Chapter One
"Excuse me, Professor? I was asked to get Fred and George Weasley by Professor Dumbledore."
"Very well. You two, go with her to Professor Dumbledore." The twins packed up and we went to find out (in Fred and George's view) why Dumbledore wanted to see us.
"Bella, why does Dumbledore want to see George and I?" Fred asked.
"I can't tell you. I physically can't, so don't try to get it out of me, but Dumbledore can tell you. Cockroach Clusters," I told the Gargoyle.
"Ah, Miss Deverille. I see you've brought Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I trust Fred and George wholeheartedly."
"What is this about?" Fred asked.
"Sit down," I told them. They sat.
"As you're most likely aware, Miss Deverille cannot tell you the information I'm sharing with you. However, she has generously given me permission to do so."
"Please, don't hate me," I said softly.
"Why would we?" Fred asked, genuinely confused. I looked at Dumbledore and nodded.
"Miss Deverille is from the future, and she is a psychic seer."
"Really?" George asked. "What year are you from?"
"I was born in 2007. The last day of my timeline I remember is April first, 2020."
"'Your timeline?' But isn't this your timeline? If somewhat early?"
"No. In my timeline, Hogwarts, the entire wizarding world – just a story I read to get away from it all. The epidemic, my parents, my grief… it didn't exist. Though, I am a year early to what was recorded."
"Why didn't you tell us, Elizabella?" Fred asked. I felt my heart sink. He never uses my full name.
"Well, I couldn't… and I didn't want to lose you guys. You're the first people to make me laugh or smile since –" my voice caught in my throat. "Since my eighth birthday. You're my first friends since I lost Matt and Lou. And there's something else you should know."
"What?" George asked. I handed him my diary.
"It's kind of hard to say aloud, especially after getting to know you both." George opened the book, stared at it for a moment before dropping the diary.
"George? What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."
"What the hell's wrong with you two?"
"In my timeline, May second, 1998, the second wizarding war is won, slightly destroying Hogwarts in the process, but people die on both sides. Nymphadora Tonks, Colin Creevey, Pius Thickness, and you, Fred. When I read it, I threw the book across the room. To be fair, though, I had just lost Matt and Lou. Or maybe it was just before. Being psychic is no fun when it comes to emotions."
"Bella, who are Matt and Lou?"
"My brothers. We're triplets. Or we were, I should say. My dad, he killed them both. Right in front of me. Looked me right in the eyes as he shot them. It was our eighth birthday. Mum was out, where, I don't know, probably getting more cigarettes, but dad shot Mattie and Louie, locked me in with their bodies and left. I was stuck in that room for two days, screaming for help. Third day, I'd given up hope when the police rammed through the door, seeing my brothers' bodies and a sleep deprived, hungry and thirsty eight-year-old girl in the corner of the room trying not to start crying again or fall asleep. They fought me tooth and nail to put me under.
"When I woke up, I was interviewed. I told them what happened. It was a lovely day; the people surrounded me I love – and my scary dad and my bitchy mum – and bam, my brothers are dead, and it's all I can do to keep from crying. One minute, there's three near identical children with tan skin and dark hair. Then next, two of them were dead. To top things off, a week later, my teacher asked me why I couldn't be bothered coming to school. Asked if my brothers and I were too lazy. She stood there, so smug."
"What did you do?"
"Looked her straight in the eye, told the heartless bitch that my brothers were shot the head with a shot gun – by my dad – and I was locked in with their bodies, abandoned by my parents for two and a half days. The other four and a half, I had spent lying in a hospital bed, having wounds afflicted by my parents treated, wondering what on earth could've made my father kill my brothers. The classroom was so silent, you could hear a pin drop.
"When my foster parents found out, they beat me, as I had expected. The neighbours made noise complaints, and the police swung by. At least once a day for at least a month, until they got a search warrant. I went through thirteen different foster homes before I got sick of it and, after consulting fellow abusee, June, and her mother, May, I went and asked the police if I could move in with them. Donnie, the guy who found me and kept checking on me, it turned out, he was May's brother. He told me he could take them the paperwork that night, and he would take me to their place for dinner and a sleepover. Until his shift was over, I had to wait, so he gave me a couple of books, and sent me to a corner."
"What happened next?" Fred asked.
"Fate brought me here. That I believe, anyway. Don't believe in a higher being, so I guess I'll believe there's something pulling the strings. Any questions?"
"Yeah, you said you're a brunette. And tan."
"I started bleaching my hair and staying out of the sun. Every time I looked in the mirror, I thought I saw Mattie or Lou. Then, I remembered. It all flooded back. I couldn't stand it. More than once, someone called me Beth. Lou called me Beth; Matt called me Liz."
"Is that why you ran off when I called you Liz the other day?" I nodded. Fred pulled me into a hug. I went rigid for a second, then hugged him back.
"You never should have gone through that, Bella," Fred said into my shoulder.
"It's all right, Freddie. Suffering builds character. According to my three psychiatrists that specialise in trauma, anyway."
"No, it's not. Fred's right, you didn't deserve that. You're, like the purest soul either of us have ever known. You deserve the best life possible."
"Would it make you feel better if I told you my parents were found dead a couple of months after I turned eight?"
"No." I raised an eyebrow at Fred. "Okay, maybe a little bit," Fred admitted. "But George is right. You deserve the best life that can be offered. Better."
"As long as I end up with love in my life, I think I'll be good."
"Wait, if you're from the future, does that mean you don't have a place to stay?"
"I hadn't really thought about it."
"Mum loves having guests. You could stay with us for the summer."
"What would we tell her?"
"Your parents are often abroad, you're an only child, and all your neighbours are too busy to look after you, and your parents have no blood relatives left. You often stayed with your muggle friends, but your parents are more than fine with you staying with the Weasleys. They've even written a letter to Molly to say that they'd be happy happy if she looked after you," Dumbledore told me. "Molly wrote to Elizabella Deverille's legal guardian. As you are currently a ward of Hogwarts, the letter came to me as I am the headmaster. Molly even said she would be happy to take you the entire summer. She thinks your parents are in South Africa at the moment, looking for the bones of a pterodactyl."
"So, my parents are palaeontologists. The rest of that is pretty accurate anyway. You know, besides being an only child. Is Mrs Weasley aware of my blood status?"
"She is aware that you were raised in a muggle family, yes. I took the liberty of telling her not to expect you to know wizarding customs, but not to be surprised if you do. I told her you pick things up fast. Now, it's going to be lunch in a few minutes, and as it is the last day of school, I rather think Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley should be quick. I just need a few more minutes of Miss Deverille's time." Fred stood, offering me his seat, and left with George. I sat down.
"They're finding Lee Jordan now," I told the professor. "What did you want to talk about, sir?"
"How have you been acclimating?"
"To the wizarding world? Or Hogwarts, specifically?
"Hogwarts."
"Well, I fit in with Ravenclaw. Though my roommates hate me. So far, Helena's the only Ravenclaw I like, and she's dead. No wait, I like Myrtle, as well. Cho thinks I'm moody, and Marietta doesn't like that I wake up screaming. They think I'd be better suited to Hufflepuff. I doubt Ced and Dora wake up screaming from high trauma nightmares."
"Have you made any living friends?"
"Fred, George, Dora, Ced, Oliver, Angelina, Charlie, Lee, and I somehow befriended Marcus Flint."
"The mystery of friendship. But no one from your own house. Or your own year. What about course work?"
"I like the professors, though I found this year's work basic. Simple. I don't know why," I replied with a shrug.
"I've been told you're easily distracted, don't draw attention to yourself unless asked a question, always answered correctly, but keep to yourself, and always manage the spell or potion you're doing perfectly first time attempting so. You're exceptionally talented. And as such, you're bored in your own year level. Would you, perhaps, feel less bored if you were placed with the third years instead of second years next year?"
"Really?!" I exclaimed.
"May I take that as a yes?"
"Yes! Yes, yes, a hundred times, yes! Thank you, Professor!"
"I shall inform Professor Flitwick. Go have lunch." I practically skipped to the Great Hall, and I sat down next to Fred.
"So, what did Professor Dumbledore want to talk about?" Said twin asked. My grin widened.
"I'm moving up a year!"
"What?" Everyone in the vicinity shrieked.
"I'm skipping second year and going straight to third!"
"Really? Well done, little raven," Charlie complimented.
"Will you and Bill be at the Burrow this summer?" I asked. Not having met Bill yet, I was looking forward to meeting the eldest son of the Weasleys.
"For the first month, at least. I take it you were invited to spend the summer?" I nodded. "Have more food. You're a stick, and Mum'll try to stuff you full 'til you look like a turkey." Laughing, I grabbed more pie. "Seriously, though, well done. Mum'll try to adopt you so she'll have another prefect." I snorted.
"Please. I spend far too much time around the twins to be made a prefect. Percy will be the next prefect, no doubt."
"Thank you, Elizabella. At least someone has confidence in my abilities."
"Nothing to do with your abilities, Percy. I'm psychic. You getting made fun of for mentioning your prefectness all of this summer is seared into my memory. Can't wait to see your face light up when you see your badge. Your mum's, too. Unfortunately, I am the most likely choice for prefect after you." A grin split my somber face in half, having seen Fred and George's expressions.
"And because I won't be seeing it, congrats, Oliver, you're Quidditch Captain next year. Good luck to the rest of you, you'll need it." Oliver cackled in triumph while the rest of the team, bar Charlie groaned. "And sorry, Charlie, you'll be bested as seeker. You'll be replaced by a first year. Who, to be fair, is really good."
"I don't mind. How will Ron do?"
"He'll be best friends with your replacement and, to quote his future self, 'an insufferable know-it-all with no friends.' I hit him for that. But he feels bad, anyway. Especially after he nearly gets her killed."
"What?!"
"They're fine. She also sets Snape on fire." Fred and George cackled at this. "The three of them get themselves into bigger trouble each year. Which I can't help but blame Dumbledore for. He seems to place trouble ahead of them. Of course, I can't tell Dumbledore I blame him, because he gets his karma anyway."
"Really?" I cursed in a way that made everyone raise their eyebrows.
"I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut."
"Such a filthy mouth for someone so small," Lee teased with a grin.
"This small filthy mouthed someone could take you down harder than anyone else. Choose your next words carefully, Jordan," I warned.
"Miss Deverille. Dumbledore told me about you being moved up a year. Congratulations," Professor McGonagall said.
"Thank you, Professor."
"As such, you need to choose extra classes. Choose wisely."
"Thank you." After much debate, I chose Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Divination.
"You realise some of these classes overlap, right?" I selected the rest.
"And that's my concern, Alicia, but I appreciate yours, thank you. I'll have to ask what year Alchemy can be taken as well." I looked up to se them all staring. "What? I want to have my options open," I defended. "I have to go get this to Professor McGonagall. Then I have Transfiguration. Bye."
I got to the classroom just before Cho Chang did. She scoffed when she saw me.
"You know, it'll be a long six years if we can't pretend to get along, Cho. I get that you don't like me, and I can respect that. All I want to know is why you don't like me."
"Don't pretend you don't know, Deverille," she sneered.
"Don't have to pretend."
"You want to know? Fine. You're perfect. And I hate that you're perfect."
I did not expect that. I laughed in surprise. "Perfect? Me? I spent my first seven years stuck in bed because I had leukaemia. My life fell apart when I turned eight. My parents, who are supposed to protect their children, killed my brothers right in front of me and locked me in with their corpses while they ran off to Spain. I was stuck with my brothers' bodies for two weeks. I've spent the last four years going around the UK because, just like my parents, any foster parents I've had have hated me and beaten me within an inch of my life!
"I can't trust anyone until I've gotten to know them. I can't be crowded, or in small spaces, or locked in a room because it takes me back to that time. I have ptsd, insomnia, claustrophobia, and I just can't eat sometime because of my parents, because of my childhood. I can't even get close to people because I'm afraid that, if I can trust them, I'll lose them. I can't look in the mirror, because all I'll see is my brothers, and I'll break down. I wear a mask for a reason, Cho. I'm far from perfect, and I know that I always will be. Think about that next time."
Marietta and the other Ravenclaws from our year came to stand in front of the Transfiguration classroom. "Hello, Marietta. Boys," I greeted civilly.
"Hello, Mudblood," Marietta sneered.
"How original," I calmly replied. A searing pain spread across my face. Marietta had punched me. "Did you expect punching me would solve your problems, Marietta? Because all it did was create more. Hello, Professor."
"Hello, Miss Deverille. Miss Edgecombe, you have detention for a week next year, for the use of that foul word and the assault of a fellow student. Come in and sit." Professor McGonagall stood aside and let us file in. I handed her my subject selection form as I passed. "Now, as it is the last lesson of the year, I expect you all to have a fair understanding of the course work, considering you all passed the exam. And, so you are aware, Miss Deverille will not be joining you in your classes next year be–"
"Finally, you're expelling her," Marietta cut in obnoxiously.
"Incorrect, Miss Edgecombe. Miss Deverille is moving up a year. She shall be a third year whilst the rest of you will be second years. You should all be proud of your classmate. This is the first time a student has been moved up a year early since the first class of Hogwarts."
"How can anyone be proud of a girl who screams in her sleep?" Marietta scoffed. The boys snickered. My pale brown skin went dark as I blushed in embarrassment. And Cho…
"Shut your trap, Marietta. McGonagall's right, we should be proud of her," Cho snapped. Marietta and the boys widened their eyes. "Sorry, Professor. Please continue," Cho apologetically requested.
"Thank you, Miss Chang. Now, partner up and start reviewing our course work for the term. Miss Edgecombe, sit here. Boys, sit there. Miss Chang, Miss Deverille, you will want to sit over there, to avoid any nasty comments, which will be punished with detention and letters to your guardians. Move."
Marietta moved to the desk right in front of McGonagall, the boys moved to the two desks closest to the door, and Cho and I moved to the desk furthest from Marietta. "Are you excited to be a third year?" Cho asked.
"Mostly. I'm fairly confident our next year will be rubbish. And will be so until fourth year. Well. Your fourth year, my fifth. And the rest will be rubbish as well. Maybe effective. But still rubbish." I leaned forward. "Five sickles says one uses an unforgivable curse."
"Accepted. You'll have to write it down somewhere." I grabbed my bag.
"Du-du-du. Here. Whoop, wrong book." I grabbed my school diary, wrote down my graduation date and said, "We'll use my graduation date, because you won't come find me when you graduate."
"You're so certain you'll win this bet."
"Yep," I replied. "As certain as the sky is blue."
"What's your other one for?"
"Dates important to me."
"You've got a diary, Deverille? Accio." My book landed in Marietta's hand. "May 2nd, 1998- End of the Second Wizarding War," she read aloud. "You truly are a nutter, Deverille."
"Congratulations, Edgecombe, you've just earned yourself a week of detention. Give Deverille the book and sit," sneered Snape from the door.
"Good catch, Severus. As I said, Miss Edgecombe, I'll be owling your parents. You may all leave." I left class with a smile on my face.