heating up now as well and letting him know where I was. I only hoped he and Fred would make it on time.

In the meantime, I tried to steady my rapid breathing and keep the tears in my eyes from spilling down my cheeks as the man lightly and slowly slid the knife from my cheek to my neck. I couldn't even reach my wand. It was in the waistband of my jeans and covered by my sweater. In the time I managed to get it out, this man would have time to kill me twice.

"I wonder," he said, his voice low, "since you don't have any money, of course, how much I could sell your organs for in Knockturn Alley." He chuckled menacingly. "I hear hearts are going for a lot these days." He slid the tip of the blade from my neck to my collarbone, then down my side to my ribcage. I whimpered again.

"Let me go," I cried. "Please."

"Perhaps next time, you shouldn't wander alone into alleyways," he said, putting some pressure onto the knife. Not much, but enough for it to hurt slightly. I flinched before attempting to take a swing at him with the bag of food from Martha, but at the same time, the man simultaneously swung his arm with the knife back and began to swing, aiming straight for my neck. I screamed.

"Stupefy!"

Two jets of red light shot towards us, missing the man with the knife and colliding with the wall above my head, one a split second before the other. I screamed again and barely registered the sounds of rapid footsteps. The man was distracted just enough for me to wriggle away from him and a second after that, another body-a tall one, complete with red hair-was colliding with the man, knocking him to the ground. The knife fell out of the man's hand and a second person-George, I realized-kicked it out of reach before turning to me and guiding me further out of the way.

"You alright?" he asked, looking me over.

I nodded, but there wasn't much time to say anything else because Fred was still fighting with the man on the ground, engaged in a physical fistfight, despite Fred's wand. But finally, Fred managed to pin the man under him and hold his wand at the man's throat. Fred's lip was split and his right eye was already swelling, which made him look even scarier as he looked down at the man with a menacing expression.

"Are you going to kill me?" the man asked tantalizingly as he chuckled almost madly.

Fred actually hesitated. "No," he finally said. "I want to kill you for what you tried to do just now. But instead, my brother and I will hand you over to the Ministry." He backed off the man and pulled him to his feet, still pointing his wand at him as George moved to stand in front of me protectively. But I still noticed the man's hand twitch towards his pocket.

Apparently, George noticed the same thing. "Fred," he began quickly. "He's got another weapon in his-"

Before George could even finish the sentence, several things all happened at the same time. Fred began to shoot another Stunning spell at the man, who ducked at the same time, wrenched himself out of Fred's one handed grip and reached into his pocket. He pulled out some small object that he immediately held in front of him and sprayed at Fred's face. Fred yelled in pain and dropped his wand as his hands went to his eyes. It was Muggle pepper spray.

"Fred!" George cried, rushing to his brother's side as I backed up against the wall again, sliding down it until I was huddled on the floor as the man dove forward, grabbed his knife and rounded on both twins. But this time, I had time to grab my wand. His use of the Muggle pepper spray on Fred gave me an idea and I shot a curse directly at the man's face-one that mimicked the effects of pepper spray. It made contact and he yowled, covering his face and staggering backwards. I shot a Stunning spell at him next and hit him, blasting him into the wall across from me before he fell to the ground in a heap.

Breathing heavily, I scrambled to my feet and hurried to kneel beside Fred, whose eyes were now red, watery and swollen from the pepper spray, not to mention the right one was already swollen from being punched. His hands were over his face and I could still see that the skin beneath them was red and swollen.

"Oh, Fred," I sighed, taking him in. My chest ached just looking at him.

"Take him inside," George murmured to me. "Through the back so you won't have to go through the shop. Take him upstairs and start fixing him up. I'll alert the Ministry and get them out here to take care of him." He jerked his head towards the man lying motionless on the other side of the alley.

"No," Fred insisted. "You are not staying out here alone with him."

"He's unconscious," George said. "Besides, the Ministry will get here quickly. But you need to be tended to even sooner than that. I hate to break it to you, but you're even uglier than usual."

Fred let out a sharp breath of laughter before groaning. "Merlin, it burns. I can barely see."

"It's pepper spray," I said.

"We know," Fred said bitterly. "We almost decided to sell it in the shop, but decided against it when we realized it wasn't exactly a funny Muggle item."

"It can be useful depending on who you use it on," I said. "For example, if we had used it on him." I looked towards the man behind me and sighed. "I think Fred's right though, George. This guy was quick. Let's go inside and you can alert the Ministry from there. I don't like you being out here alone with him, either."

"But-"

"It's two against one, Georgie," Fred said. "Come on, I don't feel like having to tell Mum that you went ahead and got your other ear chopped off."

George heaved a heavy sigh before reluctantly agreeing. The two of us helped Fred to his feet and then George slung Fred's arm around his shoulder and helped guide him to the back entrance. It led straight to the back room, where we guided Fred up the stairs and into the flat.

"Okay, I'm going back down to the shop," George said as he lowered Fred to the couch. "Is that good enough for you two? I'll alert the Ministry and meet them when they arrive. I'll warn Verity and calm down customers who may end up seeing Ministry officials poking around a few doors down. Besides, the Ministry will have questions anyway. I'll answer what I can, but they'll also want to talk to you both."

Fred and I nodded as my stomach twisted unpleasantly. Just what I wanted. Talking to Ministry officials again about yet another attack that I'd not only witnessed, but been involved in.

George looked at me, his expression softening from the determined, all-business one he'd been wearing previously. "Take care of him," he said.

I nodded again. "Of course," I whispered. As if I'd ever even think about doing anything less.

"I am going to be okay, George," Fred said, stretching out on the couch and squeezing his eyes shut. He let out a hiss of pain. "I'm not dying."

George scoffed before heading for the door. He turned and gave us one last look before he left, meeting my eyes and mouthing thank you. I gave him a tiny smile in return, and then he was gone, leaving the flat eerily silent.

I turned back to Fred, who was in exactly the same position as he had been a moment ago, stretched out, taking up the entire couch with his long limbs, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Merlin, would you believe this stuff is still burning my eyes?" he asked.

"Of course it's still burning," I said, making my way over to the couch. "It's pepper spray. I'm actually surprised you're not screaming in agony."

Fred let out a curt laugh. "I've probably developed a high pain tolerance over the years. I've had more injuries than I can count."

I gingerly sat down on the very edge of the couch next to Fred's chest and studied his face as I pulled out my wand. "He really did a number on you," I said quietly.

"It's not too bad," Fred said. "I've endured worse."

I grimaced. Of course he had. The injuries to his hip and pelvis during the battle must have been excruciating.

I slowly waved my wand over Fred's face. The redness and swelling around his eyes from both the pepper spray and being punched deteriorated almost completely. "Better?" I asked.

Fred sighed in relief and opened his eyes. "Loads. Thank you."

"It's not perfect," I said. "Still a little red. But at least the pain and the swelling is gone."

Fred didn't say anything, so I turned my attention to his cut lip, which was also swollen.

"Is there something wrong with my lip or do you just really want to kiss me?" Fred asked, lazily tucking his right arm up behind his head as he smirked at me.

I felt my face instantly heat up as I looked away. I tried to ignore the way my heart sped up a bit at the question and the way my mind went to Kyle and Kayla's observations from earlier. Letting Fred's comment fluster me wasn't even appropriate. Noah had just been murdered. How could I let a flirtatious comment make me feel this way only a few weeks later?

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Fred went on. "You wouldn't be the first girl who's desperately wanted to."

"Do you enjoy making me uncomfortable?" I whispered, keeping my eyes downcast and studying my hands.

"Of course I do," Fred chuckled. "Don't you know me at all?"

I didn't answer his question. "Do you have any cleaning potion for that?" I asked, gesturing towards his lip.

"Bathroom cabinet," Fred said quietly. "There are washcloths in the hall closet as well."

I stood up wordlessly and made my way out of the room, finding each object where Fred had said they'd be. I resumed my seat on the edge of the couch and poured a bit of the cleaning potion onto the washcloth before turning back to Fred and gazing down at his lip again.

"Go on," he said quietly. "I don't bite."

"Usually," I said with a small smile. "Isn't that what you told me before?"

"Yeah, I think I did," Fred laughed.

Slowly, I reached out with my free hand and placed it on his jaw to steady his face before using my other hand to dab at his lip. He winced, but didn't move other than that.

"Fred, I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't worry about it-it only stings a bit."

"No, I meant I'm sorry for getting you into this mess."

"Don't apologize," he said. "I gave you that bracelet for a reason. Even if it turned out you needed saving from a fluke robbery instead of the Mystery Woman or-or Eric, well, it doesn't matter. George and I ran to help you in a heartbeat."

I set down the cloth and reached for my wand again, waving it over Fred's lip and healing the cut. "Thank you. For saving my life," I whispered.

Fred smiled. "Thank you for saving mine. And for healing my injuries."

I smiled down at him and nodded before I suddenly realized my hand was still lightly resting on his jaw and I pulled it away quickly as Fred smirked at me.

"By the way," I said, turning back to the vial of cleaning potion and standing to bring it back to the bathroom, "I did see the Mystery Woman. That's how I ended up in that alley in the first place."

"What?" Fred asked, his eyes going wide as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He turned his head as I walked past him, his eyes following me. He craned his head backwards as I walked past the arm of the couch, staring at me upside down as I moved past him. As I left the room, he finally stood up and followed me. "You saw her? Did you talk to her?"

"I did," I said, returning the leaning potion to the cabinet. I turned to Fred with the damp cloth still in my hand. "Do you have a laundry basket or something for this?"

"I'll take it," Fred said, reaching out and taking the cloth from me. "But go on, tell me what happened with the Mystery Woman! She obviously didn't try anything or else the bracelet would've heated up sooner..."

"Can't I tell you and George both at once?" I asked, leaning against the sink.

Fred considered that for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose you'd better. Although, I don't know how I'm going to wait that long."

"You're going to have to," I said with a laugh.

Just then, the door to the flat opened and George burst in. "Fred? Sophie?" he called.

"In here," Fred called back, his eyes still on my face.

George appeared in the bathroom doorway. "Magical Law Enforcement's here," he said. "They'll be up in a few minutes to talk to us."

"Are they throwing that dirty rotten thief into a cell in Azkaban or what?" Fred asked.

"That's the thing," George said slowly. "He escaped."

"What?" Fred yelped, turning to face George with wide eyes.

"You mean he's just-gone?" I asked, my own face turning pale.

George nodded. "By the time the Ministry got here, he was gone. I'm so sorry."

"Damnit," Fred said, aiming a kick at a kitchen counter.

"I knew we should've kept watch on him," George sighed. "We can't afford to be sloppy about things like this."

"I wasn't about to let him attack you too!" Fred cried. "There's no way. Especially if I was already in a pretty bad state to begin with. I wouldn't be at my best to help you, and I can't-I can't-"

George's expression softened and he put a hand on Fred's shoulder. "I know," he said.

Just then, there was a knock on the door to the flat. George glanced over his shoulder. "That's them. The people from the Ministry. They're here to talk to us." He glanced between me and Fred. "You ready?"

Fred and I looked at each other before nodding. "Go let them in," I sighed.