Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I don’t remember how exactly I died. 

I couldn’t tell you where I was or who I was with. I couldn’t tell you if I went silent or screaming. Was I in pain in my final moments? I’d like to hope I wasn’t. But I know I was young and fresh out of high school. I was American. I put marmalade on my toast. But who was I? Who were my parents? What were my friends like? Where exactly in America was I from? What was my name? I think… 

“Aurelia, her name is Aurelia. Aurelia Eileen Prince,” said a masculine English voice.

Well, it wasn’t that. I knew that much. 

I couldn’t see the source of the voices chattering around me very well. It was all rather blurry. I guess that makes sense, seeing as I was born no more than thirty minutes ago.

“Lucky for you that I think Aurelia is pretty. But seeing as you won’t be a part of her life after today, I think she should have my surname and a middle name of my choosing.”

“Prince is a respected name. She’ll be treated better with it.”

“She’s a half-blood. She’ll be fine. Besides, I’ll be taking her back with me. America is far more progressive than Britain these days.”

Ah. I was a half-er again. I remember being one last time too. Nice to see some things stay the same. Although calling me a “half-blood” felt a little archaic, I did have to agree with my mother. If this guy— my father, apparently— wasn’t going to be in my life, what right did he have when I came to my name? Although there was something familiar about the latter part of the name he chose. Eileen Prince. Why did that sound so familiar? Was it someone I knew in my previous life? A celebrity, perhaps?

“I’m leaving her for her own safety. This is… certainly not what I expected, but she’s still of my blood and flesh,” the man’s voice was monotonous, but I could hear a twisted pride in those last words. And what did he mean by my own safety? Was he a wanted criminal or something? In that case, why should I take his last name? 

My mother held me tighter, although still gently. “It’s always about blood with you people. If you were really leaving her for her safety, you wouldn’t want her to have your mother’s name. If it were really about protecting her you wouldn’t be leaving at all. You’re a coward, Severus. Just admit it.”

Wait.

What did she just call him?

“I am NOT a coward!” He roared, his voice quickly going from detached and steady to a thunderous rage.

Seeing as I was a baby, I should think it’s quite alright that his little flip-out startled me to tears. 

“Shh, niña, it’s alright. You’re okay, Mama’s got you. Shh, shh. That’s it. There, there.” She placed a gentle kiss on my forehead and patted my back before her own voice turned venomous.

“Do you feel like a man, Severus? Did yelling at a woman holding her newborn child make you feel big and important? Do you feel like you proved something? Her name is Aurelia Rosita Rodriguez. She is my daughter. You forfeit your claim to her the moment she had a heartbeat. And she will be more than you ever were. Leave now, Severus Snape. And never come near us again.”

Severus… Snape?

I was reborn as the unwanted bastard daughter of Severus Snape? Presumably during the First Wizarding War?

I could practically hear Snape's scowl as he loudly exited the room.

My mother leaned down to place another kiss on my face, "My sweet girl... What a life you will lead..."

“Oh Mija, you look so pretty with your hair braided like that. I can’t believe my pretty baby is growing up so fast. Mi Chiquitita Bonita,” Margarita cooed as she finished putting white bows in my ebony black hair.

It was September 23, 1988. My ninth birthday in this life. A life that, really, made no sense. One of the few things I remember about my past life was that I read the Harry Potter series religiously. Like, I was OBSESSED. We’re talking cosplay during the school day levels of absolute nerd here. And in all my reading and scrolling through J. K. Rowling’s problematic Twitter feed, not once was an Aurelia Rodriguez mentioned. Let alone that Snape was ever physically able to look at any woman who wasn’t Lily Evans. 

Oh god, was I reborn into someone’s OC fanfiction? Christ on a stick, I hated OCs. They lacked any real originality and more often than not they were just wish-fulfillment self-inserts. Worse yet, my existence meant I could trust nothing of my previous knowledge to be true. For all I knew, in this timeline Dumbledore was evil, Draco wore leather pants, and Umbridge was married to Hagrid.

That last theoretical caused an internal shudder, but that wasn’t the point. I had spent the past seven years tormented with knowledge that could save this world, along with the possibility that it was all completely useless. Why me? Why am I here with my knowledge if not to change things? Why was I only able to clearly remember things related to HP in the first place? How could I even change things when I was in another country, thousands of miles away from the original plot? Why Severus Snape’s daughter? Why not a canon character, like Harry or Hermione? Or even a background character? I’m sure being Daphne Greengrass couldn’t be too terrible. I could've kicked ass as Dean Thomas. Just... why?

I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.

“Niña, are you okay? You’re spacing out again. What’s the matter?”

One of the few good things about this life was my mother. Margarita Rosita Rodriguez was too good to be someone’s OC. If there was a God out there, I knew he took the time to craft her himself. Brains, bravery, and beauty. She had it all. Knowing I was with her and not Snape was a huge comfort.

I smiled and grabbed her hand, “I’m okay, Mamá. I’m thinking about what I wanna be when I’m old like you.”

Margarita rolled her brilliant hazel eyes that I was oh so jealous of. “You little…”

But instead of scolding me, she let out a laugh. She had always been very lax with me.

“You might want to put a pin in that. You’re like me, Mija. You’re special. You have more options than you think.”

I knew what she was alluding to. I knew I was a witch in this life— something I had extensively wished for and dreamed about in my previous one— but it hasn’t quite hit me. Like, I knew what I was, but my brain refused to process it.

“How am I special?”

I could never get sick of Margarita’s smile. If I could only see one thing for the rest of my life, my mother’s loving face would be it. 

She led me to the couch and held me in her warm embrace. I leaned into her, inhaling the scent of her amber and spice perfume. The scent of home.

“You have a very special gift, Aurelia. You just don’t know it yet.”

“Can you tell me?”

A mischievous grin took hold of her timeless face, “No. If I had to wait, so do you. Trust me, it’s more fun that way.”

“What do you mean? That’s not fair. I wanna know!” I really did want to hear her say it. I figured if I heard her say it out loud to me it might finally become real. 

An eyebrow was raised at my attitude, but Margarita didn’t chastise me. “Well, I suppose I could tell you a little bit. You do have to wait just a bit longer than I did.”

“What?” Please for the love of all things holy, continue.

“I was eleven when I got my acceptance letter from a very special school all the way on the East Coast. It was a boarding school— meaning I lived there during the school year— and only certain people got to attend. I’ll never forget your Abuelita’s face when they told me I was accepted into Ilvermorny. They didn’t think the place was real. Tio Luis almost beat the professor who told us. Thought the whole thing was a ploy to kidnap gullible children.”

Ilvermorny. The Hogwarts of America. Which really made no sense. I mean, it’s supposed to take students from all over North America. The entire continent. There are twenty-three countries in North America. And that’s not including territories. I’m calling bull. There’s no way.

Why could I remember that but not what color my eyes used to be?

“Can you tell me about Ilvermorny? And why did they want you? Why did Tio get angry?”

Margarita’s grin widened, thinking she knew something I didn’t.

“They wanted me for the same reason they will want you. You and I are different from a lot of people, and that’s okay. But you’ll have to wait your turn to find out why. As for Ilvermorny…”

I could see the wave of nostalgia wash over her face. She toyed with the ends of her deep chestnut curls and closed her eyes. “Some of the best years of my life were at Ilvermorny. They’ve got houses there— they’re like groups that students are sorted into for all seven years— like at English schools. There’s Wampus, a house for warriors. Pukwudgie for healers. Horned Serpent for scholars. And the best house of all: Thunderbird, for adventures. That’s the house I was in.”

My brows furrowed. I already knew this, but I still kind of hated it. I ignored the problematic naming in favor of asking her what house she thought I would excel in.

She paused and gazed at me thoughtfully. A flash of disdain coated her eyes but was quickly gone. “You know, I’m not entirely sure. If I had to… no. No, that would never happen. No point in entertaining it.”

I suddenly got very worried. Did she think I was a squib or something? I might not have remembered ever performing accidental magic, but there’s no way I didn’t have—

Oh. 

But what if that was the point? What if I was like, teen Hitler in my past life? What if this was a punishment?  I was reborn into my dream world, but I couldn’t do magic. I was reborn into my dream world but I was the unwanted illegitimate child of Severus god damn Snape. Oh my god. It all made sense now—

“Don’t worry, Mija. I can see your head spinning. You’re definitely qualified. Thunderbird. You’ll be a Thunderbird, just like your mama.”

I whipped my head up to look at her from my place in her arms, “How do you know?”

Her warm hazel eyes twinkled, “Trust me. Everything will work out.”

Oh well, that was reassuring.

My mother leaned down to kiss my forehead, “De la Sierra Morena, Cielito lindo, vienen bajando,” she sang and held my small cheek in her hand, “Un par de ojitos negros, Cielito lindo, de contrabando.”

I relaxed back into her chest as she sang and rubbed my back.

“Ay, ay, ay, ay, Canta y no llores, Porque cantando se alegran, Cielito lindo, los corazones.”

Perhaps everything would be alright. 

As long as I had Margarita by my side.

A sobbing Tia Esperanza clung to me as a frighteningly silent Abuelita filled my plate.

“Lo Lamento, Aurelia,” she whispered into my ear before excusing herself to pray some more.

For a Mexican funeral, the mood was rather depressing. Nothing like the one for Tia Lupe or Abuelito. Those ones were filled with laughs of good times and sweet memories. We felt sad, yes, but it was first and foremost a celebration of their lives.

It made sense, I guess, why her wake would be like this. Margarita was only twenty-nine. Young and beloved by everyone who knew her. A car accident. What a way for a witch to go.

Tia Adriana glared at Tia Esperanza, “Cálmate.”

“It’s fine. She was her best friend, after all.”

Tia Adriana’s eyes softened, “And she was your mother. You should eat, flaca. There’s some chocolate para mesa, if you want…”

I shook my head at the elderly woman, “I want to see her. One last time. Before they…”

I was cut off by the sound of a door opening.

My throat dried and my blood ran cold as ice at the words spoken by the intruder. I could hear my heart stop and in that moment I had wished I’d never woken up in this life. 

“I’m looking for my daughter, Aurelia. I’m here to take her with me.”

Chaos erupted.

The real Severus Snape was nothing like handsome, sympathetic Alan Rickman. 

No, he was gangly and greasy, with crooked yellow stained teeth. His skin was a sickening sallow hue with beady black eyes (that latter of which I unfortunately inherited) and an obtrusive hooked nose. A sneer seemed to be the only expression he was capable of and the lower half of his face was covered in stubble. Not the five o’clock shadow kind, more like it was the only hair he was able to grow and he just left it there. It seemed as though he was unbothered to even make an attempt to look presentable at my mother’s funeral. You know, the woman he hit and quit all those years ago.

It hurt my soul to think about how much more I physically resembled him than Margarita.

At the thought of my mother, my blood suddenly went from ice to lava. 

How dare he?

How fucking dare he come here, not even bother to offer his condolences, then demand that I be released into his charge? He was a man who, for all intents and purposes, I, nor anyone else, never even met and he expected my family to willingly hand me over, no questions asked?

The sentiment seemed to be shared by the entirety of the Rodriguez clan. Tio Luis and Tia Adriana looked particularly murderous.

Snape took a step back as the hall filled with the sound of a family protecting one of their children. Lots of Spanish phrases were shouted that mostly meant things like “Go to hell, Englishman” and “come anywhere near her and we’ll kill you.”

I was rather touched.

But it was short-lived as Abuelita stepped through and walked up to Snape with her head held high and a glare that could bring the armada to their knees. 

“You come here to my daughter’s funeral, don’t pay respects to her or us, and just demand we let you have my granddaughter? I know you are who you say you are, Severus Snape. But I will not let you Margarita Rosita’s child. I will not hand her over to a pinche estúpido like you. Margarita would never want that.”

Snape, to his credit, didn’t seem much affected by the foreign swears or glares of everyone in the room, “If that were the case, madam, then why am I here?”

He had the nerve to sneer at Abuelita and he showed a piece of paper.

Abuelita's eyes widened, "No..."

The bastard grinned, "Yes,"

A single tear ran down my grandmother’s face as she turned towards me, “Lo Lamento, niña.”

Turns out there’s a law in America that a magical child must be placed in the custody of the closest wizard relative until they come of age.

So much for “progressive”.

“It should have been you instead of her.”

Snape glared at me through the corner of his eye as he led me through an English neighborhood full of derelict cottages. I had been dragged to Spinner's End. I glared back but took time to stare at his bruised eye. He had to drag me kicking and screaming. Wasn’t gonna let him take me that easily.

He ignored my imprudence, “You are remarkably calm for a muggle-raised child learning about magic. You handled the port key a little too well.”

I didn’t have a real explanation for that, so I improvised, “Mom wasn’t the best at hiding magic from me. I’ve known for years. I didn’t say anything because nobody ever brought it up.”

Nailed it.

We stopped at a small, rundown two-story cottage covered in ivy. Hidden behind a large iron gate, the house was made of chipped grey brick and I was fully convinced it might be haunted.

I turned to Snape as he unlocked the door and raised his eyebrow.

I fell to my knees as the reality of the situation hit me for the first time.

Margarita was dead.

My mom was dead. 

I couldn’t breathe. Why can’t I breathe? Why is it so hard to breathe?

Why am I here? Why was I put here if not to be with Mom? Why? Why? Why?

Why a car accident? Why wasn’t it me? I had already died once. She had so much to do. Why not me? She’d never done anything wrong. Why someone as kind and loving as her? Why did it have to be my mom? The person who kept me grounded since my rebirth. She was a witch, she should have lived to two hundred. Why twenty-nine? Why? 

Oh, Christ, I can’t breathe. I clutched my chest with one hand and wrapped it around my knees with the other arm. 

I began to cry for the first time since Mom passed four days ago. Just one week before summer break was to start. She was going to work. Why did she work a muggle job? Why was she in a car in the first place? Why? Why?

It got hotter and hotter around me as I got lost in my own despair. 

“Why… why…”

Why was I crying like this? I might have been physically eleven, but mentally I was technically twenty-eight. Only a year younger than her. Why did this burn so much?

Just as it got so hot it hurt I felt as if a bucket of water was poured on me.

My inner turmoil was put on pause as I looked up to see Snape holding his wand at me.

It was then I realized I actually was covered in water.

I suddenly grew very angry. He couldn’t handle a child grieving over the loss of their mother so he pour water on me? Before I could scream at him he locked eyes with me.

“Look around.”

I glared, shaking from the chill of the breeze, before glancing at my surroundings.

All the ivy near the door was burnt off. Smoke and ash lingered in the air. 

My black eyes widened as I realized what I had done. What I was able to do.

I did magic.

My first time doing accidental magic.

“Congratulations,” said Snape sarcastically. But there was something else hidden in his eyes. That same twisted pride in his voice from all those years ago. “As expected of my progeny. You’ll be the most powerful witch of your generation.”

Was he enjoying my pain?

“Please let me go home,” I croaked out. This was too much. I couldn’t. I wanted Abuelita. I wanted my aunts and uncles and cousins. I wanted Mom. I couldn’t do this here with him. I couldn’t live thousands of miles away from home with this man. I wanted my family.

I looked at him begging silently, hoping he’d have some semblance of sympathy or compassion. His expression was blank for a few seconds before a cruel smirk appeared on his rough features.

He opened the door and gestured to the inside, “By all means.”

Severus Snape was a heinous excuse of a human being.

I sipped on my bowl of canned chicken soup before turning to Snape, “Am I legally even allowed to be living here? Won’t my citizenship be a problem for when you enroll me in school before Ilvermorny?”

Snape rolled his eyes before setting his tea down, “The muggle government has no authority over either of us. You will no longer be attending muggle primary school, nor going to Ilvermorny for that matter.”

My breath hitched in my throat, “But… that’s where Mom—“

“—I’m quite aware of where Margarita was educated. Ilvermorny is not the only school of magic in the world. You will instead be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this September. The place of my work and the Prince family Alma Mater of generations.”

I stood up abruptly, the table shaking slightly, “What does that have to do with me? I’m not even a Prince, I’m a Rodriguez. Wait, you’re not even a Prince. Either way, I’m going to Ilvermorny like Mom and I’m going to be out in Thunderbird like Mom.” 

It was a childish tantrum, especially when I potentially had the knowledge to make the Wizarding World a better place for everyone, but I couldn’t help it. For damn near the entirety of my past life, all I ever wanted was to go to Hogwarts. But I needed some connection to my mother. I needed a way to be close to her now that she was…

Snape’s beady black eyes twitched in annoyance, “You’ll be attending Hogwarts under the name Aurelia Prince. This is final.”

“I’m an American! I have rights!”

“You’re a child. You have no rights.”

I could have killed him and made myself an orphan in that moment. And I would have felt no guilt. But this was fine. If he wanted to play that game, I could play too. 

The greasy bat of a man let out a sigh at the look on my face, “You’ve inherited my spite, it would seem. You will attend Hogwarts and be the picture of an excellent student. And in return…” he looked physically pained, “You may spend three weeks of your summers with Margarita’s family in America. And once you turn seventeen I will not be able to stop you from leaving permanently.”

Was… was this his attempt at being kind? Or, more likely than the former, was this his attempt at a bribe to keep me well-behaved?

“…I want to be able to spend as much of my summer as I want with them. Be that three weeks or the entirety of it. Only then will I be civil. My mother is gone. You’d keep me from my family just to make a point anyway. I have nothing to lose from making your life hell.”

Snape sneered at me, “You have quite the mouth for an eleven-year-old.”

“You have quite the petty streak for a fifty-year-old.” 

“I am not fif— fine. Just… behave,” he hissed.

I sat back down and continued to eat my soup, which was now cold, but I didn’t mind. Snape was being surprisingly lenient with me. Maybe deep down he had some sort of soft sport for me as his own flesh and blood, but I doubted it. I knew once school came around he’d be harder on me than other students. He was being amicable now so I didn’t burn down his house, most likely. Be it on accident or otherwise. That was fine, though. I just had to be sorted into literally any other house than Slytherin. Then we’d only have to interact for one class. Maybe I could go to Gryffindor just to get under his skin. Then I could completely ignore him for the rest of my Hogwarts career.

Wow. Hogwarts. 

I excused myself from the table to go to the back garden. It was full of surprisingly well-tended plants of all colors and sizes. There were plenty I’d recognized and others I had a feeling were unknown to the muggle world. They must have been for potions.

Wow. Potions.

I was a witch. I could make potions. I could do magic.

I stared at a brilliant purple flower—aconite, I believe— before I ran back inside without thinking.

Snape slightly jumped, startled by my abrupt entrance, “What?”

I looked at him, my eyes wide, “Can I have a wand?”

One month later, Snape took me to Diagon Alley about a week before everyone else would be getting their Hogwarts letters. In that time I had done nothing but lock myself in my room with the books Snape had given me. As horrible of a daughter this made me, thinking about Mom made everything hurt and when everything hurt things tended to accidentally get set on fire. Thus, I had been practicing the art of ignoring my trauma and throwing myself into getting a head start on my magic studies. 

“No, no, not that one…”

Snape sighed as Ollivander rummaged through the back for another wand for me to try after another vase exploded. Specifically, the thirteenth wand for me to try.

“Had it not been for all the things I’ve had to repair…” he grumbled. I could tell he was about two more wands away from calling me some kind of anti-squib/muggle slur.

Ollivander popped back in, “Ah, here this is the one! I’m sure of it. Here you are.”

He opened the long box to reveal a black wand with what appeared to be carvings of the moon and constellations down to the tip.

As soon as it was in my hand I felt calmer than I had in weeks. I felt warm, but not hot. I gave it a wave and Golden sparks emerged from the tip. This was it. This was my wand.

“Excellent! Thirteen and a quarter inches, Ebony wood, unicorn hair core, rather unyielding. A loyal wand, perfect for transfiguration and for those who hold fast and firm to their principles.”

“Finally,” grumbled The Bat as he handed seven galleons over to Ollivander.

I ignored his grumpiness as I thanked the wandmaker and marveled over my wand. It was perfect. I wonder what Mom’s wand was made out… 

No. No, don’t think about it. 

Oh God, it’s hot again. 

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t—

I felt a thwack at the back of my head.

“Ow!” I turned to glare at Snape, something I’d been doing a lot lately.

He sneered, another common occurrence, “I will not allow you set Diagon Alley ablaze and have you rotting in Azkaban before you even begin school.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, but deep down I was grateful. I needed to get better at repressing my more unpleasant emotions.

Eyeing me from the side, my guardian handed me a small vial.

My eyebrow raised in suspicion, “And here I thought you were sly. Are you really already trying to poison me? In public, of all places? 

“Not yet, no.”

Why that bas—

“It’s Calming Draught, you absolute dunderhead.”

Oh. Distinctly not poison. “Thanks?” I knew it didn’t come from the kindness of his heart. I knew it was just to keep me from getting lost in my head and accidentally destroying something, but it was still appreciated.

Snape cleared his throat, “There’s a box of vials on your nightstand. Take no more than once per day. As you get older your control over your emotions will be vastly improved and you’ll stop… burning everything in sight. Until then, one a day and no more than that.”

I raised my eyebrow even higher.

His face suddenly became lightly dusted with pink, but it was gone faster than it came. “While you were at Madam Malkin’s, I considered other means of keeping you as staid as possible. As such, there is a… creature waiting for you at home. You will feed, clean, and look after it on your own. I will not become responsible for—“ he rattled on.

Wait… is he basically saying he got me an emotional support animal? I stopped walking and dragged him into the nearby alleyway.

“What in Merlin’s name are you—“

“—Shh.”

I studied my guardian through narrow eyes. He looked back, his annoyance growing rapidly.

…Nah. He hadn’t been body-snatched. Nobody else could pull off that level of pure sourness. But I didn’t want to admit to him that I thought he’d been invaded by an alien capable of human consideration. 

“…Can I wash your hair when we get back to Cokeworth? It’s embarrassing being in public with you like this. My hair is naturally just as greasy too— thanks for that, by the way— but you don’t see me looking like I’m the lone scion of an oil rig.”

“Why, you little—“

He yelled at me and we apparated back. 

He did let me have at it after I pestered, though. It was still a bit oily afterward, but it was noticeably better and now smelt like wild berries and mint instead of potion fumes and pettiness.

I had a feeling Mom would be very proud of the both of us, I thought as I lied in bed, black oriental shorthair curled at my feet.

Chapter Text

After I had thrown a tantrum to go on the train instead of apparating to Hogsmede and hanging out with the teachers for a few hours, I set out to find the Weasley family and in turn Harry Potter who would be asking for help with the platform. It was about time I worked on the plot.

" — packed with Muggles of course —."

Ah, I knew Molly wouldn’t be hard to find. I was practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of meeting a canon character who wasn’t Snape. Especially the Weasley Matriarch. The Weasleys always had a special place in my heart, and I was determined to befriend as many of them as I could. Maybe I could even spend a holiday with them. I mean, Molly’s cooking was legendary . I would have to try it before I died (again.)

I shuffled up to her as fast as I could.

“Now what’s the platform number?”

“Nine and three-quarters!” Piped up a tiny ten-year-old Ginny. Aw, she was adorable. I had always been a big fan of Ginny.

Fred and George did their thing before running into the wall. Aww, baby twins.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out at the same time I did. I turned and looked into the green eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived. The main character of my favorite series in my life past. Harry Potter.

The first thing I felt was, weirdly enough, disappointment that his eyes were more jade in color than emerald. But that made sense, I supposed. True emerald eyes didn’t really exist. Even if this was a world filled with magic. I silently cursed all those fanfictions that referred to those eyes as “Avada Kedavra green” for getting my expectations up.

The second thing I felt was my head screaming at me to cool my jets and act natural.

“Ma’am,” I said before Harry, “could you help us get on to the platform?”

“Oh, you’re both American, are you?” She asked kindly. For a brief moment, I was reminded of my mom, but I squashed that real quick.

“Well, I am. Don’t know about that guy,” I nodded my head towards little Harry.

The green-eyed boy jumped slightly, “Oh no,” he said, as English as everyone else, “I’m not.”

“No worries,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between nine and ten. Best to do it in a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go before Ron.”

“Er— okay,” said Harry.

I looked at Harry once more and gestured to the wall, “On three?”

Harry looked at me apprehensively before nodded.

“One… two… THREE!”

We ran into the barrier. Well, not really. “We glided through the barrier” would be more accurate.

“I’ll find a compartment for us.”

“Oh! Alright. But where do…” Harry began to say something else but I walked off towards the train to do what I told him. I knew he’d be getting help from the twins with his trunk, so I knew there was no need for me to linger. I had persuaded (aka whined at) Snape to take my stuff to Hogwarts for me, so it would be weird if I just loitered around.

It was about two minutes before Harry joined me.

“Hey.”

“Hello. Thank you for saving me a seat… Er— What did you say your name was?”

It took everything in me not to coo at Harry, “Oh, Salutations. I’m—”

Before I could reply, the compartment door slid open.

“Is it alright if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

Harry and I nodded.

“Sure. You’re Ron, right?” I asked as if I don’t know damn near every detail ever to exist about this kid. He had always been tied with Sirius Black for the title of my favorite character. Wait, why couldn't I have been born as Sirius Notorious-Poon-Hound Black's daughter? That would have been way cooler! 

“Yeah, Ron Weasley.” He turned to the other boy, “Are you really Harry Potter? Do you really have the scar? Could I see it?”

Harry nodded, turning a little pink before brushing aside his bangs. Ron looked like his whole decade was just made in those few seconds.

“I guess that means I don’t have to ask you your name, huh?” I joked.

He laughed nervously, bangs falling back into place. Although, he seemed to appreciate my nonchalance over the Boy-Who-Lived thing.

“So that’s where You-Know-Who—”

“Yes,” said Harry, “but I can’t remember it.”

“Nothing?” Said Ron eagerly.

“Well— I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.”

“Wow,” said Ron.

I suddenly felt very ignored.

“Are both your families all wizards?” Harry asked the both of us, sensing my annoyance.

“Er— yes, I think so,” said Ron. “I think Mum’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.”

“Well, sort of. I’m a half-blood. My mother’s family is all muggles, and my… father is a half-blood as well.” Calling Snape my father left a taste in my mouth resembling the combination of mint toothpaste and orange juice.

Harry suddenly looked downtrodden, “You both must know loads of magic.”

“Oh that’s right, I heard you were sent to live with muggles. What were they like?”

“Horrible. Well, not all of them,” Harry turned to look at me, “Is your family nice?”

I inwardly winced, but answered nevertheless, “Yeah. They love me a lot.”

Harry went on to mention how he’d’ve liked to have three Wizard brothers. Ron corrected him and began to describe his family. Things went on as they had in the book, with a few contributions from me. I distinctly ignored Ron bringing a sleeping Peter “Scabbers” Pettigrew out from his robe pocket. I would have to figure out the solution to that problem sometime later. Then the trolley lady came around and I pestered Ron into trading the pastry Harry had given me for his sandwich.

“Lucky for you, I happen to have a pumpkin allergy and love corned beef.” 

“Thanks, then. Oh, sorry, I realized I forgot to ask your name,” aww, the famous Ron Weasley blush. These kids were so cute.

“I’m—“

Once again the compartment door opened. Oh my god, oh my god, baby Neville Longbottom, my beloved.

“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

We all shook our heads and Neville let out of cry of frustration.

“He’ll turn up,” said Harry.

“Yes,” said the boy miserably. “Well, if you see him.”

He left.

Ron began to talk about how lame toads and Scabbers were. He brought out his iconic wand that was formerly Charlie’s, unicorn hair sticking out and all .

“Oh, before I go on, what did you say your name was?”

“I—"

GOD DAMN IT, HERMIONE.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.”

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”

Hermione sat down beside me. Poor Ron looked so confused before he waved his wand over Pettigrew.

“ Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”

Unfortunately, Pettigrew was fine.

Hermione launched into a very long, very fast rant.

“—I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered.

“Harry Potter,” said Harry.

“Are you really? ” Said Hermione before going off am another rant that left sweet Harry feeling dazed. I briefly wondered if Snape had somehow cast a curse on me to make it so I could never introduce myself without interruption. That seemed like the kind of thing he would do.

Harry asked Ron about his brothers’ houses. Ron explained the Gryffindor legacy set by his parents and siblings that he’d have to live up to. Ron then asked me about the American system.

“Your family would have gone to Ilvermorny, yeah? Percy's got a pen pal there. I heard they’ve got houses there too.”

“What’s Ilvermorny?” Asked Harry.

“It’s like Hogwarts, but in America,” I explained. “And yes, there’s Pukwudgie for the heart and healers, Horned Serpent for the mind and scholars, Wampus for the body and warriors, and Thunderbird for the soul and adventurers. Mom was in Thunderbird, but my father actually attended Hogwarts. He was in Slytherin.”

Ron and Harry were about to blush through an apology over the light Slytherin bashing that occurred earlier, but I told him it didn’t matter to me.

“I’d like to be in Gryffindor or maybe Hufflepuff. Their dorms are right next to the kitchens, and everyone’s supposed to be really nice. All that stuff about them being “duffers” is utter bull— I mean, nonsense.” That part was true. If I couldn’t make it to Gryffindor, Hufflepuff was definitely where I wanted to go.

“Wait,” said Harry, “if you’re American, why are you going to Hogwarts?”

“Oh, my mom died a few months ago, so I had to move to England to live with my father.”

The mood dropped severely and the boys gave their condolences.

“S’all good. I’m doing a pretty good job of not thinking about it.”

Silence persisted and I huffed, “Ron, you’re a boy. Who’s your Quidditch team?”

“What’s Quidditch?”

“What’s— Oh, you’ll love it.” Ron began to describe the game in great detail and I tuned out. I had always thought Quidditch was stupid. I wonder if they’ll let me make an anti-Quidditch club? Probably not, but maybe I could form a soccer— sorry, football club. I bet the muggle-born and half-blood kids would be into it. I wasn’t very athletic, but as a proud Mexican-American, it was my duty to make sure every school had soccer. My ancestors would disown me if I didn’t.

“Oh, this keeps happening. Your name?”

I let out a breath. Finally. “My name’s—“

FREAKING DRACO MALFOY HERE TO RUIN EVERYTHING AS USUAL.

“Is it true?” He said. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”

“Yes,” said Harry.

I tuned this conversation out as well. Would I never get to tell people my name? Would I go throughout the entirety of my Hogwarts career with everyone calling me “Hey You”? Was that my fate?

Suddenly, Draco was looking at me, “You look familiar, but I don’t believe we’ve met. What’s your name?”

“Aurelia Prince,” I said quickly. God, that took forever. I was glad I practiced the new surname before today. 

“Prince?” He raised an eyebrow. “Good name. Yet.. you’re American?”

“Astute observation,” I said dryly.

He studied me for a split second before something clicked, “Yes, you two are definitely related. I hope to see you in Slytherin, then?”

I shrugged noncommittally, “Won’t know till the sorting.”

“I suppose so.” He turned to Harry. “You’ll soon find that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. Miss Prince is fine, but you don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”

He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it.

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said coolly.

The boys verbally had it out but before a fight could break out physically, I stood up.

“Knock it off. It’s rude to argue in front of a lady. Were you not all taught proper decorum?” Truthfully, I just didn’t want to deal with the headache of them fighting. Otherwise I myself would have to knock some sense into them, but I had promised Snape I’d behave. Although, if he got wind that I fought James Potter's son, he might actually start being decent towards me.

They all at least had the decency to look embarrassed and apologized. Before Draco left, however, he turned to me, “Shall I escort you to better company?”

“Thanks, but I’m claiming neutrality in this. See you later, Draco.”

He paused before nodding. No doubt over-analyzing the fact that I had both declined him yet called him by his given name. He took off from the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

Harry awkwardly asked if Ron or I had met his family before.

Ron grumbled about dark wizards and how prejudiced the Malfoy’s are. I merely shrugged.

“Well, he and his family knows some of my relatives on my father’s side, but this is my first time meeting any Malfoy.”

I took note of the lack of Hermione who should have just burst in and realized she wouldn’t because of the lack of commotion. I was suddenly very glad I had changed prior to the King’s Cross.

“We should be arriving soon. I’ll leave so you both can get changed. Just knock on the door once you’re done. Oh, before that…” I took my handkerchief out of my pocket and handed it to Ron, “You’ve got a bit of something on your nose. Sorry, I thought it’d be better to tell you before we left the train.”

He accepted the handkerchief surprisingly well, “Thanks.”

The sorting had so far been going according to how it went before. Abbot in Hufflepuff, Granger in Gryffindor, Malfoy in Slytherin, Potter in Gryffindor, etc. until it was finally…

“Prince, Aurelia.”

I walked to the stool with my head held high. I could do this. Be confident. Everyone is still looking at Harry, anyway. Although, I did notice a few Slytherins look my way. They were expecting me, no doubt. Well jokes on them, because I’m going straight to—

“No. You will most certainly not be going to Gryffindor,” said the Sorting Hat quietly in my ear.

“Oh come on!” I replied in my head.

“You aren’t nearly noble nor sincere enough for Godric’s house.”

“Bah, poppycock. I’m pretty brave. I hold open the door for little old ladies. Besides, me in Gryffindor would help everyone. I’d be able to help Harry to the fullest extent.”

“No.”

“Ugh, fine. I suppose it's Hufflepuff fore me, then?”

The hat laughed in my ear.

“Now why not? I’m loyal. I’m hardworking.”

The hat just kept laughing.

“ Oh, just say I’m too bitchy! But I don’t want to have to solve a riddle I can’t cheat every time I want to go to my common room, you can’t put me in Ravenclaw!”

“You’re forgetting the final house.”

My blood ran cold. “ No. No, I refuse.”

“You’ve spent the past eleven years pretending to someone else. Someone who, according to you, should not exist. You’re cunning, sly, and quite full of ambition. You’ll use any means to achieve your goal.”

By now I had noticed the whispers of my classmates. Ah, it had been a few minutes, hadn’t it?

“Yeah, but my goal is literally for the good of the world. So put me in Gryffindor so I can save the world, or so help me God I will dance on your ashes.”

“You aren’t helping your case, you know.”

“Ugh, pretty please with a cherry on top put me in Gryffindor or you will rue the day—“

“SLYTHERIN!”

“ Watch your back, hat.”

The sorting hat laughed as McGonagall took it off my head. The Slytherins loudly applauded, Snape looked shocked, and Ron and Harry sent me sympathetic looks before applauding.

“That sure took some time,” said a girl with an upturned nose. She must be Pansy Parkinson. “What other house was the hat stuck on?”

Oh, yeah. A hatstall was usually for when the hat couldn’t decide between two or more houses. Oh well, now that I’m a Slytherin I think I should be allowed a little lying. As a treat.

“Slytherin and Ravenclaw. But the hat ultimately decided my talents were best suited here.”

Pansy gave a haughty grin, but I could tell the arrogance wasn’t directed at me, “Obviously, since this is the best house. I’m Parkinson. Pansy Parkinson.”

I smiled back at her, ignoring the fact I was shaking hands with someone who in another life would sell out her classmates. “Aurelia Prince. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pansy.”

“Likewise!”

We turned our attention back to sorting and it was somehow still Ron’s turn. Something was off. Ron should only have been there a few seconds. Was something—

“SLYTHERIN!”

I choked and swore I caught the Hat somehow wink at me.

A Weasley? In Slytherin? How could I have messed with things THAT much? Poor Ron looked as though he’d woken up married to Aragog. He was frozen in place, pale blue eyes seeming void of life. Not even McGonagall moved. You could have heard a pin drop in the Great Hall.

Until you couldn’t.

Percy Weasley broke the deafening silence with clapping that would have been obnoxious in any other situation. Harry and I followed his lead. Then the twins. Then the whole of Slytherin. Then the entire student body. Coming together to applaud this obviously frightened young boy and let him know he was going to be okay. Sometimes I didn't hate children.

McGonagall ushered Ron away and called up the next student. I threw an arm around his shoulder and drew gentle circles on his back once he sat down. “It’ll be okay, bud.”

He threw me a smile that was both utterly terrified yet grateful at the same time. I noted that he didn’t pull away or even blush from embarrassment.

I noticed the other Slytherin students watching us interact. Ron for obvious reasons (seriously, what the hell did I do to cause THIS) and me for being friendly with a Weasley. This would either get me labeled as a blood traitor and ostracized or seen as some kind of grand schemer trying to luring the youngest Weasley son to the dark side. Truthfully, I cared little what they thought. As long as they left me and my friends alone. I didn’t think that was too much to ask.

The rest of the sorting flew by with the last boy, Blaise Zabini, making his way to Slytherin. Albus Dumbledore had stood up after the last applause. He was everything I’d ever imagined, legendary twinkling eyes and all.

“Welcome!” He said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

I snapped and nodded, “Poetry.”

Ron laughed, at least.

Draco scrunched his nose, “Father was right. He’s absolutely mad!”

A weary looking upperclassman sighed, “You lot have no idea.”

“Aluminum.”

My dorm mates clapped and squealed.

“Okay, say “jumper,” next please!” Exclaimed Daphne Greengrass.

I raised an eyebrow, “Sweater.”

Once again the form was filled with giggles. Apparently all but Millicent Bulstrode, who had a brother-in-law from New York, had never met an American before and thought the way I pronounced/called things was the pinnacle of entertainment.

“Braces!”

“Uhhh… what?”

“Suspenders,” supplied Millicent.

“Ohhh, okay. Yeah. Suspenders.”

“Holiday!”

“Er— which kind? Are we talking vacation or like, Halloween?”

“Muggle!”

“Well I also call them muggles, personally, but in America it’s usually No-Maj.”

“Alright, enough of that,” began Pansy after another wave of giggles, “What’s America like, Aurelia?”

The girls all huddled closer, Tracey Davis’ glasses almost falling off from excitement. I had never thought being American of all things would be interesting to people— let alone the English. I guess it made some sense, though. These weren’t regular non-magical people who knew all about how obnoxious my homeland was. These were eleven year old witches who’d been trapped in a small bubble. A few had mentioned going to France or Italy for vacation— sorry, “holiday”— but America was unknown to them. It was kind of sad, honestly, but I wasn’t about to go giving people with more money than I’d ever see in a lifetime my pity. Down with the bourgeoisie and all that.

“Is it true it’s illegal to marry muggles or even be near them?” Asked Daphne.

“Merlin, America must be paradise if that’s true,” said Pansy, completely serious. The others sighed in agreement.

I blinked. I certainly hadn’t been expecting that, let alone that reaction. I searched my brain for anything pertaining to that. One thing did come up but it bummed me out to think it might actually be canon. “It used to be seriously illegal. You could get arrested for merely associating with one. Marrying one was completely out of the question and would get you thrown in prison faster than you could say “Quidditch.” But it hasn’t been like that for a while.”

“Since 1957,” supplied Millicent. “But Marianna and Daniel have been working with his family and other proper witches and wizards to fix that.”

“Your sister is a saint,” said Daphne, “Working so hard for the betterment of America.”

My throat closed a bit. Those people were working towards a re-segregated America and they were happy about it?

It was taking everything in me not to storm out and demand to be put in another house. I scratched behind a purring Clawdius’s large black ears to calm down. These were just kids. They didn’t know any better. I glanced down at my honey colored skin then back at their soft pale faces. They didn’t know. They weren’t even talking about the kind of segregation I was most familiar with, but the parallels were too deep.

I suddenly felt a wave of utmost respect for my mother. A muggleborn witch born in 1959. How must it have been for her to go from muggle America who hated her for her skin and heritage, to wizard America who hated her for her parents not having magic like she did? She was a part of two worlds, and they both stood against her. All that alongside bearing the child of a Death Eater at nineteen years of age. All that, and she still remained kind. Until the very end.

“I should get to bed. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day and I need to mentally prepare for all the ridiculous amount of “u”s I’ll be adding to my words.”

Daphne pouted, “But we were about to start talking about boys.”

I gagged, “Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

Pansy snickered, “Why? Don’t want to talk about your Weasley pet? Makes sense, after all. Don't know how you could go touching Blood Traitors without burning your hand off."

I gagged a second time, “Ew, he's not my pet.” I gnored the bit about Blood Traitors.

“You were all over him at the Welcoming Feast,” Tracey accused.

“I was comforting a scared little boy.”

“You had your hands all over a B lood Traitor .” Wow, they really liked emphasizing that.

“Lay off,” said Millicent. “She’s probably got something planned for him.”

Thanks, Milly. “Yes, exactly that. I mean, the youngest Weasley son is in Slytherin. When was the last time that happened? It’ll be good to have him under my belt. That means he’s mine.” I added. I wanted to make sure people left him alone. I didn’t actually have any plans other than “be his friend” but I couldn’t tell them that.

I groaned at the ridiculous amount of giggles.

“Not like that! Anyway, goodnight!” I set Clawdius on my my pillow then shut the emerald green curtains of my bed and buried my face in my cat for some quick serotonin. I had forgotten how unbearable middle school aged girls were. Was I this bad at their age the first go around? I couldn’t remember, but something in my gut told me I was somehow worse, just with a lot less prejudice. At least I had that last part going for me.

I dreamt of my mother that night, and when I woke up, Clawdius had been licking the tears off my face.

The first week of proper school was both very exciting in the moment, but otherwise not all that memorable. Charms and Herbology were very fun, and I even was having a fun time in History of Magic. Despite what Ollivander had said about my wand, I found I was struggling a bit in Transfiguration (which was, in fact, permanent. Take that HPMoR) and DADA. Though I had a feeling I was having a hard time with the latter was because the freaking Dark Lord Voldemort was attached to Quirrell’s head and I was the only who knew about it. 

Yeah, I was gonna have to get the stone at some point, wasn’t I? I couldn’t just reveal Voldemort now. That would throw off things way too much and I’d lose any advantage I might’ve had. It was probably better to just make sure Dumbledore’s here the night he tries to steal the Philosopher’s stone and make sure the Golden Trio (could I even call them that anymore?) didn’t stick their noses in to stuff that didn’t involve them. As long as they left the stone alone, there shouldn’t be any way for Voldy to get it.

I was taken out of my inner monologuing by Ron, who was frantically pacing and causing the leaves to crunch.

I looked up from my place beneath the red and gold oak tree, “You alright, bud?”

Harry, who had been sticking by us at every opportunity he got this week, also looked very concerned for our ginger friend.

“Tomorrow is Friday!” He exclaimed.

The Chosen One looked at me and I looked back. We were both utterly lost. “Er— yes?”

“We have double potions with Snape tomorrow! They say he greatly favors the Slytherins,” he groaned.

Harry blinked. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed, “Ronald, be a dear and look at your tie for me.”

He paused did as he was instructed.  He was still for a moment before turning bright pink, “Oh.” He broke out in to a smile, “I have a chance at passing potions then!”

“I’m utterly doomed then,” mumbled Harry.

Ron sat down next to Harry and me. “See, being in Slytherin has its perks. How’s your family been about it, by the way?” I asked.

“They’ve been really great about the whole thing! Percy won’t shut up about how the hat had considered him for Slytherin, but Granny Cedrella sent me some of her old scarves from her school days. Dad said Mum’s still in shock, but she’ll get over it.”

Harry pouted and I slowly rubbed his shoulder. He was still a little skittish when it came to physical contact, but I could tell he was slowly starting to crave it. Poor baby was as touch starved as you could get. “The hat offered me Slytherin. Insisted I would do well. I told him to bugger off. Now all my friends are in Slytheirn and I’m going to fail potions.”

I rolled my eyes as Ron gave him a sympathetic pat on the head, “Just keep your head down and follow instructions. Even if you were in Slytherin, Snape would still hate you.” I told him.

His head snapped up, “What? Why? I’ve never even met him!”

“Er— well, Snape and your dad had a legendary feud back in the day, and from what I’ve heard, you’re a spitting image of James Potter.”

Ron’s eyes widened, “I’ve never heard of them hating each other.”

“That’s because you don’t listen.” And also because you hadn’t read a seven book series where the entire plot technically got kickstarted because of said feud.

Harry looked baffled, “He hates me because I look like my dad?” Bafflement turned to anger, “But he’s dead! I never even go to meet him!”

“Yeah, Snape’s notoriously petty like that. Again, just… behave. Don’t do anything without him telling you to”

Ron threw an arm around him, “Rotten luck, mate.”

“I’ll try to protect you, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Me too!” Piped Ron.

Harry smiled appreciatively, “Thanks.”

“No problem. What are friends for?”

Snape, like Flitwick, started class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes,” he said softly, “Harry Potter. Our new— celebrity.”

I groaned internally. This whole thing was stupid. Snape was stupid. James was— well, he died a hero, but he was at one point stupid! Point is, I didn’t know if I was going to be able to deal with this nonsense for seven goddamn years. Harry looked over at me, and in that moment I knew he thought the same.

“You are hear you learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word… “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…” he went on.

God, and everyone called Sirius a drama queen. The man sounded like he wanted to make sweet tender love to a cauldron. I once again wondered just how it was I came in to being when he was clearly only attracted to red-headed childhood friends and potions.

“Potter!” said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

I winced. I had really wanted to prepare Harry for these questions, but I knew that would just cause trouble. Either Harry would get suspicious or Snape would ask Harry more questions that I didn't have the answers to.

“I don’t know, sir,” said Harry.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Tut, tut— fame clearly isn’t everything.

He ignored Hermione’s hand.

“Prince!” He said, throwing me off greatly.

My eyes widened as I realized he expected me to answer. “Uh, that would be Draught of the Living Death. It’s a really powerful sleeping potion.”

He stared at me in surprise for a split second before going back to Harry. Wait. Why did he look shocked that I knew the answer? Was he trying to humiliate me too?!

“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you find me a bezoar?”

Hermione’s hand flew up again in an obnoxious manner, but Harry was instead looking like he wanted to die from embarrassment. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, on the other hand, were dying of laughter.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” He suddenly turned to me, “Prince!”

I hated this man more than ever. “I don’t—“ he glared at me so intensely that I even I of all people was scared, “I mean, you would look for it in the stomach of the goat, sir. It’s supposed to absorb most poisons.”

Harry looked at me, clearly feeling betrayed. I couldn’t blame him. But what the hell was I supposed to do? Snape's always glared at me, but the way he was looking at me now... Was it because I told the Dark Lord Voldemort the prophecy that would get the woman I loved killed. Oh wait. That was him, wasn’t it? Hmm, wow. How odd.

“What is the difference, Potter, between monks hood and wolfsbane?”

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling.

“I don’t know,” said Harry quietly.

I was so grateful he hadn’t made the quip about Hermione clearly knowing.

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione.  “Prince!”

I looked at Snape pleadingly. I had a feeling that I knew what this was about. This was my punishment for being friends with Harry, and for the attitude I’d shown him all summer. Either I’d get humiliated, or Harry would. Snape glared at me in response.

My face flushed hot with shame. I felt as though I would cry from frustration. “They’re the same,” I choked out.

“What’s another name it goes by?”

I swallowed, “Aconite, but in America it’s often called the Devil’s Helmet Flower or Queen of Poisons.” God, why did I have to show off like that?

Snape grinned with all the venom of a viper going in for the kill, “Ten points to Slytherin, Miss Prince.”

Lily Evans made the correct choice all those years ago.

Chapter Text

“I thought you said you were going to protect me!” Harry complained as we walked to Hagrid’s. “He took five points from Gryffindor after you helped Neville! And you showed off when he was interrogating me!”

I wrapped my arms around myself. I had known Snape was an ass, but… I thought as his daughter he’d have high expectations but still be at least somewhat softer than he would others. I wasn’t emotionally nor mentally prepared for that. At least now I know for next time.

Ron frowned, “Mate, I don’t think she really had choice there. It seems like he loathes her almost as much as you.”

Harry paused before looking at me curiously, “Did he hate your dad too?”

Had it been any other day, I would have snorted. “In a way, yes, probably.” I said as we approached Hagrid’s hut.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from in- side and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang – back.

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

“Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

“Hagrid! This is Ron and Aurelia,” Harry introduced us with a small smile.

“Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. “I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest.”

I snickered and poked Ron’s cheek, “You’ve nothing to worry about. Ron’s a Slytherin. We don’t get caught.”

“Aurelia!” Ron exclaimed, face going red. He turned to look at Hagrid, “I’ve got nothin’ planned!”

Hagrid barked out a laugh, “Aurelia, eh? Yer Snape’s little lass, aren’t ye? Funny to see yer with Harry.”

The boys whipped around in shock and in that moment I could have killed Hagrid and felt no remorse. It was my turn to blush and I buried my head in my hands, “Oh, no.”

“You’re Snape’s kid?!”

“When the bloody hell were you gonna tell us that bit?!”

Hagrid suddenly looked very guilty, realizing I had wanted to keep it a secret. He ushered us to the table and proclaimed he had made rock cakes.

“Please say anything about it. I really don’t want anyone to know. Although, I think Draco’s got it figured out.”

Harry looked at me in an accusatory manner, “Did you know he was going to do that today?”

Technically yes, but not because Snape gave me a heads up.

“No,” I lied, like I do, “I didn’t even know he’d be asking me after you. He… I just met him a few months ago, at the beginning of summer. He sort of… crashed my mom’s funeral and snatched me back to England with him. We don’t get along very well. I’m pretty sure he went after me to punish me for sassing him all summer, as well as ‘cause I’m friends with you.”

Ron suddenly looked very angry, “What an absolute—“ Ron let out a string of curses that got him chastised by Hagrid.

“Sorry, it’s just… she’s his daughter, and he treated her like that in front of everyone? Not even Mum would—“

“Oh hey, look! Someone broke in to Gringotts!” I pointed to the recent issue of the Daily Prophet on the table.

It was honestly really relieving and sweet to know that the boys didn’t care about my unfortunate parentage, but I wanted this conversation over ASAP.

“Hagrid!” said Harry, “that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might have been happening while we were there!”

Hagrid refused to meet Harry’s eyes. He gave us each another rock cake that we promptly stuffed in to our pockets the moment he liked away.

“I’ll forgive you for putting me in extreme emotional distress over your pettiness if you excuse me from flying lessons,” I said as I burst in to Snape’s office.

Snape gave a smile that made me want to light his socks on fire. “Whatever do you mean, Miss Prince ?”

My eye twitched at the emphasis on my new surname. Forget just his socks. Just burn the whole man. “You know good and well what I mean! You didn’t think I would know the answers, so you asked me after Harry. When you realized I would know them, you switched gears.”

“ ‘Switched gears’ ? How very  muggle of you. As your loving father, I’d suggest watching your language in Slytherin house. For your safety, that is.” He said muggle like it was a dirty word.

This son of a—

“Whatever vulgar insult you intend to throw at me, I’d suggest you keep it yourself. You will show respect to your Head of House, professor, and father,” he sneered.

How typical of him.

“Respect is earned and goes both ways.”

There was a fire in Snape’s eyes as he once again gave me that awful grin, “Do have fun in flying lessons tomorrow.”

That’s it! My move now.

“I cannot believe you broke your own leg just to get out flying lessons! It was amazing! Malfoy stole Neville’s Remembrall and—“

“Ron, I know what happened. It’s all over school. And I did not purposely break my leg to get out lessons. I just coincidentally happened to trip down a flight of stairs the night before said lessons. Pure chance, really.”

It wasn’t. It was fully calculated on my end. I hated heights, and I wasn’t about to embarrass myself by crying in front of my housemates AND the Gryffindors. The other Slytherins would have eaten me alive.

A small part of me that I was rather ashamed that I partially did it to get back at Snape. I didn’t think he’d feel bad, not by any means. But I hoped somewhere in there, somewhere deep down in his blackened heart, that he’d feel guilty about his treatment of me. After all, if I was willing to break my own leg (not that anyone could prove it was on purpose), what else was I willing to do to get what I wanted? Or maybe he’d be embarrassed of my own actions in a more Tywin Lannister kinda way. Whatever. I just hope it pained him in some capacity.

What was it with Harry giving me accusatory looks? “How would you know? You’ve been in the hospital wing since last night. When are you getting out, by the way?”

I didn’t have to energy to come up with a lie.

“Harry, the hospital wing is still part of the school. And I’ll be out before supper. My bones have been healed for hours now. It’s just a matter of rest. Anyway, how did Mcgnagall react to the whole thing? Last I heard, you didn’t even get detention.”

“Don’t tell anyone— Wood wants it secret— but I made it on the Gryffindor quidditch team! I’m the new seeker!”

“Oh wow, congratulations! You’re the youngest seeker in, what, a decade?” Sometimes it was hard to pretend I didn’t know anything, other times it was absolutely worth it.

Harry’s chest puffed up with pride, “In a century! McGonagall said my father played when he was in school too! He was a chaser, though. But she said he’d be really proud!”

It was nice to see Harry so cheery and animated. Most of the time, he either looked confused or exhausted. I couldn’t blame him, honestly. But something else came to mind. Something important that happened originally that hadn’t been mentioned.

“By any chance, Harry, did you agree to a wizard’s duel with Draco?”

Both boys looked extremely taken aback, “Malfoy just challenged me before we came here! How could you possibly have known?”

My black-brown eyes narrowed, “Harry James Potter—“

Ron interrupted my threat just as Harry asked how I knew his middle name, “He said no, don’t worry. I want to win the house cup as much as any other Slytherin, but not at the expense of Harry. It was obviously a trap.”

Wow. A few weeks in Slytherin and he was already picking up schemes. I felt so proud. I knew the midnight duel trap was how they discovered Fluffy and the trap door, but after some deliberation I had no intent of letting them go after the stone to “protect” it. They could bond over their hatred of Snape or love of Quidditch like all the other kids. I wasn’t about to let a group of eleven-year-olds face Voldemort.

That would just be irresponsible.

Harry side-eyed Ron, “You told me you overheard Malfoy plotting in—.”

The ginger boy went pink, “Harry!”

I sighed and sat up, “Alright, clearly I’ve missed too much. Take me to supper with y’all.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “It’s still lunch?”

“Oh,” I flopped back down and covered my eyes with my arm, “Fetch me later then. Thanks, babes.” I finger-gunned them with my free hand.

The boys groaned in unison.

The Slytherin common room was severely underrated, if you asked me. Everything about it was so… elegant. The soft leather sofas, the way green glow of the lake illuminated the room, the grand fireplace, the portraits of notable alumni… It was spacious, but not in a way that made you feel insignificant. Being in the common room made me feel powerful . Its scent of pine and juniper berries seemed to set my soul at ease. I could easily see how it would be suffocating to a non-Slytherin, but for me this was where I belonged. I felt like this was one of the few places I could relax.

So when I saw Ron sulking by alone by the fireplace, I knew I had to do whatever I needed to make it to where he felt the same way I did.

“What’s shakin’, bacon?”

The red-headed boy jumped slightly when he noticed me, but still sent me a small smile, “Hullo.”

I plopped down next to him, bringing my knees to my chest just like his, “You doing okay?”

Ron shrugged before looking back at the fire, “Can’t sleep, s’all.”

“Draco being a prick again?”

Normally when I swore or insulted Draco, Ron would laugh. But not tonight it would seem.

Instead, he sighed. “My whole bed’s covered in strawberry jam.”

My eyebrows shot up in confusion, “Jam? Did your brothers sneak in and prank you?”

“Never thought I’d ever say this, but I wish. It was Malfoy and his cronies.”

My brows began to furrow, “Why jam?”

“My guess is they couldn’t get blood, so they went with the next best thing.”

I reflexively sucked air through my teeth. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at the trim of his vest. “I had to ask Gemma Farley had to charm this green for me. Mum and dad sent me with my brothers’ old stuff. They didn’t even consider I might’ve been anywhere but Gryffindor.”

My grimace morphed in to a frown, “I thought you said they were being really supportive. Your grandmother even sent some of her Slytherin gear.”

Poor Ron looked as though his eyes he wanted to cry, “Aurelia, I didn’t even consider I’d end up anywhere else. There hasn’t been a born Weasley in Slytherin in over three centuries. We’ve had a few Hufflepuffs, but it’s almost always Gryffindor. The hat was even about to put me there until it changed its mind at the last moment. Said things would be better if I were here instead. But I don’t know why!” It was no longer simple mist. Hot tears poured down his freckled face. “I don’t care what Malfoy or his goons think. I just want to punch his stupid pointy face in! If I were just some Gryffindor that belted Malfoy, it would be one thing. But I’m in Slytherin. Slytherin! If I got back at him, the whole house would turn against me!”

I threw my arm across him and pulled his face in to my chest as he cried. The guilt was suffocating. I knew had I not been in this world, Ron wouldn’t be here crying his heart out. He would be playing chess with Harry and his brothers in Gryffindor common room.

“I would never turn against you. Harry might be in another house, but we would both stand by your side no matter what. Just like what I know you would do for us.”

“I” hic “thought you and Malfoy were” hic “friends?” He choked out between sobs.

“Why? Because I call him by his given name? Ron, sweetie, I do that with almost everyone. I’m American. If you think so because I always tell y’all to leave him alone, you’re also wrong. I just don’t want you to get in trouble. Because I care about you and Harry. You two are my friends, and I promised myself I’d look after you. As far as I’m concerned, Draco can take his ego and go shove it up—“

This time Ron did let out a small laugh at my vulgarity, but I could tell he was still severely distressed. I tightened my hold on him and used my free arm to gently run his fingers through his hair.

“De la Sierra Morena, Cielito lindo, vienen bajando,” I began softly. My voice wasn’t nearly as angelic as Mom’s, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. “ Un par de ojitos negros, Cielito lindo, de contrabando .”

Ron started to relax a bit, “What is that? Is that Latin?”

Bemused, I shook my head, “Close. It’s Spanish. It’s a song that’s important in my culture. We sing it at soccer games a lot. My… my mom used to sing it to me all the time.”

“I don’t know your family was from Spain.”

“I’m Mexican, Ronald.” I corrected.

“I thought you were American?”

I let out a laugh. This exchange was entertaining, but whoever was in charge of his schooling before Hogwarts needed to be shot.

“I know Snape’s a real toddler, but… what was your mum like?” He changed the subject.

I took a deep breath, still gently messaging Ron’s scalp, “She was nothing like Snape. Mom was… you would have liked her. Everyone always did. She was really smart and knew just what to say to make you laugh. She always cooked the best and loved to share her food with everyone. She was really pretty too. I don’t look a lot like her, unfortunately. I inherited some skin pigment from her, but she was a lot tanner than me. Her eyes were this really warm hazel color, and they always seemed like they were welcoming you. She loved to play the guitar at family gatherings, and she had the voice of a siren. She was…” a single tear fell from my eye, “She was…” I swallowed, “Ron, never take your mother for granted. Promise me.”

“…I promise. Could… could you keep singing? Mum sometimes sings for us…. Though it’s usually Celestina Warbeck.”

I raised an eyebrow, “You want me to sing ‘ A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love ’ instead?”

He gave me a look, but I noted he was finally properly relaxed. Guess that was a no.

“Ay, ay, ay, ay, Canta y no llores, Porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindo, los corazones.

Pájaro que abandona, cielito lindo, su primer nido, Si lo encuentra ocupado, cielito lindo, bien merecido…”

My birthday passed by without any notice, as I had not mentioned the date to the boys. Snape did technically give me a present before breakfast: one Dragot and one Sprink— the wizarding currency of America— as well as a torn off piece of parchment saying “You’re welcome for being born.”

Tch. Typical.

Harry received his broomstick from McGonagall and with that September died and October was now on hospice. It was Halloween— the day of the troll, the tenth anniversary of the Potters’ murder, and two days until Dia de los Muertos.

“ Two months at Hogwarts and you can’t even swish and flick, eh, Weasley, ” I mimicked Snape. Ron gave me a death glare.

It was after Transfiguration for us, Charms for Harry, and we were all hanging out in the courtyard. Ron, upon hearing what the Gryffindors had done on class, decided to get a head start on the levitation charm in hopes of earning Slytherin some house points.

Harry’s nose seemed to scrunch up on its own and he shuddered at my accuracy, “Please don’t ever do that again. That was too close for comfort.”

“You’ve got to admit it’s impressive.”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it…”

Ron gave another glare. Harry made a point of showing his lips closing as I did the zipper motion.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” He tried again. Nothing happened.

“You’re saying it wrong,” said Hermione, who came absolutely out of nowhere, “ It’s Wing-gar-drum Levi-o-sa, make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”

“You do it then, if you’re so clever,” Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The quill we were using for practice lifted gracefully and Hermione was looking very pleased with herself. Professor Sprout, who happened to be walking by, noticed and awarded three points to Gryffindor before continuing on her way.

I face-palmed as I knew exactly what was coming next. It would seem some things just couldn’t be avoided. Goddamn stations of canon. 

Ron turned bright red, his nostrils flaring in a way that reminded me of my Snape impression, “It’s no wonder no one can stand you,” he hissed out at her, “You’re an utter nightmare, Granger.”

Hermione’s proud grin vanished as she stood frozen in shock before tears began to spill from her brown, baby-doe eyes, “I… I…”

Ron, realizing what he’d done, suddenly looked very ashamed of himself, “Hermione—“ but before he could get another word out, Hermione ran past us. Still sobbing.

Harry glared at his best friend, “To her face, Ron? Really?”

I rubbed my temples and harshly flicked Ron’s forehead, “She was only trying to help. Think about what you say before you just go spewing stuff out. That kind of thing is exactly something someone like Draco would say to her. A pureblood Slytherin boy picking on a muggleborn girl is not a good look.”

Ron’s face got paler and paler.

I stood up and stretched slight befitting turning back to the boys, “As a fellow girl, I’m obligated to go after her. Harry, make Ronald feel worse for me. Later, losers.”

I gave a lazy two-finger salute and followed Hermione.

Chapter Text

“Hermione, he’s just a dumb boy,” I said from the other side of the stall, “and everyone knows the opinions of dumb boys don’t mean anything.”

“He wasn’t lying, though! I don’t have any friends! Nobody likes me!” She cried even harder. 

I sighed inwardly. “That’s not true, Hermione. I like you just as you are.”

“You’re lying!”

I kind of was, to be honest. Hermione was never really my favorite character and she was sorta of hard to love at times. But so were Ron and Harry, if I was to be completely frank. Even I wasn’t exactly oozing charisma. It was just a part of being growing up. Being extremely unlikeable.

“Hermione Jean Granger—“

“—How do you know my middle name?!”

“Don’t interrupt. Anyway, Hermione Jean Granger, I have been standing here for, what, three hours? I am risking my reputation in Slytherin house to be here right now, comforting you, a muggleborn in Gryffindor. You know what? Yeah, a lot of people don’t like you. But so what? Why should anyone else’s opinion matter? You’re the smartest person in our entire year. So don’t listen to all the idiots, m’kay? Come out. Come to the feast with me. I’ll sit next to you at the Gryffindor table. You can talk my ear off about whatever you want.”

There was a pause. 

“…Do… Do you really mean it, Aurelia?”

I nodded then blushed when I realized she could see it, “Yes. Politics be damned. I’m not sure I care be liked by a bunch of racists anyway.”

Another pause.

“Well, technically they wouldn’t be racist. They’d would be ‘prejudiced,’ as racism—“

“Hermione.”

I did not have the patience to have the technicalities of racism versus prejudice explained to me when I knew I was about to get an ungodly amount of flack from my housemates for the next seven years.

“Oh, sorry. Yes, I… Let’s go. We’ve already missed a good chunk of it.” 

Freakin’ finally. 

The stall door unlocked and a rather disheveled Hermione came out. Her face was pink and puffy and her damp, bushy brown locks clung to her cheek. She looked absolutely pathetic. I stretched my arms wide open. 

“Come on. Bring it in.” 

Hermione hesitated for a moment before throwing herself in my arms. I gently swayed her a little bit and did my best to smooth out her hair. I hummed Cielito Lindo, as per tradition. 

Gosh, what was it with me and comforting crying kids lately? I didn’t know how much more I could do so. If Harry broke down next, I’m a little ashamed to say I’d probably make Ron handle it. I adored these guys, but I had a lot of things going on. It was very draining to go out of my way to manage their emotions for them.

Wait, I feel like I’m forgetting something important…

HOLY MOSES THE TROLL!

HOW IN THE NAME OF THE SWEET SON OF GUADALUPE DID I FORGET ABOUT THE GOD DAMN TROLL?!

“Hermione,” I pulled away from her, “We’ve got to go. Now.”

She tilted her head in a manner I would have found utterly adorable at literally any other time, “Why the urgen…cy…” Hermione’s eyes widened as she looked behind me. She seemed to be frozen in fear.

I whipped around and three guesses as to what I saw.

“¡A la verga!” I exclaimed as the grey lump of a troll groaned loudly. I almost vomited at the sickening stench it carried. Old socks and unclean public restrooms indeed.

Without thinking, I whipped my wand out from the strap under my skirt and shouted “Diffindo!” 

The troll groaned loudly in pain from the severing charm, but although it began to bleed it still kept on going. 

“Diffindo!” 

It was moving slower, but still nowhere near enough. The troll was angry now, dark sludge-like blood oozing down its neck.

“Hermione! Get help!” I distracted the troll with another severing charm and pushed her out of the way.

She looked at me in distress as I just barely dodged the trolls club.

“HERMIONE!” 

She ran out of the bathroom, bumping in to the boys and using all her strength to drag them away as the troll swung its club again and decimated the stalls. I rubbed my eyes and coughed as dust and debris invaded the air. My clothes were filthy and already fraying.

“Sectumsempra!” 

But nothing happened.

I was running out of stamina. But I kept trying. Four more Ever-Cuttings later it finally worked and the troll grabbed It’s throat as more and more sludge was leaking than ever before. It was in pain and distracted.

“Bombarda Maxima!” 

Sweat was pouring down my head and back and I threw every bit of energy and will in to the explosion charm, doing my best to aim for the neck. It wasn’t as powerful as it should have been, but it did the trick. I did my best to cover my face with my arms as the troll exploded, sludge and grey meat now decorating the bathroom— and me.

I fell to the ground, panting. I hadn’t been as prepared as I should have been. Had I not had the knowledge of spells from my previous life, I’d have died. 

I was in a lot of pain, my legs and face bleeding and mingling with the troll’s blood. I brought my knees to my chest and tried to steady my breathing and I heard others coming in. I looked up to see McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell standing in shock, jaws open at the sight.

“S…sup,” I croaked out, my throat burning from all the dust and running. 

McGonagall was the first to speak up, “Just what on Earth happened?! What are you doing here?! You could have died!”

I did not have the energy for this.

“Obviously, I was already here!” I yelled, voice cracking.

Luckily for me, she could see I was injured and in a state of great distress, so I didn’t get in trouble for mouthing off. Snape had to pick me up and carry me to the hospital wing, much to both of our chagrin. Bastard didn’t even look remotely concerned for my well-being.

While Madam Pomfrey made quick work of disinfecting and healing my injuries, Snape interrogated me on how the hell I managed to kill the troll. I explained the charms I had used, sans Sectumsempra. He stared at me and sighed before awarding Slytherin forty points for saving the school from the troll and the advanced spells I had used to do so, then left to make his report to Dumbledore.

If there was any previous desire to go through the obstacle course to get the stone before Voldemort, it was as dead as the troll.

A few weeks passed and things were going alright. I had celebrated the Day of the Dead by putting up my mom’s photo on the stand next to my hospital bed and asked Pomfrey to transfigure my handkerchief in to a marigold and a hair clip in to a small daisy for me. I put the flowers beside the photo alongside a chocolate frog as my offering. I had been discharged on the third of November, not because of any sustained injury, but to make sure the troll blood that had gotten in to my cuts weren’t having any effects.

Upon my release, I was dubbed “troll-slayer” by the Weasley twins. Ron promptly told them to fuck off on me behalf.

Speaking of Ron, as they didn’t all fight the troll together the Golden Trio wasn’t as close as they’d been at this point last time around, but they were slowly but surely becoming friends. Ron and I had taken to sitting at the Gryffindor table with Harry and Hermione during supper. It wasn’t technically against the rules and seeing as I had gotten them forty god damn house points in one night and single-handedly killed a troll, the other Slytherins turned a blind eye to this. Even Draco Malfoy left Ron alone without me having to say anything, although he was now making a somewhat obnoxious effort to be my friend. I was diplomatic to the best of my abilities, but still avoided him and the others trying to get on my good side as much as possible.

I couldn’t help this nagging feeling deep in my heart and head that warned me that I had used up all my luck for the next few years; and if I had tried anything as reckless as that again I would certainly die.

It was the day before the Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch match, and the four of us were huddled together in the freezing courtyard. I had convinced Hermione to cast some heating charms in our cloaks instead of conjuring the blue flame in a jar, and as such none of us had guilty expressions and Snape ignored us when he limped on by instead of taking Harry’s book out of sheer spite. Meaning Harry wouldn’t go ask for it in the evening and hear Snape complaining about Fluffy and his three heads. 

Harry looked up from Quidditch Through the Ages and his face took on a curious expression as he glanced at Ron and I, who were currently having a rock-paper-scissors tournament. 

“At the game tomorrow, will you be cheering for Slytherin or for me?” He asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Obviously they’ll cheer for you with me in the Gryffindor stand, Harry. You’re our friend.”

I casually whistled and looked the other direction. Ron followed suit.

Harry and Hermione were appalled.

“Look,” I explained, “Even with all the good will I’ve managed to build up, if Ron and I are seen cheering for Gryffindor of all houses when Slytherin is playing against them, we might actually get lynched or something. Marcus Flint in particular has been giving us threatening looks all week.”

Ron nodded with a guilty expression, “Sorry, mate. We’re rooting for you, we really are, but we can’t show it today. You understand, right?”

Hermione huffed and called us both cowards. She wasn’t entirely wrong, per se, but I didn’t think she understood how little I was exaggerating. Slytherin was ruthless.

Harry looked sad but after being friends with Ron and I for a while he had a much better picture of how Slytherin worked than Hermione did. He merely sighed and nodded.

I gently rubbed Harry’s back, “We might not be shouting it from the stands, but we really are hoping you’ll win. Just this once, though. Next match, you’re going down, son.”

Harry laughed and soon we all joined in. 

Yet I couldn’t help the feeling that something was going to go very wrong soon.

Slytherin v. Gryffindor went as is had in the books. Gryffindor icon Lee Jordan made his hilarious comments, Quirrell jinxed Harry’s broom, Hermione set Snape’s robes on fire (the highlight of the match, if you ask me), Harry swallowed the Snitch, and Marcus Flint damn near had an aneurysm.

After the match while Slytherin sulked and Gryffindor partied like it was 1999, Hermione ran through the wave of students to pull Ron and I into an empty corridor.

“What’s wrong, cuata?” I asked, knowing full well what was wrong.”

“It was Professor Snape!” Said a frantic Hermione, “I saw him jinxing Harry’s broom!”

Ron looked puzzled, “All we saw was Snape’s robes catch— sweet Merlin, Hermione you didn’t.”

Our buck-toothed bookworm looked sheepish for a moment, “I had to distract him to save Harry! It worked, didn’t it?”

I rubbed my temples as Ron stood there dumbfounded and, I could tell, a little impressed.

“Hermione, I am always an advocate for setting that deadbeat on fire—“

“—deadbeat?” She questioned.

Ron looked at me for approval before I shrugged. I had honestly forgotten Hermione didn’t know.

“That bloody bat is Aurelia’s father.” It was always so cathartic to see how much Harry and Ron’s disdain for Snape had rapidly increased after finding out he was technically my father. 

Hermione blinked before it suddenly hit her.

“What?!”

I rolled my eyes, “Not the point of this conversation. Anyway, it wasn’t Snape.”

They both frowned at the certainty on my voice. 

“Mate, I know he’s sort of your father and all, but—“

“Shush!” I hissed. “You know damn well I would never defend him just because of that. I know who it was, and it wasn’t him.”

Hermione demanded that I tell them so they could go to McGonagall. I let out a guilty sigh and sent them a pleading look.

“I… I’m calling in the debt you owe me, Hermione.”

Hermione sputtered in confusion.

Ron, however, immediately picked up on what was happening. “For saving you from the troll. She’s plotting something,” he turned to me, “You are, aren’t you?”

The more time Ron spent in Slytherin, the better he seemed to be at understanding things.

“Yes. So can y’all just, like, trust me on this? If I need help, I’ll ask for it, but it’s really important that I do what I’m doing alone for now. Okay?”

Ron nodded reluctantly and Hermione looked downright offended.

“Aurelia, someone tried to kill Harry! We have to tell a professor!”

Before I could beg, Ron placed a hand on her shoulder, “She saved your life. You owe her this much.”

Although she was still very clearly upset with me, Hermione relented.

“Fine. But if anything else happens I’m going straight to McGonagall. I shall see you both tomorrow.” She huffed then walked off to Gryffindor tower to celebrate with her peers.

”Give Harry our love!” I yelled.

Had Hermione not been such a goody-two-shoes, I swear she would have flipped me off.

Ron’s baby blue eyes met my beady black ones, “I don’t know what you’re plotting, but I’m not going to let you get hurt like last time. If Harry or Hermione or I sense you’re in any danger, I’m going straight to Percy.”

It was both endearing and painful to see that my friends cared so much about not only each other, but me as well. I nodded and Ron’s face softened, “C’mon, let’s go sulk with the others in the common room.”

He threw an arm around me and playfully nuzzled his fist against my hair as we made our way to the dungeons.

I was rather glad to say that nothing else had happened during the rest of November and beginning of December. Without the gang trying to look into the mystery of the Philosopher's Stone, it was shaping up to be a pretty boring year. 

Good.

I planned on making next year even more boring. No Chamber of Secrets or Tom Riddle nonsense. But I was getting ahead of myself. 

Clawdius cutely stretched on my lap before making his way to nudge Percy Weasley’s leg. The prefect smiled at my fuzzy baby and allowed him to hop on his lap. Percy scratched behind his large ears, and like that my son was puddy in his hands. 

It was the first day of winter break, and McGonagall had given Ron and I permission to hang out in Gryffindor Tower during the holiday, provided someone from her house was with us at all times when we were there. She’d taken pity on us when she noticed that besides a seventh year who was getting a head start on studying for her N.E.W.T.s, Ron and I would be all alone in the dungeons. So naturally we were planning on spending all our time with Harry and the other Weasley boys. Hermione, like before, had gone home to spend Christmas with her parents.

Ron had begun teaching Harry the art of wizard chess, and I was having a chat with Percy and the twins, the latter of whom recently lost Gryffindor twenty points for bewitching snowballs to hit Quirrell’s turban. One of these days I would have to tell them they had been repeatedly hitting Voldemort. 

“—okay, but the Imperius curse is illegal, so do try to explain to me why amortentia and other love potions are perfectly acceptable enough that not only could I go to a shop and purchase some, but I could wait a few years and learn how to make it in class.”

The twins frowned and Percy started to nod along with me. 

“You know, Aurelia, you make rather fine points indeed.”

“Thanks, Percy! See, this is why you’re the hot Weasley brother.”

Ron, Fred, and George all gagged and Percy began to thank me before he realized what I said and promptly blushed.

There was some weird feeling inside me that greatly empathized with Ron and the twin’s reaction, but I could recall exactly why. Did I have siblings in my previous life? HadI ever experienced this scenario? I tried to ignore the aching, empty feeling in my chest that came every time I wondered about my old life. 

Fred (or was this one George?) seemed particularly offended, “You, little serpent, have absolutely no taste. I mean, Forge and I are right here and you think Percy’s the attractive brother? Do you need to borrow Harry’s glasses?”

“My taste and sight are fine,” I batted my eyelashes at Percy, who looked as though he wanted to throw himself off the tower. 

This was getting too funny.

Ron, alongside Harry this time, gagged again, but strangely enough, neither George nor Fred did. Instead, they laughed. I think they caught on to the fact it was a joke. Although, I would be lying if I said Percy was ugly. He didn’t look much like Chris Rankin, but there was something undeniably “Percy Weasley” about it. It was rather difficult to articulate.

Percy stuttered out something akin to, “I appreciate the compliment, but you’re far too young for my taste.”

Good sir, the one who is too young in this situation is you. Though… I did wonder if I actually counted as twenty-nine. I didn’t feel mature enough to be, and my “twenties” were spent as a literal child. I mean, I died when I was eighteen. That was one of the few things I knew for sure. So do I add the years I’ve spent here to that, even if my maturity levels were nowhere near almost thirty? Was I permanently stunted at eighteen? Did I regress due to all those years as a small kid? I felt older than my peers, but I couldn’t relate to anyone who was my “age.” I’d always felt so much younger than Mom, for example. But I was a thousand times more mature than Snape, so who knows.

The boys were confused by my pensive expression. I snapped back to the present and smirked, “Relax, Mr. Prefect. I’ve no intention of stealing your virtue. Although, I hear you don’t have much of that left what with all your meetings with one Miss Pe—“

Percy shrieked in surprise and leaned over to cover my mouth. Remarkably, Clawdius remained undisturbed.

Ron and Harry decided to leave the conversation and resume their wizard chess lesson. The twins, on the other hand, had a positively evil expression on their faces. Percy turned to me, looking both betrayed and terrified of what the twins would do with the information given to them. And possibly a little bit disturbed at what this “twelve-year-old” was implying.

I knew this would lead to something hilarious, though, so I didn’t feel bad in the slightest. Sorry, Perce.

Chapter Text

I woke up Christmas morning with Clawdius snoozing away on top of my face. This was, of course, the ideal way to wake up, in my opinion. I gently scooped him off of me and gave him a kiss on his little black head before getting ready for the day.

It would be the first Christmas of this life without my family. Without my mother. There would be no homemade tamales or ponche or funny stories from Tio Luis that nobody under the age of twenty-five should have heard. I mean, I knew this was coming. Nochebuena was yesterday and there was no late-night mass or huge feast. I had spent it alone, telling the boys I wasn’t feeling good. In reality, I’d been crying all day, only taking a break to stop at the kitchens late in the night. I wanted Mamá to hold me and sing Blanca Navidad while laughing at the fact that it was always warm and sunny in our home in Southern California, even on Christmas. I wanted Tia Adriana to make us all chocolate para mesa and to take turns with my cousins beating a piñata . I wanted to be home .

Instead I was in chilly, snowy England with the closest relative in proximity being Snivellus Fucking Snap. I couldn’t do most of my traditions even if I wanted to. I couldn’t grieve today, because I didn’t want to worry the boys even further. I couldn’t ruin Harry’s first Christmas away from the Dursley’s.

“Morning, amigos ,” I greeted as I entered Gryffindor tower. Ron had had an unauthorized slumber party with Harry last night, so he was already waiting by the tree with the others. Unlike in the original version of events, we’d all have Christmas morning together. All the Weasleys alongside Harry and me. 

“Aurelia!” Harry beamed, “We’ve all got presents!”

“Wow, that’s great, Harry!”

“Aurelia, Feliz Natal!” Percy said cheerfully.

I blinked at Percy’s greeting. Was he trying to say “ Feliz Navidad ” or something?

The eldest present Weasley boy frowned, “Did I not pronounce it correctly? I admit my Portuguese leaves much to be desired, but I truly thought I’d improved enough to say ‘Happy Christmas’ well enough.”

Portuguese? The hell is he— ohhhh. He probably saw my tan skin and subconsciously assumed I was the same kind of Latino as his pen-pal.

“Percy, where do you think I’m from?”

His frown deepened, “Aren’t you Brazilian-American? Do you not know Portuguese?”

“She’s Mexican, mate. Completely different language,” Ron corrected before munching on some cookies with what appeared to be cherry bits in them. I rolled my eyes. As if he didn’t think I was from Spain not that long ago.

The twins laughed as their older brother went redder than Ron’s cookies. He sputtered out an apology and I quickly forgave him. Honestly, I thought it was kinda funny. It was nice to have a laugh today.

“Feliz Navidad,” I told him fondly. It was actually really sweet attempt, even if he was a bit off.

“Feliz Navidad,” he parroted with a sheepish smile that quite honestly reminded me greatly of Ron. The Weasley brothers were a lot more alike than any of them were willing to admit.

“Alright,” said one of the twins, “‘Nough of that!”

“It’s present time!” Said the other.

I was seriously going to have to learn the difference between them. Whatever magic all those other people who got thrust in to Harry Potter had that let them tell the twins apart instantly, I wanted it. Dark magic was not off the table.

I plopped down next to the boys and finally took time to appreciate Gryffindor Tower.

I had to hand it to the Gryffindors. The place was decorated magnificently. I loved the Slytherin common room more than anywhere else in the castle, but no one had bothered to decorate. Light shone through the frosted lattice windows, seemingly lighting up holly adorning the frames. There was holly everywhere, really. But not in a tacky, overdone way. The tree seemed to stretch up in to the ceiling, a glowing golden star placed carefully on top. Gold, red, and glass ornaments of every shape were the evergreen’s jewels. Everyone had put the presents that were originally at the foots of their bed under the tree. The fire even seemed to be redder than usual.

It was warm and welcoming to all, and I couldn’t help but feel just a bit more relaxed by the scent of cinnamon and apples. I felt at home, but not my own, if that made any sense. It was like the home of a close friend or relative. Inviting and soothing, yes, but still not mine. I knew in my heart had the Sorting Hat listened to my demands at places me in the house of Godric, I’d always have felt like an outsider. A guest who had overstayed their welcome.

Percy cleared his throat, “Alright then. Youngest to eldest. Harry, I believe that would be you.”

”Wait, Aurelia, when’s your birthday?” Harry asked.

“You and Ron are both younger than me. Don’t worry.”

He looked as though he was about to ask another question, so I shut him up by reaching over to the nearest present that had his name on it. It was the wooden flute Hagrid made that sounded like an owl when Harry blew on it.

Harry’s next present was a tiny parcel with a coin and a note. I wanted to laugh at the similarity between the Dursley’s gift to Harry and Snape’s gift to me.

”We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia,” he read aloud.

”Well that’s friendly,” said Harry.

Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence.

”Weird!” He said, “What a shape! This is money?”

”You can keep it,” said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was.

The twins and Percy were also fascinated, but wanted to get things moving along. I handed Harry a lumpy parcel.

”Oh, that’s from Mum,” said Percy.

Ron suddenly looked very pink and groaned when Harry opened his gift. A tin full of homemade fudge and knitted maroon sweater. I noted Harry had received maroon this time, instead of emerald green.

Next was candy from Hermione and then finally my gift.

”I didn’t have a lot of pocket money,” I warned.

Harry smiled at me, eyes glistening, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

I shrugged, “S’all good, amigo.”

Harry carefully untied the red ribbon of the wooden box I had transfigured and looked slightly puzzled as he pulled out two small wooden skulls that I painted vibrantly.

”…Thanks?”

I coughed, face turning a bit red as I looked the other direction, “They’re calaveras. They… they’re made to honor decreased loved ones. We put them on graves and ofrendas on Dia de los Muertos— The Day of the Dead. I wanted to have a proper celebration with you, but it was back in early November. You know, when I was in the infirmary. But, um, I thought this would make a nice Christmas gift instead. Er— they’re, um, they’re made to represent your parents. To let you know that they’re always with you. I know it’s not like, pictures or anything… I’m sorry, that’s weird, isn’t it?”

The only noise that could be heard in the tower was the crackling of the fire. I was suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Oh god, did I really give an English orphan kid something that reminds him his parents are dead on Christmas? English— even American culture— is very different from Mexican. God, I’m so—

“Thank you,” Harry’s voice cracked. His jade eyes were foggy with tears. Oh Moses, I’m a monster.

“I’m sorry! I swear I didn’t mean any harm! I should have thought this through a bit more—“

Harry placed a hand on my flailing arms. The first time he’d ever intentionally initiated physical contact. 

“Thank you, Aurelia. This is the most beautiful gift I’ve ever been given.”

”Yeah,” said Ron, “the flowers on that one are really cool. What are they?”

”They’re… they're Mexican lilies. They don’t usually appear on calaveras, but I thought they’d be nice for representing your mom. You know, red like her hair. Green for her eyes. Lilies for… Lily. I tried to make them both really personalized.”

Harry traced the golden dots and broomsticks on the skull for James, and gently set them back in the box.

”I mean it,” he locked eyes with me, “Thank you.”

I nervously scratched the back of my head, “You’re welcome…”

The rest of Christmas morning was rather pleasant. Each of the Weasleys received a bag full of pan dulce that I’d slaved away baking after my crying fest. Ron (who’d received the Slytherin green Weasley sweater this year) especially liked the conchas I’d made and asked if I could send his mother the recipe. Hermione got a collection of Mark Twain stories that I’d taken with me to Hogwarts. I had figured she’d appreciate more than me. Plus it was a staple of American literature and I wanted to share a bit of my homeland with her.

I myself had gotten a box of spicy Mexican candy from Hermione. Apparently she had asked her parents to go to a local multi-cultural store and get some tajin covered sweets for me. It was much appreciated, and I was determined to make them last. British food was too bland for my taste. Stole all the world’s spices and didn’t use any of them.

Snape sent me the second year potions textbook. He didn’t write his name down, but I just knew it couldn’t have been anyone else.

”Aurelia Eileen, I expect you to have this memorized by May. Happy Christmas.”

”Your middle name is Eileen?” Harry asked.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, “It’s not. And he knows this.”

Percy seemed mildly considered by my “father’s” present.

”Goodness. I’m a firm believer in getting a head start, but you’d have thought Snape sent this.”

Ron, Harry, and I gave each other a knowing look.

I was suddenly a lot happier with the gift I had sent Snape. 

Mrs. Weasley, much to my surprise, had sent me a Weasley sweater as well.

”Aww, Ron, you told your mom about me?”

I would never get sick of my favorite ginger’s blush, “Well, you are one of my friends so…”

As the twins bullied him, I quickly put it on. It was gold. Not Hufflepuff yellow, but a true gold. It went wonderfully with my complexion and was probably one of the softest things I had ever felt. I’d have to embroider something for her one of these days.

”I am like, never taking this off. Tell Mrs. Weasley I would die for her. No, I’m not exaggerating.”

Everyone laughed and all was merry for the rest of the morning.

“Ay, Flaco!” I said once the twins and Percy had left the Gryffindor common room, “Looks like we missed one for ya.”

Harry, who was used to my nicknames, turned around. “Oh? Who from?”

”Doesn't say.” I tossed the parcel at him. I knew full well what this was, I just didn’t want the twins or Percy knowing about Harry’s invisibility cloak. “Let me know what it is later. I’m heading back to the dungeons to recharge.”

The boys nodded, “See you in the Great Hall.”

I gave a lazy salute and left Gryffindor Tower, smiling at the sound of gasps of delight.

Chapter Text

“Aurelia!” Ron yelled as he entered the Slytherin common room. It had only been about twenty-five minutes since I left.

I looked up from the copy of Witch Weekly Pansy had lent me before she left, “Ron.”

Ron looked around frantically, “Is Rookwood here?”

“No, she’s still in the library. Honestly, someone should really check up on her. Highest grades in her year and her exams aren’t for months.”

Not that I could blame Zinnia for making sure she’s as qualified as possible for a healer’s position. What with her uncle being… That Rookwood. But Zinnia was always cordial to me, so I didn’t fault her for her family.

I could kinda relate, in a way. Snape is an on-record ex-Death Eater, after all.

My be-freckled friend looked to be absolutely vibrating with excitement and I had an idea as to what was up.

“Alright, mate, show her!”

Just because I knew it was coming doesn’t mean that seeing one of my best friends appear out of freakin’ nowhere wasn’t startling.

“¡hijo de la fregada!” Sweet son of the Lady of Guadalupe, these kids were gonna give me a heart attack.

The boys laughed at my mini panic.

“Harry’s got an invisibility cloak!”

“No shit, Ronald.”

I hopped to my feet, tossing the magazine on the glass coffee table, “Alright, where the heck did that come from?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry, “but the note said it used to be my father’s.”

Harry was looking as though he’d burst from the sheer joy flowing through his body. My heart ached for him. Anytime this kid learnt anything about his parents it lit him up like a candle. He should have grown up with Sirius and Remus hearing non-stop about James and Lily. No, he should have always been with James and Lily. He should have grown up getting into mischief with that cloak. He shouldn’t have been so desperate for a connection with his parents. No child should ever be.

I was suddenly very angry. Once Voldemort was no longer after the Philosopher’s Stone, I was going to take care of that fucking Malinche snoozing away on Ron’s bed. I hadn’t forgotten about Pettigrew. The minute, and I do mean that literally, Voldy wasn’t an active threat at school anymore, I was taking him down. I was always planning on doing so out of sheer human decency, but it was personal now. He hurt one of my dearest friends. He was a dead rat walking.

“Sounds more like someone’s returning something they borrowed than an actual Christmas present, but alright. I'm glad it found its way home.”

Harry frowned, “You don’t seem very excited about this. Just think! You and Ron could come up to Gryffindor Tower even after the holiday now! I don't think anyone will say anything. You've become legend since the troll incident. And Ron's a Weasley so nobody will think him being there is out of the ordinary."

Harry, my sweet summer boy, I would kill for you if you asked.

I smiled, “Yeah, I guess that’ll be pretty cool. You forgot about Hermione, though. She might kill us for breaking the rules, though.”

Ron rolled his eyes, “You and I make up the majority of Hermione’s friends. She’ll be bossy and complain, but she won’t say anything.”

You know what? He had a point.

Suddenly, there was a noise, and Harry was too slow to get his cloak off the floor.

“Is that Harry Potter?” asked a disheveled Zinnia Rookwood. Apparently, she had decided to crawl out of the library and stop studying for the day.

“…No?” said Harry hopefully.

Her sharp blue eyes examined the three of us critically. “You brought a Gryffindor into our common room?”

Ron and I gulped, terrified. Harry, the outsider, looked even more afraid.

It stayed that way for a few moments before Zinnia sighed, “You know what? I don’t care. Just don’t get caught by Snape. I’ll let you off this time. Think of it as a Christmas gift. Next time, though, I’m making you work for my silence. Cheerio.”

“Thank you!” We all chorused.

“Whatever,” she made her way towards the seventh-year girls’ dorm.

The three of us all let out a breath, “Oh my god, that could have been so much worse.”

Harry nodded in agreement as Ron shivered, “She looked like she was going to hex our faces off.”

“She made a good point about Snape, though. Snape’s already probably not too happy with me at the moment. Had he walked in, we’d all have been in huge trouble.”

“What did you do?” asked Ron.

“Remind him of your existence too much lately?” Harry joked.

I placed my hands behind my back and looked the other direction, “Well,” I said sheepishly, “I may or may not have given him a hair care kit for Christmas. Used up all my pocket money to get a fourth-year Ravenclaw to have it mailed to me.”

My boys looked at me blankly before falling to the floor laughing.

“Shut up, this is probably going to get me like, grounded or something.”

“Genius,” said Ron, “You’re an utter genius, ‘Relia.”

Snape’s office was a lot nicer than the man himself. The walls were covered floor to ceiling in potions and ingredients; and the few sections that weren’t were full bookshelves just as tall. There was an inviting fireplace with warm, dancing green flames. It was too good for him.

“Do you know why you are here?” The Bat asked me. 

“Is this because I didn’t get you a Christmas present?” I asked innocently.

It was the early afternoon of December twenty-sixth.

Snape glared at me, black beads to black beads. “How is your reading coming along?”

“Haven’t started,” I said. “Figured I’d wait till April to crack it open. You know, Harry received a single coin for Christmas from his uncle and his aunt Petunia. That along with a brief note. I wonder why that’s so familiar? Who knew you and a muggle housewife would have so much in common?”

Instead of yelling at me like I thought, Snape got eerily quiet. But not in a way that said he was reconsidering who he was as a person. No, this was the kind of silence that reminded me I was the daughter of a Death Eater who’s probably killed more people than I’ve met in my left.

Before I could process what was happening Snape was over at my side, my head jerking as he grabbed my cheek and nudged it upwards. I was looking back in the mirror that was his eyes once more, “Had you not been my flesh and blood,” he said venomously, “you would have never left this room alive. Watch yourself.”

“Do you love me?” I blurted out. 

Snape’s eyes widened and suddenly he was as still as a statue. “What did you just say?”

The real question was why did I say that. Oh well, too late to back out now. It was something I’d been secretly wondering.

“Do you love me?” I asked again. 

He dropped my face and turned around.

“You’re my daughter.”

“And you are my father, unfortunately. But that doesn’t answer the question. You’ve known about me since before I was born. It’s not like you’re just now getting used to the idea of my existence. Do you love me?”

I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but I was pretty sure he was looking at his hands now. In silence, of course.

And more silence.

And more.

My throat tightened. I wasn’t sure what I expected. I didn’t exactly love the man either, but it still kind of stung that he didn’t even bother to lie. If I were a normal twelve-year-old who had lost her mother, I think this would have been the start of my villain origin story. 

I sighed, “So why am I here?”

Snape snapped back to reality and turn around, black robes swooshing. “There are people who’d like to meet you. I will be escorting you off school grounds and introducing you to them.”

I was extremely confused. Who would want to meet me? Was this the obligatory Malfoy Winter Ball that every Slytherin OC had to attend?

“To where? Hogsmeade?”

Snape listed some random town in Britain that I’ve never heard of. Well, it wasn’t Wiltshire, so that meant it wasn’t the Malfoys. I briefly wondered if it was a town of JK’s creation, like Cokeworth. 

“Who am I meeting? When are we leaving, tonight? Tomorrow?”

“Now,” he said.

I choked, “Like, right now–right now?”

“No, right now in twenty years. Yes, right now!”

I coughed as I exited the Floo, Snape joining me soon after.

“Could we not have apparated? The risk of getting splinched is far more pleasant than the Black Lung if you ask me. I suppose I’ll just die, though. Bury me in California beneath a palm tree, would you?” I draped my arm over my forehead.

Snape rolled his eyes, “Could you be anymore histrionic?”

“Is that a challenge?” 

I ignored Snape’s cursing and looked around to find myself in a rather fancy parlor decorated in black and deep green. Whoever lived here was a) rich and b) probably from a long line of Slytherins. The Notts, maybe? The Parkinsons? Oh! The Greengrasses? 

“You’re late, Severus,” said a feminine voice.

I whipped around to see a stern, matronly woman with icy blue eyes and greying brunette hair glaring at Snape. She was dressed in fine black robes and was accompanied by a tall, balding man with black beads for eyes that looked rather familiar. His face was shaved apart from his grey sideburns. He was just as stern-looking and well-dressed as the woman.

“Elsinore. Marius.” He greeted coldly.

I looked between the adults and started putting pieces together. “By any chance,” I asked, “Would you happen to be his grandparents?”

“I see you told her nothing,” Elsinore’s eyes narrowed at Snape before turning to me, her eyes softening greatly. “Clever girl.  I'm Elsinore Prince, your great-grandmother. It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear.”

“Likewise… I’m sorry, this came out of absolutely nowhere for me. I’m so lost. What exactly is happening here?”

Marius sighed, “I suppose you didn’t tell her she’s staying here for the rest of the holiday either?”

“I’M WHAT?!” 

He most certainly did not tell me!

“Tch, typical,” Elsinore sneered at Snape. I see the sneer is genetic.

“I can’t stay here! I’m sure you both are lovely people, but this came out of absolutely nowhere! Ron and Harry will worry about where I’ve gone! Who will feed Clawdius?! When was this decided?!”

There was absolutely no foreshadowing of getting dropped off here, and I was very upset about it.

Snape turned to me, a mocking smirk on his face, “Last night.” 

Oh my god.

Was this seriously about the freaking hair care kit?!

Marius sighed again and it was now his turn to be angry with Snape, “I do not know what this is about, but Aurelia clearly does. We will not be used as a punishment against our great-granddaughter. She is more than welcome to stay for a few days if she wants, but you will not send her here against her will. I forbid it.”

Snape stiffened, “She wants nothing to do with me as her father. What makes you think she would ever willingly speak to you if I don’t force her?”

The dilemma was killing me. I could demand Snape take me back to Hogwarts, but I’d prove him right. I could stay for a few days, but Snape would see it as a victory. 

I took a deep breath, “I would like to go back to Hogwarts. However, I would love to start writing to you both, if you’re interested. You seem like you suck a lot less than he does. Plus it's always nice to have more family.” 

Elsinore walked over and gently patted me on the cheek, “Of course, dear. If you ever need anything, just owl us. I am so sorry about all of this. We had thought you knew you were coming. I imagine just now must have been rather upsetting for you.”

I shrugged, “My father in general is upsetting, so I’m kinda used to it. Did he tell you how he crashed my mother’s funeral and dragged me to England against my will?”

Snape’s grandparents obviously already had a low opinion of him, but I could tell it somehow managed to sink even lower.

“Oh really?” Her tone was frostier than the blue shade of her eyes.

I felt Snape reach over and he began to pull me towards the Floo, “We’ll be leaving now.”

“He won’t even let me talk to anyone on my mom’s side of the family!” I yelled for good measure. I had a feeling I was about to be severely punished when we made it back to Hogwarts, but I was on a roll.

“Severus Snape!” Marius boomed, “Just what have you done to this child?”

“Treacherous child,” grumbled Snape as he stepped out of the Floo.

“You did that to yourself. I can't imagine how else you thought that would go,” I said.

He had just spent several hours getting his ass reamed by Elsinore and Marius for his bad parenting. It was the most glorious thing I’d ever seen. I like to think that that was Mom’s Christmas present to me from beyond the grave. I had new allies in my great-grandparents (I was more than willing to accept them as family) and I’d gotten to see Snape get a bit of what he deserved.

He ignored me and went to sit at his desk. He pulled out what I’m pretty sure was a bottle of firewhiskey and a small square glass.

“I’ll be going then,” I announced before making my way to the exit.

“Aurelia,” he called. 

I stiffened but didn’t turn to face him.

“I don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Love you. I don’t love you.”

Before I could whip around he continued, “But that isn’t your fault.”

I glanced back, our eyes met for what felt like the thousandth time today. I briefly wondered if I should stop doing that, considering he could read minds and all. But there was nothing in my head that I cared if he knew about.

“I don’t love you either,” I said honestly, “And that is your fault.”

My lack of love for my father was not simply because he was the character, Severus Snape. It was not because I was reborn. It was not because he wasn’t handsome. It was because he was Severus Snape, and that meant he would never care about anything that wasn’t a dead redhead who was never even his to begin with.

He said nothing and turned away. Perhaps in shame, although I knew that was unlikely.

I left, not feeling much of anything.

“Aurelia! Where were you? We’d thought you and Snape finally snapped and killed each other,” said Harry as I entered the Gryffindor common room. 

I smiled and looked into his jade eyes. He had Lily Evans’ eyes, or so said everyone. They were very beautiful and suited him well. For a split second, I thought I should resent Lily. I was Snape’s daughter and yet I could never compare, not even to her corpse. But I didn’t. Not even in the slightest. 

I wanted to say Snape wasn’t even my real father anyway. But to say that would be to say Margarita Rodriguez wasn’t my mother either.

“He took me to meet my great-grandparents. Dude gave me absolutely no heads up.”

Ron grimaced, “That must have been rough, mate.”

I shook my head and sat down next to the boys on the couch, “Elsinore and Marius are great. Shame they’re related to Snape. They deserve a better grandson.”

The boys started making comments but I was honestly too exhausted to pay much attention. I zoned out for a moment after glancing at Ron’s lap. It looked cozy.

I stretched slightly before resting my head on said cozy-looking lap. Ron squeaked in surprise and I closed my eyes.

“Shhhh. Wake me up in like, an hour.”

He protested and Harry laughed, but I ignored them both. Ron’s lap was a lot smaller than Mom’s, but with my eyes closed, it was easier to pretend she was here. It was as close as I could get to Mom without trekking down to the Mirror of Erised. And Lord knows I was leaving that thing alone.

As I drifted off, I could have sworn I smelt the scent of her perfume. The scent of amber and spice. And home.

Chapter Text

Dear Charlie Weasley ,

My name is Aurelia. You don’t know me, but I’m one of Ron’s best friends— as well as his only fellow Slytherin friend. Ron has mentioned several times that you work at a dragon reserve in Romania. One day, I would like to hear about that. But for now, there’s a matter concerning the safety of your brothers and everyone else at school.

I assume you know Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper at Hogwarts? Now, you’d know that Hagrid is a kind soul and would never mean any harm, but he's also kind of an idiot. I like Hagrid as much as the next guy, but he's received a dragon egg. Specifically of a Norwegian Ridgeback. Now, seeing as dragons cannot be tamed and he lives in a god damn wooden hut, this is a major issue.

I don’t want to have to go to a professor about this, as I don’t want Hagrid to lose his job. Even if he is lacking a brain at times. I was wondering if there was perhaps a way to get the dragon (it’s still an egg at the moment, but it might not be for much longer) to the reserve you’re working at without anyone having to know where it came from? Perhaps you could send a trusted person to meet Hagrid in Hogsmeade, or something. Please answer posthaste.

Oh! You probably want to hear how your brothers are doing. I don’t know how much you all write to each other.

Anyway, Ron has been doing really well in his classes lately, and he’s been really good on controlling his mood. He’s been adjusting to Slytherin pretty well. I’m really proud of how far he’s come since the sorting.

Percy made prefect, as he’s probably told you a thousand times. He’s doing an amazing job, I think. He’s been very kind and helpful to me, and I’m not even in his house. He’s currently seeing a nice Ravenclaw girl named Penelope. Don’t tell him I told you that. Although the twins already know, so maybe he won’t care that you know too.

The twins— well, I don’t talk to them much, but they’ve been wreaking havoc and managing to break nearly every school rule without getting caught, so they’re probably fine.

Many Thanks,

Aurelia R. R. Prince

Aurelia,

Thank you for letting me know about the dragon. I will absolutely take that off Hagrid’s hands. I’ve got friends that were planning on visiting me soon. I guess I’ll seeing them sooner than expected. Hogsmeade will work just fine. Please let Hagrid know to meet my friends at the Hogs Head around midnight tomorrow.

I’d be more than happy to tell you about working at the reserve sometime. Do you have an interest in working with dragons? I’m planning on visiting The Burrow in the summer. You should stop by then. I’d love to meet one of Ron’s friends.

Speaking of Ron, thank you for looking out for him. He doesn’t talk to me much, but I heard from Mum and Dad that he’d sorted in to Slytherin. I’m glad to hear he’s got at least one friend there.

Percy’s got a girlfriend? Fred and George must be having fun with that.

And hell, eh? I’ve taught them well. You should talk to them more. You seem like you’ve got a sense of humor yourself.

Sincerely,

Charlie Weasley

“Alright,” I said as I burst Hagrid’s hut, “I think you’re a swell guy, but I’ve arranged for the egg to be taken to Charlie’s reserve in Romania.”

Hagrid blinked and dropped his tea cup, “How in Merlin’s name did yeh know ‘bout that?!”

“You’re not subtle, Hagrid. But lucky for you, nobody else knows. Spend as much time as you can with the egg now, because tomorrow at midnight it’s being picked up.”

The poor man looked as though he wanted to cry, but this was something I had to wrap up. I had a certain dark fish to fry and this had been nagging at me for a while.

My eyes softened as Hagrid went on about how he’d always wanted a dragon. I thought about how had Tom Riddle never framed him for a crime he didn’t commit, he’d’ve gotten to do whatever animal-centered career he wanted after school. My festering grudge against Voldemort was growing.

I glided forward and started to rub his lower back— the only part I could reach. “I think it’s very noble of you to want to make sure the baby grows up okay, but… you live in a small wooden hut. On a school campus. That’s no place for a dragon to grow up. You gotta make the hardest decision of any parent— you gotta let them go. Give them their best chance at life. Isn’t it better for the baby to grow up in a vast land with other dragons to play with than here?”

I felt a little guilty at the blatant manipulation, but making Hagrid cry was like accidentally kicking a puppy. It just made you feel like an asshole.

The half-giant sniffled but nodded, “I suppose yer right… Do… do yeh think they’ll let me visit?”

I actually didn’t know the answer to that one so I shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. At very least you could ask them to send pictures every now and then?”

Hagrid seemed to light up at the thought, although he was still clearly upset. Fang came over and rested his head on his lap. It was absolutely precious.

“Okay, I’ve gotta go. Remember, tomorrow at midnight at the Hogshead. If you don’t, I’m sorry Hagrid, but everyone’s safety is my priority. I will have to go to the headmaster.”

A Slytherin warning him about getting the headmaster for a dangerous creature he’s picked up was probably uncomfortably triggering for him, so he just nodded.

“Thank yeh…”

“Of course,” I said as warmly as possible before leaving.

I was a little ashamed at how relieved I was to tie up that lose end.

Dear Mr. And Mrs. Prince,

Sorry it’s taken so long to write. School has been rather hectic lately. Hermione— one of my Gryffindor friends— has started making us study for exams already. They aren’t for at least two months! Honestly, you’d think she was a Ravenclaw or something.

Snape hasn’t been too terrible lately. And by that I mean he’s been consistent. Consistently terrible. In class, that is. He’s left me alone otherwise. I think the lecture you both gave him has gotten him off my back for now. Do you think we could make that a yearly thing?

I don’t know how much Snape has told you about me, so I guess I’ll tell you some random things? My favorite food is menudo. It’s a spicy Mexican soup made with cow stomach. A lot of people think it sounds gross, but it’s actually really good! My Abuelita (my mom’s mom) makes it for me when I don’t feel good. My favorite holiday is Halloween, but I didn’t really get to celebrate it last time. Because of the troll I killed. Oh yeah! I’ve single-handedly killed a mountain troll. Ask Snape if you don’t believe me. I’m quite proud of that.

Uhh, what else? My favorite color is silver because of how shiny it is. I was born and raised in Los Angeles, California, United States. Have either of you ever been? I love it there. It’s always warm and sunny. Nothing like here in Scotland. Has Hogwarts always been this wet and cold? I wonder if Ilvermorny would’ve been any warmer. I mean, it was on the East Coast, so maybe not.

My favorite subjects are History of Magic and Transfiguration, although I struggle with the latter a lot. I like the subject of potions a lot too, but Snape being the teacher really kills any enjoyment I might have. My worst class is Defense Against the Dark Arts. The professor is quite possibly the most incompetent man I’ve ever had the misfortune of having as an educator. At least I know he’ll be replaced next year. Thank God for the jinx on the DADA position.

What classes were you both good at? Was Professor Binns a ghost when you attended? Was Snape a jerk even at my age? Do you have any embarrassing stories from his childhood?

Speaking of young Snape, what was Grandma Eileen like? Snape keeps calling me “Aurelia Eileen” even though my middle name’s Rosita. (Well, it’s Rosita Rodriguez now.) I heard she was captain of the Gobstone Club when she went to Hogwarts, but that’s it. Is she still alive, actually? I’ve never heard anything one way or the other.

With Love,

Aurelia R. R. Prince

I nodded in satisfaction at the letter. It definitely sounded like something a first year would write. I sent it off with a smile. I had been rather productive lately. All that was left to do was study more for exams and making sure Dumbledore stayed firmly at school when Voldy went after the Philosopher’s Stone.

I waltzed in to the library with a skip in my step. I hadn’t been in such a good mood since god knows when. It did not go unnoticed.

“Did Snape leave the country or something?” Asked Ron.

“Professor Snape,” corrected Hermione.

“Referring to him by his title when he’s not here implies he deserves to be respected,” I said, annoyed Hermione knew how shitty of a father he was yet demanded we talk about him with respect.

“He’s a brilliant potioneer, even if he is rather… disagreeable at times,” she countered.

I ignored her and internally reminded myself that I’d accomplished a lot and deserved a bit of happiness for the day.

“I wrote to Elsinore and Marius, finally! Oh, and I saved the school from a fearsome dragon, so you’re all welcome.”

Everyone rolled their eyes at the last bit.

“Oh, come on! I single-handed slayed a troll, but saving the school from a dragon is too much to believe?”

Ron shrugged, “Mate, it’s not that we don’t believe you—“

“—I certainly do not—“ interrupted Hermione.

“—but you were in the Hospital Wing for days after the troll incident. You don’t even have a scratch on you.”

“Perhaps she’s raised her skills,” said Harry.

I lightly flicked his ear, “I never said I fought the dragon. All I said was I saved the school from one.”

“Wait, by any chance are you referring to Malfoy?” Asked Hermione.

I mentally snickered. In a way, she was kind of right.

“Why would Aurelia be referring to Malfoy?” Harry asked, head tilted.

“Draco is Latin for dragon. It’s in the school motto, Harry.”

“We have a school motto?”

“Yeah. It’s ‘ Don’t Tickle a Sleeping Dragon’  or something,” said Ron.

“Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus,” said a wild Draco. “And it’s Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon.”

The fun mood at the table died. Hermione and Harry glared at Draco. Ron’s face went expressionless. I smiled nervously.

“Wow, Draco. It’s pretty neat to have your name be in the motto.”

“It is,” he said, positively smug.

“Um, the school motto for Ilvermorny is ‘Qui Venerunt ad Supra se Sustentet.’ That means, ‘To those who come, guide themselves towards prominence,’ I believe.”

“Really?” Hermione’s intense dislike for Draco was immediately forgotten, “I like that a lot more, I think. You know, if I attended Ilvermorny, I think I’d like to be in Thunderbird.”

“Oh, my mom was in Thunderbird. And really, not Horned Serpent?”

“That’s the scholar house isn’t it?”

Hermione nodded at Harry, “Indeed.”

“Well,” I elaborated, “what house you’re in at Ilvermorny is a lot different from how Hogwarts sorts. They’ve got like, moving statues there. I’d like to think I’d be in Thunderbird too.”

“I’d be in Wampus. You said that was for warriors, right?” Ron asked.

Draco was not pleased at the lack of attention he was getting.

“Aurelia,” he turned towards me, “you have been spending an awful lot of time with the riffraff.”

I sighed. I knew this was coming. And to think that I was in such a good mood.

“Well, you’re always so busy, Draco,” I pouted. “You’re just so important that I can’t possibly be bothering you all the time.”

Harry gagged. Hermione assumed the face one makes when drinking spoilt milk. My favorite ginger seemed as though he wanted to die.

At least this seemed to stroke Draco’s ego enough. The little bastard loved obsequiousness.

“That is true… We’ll take a stroll by the Black Lake, sometime soon. My mother was a Black, you know.”

I forced myself to smile and twirled the ends of my ebony hair, “It would be an honor to be escorted by you.”

His chest puffed and I was reminded of a peacock displaying for an audience, “You’ll sit by me and Pansy at lunch tomorrow, won’t you?”

Ugh, there goes my Sunday afternoon.

“Of course! See you later, Draco!”

He titled his head toward me, pale locks staying perfectly in place. He scrunched his nose at the others and strutted out of the the library. You know, for how much Snape hates James Potter, it’s weird how much he favors Draco. Even if he’s “close” with the Malfoys.

“How can you stand him?” Harry asked, disgusted.

Ron was also repulsed, but he knew the politics of Slytherin. He’d come a long way and had nearly mastered keeping neutral in front of our other housemates. I wasn’t lying when I told Charlie how proud I was of him. His temper did still flare sometimes, but with a little kick to the shin he could reel himself in.

“She can’t,” he told Harry, “she’s just playing The Game.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed, “What game?”

“The one where I pretend to tolerate the local Hitlerjugend and thereby am well-liked by most of Slytherin so we all get left alone. Besides, Draco’s parents are friends with Snape. I haven’t much of a choice.”

I had to behave, or I wouldn’t get to see my family this summer. God, I really hated Snape.

“What’s Hitlerjugend?” Asked Ron.

Everyone else at the table grimaced severely.

“Er— remember Grindelwald?”

The freckled boy nodded, still confused.

“Well, there was this dude who is kind of like the muggle equivalent. They were both doing bad stuff at the same time. Except, Hitler was worse. A lot worse. Even worse than You-Know-Who. Anyway, his younger followers were called Hitlerjugend. It means Hitler Youth in German.”

Ron’s baby blue’s widened in realization. Then in horror. Someone worse than Grindelwald and Voldemort. That must have been hard for him to comprehend.

“Let’s talk about something else,” said Hermione.

Harry, who was very uncomfortable, nodded in agreement.

Sometimes the differences in magical and muggle culture and general knowledge hit me like a freight train.

“…So… The Game?”

“Think chess,” Ron said to Harry, “but in real life.”

“That’s utterly asinine,” interjected Hermione, ever the true straightforward Gryffindor.

“Well, it’s good that you’re a muggleborn, then. You couldn’t play The Game, even if you wanted.”

“What on Earth is that supposed to mean, Ronald Weasley?”

I groaned and placed my head in my hands as Ron explained blood prejudice to Hermione and Harry. I knew my cheerful mood was too good to last.

Dearest Aurelia,

We are utterly thrilled to have heard from you. Although, you we’d greatly prefer if you called us Grandmother and Grandfather. We are family, after all.

Listen to that Hermione girl. Now is the time to build those habits. It’ll help you immensely by the time you take your O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.

Under normal circumstances, we would chastise you for referring to your father like that. But seeing as Severus has been behaving like a child, we’ll ignore it.

Severus wasn’t always the way he is, if you could believe it. As a young boy, he was the sweetest thing. We blame Tobias completely— he was his father. Your grandfather, although he doesn’t deserve that title. We knew he was the rotten type the moment we met him. Even Severus isn’t as grotty as he was. Be grateful he died long before you were born.

We’ll have to tell Tipsy— our house elf— to learn some dishes from Mexico. We had been wondering about your ethnicity ever since we saw your complexion, you know. Have you ever been to Mexico, dear? Perhaps we’ll make a family trip of it someday. I hear Magical Mexico is simply to die for.

Severus told us little to nothing about you. We didn’t even know you existed until a few months ago. Had we known, we would have been in your life since birth. We promise you that.

I myself was extremely proficient in both Charms and Potions. Back then, it was Horace Slughorn teaching the latter. He had some rather… sycophantic tendencies, but I’ve a feeling that you would have adored each other.

The jinx on the Defense Against the Dark Arts was not around in my day. Merrythought had taught for… fifty years, I believe, before she retired. Professor Binns wasn’t a ghost either. I can assure you he gave just as soporific lectures in life as well as death.

This upcoming summer, do you think you would be comfortable staying at the Prince Manor with us for a fortnight? Marius and I would love to spend some quality time with you. We have twelve years to make for, after all. You aren’t nearly spoiled enough, my dear.

Of course, you are more than welcome to decline. We shall happily wait until you are ready.

With all our love and sincerity,

Elsinore A. Prince

And Marius P. B. Prince

Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

If you could pick me up from King’s Cross in June then drop me off with my Abuelita after the two weeks, I would be more than delighted to spend some time with you.

Love,

Aurelia R. R. Prince

p.s. I have visited family in Monterrey and Tijuana, but I’ve never been to the magical side of Mexico. 

Chapter Text

It was time. Tomorrow night was when Quirrell and Voldy would go after the Stone. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had no idea about the Philosopher’s Stone or Fluffy or the trap door. I’d successfully protected my friends from danger and plot contrivances. Only one thing left to do now.

I inhaled deeply and ignored the copious amount of sweat forming at my palms. I shouldn’t have been nervous. I had done so much in such a short amount of time. I’d killed trolls and shunned the demons plaguing my mind post Mom’s death. I’d changed the course of this world’s history forever. I’d taken the plot and changed it to my image.

So why was I so frightened of enacting the final part of this year’s plan?

What was I so afraid of?

I swallowed my spit and steadied my breath. If I didn’t do this, Voldy might just take the Mirror of Erised— and the Stone with it. If I didn’t do this, I put everyone in danger. I wouldn’t let Harry or anyone else face the battles that lay ahead. For my friends, I would gladly bear the burden.

Until the very end.

I raised my fist and knocked on his door. The one man who could help me. The one man who could make it where I would survive long enough to ensure everyone else did too.

“Enter,” he said.

Entering his office, I straightened my posture and walked towards Snape, ignoring the chair across from his desk where he currently sat.

He raised a black eyebrow at me. We hadn’t been alone together since the day after Christmas.

“What is it, Miss Prince?” He said neutrally.

I did my best to not roll on the balls of my feet and ignore the loud flow of blood rushing to my head.

“I… Why do I exist? Why did you and Mom… create me?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. He clearly thought I was playing some trick.

“Please,” I begged. I was looking at his face, but not his eyes.

“Sit down,” he commanded.

I obliged.

“It was the night after…” his face hardened, “Someone had gotten married. I was… celebrating. Yes, I was celebrating at a muggle pub. Margarita was there. She was distraught over… a man. She was in tears. There was a muggle man who wouldn’t leave her be, even after she told him no. It reminded me of someone else, an… an old friend. I wordlessly hexed him. She recognized it as magic. We drank together and…”

“You can stop there,” I said. “I can put the rest together.”

“Can you?” He asked mockingly. “I suppose that saves us a rather unpleasant conversation.”

“Mom beat you to it,” I lied. She wasn’t around long enough to give me “The Talk.”

“Was that all?”

I shook my head. “No, there’s… there's something else. I know… I know you don’t love me. You know I don’t love you. But… but I’m still your daughter. And I need you to pretend that you care. I need you to pretend to trust and love me. Just for tonight and tomorrow. After that, we can go back to hating each other.”

“I do not hate you.” Snape seemed genuinely surprised. “When have I ever told you that?”

“Are… are you fucking kidding me? You… you seriously don’t know how I could have gotten that impression? Mom’s corpse was practically still warm when you dragged me from my family. The family you haven’t allowed me to contact and are holding hostage in exchange for “good” behavior. You forced me to go by Prince— taking away one of the few connections I still have with Mom. You never refer to me by my correct middle name and you tried to drop me off at Grandma and Grandpa’s thinking it would be a good “punishment” for what? For giving you some hair products? You flat out said you didn’t love and ignored me for eleven god damn years. And you… and you have the cojones to…“

I was crying now. For so many reasons.

I was crying for my mom. I was crying for my family. I was crying for my name. I was crying for all the shit he put me through. I was crying for my plan getting so utterly fucked.

I was crying because I realized that deep down there was a disgusting part of me that wanted Severus Snape to love me as a father should.

The bastard just watched me shake and cry. At least he didn’t yell at me for swearing or having emotions. Had any other student swore then broke down in front of him I knew he’d act a lot more hostile. I guess it was a lie to say he didn’t treat me specially.

When he noticed my attempts to calm myself down weren’t working he wordlessly reached into his desk then handed me a small vial.

Calming Draught, I recognized. He’d given it to me so many times before.

I downed it quickly. I hated the scent and taste of lingering lavender. I think I might have been allergic in my previous life because every time I drank it I felt a small surge of panic. Although who knows. Maybe I’d been poisoned by a lavender macaron or something. I would go out that stupidly.

“What did you need?” He asked me as neutrally as he could.

I didn’t know if my plan would work anymore, but it was worth a shot.

“You can’t ask me how I know something. Please.” I added when he began to glare.

“Do tell me why I can’t do something.”

“If you really have to know, I… I did a lot of stalking and research in my free time,” I lied. But that would be the last lie I would tell tonight. “I swear on our blood that everything I’m about to tell you is true and that you can trust me.”

“Swear on Margarita,” he said.

I gulped. “I swear on my mother’s life and grave. You’re all I can trust with this.”

Truthfully, I was more afraid of Dumbledore than Snape. Not because I thought he was evil or anything, but because I was scared that he’d figure out I was from another world. If he knew about my knowledge, he might ask me to let things run as they had before. And I couldn’t allow that. Getting Dumbledore involved was the last resort.

“What is it, child?”

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

“Tomorrow Night Quirrell is going to try to steal the Philosopher’s Stone— yes I know about that, no nobody else does. He’s figured out how to get past Hagrid’s Cerberus and I don’t doubt his ability to get past everything else. Even your obstacle. Really, why didn’t you just poison each vial? Never mind that, Quirrell isn’t alone. He’s been speaking to someone— and he hasn’t been stuttering. I need the Mirror of Erised moved somewhere where only you and Headmaster Dumbledore know about it. I also need you to make sure said headmaster is here.

“…”

“…Did you catch all that?”

Snape stared at me, somehow even more blankly than before. He honestly looked as though his consciousness had made the executive decision that this was too much and it was leaving.

“…Sn— Professor?”

“…”

“…You good?”

“…”

It would be a while before he came back, and when he did he pulled out a lot of firewhiskey.

“How—“

“I told you, I did a lot of stalking and research. Look, the first-year workload isn’t exactly heavy. I had a lot of free time.”

Snape pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose. I don’t know why people brought up his nose as an insult. It was on the larger side, yes, but it’s not like having a hooked nose is a bad thing. Honestly, it suited his face fairly well.

“Clearly.” He said slowly.

“So… about that ancient artifact that grants eternal gold and life…”

“Get out.”

My eyebrows shot up, “What? Why?! I’m doing the responsible thing and going to a teacher instead of trying to defend the Stone by myself! Please you have to believe me! You’re the only one—“

“Aurelia Rosita Rodriguez!” My eyes widened. He had used my real name. “Go to your room this instant. Now!” He barked.

The calming draught I’d taken earlier kept me from breaking down again.

I couldn’t believe it.

I’d put too much faith in my father.

And so I’d lost.

“ Aurelia, are you alright?” Asked Daphne as I entered the first-year girls’ dorm.

“Peachy keen,” I said.

The other girls furrowed their brows in confusion. Even Millicent, the resident translator for my Americanisms was lost.

I sighed and flopped on my bed, “It means that I’m doing great.”

“No,” said Pansy sternly, “You are most certainly not.”

She sat next near my feet then turned to the others, “Go to the common room, please.”

They were hesitant until Pansy glared at them.

They left the room in a quick and orderly fashion.

Pansy turned to me and gently traced circles on my back, “Aurelia, darling, what’s wrong?”

Pansy Parkinson was an enigma to me. She was classist and prejudiced and a bit vicious, but to anyone she considered a friend she was as loyal and caring as anyone could be. And for some reason, I was on her list of acceptable people. I wondered how she’d think of me if she knew how “progressive” I truly was, or if she knew my mother was a muggle-born.

I wondered if Pansy would be here comforting me, demanding to let her know what’s wrong if she knew I was just a lower-class Mexican half-blood who would rather die than consider someone like her or Draco a real friend.

“…I’m just tired is all.”

“Was it that mudblood and scar-head you and Weasley hang around?”

My eyes widened, “Pansy!”

She seemed genuinely taken aback, “What? I know only you spend time with her for her marks and Potter for his money and status. I don’t blame you, really.” Her eyes softened, “But it must be exhausting. You really should spend more time with me and the girls. Or even other Slytherins in general.”

It almost knocked the wind out of my lungs, the way she casually said those things. If I was a pure and proper Slytherin girl, Pansy would have been my truest friend.

But I wasn’t. I was merely playing the part. “The Game,” as Ron and I bitterly called it.

I sat up and forced a smile, “Thanks, Pans. You always know just what to say.”

She smiled back. It was a genuine and pure smile that unsettled me to my core. But maybe there was hope for Pansy Parkinson. Maybe I could get her to see things in a new light. I would just have to play my cards well for the next few years.

The dark-haired girl reached over and gave me what was probably the first proper hug I’d received in nearly a year. Pansy was warm and smelt like cherries and vanilla. I allowed myself to lean into her. Just for now.

I almost hated her for not being as one-dimensional as Rowling made her out to be.

“Hey, Zinnia,” I greeted as I plopped down next to her in the common room.

She looked up from her study guide, “What do you need, Prince?”

“Can you explain to me the difference between Bombarda and Reducto?”

“I could, but why would I?”

“Because when you’re a healer you’re going to have to help people and not expect anything in return. Helping me out is good practice.”

She narrowed her icy eyes at me. They reminded me greatly of Elisnore’s eyes. I wondered if we were related somehow, but then I remembered she and dearest Grandma Elsie were both purebloods. We were absolutely related.

“Aren’t you a firstie? You won’t be learning about those spells for years.”

“Morbid curiosity,” I said. Truthfully it was because tonight was The Night and I didn’t think Snape had done a single thing I’d requested.

Zinnia silently studied me until she finally spoke.

“…Bombarda is a charm that causes a small explosion. They’re rather loud, although you knew that.” She was referring to the troll incident. “Reducto, on the other hand, is a curse, and requires a much greater skill level… By any chance, are you familiar with gunpowder? It’s what fireworks are made out of.”

I nodded.

“Think of Bombarda like setting off gunpowder, whereas Reducto is pure magical force. It’s more powerful than Bombarda Maxima and should only be used in emergencies. Now, I ask again, why are you asking? And don’t lie to me this time. As you said, I’m to be a healer. And as a future healer, I’m not about to let an eleven-year-old blow themselves up.”

A glaring Zinnia Rookwood was a scary Zinna Rookwood. Before I could stop my self the truth flew from my lips.

“I’m going to defend an ancient and legendary artifact from being stolen by a dark wizard tonight and I wanted to up my arsenal of spells.”

I really, really didn’t want to have to go through the shitty obstacle course set up, but it looked like I had no other choice.

The sepia-skinned seventh-year froze for a moment before letting out a strangled chortle, “Merlin’s balls, why do I believe you?”

I shrugged, “Because I’m telling the truth?”

“Have you told a professor?”

“I tried telling Snape last night, but he yelled at me and sent me to my room, of all things.”

Zinnia sighed, “You know I can’t let you leave the common room now, right?”

“Wha— why?!”

Was the entire world against me today?

“Because three reasons— number one, as the older student it’s my responsibility to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Number two, as a future healer, it’s my responsibility to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Number three—“

“Okay, I get it.”

Zinnia leaned over and flicked my nose.

“Don’t interrupt. You’ve only been here less than a year. You don’t know Snape. If you told him everything and he sent you to your room, he’s handling it. He’s an arse, but he wouldn’t let another dark wizard roam around the school.”

I knew Snape a lot better than she did, but I couldn’t say that.

“Another?”

Zinnia gave me a pointed look.

“Fair enough,” I said. Snape’s criminal record wasn’t exactly sealed or anything.

“So what you’re going to do tonight is spend some time with your cat while I’m studying next to you. Understood?”

“Clawdius is actually with Percy this weekend. We’ve got a split custody schedule. If he doesn’t get at least one hour of Percy time a day, he starts crying.”

“What is it with you Princes and hanging around those Weasleys,” she shook her head before running her fingers through her loose coils. “Alright, I’m taking Snape’s lead on this one. Go to your room, Prince.”

“You can’t order to do anything.”

I was like, at least a year older than you, lady!

Zinnia stood up and grabbed me by the ear, “Watch me.”

I was promptly thrown into my dorm room once more.

“Curse this life!” I grumbled to myself, thankful the other girls were out.

Going to Zinnia Rookwood had been yet another wrong move. She’d been so apathetic about everything that wasn’t studying that I genuinely did not anticipate her reacting like that.

What was I doing wrong? Why were none of my plans working? Was the universe going against me for some reason? Was this some stations of canon bullshit and the Golden Trio really did know about the Philosopher’s Stone and are going after it? What the hell was happening here?

Thinking about it rationally, I knew it wasn’t that last one. I’d done my part in making sure they were in blissful ignorance. It could have been the universe, but wouldn’t it have acted before? I had changed a lot, so it wouldn’t make sense for some mystical universal force to start acting now. Also, why the hell would I be here if not to change anything? That would make my existence in this world superfluous. Why would the universe put someone there to just sit back and watch the events unfold as they had before? So it couldn’t have been divine intervention.

There was another possibility, but given that it involved me being an idiot, I’m going to ignore that one.

Okay, clearly I needed to rethink my strategy. I’ve obviously been going about this all wrong.

I considered my options. I could stay in my room and let Snape handle it. Or I could Body-Bind Zinnia and go through the trials.

I really, really did not want to do either of those, but of the two I knew what had to be done.

As I made up my mind, the door opened to reveal Gemma Farley—one of the Slytherin prefects, of all people. She pushed up her oval glasses and glared at me.

“I don’t know what you’ve done, but Professor Snape said to tell you that you’ve been summoned to Headmaster Dumbledore’s office.”

Well, I certainly didn’t anticipate that happening.

If I had to describe Albus Dumbledore in the flesh, it would be Richard Harris was the perfect choice in look and kind demeanor, but with Michael Gambon’s energy and slightly intimidating aura.

“Sherbet lemon?” He offered, the first words I’d heard him say since I sat down.

I blinked before I burst out in uncontrollable laughter. Here I was, in THE Albus Dumbledore’s office, getting offered a fucking lemon drop. Oh my god, this was somehow the most surreal experience of this life. I couldn’t explain it even if I tried. The main cast were my best friends, I’d done magic, killed a troll, watched several real-live quidditch games… and yet THIS was what broke me.

Dumbledore’s grey brow raised in concern, “My dear girl, are you quite alright?”

Considering I was being held together by sheer spite, determination, and Calming Draught, no. Not in the slightest.

I cleared my throat and regained my composure, “Apologies, sir. Nervous reaction. A lemon drop sounds great, thank you.”

I took one from the bowl and popped it in my mouth. I vaguely recalled all those bash-fics that claimed Dumbledore drugged the lemon drops, but pushed it from my mind. This was the world of canon (mostly.)

“So, er— why am I here, sir? Am I in trouble?”

I’d always hated how often people described his baby blues as “twinkling” but god damn it, those fuckers really did seem to shine like sunlight through a blue beryl gem.

“Miss Prince, quite the opposite. It would appear you’ve saved the school a third time.”

I tilted my head in confusion, “Third time, sir?”

Dumbledore gave me a grandfatherly smile, “Hagrid’s received several photographs of his dearest Norberta already.”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. He knew about that?!

The old wizard ignored my shock and continued, “Miss Prince, are you aware of who exactly it was Quirrell was working with to steal the Philosopher’s Stone?”

I fiddled with my thumbs, “Er— a very powerful dark wizard who one of my best friends supposedly somehow vanquished as an infant?”

His expression took a grave turn, “Indeed. But, thanks to you, Miss Prince, Professor Snape,” he gave me a slightly amused look when he said Snape’s name, “and I were able to apprehend Quirrell in time.”

Wow. The villain got dealt with off-screen.

How anti-climactic.

“And what about… The Dark Lord?” I asked. Please tell me his wraith form got trapped in a magic box or something. Please tell me his wraith form got trapped in a box or something. Please tell me—

He raised an eyebrow at how I referred to Voldy. I’d forgotten it was really only Death Eaters who referred to him as “The Dark Lord.” Nevertheless, he went on.

“I’m afraid that Voldemort has escaped, draining Quirrell’s life in doing so.”

FUCKING DAMN IT!

I SHOULD HAVE DEALT WITH THIS MYSELF!

FUCK!

“All was not lost, however, thanks to your warning. The Stone is to be destroyed, so the likes of Voldemort may never get their hands on it.”

“But sir, what about Nicolas Flamel and his wife?” I asked, trying not to show how much I really knew.

Dumbledore went on to explain how the Flamels were getting their affairs in order and were totally chill with dying after like six hundred years.

“…After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all — the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them.” He said what I was pretty sure was verbatim to what he said to Harry in the book.

Honestly, he kind of had a point. It could extend your life and give you all the gold in the world, but it couldn’t bring back those already lost. To me, the Philosopher’s Stone was worthless.

“Should I tell Harry that The Dark— I mean, Voldemort isn’t as dead as he should be?” I asked.

Dumbledore’s face softened ever so slightly with what appeared to be pride at my use of “Voldemort.”

“I would prefer to handle that conversation with Harry myself, if you do not mind. In the meantime, I do believe a reward is in order.”

My face went pink, “Oh, no, sir. I didn’t do much of anything, really. And I certainly didn’t plan on any reward.”

“Nonsense, Miss Prince. You’ve done the school a great service and have done so in a responsible manner. You collected evidence and presented it to a trustworthy adult instead of running off to face Voldemort by yourself. For that, I award Slytherin fifty points.”

There went my eyes again, “But—“

“And for looking after a dear friend of mine while securing the safety of the school, another ten points to Slytherin.”

Wowza. All that for doing the bare minimum. I certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“I— thank you, sir!”

The grandfatherly headmaster smiled at me once more before dismissing me.

I thanked him again before making my way to the courtyard, where I knew I’d find my friends.

I figured it was probably best to tell them (partially) everything before word got around that I’d come back from Dumble-bun’s office with sixty points.

Damn, Hermione was going to kill me.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it had been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts… Now, as I understand it, the house cup needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff with three hundred and fifty-two; in third, Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty-six; Gryffindor has four hundred and sixty-two; and Slytherin, five-hundred and seventy-two. Congratulations, Slytherin!”

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table.

I grinned as Ron made a gesture to his brothers in Gryffindor that appeared to be the wizard equivalent of “suck it, bitches.” This time around, Gryffindor hadn’t lost those one hundred and fifty points, but I’d also gotten a hundred points for Slytherin. I knew the point system was only meant to foster good behavior and academic competition amongst students, but god damn: it felt good to be recognized. Next year, I’d ensure we won the Quidditch cup as well. I was going to make Ron train.

Ron ruffled my hair affectionately, “I s’pose I can forgive all the secrecy.”

Harry and Hermione looked over to us in mock-sourness. I stuck my tongue out at them.

“Next year,” Harry mouthed.

“Bet,” I mouthed back.

Suddenly my ear began to sting, “Ow!” I turned around to see a smirking Zinnia.

“Told you it would all work out. Try to stay out of trouble after I’m gone, won’t you?”

I smiled sheepishly, “No promises?”

The coily-haired girl gave the first genuine laugh I’d ever heard from her, “Not my problem anymore, I suppose. But if I ever find you as my patient in St. Mungo’s, you’re getting an earful.”

The festivities continued before I remembered the thing I had in my pocket. I stood up abruptly and tapped a fork on the golden goblet several times, “Excuse me! May I have everyone’s attention, please?”

It took a minute and a few more taps for everyone to get quiet. The teachers looked at me, confused. Snape narrowed his black eyes at me.

“Thank you, thank you. Now, you may know me as the girl who killed that troll or the girl who got that really annoying professor fired. You might even know me as Percy Weasley’s future second wife. To which, what happened to his first wife, you may wonder. The answer is, not anything the Wizengamot can prove.”

Percy buried his red face in his hand and some Ravenclaw yelled at me to get to the point.

“Right, well, I’ve got one more event for this year. Pay close attention, folks.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a drugged “Scabbers” and set him on the table. Ron, as well as the other Weasleys, looked alarmed.

“Aurelia, what are you…”

“And for my next trick…”

I pointed my wand at the unconscious rat.

“Homosemel Plus!”

Pettigrew, still asleep, morphed into a large man in tattered robes. Food landed all over him and many other students.

Gasps filled the entire hall, the teachers and Ron looking particularly horrified.

“Behold! Peter Pettigrew: alive!” I bowed.

What, you didn’t think I’d forgotten about my vow, did you?

END OF YEAR ONE

Chapter Text

“…You know, I’m feeling very under-appreciated right now.”

The compartment was silent. Hermione glared at me through the corner of her doe eyes. Harry briefly glanced at me before looking out the window. Ron ignored me entirely.

I fidgeted in my seat, “C’mon, guys. There’s no reason to be angry when you think about it…”

“You knew. For however long, you knew a grown man was sleeping in my bed. Not just any grown man, but the man who apparently was the one who actually sold out Harry’s parents. Harry had to find out one of his parents’ best friends not only killed his family, but framed his parents’ other best friend for the murder of twelve muggles from McGonagall of all people. Why was that? Because you transformed my bloody rat on the bloody Slytherin table for the entirety of bloody Hogwarts to see!”

I flinched at Ron’s harsh words. My throat tightened and I dug my nails into my palms.

“I—“

“No,” he said, turning red with rage, “I’m not done. You’ve been lying and keeping secrets from us all year, and when you finally say that you’ve told us everything— oh wow, another bloody surprise!”

“I was just—“

“Just what, Aurelia? There were a thousand other ways to reveal Pettigrew and you chose the most… the most…”

“Ostentatious,” supplied Hermione.

“What she said! You had to make a big show of it when you should have told us as soon as you knew! We could’ve gone to Dumbledore together. Honestly, do you even consider us your friends?”

It was taking a lot out of me not to cry. I suddenly wished I’d reminded Percy to give me back Clawdius before the train departed. The look on Ron’s face was… I’d never seen him look at anyone other than Draco Malfoy that way. The way he was looking at me.

“Give it a rest, Ron,” Harry finally made eye-contact with me. “You’re not wrong, but you shouldn’t yell at her.”

I tried to smile at my bespectacled friend, “Harry! You see the big picture, don’t you? When Sirius Black is proven innocent at his trial, you could live with him! He’s your godfather, didn’t you know? You could leave the Dursleys’ forever!”

His jade eyes widened. McGonagall had neglected to mention that bit amidst the chaos and auror-summoning. Honestly, it was a miracle we were let on the train. The aurors had just really wanted everyone out of the castle. The reason I specifically wasn’t detained immediately for questioning was because Snape personally told each wizard cop to fuck off. 

I reached over and grabbed his hands in mine, “See, Harry? Everything I’ve done has all been to keep you guys safe and happy. I know I can be… distant and dramatic sometimes, but I care deeply about all of you. Don’t you believe me?”

I honestly didn’t have much left in this life, and my desperation to cling to what was mine ran high. I couldn’t lose them. I couldn’t—

Harry sighed before sending me a weak smile, “We know you care, Aurelia. But… I can’t describe it… When you’re with us, sometimes it feels as though…”

“It feels like when Mum tells one of my brothers to watch after me.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, “Yes, it’s almost as if we’re small children under supervision. You’re there, but you’re more of a guard than anything else. We care about you too, Aurelia. We know you’ve only hidden things to protect us, but we’re supposed to be best friends. We’re supposed to take on the world together."

Ron grumbled before briefly throwing his arm around my shoulder. Our preferred method of showing affection. 

“Hermione’s right. Next time you're plotting something, we want in. It’s not fair that we’re always kept in the dark.”

I leaned into Ron’s side-hug and nodded.

“I’m sorry. Of course,” I lied, like I do.

Obviously, there was no fucking way I was getting them involved with horcruxes. I’d just have to do better about hiding my bullshit.

“…It was kind of wicked, though…”

“Ronald Weasley!” 

“What?” He replied, “It wasn’t funny when it happened, but you’ve gotta admit, Hermione: she's got style.”

Hermione groaned and Harry bit into his chocolate frog before his eyes lit up.

“Wait! I forgot to show you what Hagrid gave me!” 

He reached into his bag and pulled out a large photo album. My heart soared at the sight. So he’d gotten it after all. I’d have to do something nice for Hagrid in the fall. 

You know, other than saving his house.

Harry’s eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen him. He looked as though he’d won twelve consecutive Quidditch matches.

He came across James and Lily’s wedding photo and spotted a handsome dark-haired man next to his parents.

“That’s Sirius Black,” I pointed, “James Potter’s best friend and your godfather. Once his innocence is proven, you can live with him.”

Tracing over the photograph, Harry nervously bit his lip.

Hermione kicked my shin.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“He’s spent ten years in Azkaban, Aurelia.”

“Yes, he did his waiting, we know.”

The reference that would now never be was lost.

“He… he might not… want me.”

I whipped my head around, “Nonsense, Harry! Sirius—“

“You talk as if you know him,” said Ron. 

“I don’t,” well, not personally, at least, “But… I just… I don’t know how to explain it, but I know he loves you. More than anyone. Had he known Pettigrew was alive, he would have been the first man to break out of Azkaban to avenge your parents and keep you safe.”

Sirius was… a complicated character and it would be a lie to say he didn’t have… glaring flaws. Sirius might have been one of my favorite characters (and first fictional crush), and I might not have been Snape’s biggest fan, but I could safely say using his best friend to try and kill him was a certified Dick Move™️. But I knew he’d walk through hell naked and backwards for his godson. He might have been a major prick at times, but I’d rather Harry with him than Petunia and Vernon any day.

Hermione kicked me again, “You cannot go and get his hopes up like that. And honestly, nobody has ever broken out of Azkaban. I highly doubt a man who was falsely imprisoned for ten years could do it.”

GOD THIS CONVERSATION IS PHYSICALLY PAINING ME.

“What’s Azkaban?” Asked Harry.

“British wizard prison,” I said before going into little details, like dementors that suck out your soul and give you chronic depression.

Harry’s eyes widened in horror, “That sounds terrible.”

“You should see American wizard prison. Sirius got real lucky with his nationality. Back home, they just throw you in a vat of acid.”

“What?!”

Apparently, I was the only one who knew that.

“So yeah, I’m going to get subpoenaed at some point. Might get an Order of Merlin afterward. Who knows.”

Elsinore rubbed her temples before quietly counting to five.

“Do we even want to know how you knew about Pettigrew being the Weasley pet rat?”

I shrugged, “You’ll find out in court. Or you can just read the Daily Prophet and see what their guesses are. Skeeter's convinced I'm either a seer or some serious type of wunderkind."

I was going to have to do a lot of research on Wizengamont trials and see if they had some magical polygraph because I knew I was going to have to commit a metric fuck ton of perjury.

“So what houses were you both in?” I asked, changing the subject. “I presume Slytherin based on the décor.”

The mood instantly lightened and my grandparents finally relaxed for the first time since picking me up.

Marius gave me a smile that told me he knew something I didn’t. Elsinore laughed as well and told me she was indeed in Slytherin.

Marius’ reaction confused me, to say the least. “Did you go to Durmstrang or something? Or were you just in like, Hufflepuff or something?”

“I didn’t go to school,” he replied.

I raised an eyebrow, “You just… didn’t go? Why?”

“I simply could not.”

“Were you like, sick as a kid?”

“No sicker than anyone else in the family,” he said, completely straight-faced. 

Elsinore gently patted her husband’s arm, “He’s a squib, dear.”

I went silent out of confusion, my brain desperately trying to figure out the mental equation they had given me.

“So… the head of the Prince family was born a squib? And you still got to become said Head? Wow, Britain’s a lot more progressive than I thought.”

She laughed, “Dear… I’m the head of the Prince family. He married in. Although being the “head” of a wizarding family doesn’t truly mean anything. All it really means is that I inherited Prince Manor. And It’s not as if I’m a Lord or anything. Though, we haven’t had those since the founders were alive.”

“Wait, so which family are you from then?” 

Please don’t say Malfoy or something. There were only so many Assholes I could stand to be related to, and Lucius was not one of them.

“I’m a scion of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” he said mockingly.

“¡¿Perdón?!” I exclaimed. Of all people to be closely related to, Sirius and the Black Sisters somehow did not cross my mind.

Marius suddenly looked very uncomfortable, “Yes, it is rather unfortunate.”

I… had so many questions.

“How did you both meet? I thought the Blacks all had grey eyes? How are you still alive after being born a squib to the Black family? Wait, how are you so spry for being at least eighty if you’re a squib?”

Marius blinked at my rapid-fire unintentional interrogation and looked over to his wife for help. She rubbed his back and poured him some more tea.

“It would be impossible even with magic for an entire family to be born with the same colored eyes— even with all the interbreeding. His mother was Violetta Bulstrode and he has her eyes. He’s alive because she begged to keep him until he turned seventeen, when they would throw him out. Squibs live longer than muggles, but not as long as wizards. Marius is in his seventies, actually. And he’s got about forty years left on him if he takes care of himself,” answered Elsinore patiently.

I took in her answers and noted she left out one. I looked at her, prompting.

But it was dear old Grandad who answered, “We met when I was working at a bookshop in Diagon Alley. I was barely seventeen at the time, my parents having just thrown me out. It was hard to get a job in the wizarding world, even one that paid as little as it did. Elsie came in one day— she was about nineteen— and when she caught a look of me she marched on over. I remember being rather frightened. I’d never seen anyone look at me so determined. I thought she somehow knew I was a squib and was going to kill me right in the middle of the shop.”

Elsinore sent him a softer version of her signature glare, “I was trying to channel confidence.”

He smiled lovingly at her. That was one of the things I really liked about Marius. He didn’t show much outward expression when he didn’t have to, unless it came to his wife. I’d never seen him look at her in any other way than as if she was the reason the stars existed.

“So there I was, wondering if squibs got to become ghosts, and then she says the most bizarre thing I’d ever heard anyone say to me.”

I leaned forward, “What did she say?”

He took her hand and kissed it reverently.

Grandma gazed back at him tenderly, “I told him that my name was Elsinore Prince, and one day we were going to be married.”

“What happened next?” 

The Prince matriarch glared again, “He told me he didn’t get paid enough for this, then walked into the back room of the shop.”

Marius rolled his eyes, “You got me eventually.”

She smirked triumphantly, “That I most certainly did.”

The whole thing was tooth-rottingly sweet, but something pressed at my mind.

“If you’re the head of the Prince family and you married a squib… why is the Prince name respected? Not to mention that Eileen married a muggle. I don’t get it.”

“Squibs are… greatly disliked, to put it mildly, yes. And I did receive a lot of… rather unpleasant comments, but he’s still a born Black. His blood is still ‘pure’ in the eyes of bigots. Marrying Marius was certainly frowned upon, but with his blood and my father being a greatly respected man, people soon learnt to keep their tongues held. Our family background certainly helped. You come from a long line of accomplished duelists and potioneers, you know. There was also... Severus' extracurriculars, but I'd rather not get into those.”

“You’re leaving out the part where you magically castrated Cantankerous Nott for spitting at me,” he said bemusedly.

“Darling, what ever are you talking about? You know that the aurors could never prove for certain that was me,” she winked at me.

“And I suppose my dear niece Walburga just happened to grow scales all on her own when she blasted me from the Black family tapestry?”

“That was a rather strange fashion decision she made, yes.”

I laughed and briefly thought about how closely Snape and Sirius were related, but I refused to give up on learning more about Eileen. I’d noticed any time I brought her up they just seemed to gloss over and deflect. 

“And Eileen? You haven’t told me a single thing about her.”

Grandpa stiffened and Elsinore sent me a pleading look, “Aurelia…”

“Is she even alive?”

My great-grandfather pulled his distraught wife into his arms. 

“No. She’s been gone for nearly thirteen years now. You do have a right to know, but you must also consider that you’re inquiring after our deceased daughter. Speaking about her is… painful.”

I suddenly felt very ashamed. Eileen Prince’s lack of background had always bothered me immensely. I’d forgotten that she was a real person who left an impact on those who knew her. 

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled for the second time today. 

He and Elsinore pulled me into the hug and kissed the top of the ebony locks I’d inherited from Marius. 

“We’ll tell you about her another time,” they promised.

My room at the Prince Manor was nothing like my room at Spinner’s End or even California. It was similar to the dorm rooms at Hogwarts in that it was very green and had a desk and a canopy bed, but other than that it was a lot more… grandiose. But like, in a classy way.

Feeling the light of the sun shining through the stained glass lunette windows was a rather pleasant way to wake up. I made my way over to the hand-carved vanity and wished my fuzzy son could have been here with me. But I would be too busy for my poor baby and so he was spending most of the summer with the Weasleys. I was to retrieve him at the beginning of August, when everything for sure would be done. 

I sighed and began to french-braid my hair as I thought more about my summer plans. My morning suddenly became a lot less pleasant.

I’d been at Prince Manor for over a week now, and a few days prior the ministry had sent notice that I wasn’t to leave the country until the trial was completed. The thing was, because of how the courts had essentially spit in the face of due process during Sirius’ original imprisonment, things had gotten rather complicated. Sirius was no longer in Azkaban at the moment, as he needed to be of as sound mind as possible, but neither was Pettigrew. Señor Malinche over here was placed under maximum security and non-stop surveillance. So much bureaucratic bullshit and variables were in play here. It meant I didn’t know when I would get subpoenaed, just that I would. 

Snape hadn’t written to me yet. He’d simply send a concise letter to Grandma and Grandpa telling them to not let me leave the manor at all, as their were many people trying to get me to make a public statement.

“Tipsy,” I said quietly.

With a pop, the Prince house-elf had appeared.

“Yes, Miss ‘Relia?” Tipsy curtsied and smiled brightly at me. She was pleased to see a child in the manor once more.

Every red American blood cell in me screamed in protest at the existence of house-elves and yeah, fuck Joanne Rowling big time for creating what appeared to be the magical equivalent of Song of the South, but that’s just how things were in this universe. I hated it, like, really hated it, but what the hell could I do? They were literally designed to be happy to serve and wither and die when dismissed from service. Dobby, for some reason, was an outlier. 

“Could I have some tea before breakfast, please? The hibiscus one on ice, if that would be alright.”

“Yes, of course, Miss ‘Relia!” She chirped. 

I briefly wondered if this scenario counted as lampshading.

Tipsy returned as soon as she left with a tall glass full of Agua de Jamaica for me.

“Will yous be needing anything else, Miss ‘Relia?”

“No. Thank you, though. Let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Nonsense, Miss ‘Relia!” She scoffed. “I’ll be letting yous know when the Mistress wants you in the dining room.” 

She popped back out.

I took a sip of the sweet red tea and ignored the wet, hot tears that started rolling down my face.

Sometime in July, was all the ministry had said to me. 

My behavior had been… well, not great, but good enough for Snape to grant me permission to see my familia. Only for it all to go down the drain. I wouldn’t be able to see them until Christmas. The grief from the anniversary of my mother’s death that I’d been pushing down threatened to burst through. I wanted to be with my Abuelita and Tio and everyone else. I wanted to be around someone who understood my exact pain. I’d done this to myself, I suppose.

But instead of completely breaking, I kept drinking the hibiscus tea and did my best to block out my thoughts.

“This is for Harry,” I mumbled to myself.

I had to do this all for Harry. I had to be there at Sirius’ trial. Multiple lives were at stake. Nobody could afford for me to be selfish.

I would have to muscle through getting Sirius proven innocent, then make sure Lucius Malfoy slipped Riddle’s diary in Ginny Weasley’s cauldron. Then I would have to make sure nobody sees me take it out. I had too much to do, quite frankly. 

I could deal with my own stuff later.

BONUS:

It was well past midnight and I admired how long the fire in the library had lasted. 

I could not sleep to save my life. My brain was finally processing the fact that Marius was born a Black and my head is fucking spinning. I was attempting to make myself a coherent family tree and to say it was painful was putting it likely.

Harry was technically my great-nephew through marriage. Through blood, Regulus and Sirius were my second-cousins (my character-crush on the latter died instantly), Tonks and Draco were my third cousins, and Ron— and by extension, all of his siblings— were my—

AGHHH THIS ALL HURTS MY HEAD!

I felt a hand cover my forehead as I leaned over to bang my skull against the cocktail table.

“Careful, now. That’s solid mahogany,” said Marius softly.

“Thanks, Effie Trinket.”

Marius, growing used to my random references that wouldn’t make sense for at least a decade, merely sat down beside me on the floor. He looked over and saw my attempt at a family tree.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m trying to figure out who all I’m related to.”

The corner of his lips twitched upwards, “You’re a Black through me, sweet girl. Everyone’s family. If you’re ever to marry, I’d suggest looking outside of magical Britain.”

I groaned, “Figures.”

Chapter Text

Aurelia,

How are you, mate? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Or Harry, really. Been worried about both of you. Dad said you were stuck here till the trial. Hopefully not with Snape. Let me know if you are. I’ll come rescue you. Mum and Dad have been dying to meet you, so I know they won’t mind.

Clawdius is doing alright. Been a real comfort to Percy. He’s still upset ‘bout the Scabbers being a grown man thing. Can’t say I blame him. He says hi, by the way. Fred and George too. And Charlie? Ginny’s also really looking forward to meeting you. She’s probably your biggest fan, though you aren’t as amazing as Harry, to her.

Even if you aren’t being held captive by the bloody git, you can still come by whenever. You don’t have to wait until August.

Owl me more often, won’t you?

Sincerely,

Ron

ps

You hear anything about Black’s trial yet? The papers are going mad.

“There you are now. Nice and steady.”

“This is child abuse,” I hissed at Marius.

Elsinore rolled her eyes, “You cannot go about your life never even trying.”

“I could die!” I moaned.

“You aren’t even a meter off the ground! You took on a full-brown mountain troll last year. You can learn how to ride a broom.”

“Grandpa! Save me! She’s trying to kill me!”

I clutched onto the wooden handle and stayed still as possible, trying to balance for dear life.

The old man laughed. He’d been standing right beside me to make sure I wouldn’t fall straight to the grass. Grandma dearest, on the other hand, was standing with what appeared to be a mojito in hand.

“My dear, if I were trying to have you killed, I’d be going about it in a much more subtle manner than this.”

Snape was going to die for telling them that I skived off flying lessons. Now I was being forced to learn how to fly in the garden instead of spending the day curled up in the library researching how to get away with passive fraud.

I gawked at her and Marius rolled his black-bead eyes, “Love, you’re frightening her.”

Elsinore took a sip from her crystal glass, “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you could be referring to. Now, try a bit higher.

I looked at Marius for help. He merely gave me a look of encouragement.

“Come on now. You can do it, Aurelia.”

I gulped and the broom raised a few inches higher.

“That’s it, keep going now. Don’t be afraid. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

I repeated this mantra in my head as I went higher and higher. I was now a solid six feet off the ground. My bones were shaking from irrational discomfort and paranoia. I didn’t like heights. I’ve never once liked them, not even in my previous life. I just knew there was some unpleasant experience I could remember. Quite frankly, while sometimes my lack of proper memories was a curse, today it was proving to be a bit of a blessing. A double-edged sword pointing in my favor for once.

Seven feet.

Eight feet.

Nine feet.

Ten…

“Elsie, love, please let her come down. Look at her. She’s crying.”

Elsinore held up a finger and drank the rest of her mojito before nodding, “Yes, I suppose that’s enough for today.”

Marius sighed in relief then looked up at my shaking figure, “Can you come down on your own?”

I could not.

He opened his arms, “Come along, now. I’ve got you.”

I looked at him hesitantly before closing my eyes and letting go of the broom handle.

I braced myself for the impact of the ground, only to find myself in a warm, familial embrace.

Marius’s eyes crinkled as he looked softly at me, “There, see? That wasn’t so hard. You did very well today.”

He set me down on my feet and gently pat my head. Elsinore set her glass down and gracefully strides towards me.

“A Prince always strives to turn our weaknesses into strengths. You’ve got a long way to go, but I’m very proud of you, my dear. We’ll have you soaring through the skies by September. Who knows? Perhaps you might fall in love and join the Slytherin Quidditch team.”

“But,” Marius cut in, “it’s alright if you don’t succeed at first. What matters is striving for improvement and putting the effort in.”

Sometimes it was hard to believe someone like Marius Prince was real.

“How in God’s name were you raised a Black, yet quite possibly be the nicest person I know?”

Elsinore snickered behind her black lace hand fan and Marius snatched the back of his head, “I have… made a considerable effort to be better than my family.”

“That’s not exactly hard though,” I pointed out.

“Trust me,” he said, “it’s more difficult than you  think.”

“It’s why we don’t put up with Severus’ nonsense,” Elsinore kissed her husband’s chin, “A difficult upbringing is never an excuse to make innocent people’s lives miserable.”

My brows furrowed, “Didn’t you repeatedly torment your in-laws?”

“I do believe I said ‘innocent,’ dear.”

Dear Ron,

Sorry it took forever to get back! I’m glad to hear that my son is doing alright. I knew I left him in capable hands. Send my regards to him and the rest of your family for me. I’ll think about coming over sooner, but I haven't yet heard anything definitive on a date for the trial. I did, however, send them a written witness statement. 

Harry’s currently being punished by his relatives for existing, so he most likely won’t be able to write for a while. I don’t know if he’ll be at the trial. If he isn’t, you and I can kidnap him and bring him over to the Burrow. I can’t imagine they’ll just hand him over to Sirius after a decade in Azkaban. That cannot be good for one’s psyche. Do they have therapists/psychiatrists in the Wizarding World? They might be known as mind healers. We should get Sirius one of those. And Harry too. And you know what, let’s get Snape one while we’re at it.

Love,

Aurelia R. R. Prince

P.S.  I’m actually staying with my great-grandparents. You and everyone else would really like them. Maybe we could all have a slumber party at Prince Manor before school.

P.P.S. Is Hermione still mad at me or something? I haven’t heard from her since the train ride home. Maybe she’s just been waiting for me. I don’t know, I’ll write to her tomorrow. It… I don’t know how familiar you are with certain things, but I’ve got this thing where sometimes doing simple tasks like writing a letter takes a lot out of me. So if I take a while to write back sometimes it’s not because I’m ignoring you and I’m most likely not in trouble. It doesn’t mean I love ya any less. My brain is just tired and needs a little break.

Child,

I am expecting you to be up and ready early on the morning of this Saturday. You have received a request to meet from a ministry attorney. Do not make me wait.

– Severus Snape

“Miss Prince, thank you for coming in today. We have much to discuss.”

I shook Mr. Lee’s hand before sitting down in the creaky office chair.

Snape glowered at him. As my guardian, he had to be present for all of my legal proceedings. I did not want to think about the fact that the public trial where Snape would publicly be there would reveal to the public that he was technical my father. Publicly.

The attorney, to his credit, was able to ignore Snape’s expression.

“Now, Miss Prince, seeing as you are technically a citizen of the United States of America— both muggle and magical— and underage, this complicates matters somewhat. Alongside your father, a representative from the MACUSA will be accompanying you on the stand to make your statement. Under normal circumstances, this would also mean you would remain anonymous. However, your involvement, in this case, is… well beyond public knowledge at this point. Now, another thing, on your file it says your legal name is Aurelia R. Rodriguez. Yet you’ve signed your written statement as Aurelia R. R. Prince?”

“Blame him,” I pointed at Snape.

The attorney raised a rather bushy eyebrow, “Should you not be Aurelia Snape, then?”

I gagged and Snape thwacked me upside the head.

I gave him middle-finger guns before turning to Mr. Lee, “Please have the courts address me as Aurelia Prince. And also please never put the words 'Aurelia' and 'Snape' directly after each other.”

The worn-out attorney sighed at the antics before him, “Professionalism, please. Anyway—“

Mr. Lee was cut off by the door loudly opening behind us.

“Sorry, I’m late! Portkey was actin’ up!” Said an American voice. “Have I missed anything?”

I turned around to see an attractive and corpulent woman with wild hair carrying a large briefcase stumble into the office.

“Ah! You’re Miss Aurelia, aren’t you? I’m Alya Kowalski. You can me Alya,” she grinned brightly at me and took my hand, “I’ll be your representative from back home. I’m here to protect you from the scary redcoats!”

I blinked rapidly, taking in her… large personality.

“…Hi?”

She whipped her head around, lime green curls bouncing, and held out her hand to Snape, “And you must Severus! Don’t worry, I’ll look after your little girl.”

Snape ignored her hand and gave her his signature “fuck off” sneer.

Alya’s grin widened even more, “Aw, it’s okay. There’s no need to be shy. We’ll be best of friends by the end of the trial!”

I tried to cover my laugh with a cough.

“Detention,” he said, not even looking at me.

“Oh, come on! We’re not even in school!”

The balding man groaned and snapped his yellowed fingers, “Could we all please focus? Now, I’ve just received word that Pettigrew is refusing to plead guilty and that a date has been set for ten in the morning on July the twenty-ninth. This is a fairly cut and dry trial, so it should not take much time. Miss Kowalski will escort Miss Prince up to the stand and transcribe the events to report back to the MACUSA, as Miss Prince’s involvement has made this an international matter. Should any threat come to Miss Prince, Miss Kowalski is to handle it on behalf of the MACUSA and see to it that it is corrected immediately. Are there any questions at this moment in time?”

I shook my head, “S’all good in the hood for me.”

Mr. Lee and Snape cringed at me, but quite frankly it was right in the morning on a summer Friday so I didn’t really care.

Alya, on the other hand, clapped her hands with glee, “Excellent! Oh! Do you mind if I speak to Miss Aurelia in private? You know, American to American?”

Snape, desperate to be out of the jubilant woman’s presence, gave his consent to be alone with me.

“Wonderful! We’ll be just down the hall. Come along now, Miss Aurelia.”

“Phew! I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep that up!”

I blinked at the fellow American and looked around the empty office to see check if I was about to be ambushed. Alya smiled at me in a way that almost seemed nostalgic.

“Your resemblance is striking, you know.”

I stepped back, “Excuse me? I can’t be that ugly.”

The green-haired woman laughed, “No, dear. I mean to Rita. You may have your father’s hair and eyes, but the rest of you is very similar to her.” Sensing my discomfort and confusion, she continued, “I was friends with your mother in school. We were both Thunderbirds, but I was a year younger, though. I wanted to say something the moment I saw you, but it could be considered a conflict of interest. Truth be told, I haven’t spoken to her in the better part of a decade. I didn’t even know she had a daughter. I heard she passed last year. My condolences.”

“You… you were really friends with my mom?”

Mom never talked about any magical friends. Well, she didn’t talk about magic period. I wish I could’ve gotten the chance to ask her why.

Alya nodded, “Sure was. Knew Black too. Well, not nearly as well as Rita, but I saw him around.“

“Wait— what? Mom knew Sirius Black?”

How the hell could I have missed that?! Why am I only hearing about this now?

Her cognac-brown eyes widened, “Oh, you don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

A knock at the closed door interrupted her.

“Child. We’re leaving.”

“Just a minute!” I replied.

 “Now,”  demanded Snape.

I frantically turned back to Alya, “What don’t I know?”

My mother’s old friend looked conflicted before ushering me to the door, “If Rita never told you, then it’s not my right to tell.”

I damn near fell out the door, Snape’s arm being the only thing keeping me from stumbling to the ground.

I laughed nervously and looked up at him, “Thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, “Let’s go.”

“Wait, Alya…” I turned around to see her walking off. She threw a hand casually in the air and gave a slight wave.

“See you at the trial, kid! Owl me if you have any legal questions!”

“Wait—“ I was cut off by Snape dragging me towards an apparition point.

I glared at him, “What’s your problem?”

“Quit your whinging. Elsinore and Marius have something for you at Prince Manor. Spoiled child.” He muttered that last part under his breath.

My eyes widened, “I don’t have to go back to Spinner’s End with you?”

“I am nothing if not a man of my word. Besides, I’d rather not deal with you being a nuisance on my months off. At least I can trust Elsinore to ensure you don’t run off to fight the Dark Lord.”

“You could have told me you believed me about that, you know. I don’t know what you were trying to accomplish by yelling at me.”

He ignored me and pulled me to his side before disaparating.

“You know, I really think we would benefit from family counseling. See, you Brits could greatly stand to talk about your feelings every now and then. Y’all are like breathing brick walls most of the time.”

“Keep blabbering on, and I might reconsider you not coming to Cokeworth with me.”

I put my hands up, “Alright, alright. You can cool your jets.”

Snape, who hated my muggle-Americanisms, sneered.

“Cokeworth,” he threatened.

“Severus, stop harassing our granddaughter.”

“Grandpa!” I ran over to hide behind Marius and stuck my tongue out at Snape.

You might be thinking, “Aurelia, why are you being so childish? Aren’t you at bare minimum eighteen?”

And the answer is: James Potter has been dead for over a decade and Snape still vehemently hates him and blames his son for all of his life’s problems that he himself brought on. He’s thirty-two. And that’s not bashing; that’s just an observation of facts.

So I think I’m entitled to act “my age” every now and then.

Elsinore looked Snape over, “Severus. You’re looking particularly… adequate this afternoon. Though a quick shave would not kill you.”

Snape clenched his jaw, “Do you not have something to show Aurelia?”

Marius held out his arm to me, “Indeed we do. May I have the honor of escorting you to the parlour?”

I raised my nose and gave my best impression of Narcissa Malfoy, “Yes, you may.”

My icy-eyed great-grandmother looked over her shoulder, “I suppose you may come as well.”

“I’m afraid I have prior… engagements.”

“Do try not to commit any Azkaban-worthy offenses.”

Snape simply smirked at her.

I looked up at Marius, “Do they ever get along?”

“Not in years, my sweet girl.”

We reached the grand ebony door to the parlor. As I opened it I heard Elsinore say something to Marius about making sure I didn’t faint, though I wasn’t sure why until I saw what was behind the door.

Well, it would be more accurate to say who.

A small elderly woman with dark honey skin and pinned back grey curls sat up from the fainting sofa and gave me a shaky smile

“Hola, niña,” Abuelita choked out.

Chapter Text

“I’m not hungry anymore, Abuelita…”

“Ay, ay, ay. I slave over a hot stove after going across the sea to be with you, and you don’t even eat my food.”

“I’ve eaten two full plates…”

Abuelita sniffed and pulled the full plate of hot tamales de mole towards her chest, “Mi probecita… They’ve been starving you, yes? You’re so skinny… Forgotten about your poor Abuelita and good food… I can’t believe my own granddaughter doesn’t love me anymore…”

Elsinore laughed into her napkin and Marius simply smiled as he took another bite of his own tamale.

I sighed, but I couldn’t help the feeling of warmth that spread throughout my body. I never thought I’d miss getting guilt-tripped into eating an unholy amount of food, yet here we are.

“Mas… por favor.”

She leaned over and kissed the top of my head while piling my plate full.

“Oh, mi chiquitita,” she cooed the held up the pitcher of agua de tamarindo to refill my glass.

“Gracias,” I took a large sip and basked in the situation. This was the most relaxed I’d been in months.

“Carmela, you are a delight. The meal is fantastic, but truly you didn’t have to cook. You’ve had a long day.”

Abuelita seemed downright offended by this.

“I haven’t seen or heard from my baby in a year. Of course I am making food when I see her next.”

“We meant no ill will, Señora,” said Marius. “You and dear Aurelia have been through quite the ordeal. We’d once again like to apologize for Severus’ actions. We want you to know that you and Aurelia will be able to communicate any time you want now. Aurelia will send us her letters for you and we’ll deliver them. I swear this to you.”

Abuelita stared at him for a moment. 

“Calm down, amigo. What’s past is past. As long as I can talk to Aurelia, that… pendejo’s actions are of no care to me. At least for you.”

Marius thanked her and began talking with her about all of us heading back to Los Angeles for the winter holidays. He had even switched to Spanish to make communication easier for her. Well, that was his intention. Truthfully his Spanish, while pretty good, was very formal Spain-Spanish— he even had the lisp thing going on— and while it’s basically the exact same language, every so often he’d say something and Abuelita would just kinda stare at him and try not to laugh.

It amazed me how these two very different people were both almost equally related to me. A fifty-five-year-old muggle woman from a poor, yet loving family in Monterrey, Mexico and a seventy-something aristocratic squib from a wealthy, yet neglectful and abusive wizarding family in Britain. But here they were, eating together and talking about their mutual plans for Christmas.

“Aurelia,” said Elsinore to me as Abuelita and Marius chatted, “She’s going to be here until the trial. We were thinking you might invite some of your friends over. Carmela and I were speaking earlier about how much we’d love to meet them.”

My face was starting to hurt from all the grinning I’d been doing, “Yes! I’d love that! I know Harry won’t be able to make it, but Ron and Hermione should be able to!”

Abuelita turned to face me, “Ah, the thin gordito and sabelotodo, yes?”

I had to clutch my stomach as I laughed. Oh my god. The skinny fatass and the know-it-all. Of course, that’s how she remembered them after everything I told her earlier. I knew it wasn’t all that funny, but it felt like the height of humor for some reason.

I stood up from my chair and leaned over to hug her.

“Te quiero mucho.”

She hugged me back and said she loved me too, though she was rather confused.

Hey Ron, you wanna spend the weekend with Hermione and me at my place? Hermione would have to use your Floo. That good?

— Aurelia

Sure, mate. Mum said it was alright. See you then.

— Ron

Dearest Hermione,

How the hell have you been, loca? I haven’t heard anything from you in a hot minute. I’ve missed you. I thought we made up on the train. If I did something to piss you off again, I’m really sorry.

I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but the trial is happening a few days before Harry’s birthday. The attorney said it won’t take very long, with all the evidence against Pettigrew. The trial’s really more of a pretense than anything else. My testimony will be the final nail in the coffin for the rat. I promise everything regarding the “Scabbers is Pettigrew and I’ve known for a while” will be explained. 

In lighter news, my grandmother from America’s staying at Prince Manor with Elsinore and Marius and me until the day before the trial. They all really wanna meet you and Ron. Well, and Harry too but he’s kinda got a lot on his plate right now. If you’re worried about him not answering any of your letters it’s probably the Dursleys. God, it’s those kind of muggles that give the rest of them a bad name. 

Oh! Oh my god! I cannot believe I forgot this! The representative from MACUSA (The Magical Congress of the United States of America) knew my mom!! They were friends in school!! And my mom knew Sirius Black!! I have no idea how, as Alya (the representative) refused to elaborate, but the minute Sirius is free I’m asking him. 

That’s all for now. Please write back to me soon. If you’re going to come over and spend this weekend with me, go to Ron’s first. He’s supposed to come in through the Floo Network. You know what that is, right? 

Much Love,

Aurelia R. R. Prince

Dear Aurelia, 

Language! I’m not as upset as I was before, but I’m still rather hurt. I’m doing my best to wait until the trial, but… This isn’t hiding what you’re getting for my birthday, this is the fate of two men hanging on your testimony. I wish you’d try to put yourself in our shoes every now and then. Well, mine and Harry’s, at least. Ron may not be able to stay angry with you for long, but I know Harry was more hurt than any of us.

That said, I’m glad for you. I know how much you’ve been missing your family. Even if it’s not everyone, it was really nice of Mr. And Mrs. Prince to bring your grandmother to you. It would be an absolute honor to meet you. You know, I’ve begun reading about Mexican culture and I must say how utterly fascinating it is! The food looks absolutely delicious. There aren’t many Mexican restaurants around my area, but the multi-cultural shop where I got your sweets has given me an idea of the cuisine. Do you think you or your grandmother could make something? My family and I enjoy Indian takeaway every so often, so I’m confident in my ability to handle the spices. 

Oh! Which part of Mexico is your family from? I think I’ve heard you mention Monterrey before, which is in Nuevo León, but I know you’re from California so perhaps I’m thinking of Monterey. If it’s Monterrey, I’ve read that they’re famous for their grilled sliced beef. Perhaps I could watch you cook! It would be absolutely marvelous if I could learn. My parents would love it! 

Your mother knew Sirius Black? If that’s true, then she might have known Pettigrew or even Harry’s parents! I wonder how she knew him, considering she was an American muggleborn. Or would it be no-majborn? 

I shall see you on Saturday. I simply can’t wait! Did you know that I’ve never been to a friend's house before— let alone spent the night!

Yours Sincerely,

Hermione J. Granger

“Niña… is that how you’ve been doing your hair? Ay, let me fix that. You look like you came back from a lucha libre match.”

I grabbed one of my braids and frowned. She had a point. I was never as good at hair as Mom.

Abuelita sat on the window nook and gestured towards the space between her on the floor. Ron and Hermione would be here in a few minutes and I wanted everything to be perfect.

“You know,” I said as she undid my “handy” work, “I think I might cut my hair. Not like Snape’s, though. Like how Mom had hers for a while.”

“Your hair is not half as curly as hers,” she reminded me.

“They make potions for that.”

Abuelita sighed, “Do not force yourself to be Margarita. I don’t like that. She wouldn’t like that.”

“I’m not trying to be her, I just…”

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the feeling of nimble fingers through my ebony waves. 

“I want to feel closer to her. That’s all.”

My grandmother scoffed, “You’ve been spending too much time around all these pinche gringos if you think you need to change your hair for that. Margarita is always with you. She loved you more than God Himself. Don’t ever believe that she’s not watching over and guiding you.” She tied the ends of my hair and kissed the top of my head, “Much better. Cut it for yourself, if you like. But know that it will be harder to braid.”

I stood up after thanking her and grabbed the plate of polvorones off of the vanity, “Wait with me in the parlour, por favor?”

“Of course.”

“Heeerrrrmmmmiiioooneeee!” I quickly handed the plate of cookies to Abuelita before picking my bushy-haired friend up and spinning her around in a hug.

She squealed in a mix of joy and surprise.

“Put me down!” She said between giggles.

“Nope!”

“What am I? Wallpaper?” Piped Ron as he stepped out of the green flames of the Floo.

I spun Hermione around once more before putting her back on the ground.

“Ron!” I threw myself at the freckled boy, but I didn’t get the chance to pick him up.

“Oh no, you aren’t!” He chuckled fondly before squeezing his arms around me in what must have been the hug equivalent of a chokehold.

“Ru…de…” I choked out before he released me.

It had been a little over a month since I’d seen him last and he’d already grown at least half an inch. I had to raise my head even higher than usual to make eye contact.

“Howdy, partner.”

Ron melted with brotherly affection and patted the top of my head, “Hullo, Aurelia.”

“You know,” Hermione began, “I don’t think anyone other than my parents have hugged me as much as you have.”

“It’s ‘cause you Brits are so weird about showing love to anyone. Just goes to show how much better Americans are,” I teased.

Hermione rolled her brown doe eyes, “Say what you will. At least we don’t have medical debt.”

I clutched my chest, “Gah! Kill shot!”

“Have fun paying for that,” she quipped.

Oh god. I’ve been too much of a bad influence on her.

I fell backwards into Ron, “Avenge… me…”

Abuelita laughed into her hands, “Forgotten me already, mija?”

“Oh!” My face became flushed, “Guys, this is my dearest grandmother, Carmela María Caballero de Rodriguez. You may call her Doña Carmela. Abuelita, these are two of my three best friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.”

Before Hermione could get her politest introduction out, Abuelita wrapped her and Ron up in her warm embrace. 

“Thank you for looking after my Aurelia. It’s so wonderful to finally meet friends of hers.”

She leaned down to kiss both of them on the cheek. Ron went redder than I’d ever seen him.

“You’re welcome, mam— I mean Donna Carmela!” He squeaked out.

“It’s Doña, Ron. Dohn-nyah,” Hermione corrected.

I snickered and Abuelita flicked my ear, “Be nice.”

Laughing sheepishly, I changed the subject, “Well, now that y’all have met my grandmother, I do believe Grandma Elsinore and Grandpa Marius have been dying to meet you for a while now. They’re in the tea room. ¡Vamonos!”

I picked up the polvorones and gave them to Ron, who happily began munching away.

“What should we do with our bags?” Asked the ever-practical Hermione.

“Oh, our house elf will get—“ I stopped and cringed at my slip.

Abuelita crossed her arms, “What did I say about slave labor while I’m here? Do you think you’re too good to carry your friends' bags to their rooms? You were raised better than that. You take the bags, I’ll take the niños.”

Mexican grandmas were the best until they called out your bullshit in front of your friends.

I sighed, “Sí, Abuelita…”

“Wait, your family owns slaves?!” Hermione screeched. 

Oh god, not this again.

“The Princes have a house elf,” I elaborated.

“Oh, wicked! Mum’s always wanted one. Though, I still think she’d make us do chores. Had to de-gnome the garden yesterday, you know. The little buggers bite…”

“I’m sorry, what is a house elf and why are you enslaving them?”

I groaned and rubbed my temples, “Ron, you handle this. I’m taking the bags up.”

I was in too good of a mood to get into that debate.

“To think we have them at Hogwarts! It’s… abhorrent! How can you just stand by and—“

“You’re a muggleborn, aren’t you?” Interrupted a bemused Marius.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. 

“Yes. I am,” she said proudly.

Honestly, good for her for owning it and not listening to all the bigots. I was extremely proud of her for not taking anything the assholes said to heart and continuing to be herself. Hermione Granger: the character might not have been close to my favorite, but Hermione Granger: best friend was someone to be greatly admired.

Marius held his hands up, “Easy now, Miss Granger. I pay no heed to blood prejudice. It’s a rotten thing. I was merely making an observation.”

I fucking loved Marius Prince so much. My man could have drowned himself in the bitterness and hatred of the Black family and yet he was here drinking tea with muggles, muggleborns, and blood traitors like it was just his average Saturday afternoon. And that’s because it was. 

Speaking of muggles, thank Moses Abuelita was making lunch in the kitchen. She was (understandably) extremely anti unpaid labor and was doing her best to be polite about it, as Elsinore and Marius were the reason she got to see me.

“Hermione, the first thing you’ve gotta understand is, well, they aren’t people. And I don’t mean that as in we can have them as servants because they’re ‘less than us’— which they aren’t. I mean most of them love working. Not all house elf’s want a family, but most of them do and the very idea of being set free makes really upsets them. They even get offended when you offer to pay them.”

Hermione set her cup down, “That’s because they don’t know what it’s like to not be in chains.”

“A few of them do, actually. Most house elves that have been set free immediately look for a new family. Some of them take their own lives. But there are those that find peace and happiness in their newfound freedom. And we would never force our house elf to serve here if she didn’t want to,” said Elsinore firmly.

“Wait, I thought they died if they didn’t work?” I asked. Had I been mixing up canon and fanon?

“They don’t die, sweet girl. They typically just become rather depressed.”

Ron finished the last of the polvorones before pointing out that if it bugged Hermione so much they could just ask Tipsy how she felt, considering her feelings on the matter were the only ones that really mattered.

The icy-eyed matriarch snapped her fingers; “Tipsy!”

Pop!

“Yes, Mistress Elsie?” The sweet house elf curtsied.

“Tipsy, darling, be honest. Do you enjoy being a part of the Prince family, or do you wish to be set free?”

Tipsy’s large eyes widened and she began to cry.

“Oh, Mistress! Please don’t give me clothes! Has Tipsy done something wrong? Oh, please, Mistress! Tipsy will work harder than ever!”

Seeing her breakdown like this felt like watching some extra sick kind of torture, so I ran over and quickly knelt down to give the poor house elf a gentle hug.

“You’re not getting clothes. You’re doing an amazing job. You are a part of the Prince family for as long as you want. She was just giving you the option to make sure you’re happy. You’re already doing perfectly, no need to put in any more effort.”

Joanne Rowling, I cannot stress this enough: go to hell for creating house elves to be like this.

Ron threw out his hand in a gesture that seemed to say, “See, Hermione?”

My dearest female companion bit her lip. She was still greatly bothered by the whole situation and honestly, yeah, I don’t blame her.

“You may return to your prior activities, Tipsy.”

Tipsy gave her thanks and a curtsy before popping back to whatever she was up to before this. 

I sighed and went back to the table. Today had been… too eventful for it not even being noon yet. 

Sweet Jesus…

I prayed for Abuelita to be done with the tortas, but I knew not even that deep down that our appetites had been ruined. 

Well, maybe not Ron’s. But definitely everyone else’s.

“You best shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you, manito.”

Hermione gasped, “Aurelia!”

The ginger-haired traitor threw his hands in the air, “All I’m saying is that it would make sense.”

“It most certainly would not!” I hissed.

“Look, your mum was very pretty, and from the pictures the Prophet has been running lately, Black was too. It wouldn’t be too—“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Ronald Bilius Weasley.”

“How do you know my middle name?!”

Before I could retort that it was none of his god damn beeswax, Hermione’s eyes widened and she abruptly pulled herself off the canopy bed.

“Ron’s right!”

My face morphed into the face one makes when eating an underripe lemon.

“No, hear me out— why on Earth would Miss Kowalski be so secretive if your mother and Black were merely friends?”

“Maybe they were in a secret society together?” 

Wait, I think I’m on to something. 

Of course! Why didn’t I see it before? Mom and Sirius were in the Order of the Phoenix together! Yes, it all makes sense!

Hermione gave me a pointed look before continuing, “See, I don’t think your mother and Black were just a couple. I think… Aurelia, I think he could be your father.”

“…”

“…”

“PFTTT! BAHAHA! Oh my god! Hermione, when did you get so freakin’ hilarious? Jesus Christ. HAHAHA! Oh, oh my god give me a moment…”

As I tried to collect myself, I noticed the deadly serious looks on their faces. 

I frowned, “Wait, why aren’t you guys laughing?”

Ron scratched behind his ear, “Mate… She might be on to something. I mean, there is some resemblance.”

I rolled my eyes, “C’mon, don’t be stupid. I hate Snape as much as the next guy, but y’all know he’s my… father. And in case you’ve all forgotten, Marius— you know, my great-grandfather— was born a Black. Of course we’d look a little alike.”

“No, think about,” Ron crossed his legs and began to unknowingly resemble a nut-job one might find on Ancient Aliens.

“It might explain Snape’s awful behavior towards you. I mean, what father would treat his own daughter like that? You’ve said that Snape hates James Potter. James Potter was Sirius Black’s best friend. Why else would he be such a prat? Because he’s not your real father!”

I blinked slowly at my two very, very naïve friends. I took a deep breath and rubbed my temples.

“Guys, I’ve long since accepted I just got dealt a bad hand when it came to fathers. You should too. Sometimes people just aren’t meant to have kids and end up as shitty parents. Life’s like that. There are millions of people with terrible blood parents and I’m no exception. Maybe Sirius and my mom did… canoodle back in the day, but even so, that doesn’t change who I am.”

“But—“

“Hold on,” I grabbed the box of barritas de fresa Abuelita had brought and chucked it at Ron before grabbing some parchment and a pen from my desk and sitting back down.

“Okay, I’m going to introduce you to a little thing called Punnett squares—“

“I know what they are!” Snapped Hermione.

“I don’t,” Ron said with a full mouth.

“It’s kinda like genetic sudoku…” I gave a brief explanation of how they worked and drew a few on the parchment piece.

“Alright, so my mother had brown hair and hazel eyes,” I began filling in the information, “And Snape has Black hair and black eyes. Sirius has black hair and grey eyes. To add to my mother’s information, Abuelita has black eyes and Abuelito— may God rest his soul— had sea-green eyes. My hair might be black, but so are my eyes. If I were Sirius’s kid, my eyes wouldn’t be so dark and my hair wouldn’t be so god damn greasy. Boom! Call me Detective Conan because case fucking closed.”

“Your hair isn’t greasy,” Hermione pointed out after chastising me for swearing again.

“That’s because I wash it every day,” I huffed. “If I go so much as a day without washing it my hair makes enough oil to last all eight nights of Hanukkah. I won’t ever need to go out and buy pomade, I can just not shower for a night and there ya go.”

“Why won’t you even entertain the idea as a possibility? You didn’t even meet Professor Snape until last year!”

There were so, so many reasons why it was quite possibly the most stupid idea to ever be said aloud, but I couldn’t exactly say that I was mentally present for my birth and remembered a certain conversation between Mom and Severus Unfortunately-My-Biological-Father Snape.

“Because it’s as likely as saying Arthur Weasley is my ‘real’ father.”

While Snape might have been harder on me than everyone else for most things, he had been weirdly lenient on others. The number of times I’d emotionally broken down or insulted him was high, and yet most of those times I went unpunished. Had I really been Sirius’ daughter, I think he would have smothered me as an infant.

I wish I was joking.

“Why are you both so determined to prove Sirius is my father when literally everything else points towards Snape?”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other before sighing.

“It’s just… I think we both want to believe there’s someone better than Snape out there waiting for you.”

My black eyes softened at them. “I appreciate the thought, but Sirius isn’t meant to be my family. He’s Harry’s. I think it’s really sweet you want better for me, but I’m not as miserable as you think. I’ve got the most loving family in Elsinore and Marius and the entirety of my mother’s side. Not to mention the greatest friends anyone could ask for.” I nudged Ron with my foot and threw my arm around Hermione, pulling her into a side hug.

“I’m the happiest I’ve been since last year. The only thing that could make this better is Harry being here. Otherwise, I’m exactly where I need to be. Now, can we please stop talking about my dead mom’s little black book?”

There was a pause before Hermione lit up.

“Oh! Doña Carmela said she’d love to teach me some of her recipes! I’m supposed to help her with lunch and dinner tomorrow!”

“Write some of those down, will ya? I need to give them to Mum. Aurelia’s gran makes the best sweets. I might need to move to Mexico after Hogwarts.”

“You could just marry a Mexican woman,” Hermione pointed out.

Ron looked over at me. We stared at each other for a moment before simultaneously gagging. 

“Yeah, never happening. Like, ever.”

Whether I’m actually eighteen or thirty, I am for sure never marrying someone I grew up with. I’m pretty sure that would just be grooming with extra steps.

“Merlin, that would be like marrying Ginny,” he shuddered.

“Anyway,” I smirked, “I don’t think Percy would appreciate me marrying him and his little brother.”

Ron groaned as Hermione and I dissolved into a fit of laughter.

Chapter Text

I sighed as Abuelita straightened out the wrinkles in the formal black robes Elsinore had bought me. I looked and felt like I was attending another wake.

“Why in God’s name would you involve yourself…” she muttered for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

“I couldn’t just let an innocent man rot in what I’m pretty sure is the mother of all Geneva Convention violations.”

My grandmother looked over me once more, before kissing my forehead, “Come home with me, mija.”

I looked up at her. Warm black eyes that told a thousand stories with a single glance. It amazed me how similar in color yet different in demeanor they were from my own.

I did my best to smile at her.

“Lo lamento, Abuelita.”

Seeing her try to blink away tears felt like crucio straight to the heart. I leaned in her kind embrace. The embrace of the one who loved me most.

“Why did you have to grow up?”

The guilt grew heavier and heavier, as if one by one someone was throwing metric tons of tungsten on my chest. Lies poured out of my mouth like water with everyone else, but with Abuelita it had always been difficult. Would she still love me if she ever found out who I really was? Would Mom?

But then again, could I really say I was still the same person as who I was in my past life— a life I can barely remember? A person whose name I've never known? At this point, wasn’t I truly just and only Aurelia R. Rodriguez Prince? 

She released me from her hold and cupped my cheek with her wrinkled hand, “Write to me often.”

I nodded and promised to see her at Christmas when a solemn-looking Marius and Elsinore entered the parlour.

“It’s time,” said Elsinore.

“Te Quiero mucho.”

“Te quiero,” I repeated.

The white-haired witch took Abuelita’s hand, “It was an absolute pleasure having you, Carmela.”

Marius bowed his head, “You’ll be together again soon, Señora.”

Abuelita paused before bringing them both in to a hug.

“Thank you both. From the bottom of my heart, thank you…”

“What is family for?”

I almost cried from all the emotions I was experiencing at once, but there wasn’t time for that. I had cried too much this past year for a lifetime. If my life were a book, I would have cried almost every chapter.

“Alright. Let’s get you back to America,” Marius turned to me, “and you to the Ministry. Arthur Weasley will be there to take you to the Burrow afterwards.”

Ah, that’s right. It wasn’t just my time with Abuelita that was coming to an end this summer. I’d told them that I wanted to spend August with the Weasleys at the beginning of the summer.

Elsinore patted the top of my head, careful not to ruin my hair. With special care and love, Abuelita had woken up early to braid green and silver ribbons in my hair. She wanted me to look my absolute best for the trial.

“We’ll be there to see you off at King’s Cross. Thank you for spending these past few months with us. Prince Manor will always be a home to you, if you so choose. Your room is yours alone now.”

I threw my arms around her, “Thanks, Grandma. I love you.”

She jolted slightly, startled by both the hug and the declaration. Slowly she held me back, “I love you too, dear.”

I bid my farewells to them one last time before the exited Elsinore left to escort Abuelita to the portkey. I looked up at Marius and opened my arms, silently asking if I could hug him too.

He knelt down on one knee and wrapped me in his arms.

“Thank you, Aurelia. You’ve given me something I haven’t had since Eileen,” he said with a voice full of saudade.

I didn’t need to ask what it was.

“Love ya, Gramps.”

He squeezed me tightly, but not enough to be uncomfortable.

“It is an honor to have you as my granddaughter.”

Even in a trial not meant to criminalize and demoralize a fifteen-year-old boy the dungeon-courtroom was suffocating and uncomfortable. Dark stone walls adorned with torches ever so slightly lit up the room. Benches upon benches filled with all fiifty members of the Wizengamont reached for the ceiling on each side of the room. In the benches of the back stood Dumbledore in his best and purplest of robes. He quite easily the most colorful person there, save for Minister Cornelius Fudge in his lime-green bowler hat.

Ah, I’d forgotten my headmaster was Chief Warlock of the Wizengamont. And Supreme Mugwump, whatever the hell that meant.

“Come along now, Aurelia,” said Mr. Weasley as he led Percy and I through the room where we were to take our seats as witnesses.

It was then I finally noticed the man sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, arms ensnared with magical chains.

It felt as though all air had been forcibly knocked from my lungs.

Looking Sirius, possible middle name Orion, Black felt like looking at a portrait of a comely man that had been left to collect dust and mold in the basement of a dilapidated manor. He looked nothing like Gary Oldman, nor even young Ben Barnes. No, not at all.

Looking at Sirius made me want to cry. I wanted to run over to him, give him a warm hug, then steal him away from all his pain and sorrows. His face was waxy, cadaverous, and slightly suken in. His raven black hair was long and knotted in most places, his teeth almost as yellow as Snape’s. There were patches of facial hair, grown out in some places more than others. His nails— his his nails. Some long, some far too short… His wrists were red and violet from his shackles being too tight.

Yet even then, I could see glimmers and traces of the beauty that once was. Mainly in his eyes, though. They seemed to shine with a sliver of hope— something he most likely hadn’t experienced in years. They the dim light of the torches seemed to illuminate those grey, no, silver eyes of his. Eyes that had experienced for too much for being only thirty years old. Eyes that were plagued with horrid beyond my wildest nightmares.

My stomach churned. Had I not known any better, I’d’ve sworn I was looking at the living dead. It was as if they’d done the absolute bare minimum to keep him alive. Even after removing him from Azkaban.

At least his clothes, strangely enough, were a sharp contrast to the rest of him. They were quite possibly the nicest velveteen robes I’d ever seen. And as a Slytherin, that meant something.

“Mr. Weasley, where’s Peter Pettigrew?” I asked as we took our seats.

The red-headed man’s face darkened and Percy shuddered, “Because of how often he’s nearly escape custody— he’s being held in a… special cage until it’s time for him to make his defense later. This is double-trial, after all.”

“Double-Trial? Do you mean like double jeopardy? I thought this was just his appeal.”

“A double-trial is when two or more witches or wizards are being tried for the same crime, but typically one of the accused will have an extra charge or two. In this case, it’s more specifically about getting Black his proper trial to grant his freedom. The second part will be getting Pettigrew sentenced to Azkaban,” Percy explained.

Ah, this was a wizarding world specific thing. Though, I suppose it makes sense there would be differences in muggle and Wizard courts.

Although I was rather angry at the fact the trial wasn’t due to start for at least another twenty minutes and Sirius had been chained since before I’d arrived.

“Unfortunately, this won’t take long,” said a mordacious masculine voice.

I looked up to see Snape, who only bothered to wear his black teaching robes. He sat down next me, much to the surprise of the two Weasleys.

At least he’d shaved for this. I was almost impressed.

“Professor Snape? What— are you here to stand witness as well?”

He rolled his black eyes, “No. I am here because I didn’t file the paperwork in time.”

“He’s my legal guardian,” I explained, although I wasn’t sure what the paperwork bit was about.

“I thought you were living with your grandparents, the Princes?” Questioned Mr. Weasley.

“Is this because he’s your head of house?” Percy’s brow furrowed, “But that’s not how that works…”

I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose, “It’s because God hates me.”

Snape thwacked the back of my head, “I’m her father.”

“Can we not do this today?” I snapped.

A sigh escaped me. I sighed a lot when Snape was around, to be honest. I turned to the two Weasleys and asked that this not get spread around.

Percy nodded solemnly, “I understand.”

I looked at Snape through the corner of my eye, “What did you mean by ‘paperwork?’”

“Your name and nationality. I filed it a few days ago, however it’s still processing. The legal department of the Ministry is obviously a bit… preoccupied.”

“Okay, name I was expecting— you better not have touched my middle name, by the way— but nationality?”

“By tomorrow evening you’ll have dual citizenship between Britain and the United States. After all, you are living and attending school. Not to mention the fact that you were born in Edinburgh.”

My eyes widened, “I’m Scottish?”

I mean, I vaguely recalled the portkey trip from wherever it was my mother gave birth to Los Angeles, but I had no idea where it Britain I was born. I had always assumed somewhere in England.

“For all intents and purposes, yes.”

“Do I have to learn the accent?”

“Not unless you want to piss off every Scotsman you meet,” chirped a sweet feminine voice.

I looked over to see Alya, now sporting a straight cornflower bob instead of the lime curls I’d first seen her with.

“Are you a metamorphmagus?” I blurted out.

“Nope! Just like variety. And is that so? You know, I’m the whole citizenship thing? Guess that means next time you get yourself involved in a trial, I won’t have to come out.”

I tilted my head.

“Since you’ll be properly registered with the Ministry, you won’t need a representative from the States,” ginger prefect launched in to an explanation, “Like how you won’t need a guardian present. That’s distinctly an American protocol.”

“Huh. Thanks, Perce.”

I wanted to make a joke about how glad I was that my future husband was so smart, but it would have been inappropriate given what was going on.

I knew I should’ve been taking this whole thing more maturely, but I already knew Sirius was innocent and the evidence against Pettigrew was damning. Really, the trial was a mere formality.

“Let us begin.”

The dungeon grew dead silent as Dumbledore got this show on the road.

“The case of Sirius Black III on the twenty-ninth of July, for the murder twelve muggles with the use of one Blasting Curse on the thirty-first of October, year 1981…”

“Why didn’t they mention Pettigrew?” I whispered to Percy.

“Black instantly became clear of that once the auroral detained him,” he said, not taking his eyes off of Dumbledore.

I almost asked him how this didn’t count as some form of double-jeopardy, but then I remembered Sirius didn’t get a trial in the first place.

“…Witnesses for the defense: Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office; Percy Ignatius Weasley, sixth-year Gryffindor prefect; and Aurelia Rosita Rodriguez Prince, second year Slytherin student. Standing representative of Aurelia Prince on behalf of the Magical Congress of the United States of America, Alayna Porpentina Kowalski.”

Alya gave a little wave to Dumbledore, who gave her a small smile in return before continuing.

Wait…

Porpentina…

Kowalski…

Well. I’ll be damned.

Snape puts his hand over mine but before I can jerk away I feel the cool, smooth feeling of a glass vial.

“The strongest I could make it, though it won’t last as long,” his voice was low and suspiciously soothing. “Be subtle.”

I didn’t ask what it was, but it couldn’t have been bad. It isn’t as if now would be a good time to kill me, not could I see him sabotaging Sirius’ trial— not when the real culprit would have a chance to receive the Dementor’s Kiss.

I carefully opened the vial and began to fake a cough. When I brought my hand to my mouth I quickly downed the contents of the small vial. The taste was all too familiar.

“Thanks,” I slipped the empty vial back to him.

“You will not fail.”

“Full name,” Dumbledore asks Arthur Weasley.

He gives it.

Dumbledore asks when they first encountered Pettigrew disguised as a common garden rat.

“About ten, eleven years ago. Percy, my third son, found him.”

“Full name.”

“Percy Ignatius Weasley.”

“Do you concur with your father’s previous statement?”

“Yes, sir.”

“An… academically accomplished young man such as yourself must have known that the average life expectancy of a rat is but only a handful of years, even a well-kept one,” sneered an old man with a particularly tiny nose.

However powerful the man on the Wizengamont was, Percy had been too used to Snape to let it bother him.

“I had simply chalked it down to magical influence. I assure you, Mr. Gamp, had I suspected it was a grown man sleeping in my brother and I’s bed for over a decade, I’d have taken him to the Ministry myself.”

The pride I feel watching him keep his cool is immeasurable.

Dumbledore continues his questioning.

“Full name.”

Alya is up here with me. She gives me a reassuring look and begins to write in her small red notebook.

“Aurelia Rosita Rodriguez Prince.”

I can feel the shocked yet burning gaze of Sirius Black. He’s trying to meet my eye.

I ignore him.

They ask me questions about Pettigrew. How did I first encounter him? What about his behavior as a rat made me come to the conclusion he was a man?

“For starters, he was a decade old.” My voice was the epitome of relaxed. Quite frankly, I almost was too composed but as a Slytherin I knew it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary. Had I been, say, a Hufflepuff it would had definitely been perceived as dubious.

“At first I came to the same conclusion Percy had, but after noticing how he acted over time… I then concluded that perhaps there was some kneazle equivalent of rats that I was unaware of. After some research, I soon realized that wasn’t the case. I was stumped for a while until I remembered Professor McGonagall was a registered cat animagus.”

“It is understandable that you could eventually come to the conclusion that the rat was an animagus, but how in Merlin’s name did you realize he was Peter Pettigrew— a man confirmed to be dead?” Challenged a woman who I was pretty sure was Amelia Bones.

“Oh, well after that I simply checked the registry.”

This was true, actually. It was something I did over Easter break so that there’d be a paper trail of some kind. It was actually pretty easy. Just had to send an owl, wait a few days, then receive my copy. The registry was a matter of public record, after all.

“Pettigrew is not on the animagus registry, Miss Prince,” Dumbledore pointed out.

“Exactly! The closest I could find to a still living registered rat animagus was Annie Graham, age fifty-three, in Lincolnshire. But she was a white rat and, well, a she. So, naturally, I concluded that Scabbers was unregistered.”

Amelia Bones once again asked how I came to the idea the rat was Pettigrew.

“Oh, that’s easy. I knew that Percy acquired the rat ten years prior. It was at that point I was like, ‘Aight, obviously this dude doesn’t wanna be found so he’s probably a criminal or something.’ Then I looked up major crimes and all that jazz and when I read about Sirius Black allegedly blowing up thirteen people and the only thing of Pettigrew that was left being a finger it all just kinda fell in to place.”

Dumbledore leaned over ever so slightly, “How so?”

I shrugged, “There were two options at that point: Pettigrew knew what Sirius had done and in fear for his own life cut off a finger when confronted and transformed in to a rat, letting twelve muggles die in his place, or Sirius Black was framed and it was an elaborate set-up. Either way, he was guilty of something.”

“You still have yet to explain how you knew for certain in was Pettigrew. Nor why you would choose to expose him in such a… garish manner instead of immediately bringing him to a professor? And why did it take until the Leaving Feast for you to make the reveal?”

“First off, I’m an American. I’m theatrical. I like to show off and I cannot help that.”

Alya covered her laugh with a cough.

“Second, I was like, super busy. I didn’t exactly do all that in one night. Third,” I feigned sheepishness, “I just kinda… rolled with it? Technically speaking, I got lucky with the rat actually being Peter Pettigrew. Would’ve been super embarrassing had it been someone else haha…”

I could practically feel the eye twitches coming from the entirety of Wizengamot. I could absolutely feel Snape glaring me for revealing my “foolishness.”

At least Dumbledore found my antics endearing.

“Thank you, Miss Prince. You may return to your seat.”

I got up, lightly brushed away the non-existent dust off my lap, then walked as gracefully as I could to the bench.

Forget my pride over Percy keeping his cool— I just bullshitted my way through a fucking court trial with at least a hundred people watching me. I was most proud of myself.

Snape appeared to be nursing a headache when I sat down next to him.

“You good?” I whispered to him.

He made a gesture at me that most likely meant “fuck off.”

“Think I can squeeze in a quick nap?” I asked as Dumbledore said some more stuff.

“You’re grounded.”

“What? Since when can you do that?”

“Mr. Black,” said Dumbledore, “Full name?”

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but before any words were able to come out a young man in scarlet robes ran out with and tripped his way in front of Dumbledore.

“He’s accepted! The plea-bargain! He’s accepted!”

“Plea-bargain?” Percy and I said at the same time.

“Well,” Dumbledore’s soft blue eyes sparkled, “that certainly changes things. Peter Pettigrew is herby sentenced to life in Azkaban prison, however he is not to receive the Dementor’s Kiss.”

About half of the dungeon groaned— including me and Snape.

“Sirius Black III,” he smiled down at his former pupil, “you are cleared of all charges. Any and all things seized during your original arrest is to be returned, including all rights, vaults, property, and yes, Mr. Black, custody of any and all underage wizards.”

The chains from the chair vanished and Sirius arose. A single tear fell from the former Prisoner of Azkaban’s face.

“I— I’m free?”

“Yes, Sirius, you’re free.”

Cheers broke out from all sides of the dungeon. Well, except for Snape. But he didn’t seem like he wanted to die, at least.

I’d to hope that meant not all was lost.

“You…”

I stiffened and turned around slowly, bringing me face to face with the man, myth, and legend himself: Sirius Black.

I summoned all my Slytherin training and gave him my most charming yet neutral smile, “Mr. Black. It’s a pleasure to meet you personally. Hiding from the press, are you?”

He stared at me for a moment, still as a staute before speeding towards me.

“You… that face… that name… you’re… could you be…"

I held my hand out to him, “I believe you might’ve known my mother. Does the name Margarita Rodriguez ring a bell?”

“How old you are?” He ignored my hand. And my question.

“Thirteen in September,” I answered, grimacing as he began to do some mental math.

“If you’re wondering if you’ve got some long-lost love child, you’re sorely mistaken. Well, at very least it’s not me. And if you had to do calculating at all, I’m guessing you and my mother were a little more than friends?”

Sirius frowned but nodded, “Yes. Daisy and I… Is she here? Could I see her?”

First of all, fuck you Ronald Weasley for speaking their love-affair in to existence.

Second, the thought of telling this newly freed man who is about to be one of my best friend’s guardian that his former love is dead had me feeling like I had chugged expired milk.

I nervously shifted on the balls of my feet, “She’s, uh, not really available at the moment.”

“Why? Where is she? Who… who is your father?”

I flinched and sucked air between my teeth. Of all the things to find out today, knowing that a woman he's clearly still carrying a torch for had a child with Snivellus Snap of all people might've sent him past death straight in to rigor mortis.

This… this was all too much for the both of us to unpack today. He had other, more pressing concerns to attend to.

Scratching the back of my neck, I voiced just that.

“…And honestly, you need time to recuperate and get to know your godson. Harry’s simply dying to meet you.”

Sirius winced, emotions of all type dancing in his crystalline silver eyes. “You know Harry?”

“He’s one of my dearest friends. He’s incredibly kind and looks just like his father,” I said with a smile before remembering. “You better treat him well, Mr. Black. Petunia and her husband haven’t been kind to him over the years. He doesn’t need a fun uncle or a best friend. He needs a loving guardian. He needs someone to step in and be a parent.”

“Petunia?” His face darkened. “So Lily’s wretch of a sister couldn’t put old grudges aside even for her own blood?”

“You’ve missed a lot, Mr. Black,” I reached over and up to him and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Well, I did my best to. The man was at least six feet and had a solid eight inches on me. He flinched at the non-hostile contact but when I went to move my hand away he put his own over it. Sirius stayed like that for a moment before bowing and placing a gentlemanly kiss on my knuckles.

“I apologize for accosting you, Aurelia. Thank you for your part in granting my freedom. I fear I might’ve spent the rest of my life in there if it weren’t for you. I am in your debt.”

I couldn’t help the reddening of my face. Damn, even after a decade of torment in Azkaban he still had it going on. What the hell happened to make Mom’s stands drop from this to Snape?

I cleared my throat, “Mr. Black—“

“Please. Call me Sirius.”

“Er— Sirius, I’ve kinda gotta go. This was just supposed to be a quick bathroom trip. Mr. Weasley is taking me home with him and Percy... Um, I suppose we’ll meet again relatively soon? Ron is also close friends with Harry.”

“Yes… I suppose we will.”

I couldn’t quite explain the look he gave me. It was like someone took regret, nostalgia, hope, fear, and reverence and threw it all in a blender to make the world’s most concerning cocktail.

“See you later, Sirius,” I gave my usual lazy two-finger salute and turned around.

“Goodbye…” I could here him say something else, but I couldn’t quite hear what exactly it was. I glanced back to ask, but he had already gone.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you went in front of the entirety of the magical world and professed to not having a single clue as to what you were doing,” Percy huffed.

“I can’t believe they aren’t giving me that Order of Merlin. For God’s sake, I caught a Death Eater and helped free an innocent man! Fudge gave himself one for simply being, well, Fudge!”

My sweet Clawdius rubbed his face against my hand. Ah, it was good to have him back.

“I think you have to from Britain to get one of those,” Ron pointed out.

“Oh! You may receive one yet! Didn’t Professor Snape say you were getting dual-citizenship?”

“Dual-citizenship?” Ron asked.

“Professor Snape?” The Twins— wait, where did they come from?— raised their eyebrows.

“Okay, you know what? I’m not even going to bother hiding it anymore. Severus Snape is my biological father. Presumably, my mom took pity on him like thirteen years ago, and now I’m everyone’s problem. Hur—freaking—ray.”

“You’re…”

“Oh, you poor thing.”

“Although, certain things are starting to make sense,” I heard Fred(?) whisper to George(?).

I ignored them in favor of answering Ron, “Allegedly, I was born in Scotland. Also since Snape’s English, I should have had dual-citizenship from the get-go anyway, but the day after I was born my mom went straight back to America with me and claimed I was a home-birth.”

Ron paused for a moment before getting this expression on his face that looked like the mental equivalent of stepping on a lego, “For the love of Merlin, please don’t try to do the accent.”

Percy choked and one of the twins— okay, I was making it a top priority to differentiate the two of them from each other because this was driving me nuts. Anyway, one of those look-alike ginger fucks tilted their head.

I placed my hand over my heart, “Cuate, you know me so well.”

Ron rolled his eyes and Fred or George immediately started giving me “pointers” on how to do a “good” Scottish accent.

“Repeat after us, ‘Och aye the noo!’ Say that to McGonagall next time you see her.”

“Are you trying to get her murdered?” Percy glared at them.

“Hey, where’s Ginny?” I asked before the Weasley brothers could have an all-out war. “I’ve been here for hours now and I’ve only seen her once.”

“She’s been on the stairs watching us since morning,” my favorite redhead explained, “You’re her hero for some reason, so she’s too nervous to meet you properly.”

“Huh, really? In that case… Hi, Gin!” I yelled towards the stairs. This was promptly followed by the sound of footsteps rushing up.

I could practically feel myself melt, “Oh my god, I love her. She’s so adorable. Quick, Perce, propose to me so I can claim her as my little sister!”

Ron poked my cheek as Percy went into cardiac arrest, the twins pointing fingers and laughing at him.

“Oi, you can’t marry Percy. You’re basically my sister; which means he’s basically your brother and that’s just wrong.”

“Wait, why does that kinda make sense?”

“Yes!” Percy exclaimed, “Yes, you are my little sister now and therefore Ginny is also your sister! So, we can never wed!”

“Oh, but we both have Black blood in our veins,” I gave my most evil smirk, “and you know what the Blacks say about ‘keeping it in the family.’”

The eldest present Weasley boy proceeded to collapse on from stress as I wriggled my eyebrows.

“So Harry’s birthday’s in two days! What’s going on with that? Wait, what’s going on with his living situation?”

I elected to give Percy a small break from my teasing. Too much of it would cause the joke to grow stale, and, quite frankly, I refuse to be seen as anything other than the comedic genius I am.

Also, it’d be nice to know in advance whether or not I’d be committing grand theft auto.

“Well,” the bespectacled boy perked up, “Black become Harry’s legal guardian at the end of the trial— effective immediately.”

Ron’s brow’s we’re damn near touching, “Does Sirius even have a place for them to live.”

”Grimmauld Place, more likely than not. At the very least, there for the time being. After Walburga Black croaked, it became Sirius’.”

Percy narrowed his eyes, “You seem… oddly familiar with Black.”

“Yes, why is that?” The twins tilted their heads.

Ron, to his credit, attempted to stop himself from smirking.

”You shut your mouth,” I hissed at him. “It’s your fault this happened.”

“Mate, that happened looong before either of us,” he covered his mouth, barely able to keep his snickers to himself.

The other Weasley boys grew increasingly puzzled.

”What exactly did our ickle Ronnikins do?”

At this point, Ron could no longer hold it in. He collapsed on the wooden floor, stomach clutched from how hard he was laughing.

“Fuck. You. Ronald.”

Percy gasped and unironically clutched his chest, “Mind your language, young lady!”

“Alright, really, what did he do?” The twins were practically on their knees begging.

“Hey, ‘Relia!” Ron sat up, still on the floor, “Sirius Black shagged your mum.”

I jumped over the sofa and threw my hands around his neck.

“Thank you so much again for having me, Mrs. Weasley,” I said as I sat in the upholstered chair across from her, like I didn’t just throttle her youngest son half an hour ago.

Perhaps I had a bit of Severus Snape in me because I did not feel bad about wrestling a child till he apologized in the slightest.

“Of course, Aurelia. You are welcome here anytime. You’ve been such a good friend to Ron and I cannot thank you enough,” she smiled and resumed her knitting.

“Oh, it’s nothing. He, Harry, and Hermione are like family to me. I’d do anything for them.”

Her caramel brown eyes softened greatly at me, “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself, dear?”

“Er— okay? Umm, well, I’m from California! It’s the total opposite of over here. It’s always warm and sunny. There’s palm trees and beaches and LA has so many people with so many talents. I was actually hoping to take Ron and the others some time.”

“You must miss your home terribly,” noted Mrs. Weasley.

“I do miss it there, but…” I fidgeted with the sleeves on my robes, “I… It’s mainly my family that I miss. I didn’t have any friends before Hogwarts. I couldn’t connect with anyone… my age. It was always hard for me in school. I did well academically, but the kids there… I guess they could sense I was different… Oh, sorry. I’m rambling.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. I did my best to not think about how much the lack of real connection with anyone other than my mother for eleven years affected me. Being an eighteen-year-old in a child’s body took its toll after a while. It was a suffocating feeling at times. Like I was— well like I was trapped in a prison when I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Except, maybe I did. Who knows? I certainly don’t and would probably never.

“It’s alright. It’s a good thing, you know. To let it all out every once and a while. Do go on, dear.”

She had a point. I was aiming for fewer explosive breakdowns this year, after all.

“HEY ‘RELIA DO YOU HAVE ANY MORE OF THOSE CHOCOLATE-MARSHMALLOW SWEETS?!”

Mrs. Weasley and I blinked at Ron’s shouting from upstairs.

“THEY’RE IN MY TRUNK! THERE’S AN EXPANDING BAG FULL OF SNACKS! DON'T EAT THEM ALL! SOME ARE FOR HARRY!”

“THANKS, MATE!”

“NO PROBLEM!”

I laughed, embarrassed, “Sorry, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Oh, you’re alright. Do let me know if they’ve stolen all your sweets. I’ll see to it they replace them.”

I shook my head, “Nah, I believe in Ron. He won’t—“

“Er— Aurelia,” Ron poked his head down from the stairway, “I went through your trunk like you said, and, erm, you haven’t gone through it yet, have you?”

I raised an eyebrow, “No. Why?”

“Doña, she, uh, she left you something.”

I looked over to the Weasley matriarch, “Do you mind?”

“You don’t have to ask. Go on, shoo.”

“Is that a blanket?” A twin asked.

“Oh, hell yeah! She packed me a serape! Guess who’s never getting cold again?”

“Hold on, it’s wrapped around something,” Percy, who had Clawdius draped over his shoulder, pointed out.

“It’s… a wand box?” Ron observed as I picked it up.

“ ‘Ravenscroft & Co. Wands… Los Angeles, California… Est. 1850…’ ” I read aloud before shaking the box.

There was something inside.

“Well? Aren’t you going to open it?”

I blew my bangs up with a huff, “Ron, I don’t know what’s in it.”

“I’d hazard a wand.”

“Shut up, George.”

“I’m Fred—“

“Tough titties,” I grumbled before opening the worn-out box to reveal…

“Well, what do you know?”

”It was a wand after all...”

“It’s… it’s beautiful,” I muttered, ignoring the smart-aleck duo.

I gently caressed the intricate flower details at the handle of the lightly colored stick.

“It’s maple wood,” Ron commented.

“How do you know?”

He shrugged, “It’s the same wood as Charlie’s old wand.”

My eyes widened.

Shit.

I had completely forgotten that Ron’s wand wasn’t, well, his wand. Well, seeing as there was no reason for the boys to crash into the Whomping Willow, I should probably buy Ron a new wand when the rest of the Weasleys aren’t looking.

“I wonder what the core is,” Percy looked around the box for any specifics about the (allegedly) maple wand.

“I wonder why Aurelia’s muggle grandmother had a wand…”

The prefect Weasley pulled out a folded-up piece of paper that looked as though it was hastily ripped from a yellow legal pad from the side, “‘Mija—‘ Ah, it’s written in Spanish. Aurelia, would you mind translating? I doubt my Portuguese would do much good here.”

“You know, I oughta sit you down and teach you Spanish sometime. It wouldn’t sit right with me if you couldn’t communicate with your future in-laws.”

I plucked the note from his pale, slender fingers— seriously, he had some nice hands— and quickly scanned the contents. My throat closed as I read it over again. And again.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” The Weasley boys prompted.

“It… it says…

‘My dear girl, I am so sorry for not giving this to you before I left. I didn’t want you to be distracted during the trial… Well, more than you most likely already were.

This was Margarita’s. She gave up magic long before you were born. For what reason, I do not know, but it did not feel good to keep this any longer. Perhaps it could be of use to you.

I love you. I do not know much about this witchcraft nonsense, but I know it’s a part of you just as it was your mother. So I will love it too. We will be together soon, sweet little girl. Your family is always with you.

Kisses and hugs,

Abuelita’”

“Oh, indeed,” said Twin One.

Raising the wand to my lips, I gave the ornate handle a kiss. This was officially the most precious thing I’d ever own.

“You should give it a go.”

“Er— I don’t know, Ron…”

It didn’t feel right to use Mom’s wand. I knew she wouldn’t have minded, but it felt… It felt as though I should put it in an indestructible glass case. I felt like me using it would taint it, somehow.

Percy placed a hand on my shoulder, our furry son still perched on his own, “You shouldn’t use a wand that isn’t your own. Especially outside of school when you’re still underage. There is the trace, after all.”

Fred and George placed themselves on both sides of me, “Ignore him. This is a wizarding household. They won’t be able to tell who’s doing magic. Go on, give it a wave.”

The elder brother was about to protest when Ron kicked his shin, “It’s her dead Mum’s wand, Percy. Let her have this.”

It was honestly a miracle that my gaze didn’t burn a hole in the intricate beauty. Well… Snape had taken my wand before I got on the train. It had been months since I did magic and I was getting kind of antsy…

Mom would have wanted me to use her wand, I reasoned. Maybe not rationally, but reasoned nevertheless.

I gripped the handle tightly, smiling at the feeling of the protruding flower carvings.

"Orchideous!"

But instead of a blooming pink bouquet, I was met with a sharp burn on my hand.

“FUCK!” I yelped, the wand flying itself out of my hand as I crumpled to the floor in excruciating pain.

“Aurelia!”

“I told you all this was a bad idea! Ron, go get some dittany from the medicine cupboard!” Percy commanded.

“N-no!” I forced myself up, “I’m fine! And… and I’d rather not get in trouble with your mom when I’ve been here less than a day.”

Fred, I think, grabbed my wrist and had Percy examine my hand.

”My arse, you’re ‘fine!’ That blister’s bigger than Percy’s head!”

Percy took a deep breath, ignoring the slight, and appeared to be counting to ten. I couldn’t help the widening of my eyes as he pushed up his horn-rimmed glasses and swept me off my feet— literally. 

Reflexively, I threw my uninjured arm around his neck.

“My wand’s in my room. I heal you up in there.” He turned to his youngest brother, “Ron, carefully box up her mother’s wand and place it at the bottom of her trunk. I trust that Aurelia is clever enough now to leave it be.”

I nearly flinched under his pointed azure gaze.

From how close he was, I could count all the freckles on his face. Immediately, I began to try to see what constellations I could find. It provided a nice distraction from the throbbing burn on my right hand.

“Fred. George. Go distract Mum and Ginny so they don’t come up soon,” he commanded as he carried me out.

”On it!” The saluted before dashing out of Ginny’s room. 

”My hero,” I joked weakly when we reached his room.

He sighed and sat me down at the foot of his bed. Percy’s room was tidy and well organized, just like him. Not a single poster adorned his pale walls. Instead, it was shelves and shelves of second-hand books. In the corner was a dark wooden desk with multiple locks guarding the drawers. Actually— all his drawers had locks. Most likely to keep the twins for effing up his stuff. 

He muttered something at one of the locks at his desk that was distinctly not alohomora before the drawer opened. He reached inside and pulled out a light-wooded wand that appeared to be a little over a foot in length.

”Considering the circumstance, I’d find it fair if you didn’t mention this to my mother.”

Percy made quick work of healing me up. Unfortunately, he didn’t have dittany to prevent scarring, but I wasn’t about to complain.

The wonders of magic would never cease to amaze me. It was perplexing to think of how my mother had sworn it off. I wonder what could have possibly made her come to the conclusion that she was better off living a life without magic.

I looked with to thank Percy, but he had a look that reminded me all too much of Mom’s when she was about to scold me.

”I’m very disappointed that you didn’t listen to me, Aurelia. Should you ever do something like that again, I am taking you straight to the nearest responsible adult. The only reason I didn’t do so today is since I know you’re upset about your grandmother going home.”

He sighed once more and pinched the bridge of his nose, hitting his glasses up slightly, “Honestly… using a wand that isn’t your own when you have one already matched to you in a non-emergency… That was incredibly reckless and I should have tried harder to stop you. Then again, I thought you to be brighter than that.”

Something about Percy’s thoroughly vexed manner cut me deeper than a sectumsempra to the chest. Mainly because… well… he was right. 

I hung my head down in shame.

”I’m sorry. You’re right, I know better.”

God, what was with me today? Why was I acting so juvenile? Just because I had the body of a twelve-going-on-thirteen-year-old doesn’t mean I wasn’t still actually an adult. I was eighteen for crying out loud. 

Suddenly, I felt a pleasant weight on my head. I glanced up ever so slightly to see Percy patting my head, careful as to not ruin my braids.

”I understand you’re bearing a lot on your shoulders right now,” he looked at me kindly, “It’s not good to keep it all locked away inside. Consider confiding in Ron, perhaps? Or, if you ever need… I am a prefect, after all.”

”What do you have to gain from being this kind to me, Percy?”

He seemed genuinely taken aback by my question. “Why would I need to gain anything from you? Ron has declared you honorary family already. I simply want what’s best for you.”

Ah. So that was why he was in Gryffindor.

As much as I teased about being in love with him, I’d never wished for someone to be my family as much as I was right now. I’d curse God till the end of time for not giving me a brother like Percy Ignatius Weasley. 

I rested my head on his lap, much to his surprise, and gestured for him to keep going. Now that Abuelita was… back in LA… I wouldn’t be getting half of the physical affection that I craved. So, I’ll have to savor what I can get for now

“Could I… could I here for a bit? I promise it’s nothing weird... if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He froze for a moment before softly running his hands through my hair again, “I… I don’t see why not if it’s only for a short while.”

I allowed a single tear to slip from my closed eyes.

“…Gracias.”

”I’m just saying, Ron. I think we should have him more time to get used to Sirius.”

“It’s his birthday tomorrow, ‘Relia. Let him do what he wants.”

”Yeah, and I already got him the best gift of all time. Seriously, you try to top getting his godfather out of prison. God, I’m amazing. I should write to the pope to see about getting canonized pre-mortem.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Canonized?”

“Do wizards not have Catholicism? Wait, you should know what a saint is. There’s St. Mungo’s— wait, why is the hospital named after the patron saint of Glasgow? And I’ve heard—“

”Oh, we have Catholics. We don’t really believe or anything, but mum’s account cousin is Anglican.”

” Anglicans are very distinctly not Catholic,” I pointed out.

Ron looked as though I’d told him the moon was made of ice cream.

”Is there really a difference?”

I suddenly wished for a written copy of Hogwarts School of Prayers and Miracles—

God damn it! 

Why the hell could I remember that of all things?! In what way was that beneficial?!

”Agh, we’re way off-topic. My point is, today will be Harry’s first full day with Sirius. Is it really all that wise to have him spend the night tomorrow then go shopping?”

Ron shrugged and slumped down on his bedroom floor next to me, our backs now both resting on the side of his bed. “He’d need to get his school supplies eventually.”

I lightly jabbed his ribs, “You know damn good and well that’s not what I’m talking about.”

My favorite friend merely shrugged once more before fixing his baby blues on my right hand. Thankfully, none of the Weasley’s who weren’t present had noticed the scar on it.

”I’m… I’m sorry,” his thin, freckled face was flushed, “I shouldn’t have suggested you try it out.”

I mock gagged and flicked his reddened ear, “None of that. Curiosity and my own ego would have led me to try it out eventually. I’d argue that it’s a good thing I did it when I did. Who knows what would’ve happened if I didn’t have you all there.”

I leaned into Ron’s side and cracked my knuckles for no particular reason other than I wanted to.

”…I do miss Harry, though. It’ll be nice to see him. I hope he’s happy. That’s all I want for him, ya know? For him to be safe and happy.”

”If he’s not, we could always steal him. Dad’s got a flying car in the shed. We could get Fred and George to fly us to London,” he said with the confidence and authority of a thousand Oxford professors.

A snort escaped me. And here I thought Slytherin was smartening him up.

Good God, the things these kids would be getting up to without me there to stop them.

“Your mom would kill you. And if she didn’t, Hermione would. And if Hermione didn’t…“

I paused when I noticed him staring at me.

”What’s up?”

”…You didn’t get to shower last night, did you? You really weren’t kidding about your hair getting greasy. You actually sort of look like Snape now. You could fry fish— OW!”

Leave it to an adolescent boy to kill the vibe.

Oh, well. At least tomorrow Harry and Hermione would have to deal with him alongside me.

I don’t think I’d ever get over just how bewitching Harry Potter’s eyes were.

Each time his eyes met mine was like getting the wind knocked out of my lungs. A pair of fine jade earrings befitting that of royalty. Getting a split-second view of them was a blessing all on its own. The way they seemed to just peer into your naked soul…

With those eyes, it was easy to see why Lily Evans had been as cherished as she was.

The corner of the now twelve-year-old boy’s mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly before bursting out into a full-on grin.

”Aurelia!”

Before I could stop myself I threw my arms around him, pulling him into a tight, sisterly embrace. I didn’t really care that I was getting Floo powder all over my clothes. They were all black anyway.

“Harry! Look at you! You’ve gotten taller! And your clothes! They fit you! Ahh, lemme have a good look,” I held his chin in my hand and I examined his face before smooching both cheeks. “Happy birthday!”

”Ugh! Aurelia!” He wiped his face with the back of his hand and grumbled.

”You missed me,” I lightly shoulder-checked him.

He rolled his eyes, “You’re better in theory than in real life.”

I gasped and stumbled backward, “You haven’t seen me in months and you’re already attempting to murder me. You’re lucky it’s your birthday, Potter.”

“Oi! Quit hogging Harry!”

Ron and Harry did that weird head-nod thing guys do.

Hermione was next to give the birthday boy a hug. 

“Where is everyone?” He asked after spitting out a stay Hermione hair.

”Hermione didn’t want you to feel immediately overwhelmed,” Ron explained, “so everybody’s out back in the garden waiting.”

”Hey, where’s Sirius? Shouldn’t he have come through already?”

As if on cue, the fireplace erupted with green flames and a figure emerged.

Only, it wasn’t Sirius Black…

My eyes widened as I examined the tall, gangly man with patchwork robes and a heavily scarred frame.

”…Remus Lupin?”

The man blinked slowly at me, taking in my features as well. 

"...Ah. You must be Aurelia. Sirius wasn't lying— your resemblance to her truly is striking. You've got a bit of someone else in you, however... It's on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite place it..." he paused before sending me a quizzical look, "Now just how do you know my name?"

Chapter Text

“Er— that’s a very good question, Mr. Lupin, haha…”

Everyone raised an eyebrow at me. Harry in particular seemed rather put-out.

“I didn’t even meet him till yesterday. How could you possibly…”

Before I could start profusely sweating, a savior came tumbling through the fireplace.

Yes! A distraction!

“Sirius Black, you sexy beast!” I exclaimed with pure glee.

Sirius, who looked astronomically better than the last time I saw him, wiped the little bit of Floo Powder from his cheek and grinned at me while everyone else only seemed to grow more confused.

“Been ages since anyone’s greeted me like that,” he paused and looked at me with a maudlin expression, “Sorry, love, but I’m afraid you’re a little too young for me. I’m old enough to be your father, after all.”

The silence that followed that comment was… to say it was awkward would be a massive understatement. We all just kinda stood around looking at each other before Hermione cleared her throat.

“We mustn’t be rude and keep everyone waiting.”

“Yeah,” said Ron, “Mum made a cake, but Aurelia got up early to make you treacle tart. Almost took my hand off when I reached in for some.”

I ignored the heat rising to my face, “Well that’s because it’s only for the birthday boy! Treacle tart’s his favorite dessert, after all. And calm down, I made you conchas earlier.”

Sirius and Remus got this nostalgic look on their faces.

“How’d you know it was my favorite?” asked a slightly baffled Harry, who was completely oblivious to the look the two men were giving him.

Hermione rolled her baby-doe eyes as we made our way to the garden, “Harry. We eat meals together all the time. How could we not notice?”

“It was Lily’s favorite too,” Remus said softly.

Harry perked up, “Really?”

I was glad Harry had someone to tell him about Lily and James, but I couldn’t help the sharp pain in my heart from seeing him get excited over something as simple as that.

I might’ve only gotten a decade with Mom, but at least I knew her favorite sweet was empanadas de piña without anyone having to tell me.

“Aurelia, what did you get Harry?” Hermione asked after our protagonist friend finished opening his gifts from everyone.

“His godfather out of prison,” I said before taking a bite of the chocolate cake Mrs. Weasley made.

She, as well as a few others, frowned.

“That can’t be all,” Percy said with disbelief.

But before I could point out that getting him a better home life was actually a lot of work on my end, Harry stepped up to defend me.

“As far as I’m concerned, Aurelia got me the most brilliant gift of all time.”

“Does that mean I’m off the hook for your next few birthdays?” I joked.

The jade-eyed boy swallowed his cake before giving me the biggest smile I’d ever seen on him, “You’re good for the next ten years or so. Gotta give you time top Sirius, after all.”

It took everything in me not to make a joke about the double-entendre that was certainly not lost on the twins, who were both sniggering into their pumpkin juice.

“He is indeed a gift to humanity,” Remus quipped.

“If Harry really wants another present, I could serenade him or something. It’s a little late in the day for it, but I could totally bust out ‘Las Mañanitas’ if he’s interested.”

“Take her up on it, Harry. That’s how Daisy woke me up on my twenty-first,” Sirius said with a smile. “Speaking of Daisy…”

“Estas son las mañanitas…” I belted out to avoid that particular conversation, “que cantaba el Rey David…”

“You didn’t tell him?” I heard Hermione hiss to Harry.

“Who’s Ray David?” Ginny asked quietly.

“Hoy por ser día de tu santo, te las cantamos a ti…”

“It didn’t seem like a good time!” He whispered back.

“Despierta, Harry, despierta…”

“What an interesting song…” Mrs. Weasley commented.

“Mira que ya amaneció…”

When I eventually made it to the end of the song I was met with a round of applause.

“I haven’t the foggiest what any of that meant, but nice singing, Prince.”

“Thanks, Fred.”

“I’m George—“

“I literally cannot stress how much I don’t care at this point. Wear a name tag.”

I stiffened slightly in surprise when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Good on you! You’ve got Daisy’s pipes. Well, you’re a bit pitchier, but you are rather young…”

“Aurelia! Why don’t you sing something else for Harry?” Hermione suggested before Sirius could steer the conversation back to my dead mom.

Harry nodded rapidly, “Oh, yes. Nothing I’d like more!”

Thankfully, Sirius seemed none the wiser but I couldn’t not notice the narrowing of Remus Lupin’s eyes.

“Can it be in English? I’ve never heard you sing in anything other than Spanish,” asked Ron.

Without thinking much of the consequences, I burst out into the first song I could think of.

Unfortunately for the timeline, that song was Mambo No. 5.

“A little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side, a little bit of Rita is all I need…”

Everyone was thoroughly confused, but Mr. Weasley in particular seemed to enjoy it.

“A little bit of Sandra in the sun, a little bit of Mary all night long…” I heard him mutter later as he ate his cake, much to the chagrin of his wife.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that song before,” said Hermione.

“Wait ‘til ‘99. Won’t be able to escape it after that…” I said under my breath.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get that bloody song out of my head. I take it all back. Please stick to Spanish,” begged my closest ginger friend.

Fear radiated off of Ron as I gave him a Cheshire Cat grin. Already fucked up the music timeline with Lou Bega. What’s one more song before it’s time?

“Aserejé, ja, de je, de jebe tu de jebere…”

As I started singing more of my favorite (first) childhood songs, I briefly wondered if I had an obligation as a Chicana to save national treasure Selena Quintanilla’s life.

“Wait, I thought you were spending the night then we’d all go shopping in the morning?”

Hermione, who was about to be apparated home by Mr. Weasley, frowned in confusion. “No? I told Ron I’d be here for Harry’s birthday then we’d all meet up in Diagon Alley on Wednesday. I’ve got lots to do with my parents until then.”

“You did? Are you certain?”

I sighed, “Don’t bother, Ron."

You may be wondering, ‘Aurelia, shouldn’t you have known the fateful shopping trip of second-year wasn’t immediately after Harry’s birthday?’

And to that I say, ‘Screw you, you try remembering every single god damn detail without occasionally mixing up the books and the movies.’

Seriously. The Wednesday after Harry’s birthday. How was I supposed to remember that? I got here nearly thirteen years ago!

I looked over at Harry and sighed, “You’re at least staying, right? I’m not sure how I feel about you spending a lot of time at… at… Wait, what the fuck?”

“Aurelia! Language!”

I ignored Hermione.

“Why can’t I remember where you and Sirius are probably living?”

“How do you…”

“Oh! You mentioned it a while ago. It was…” It was now Ron’s turn to a confused frown.

It suddenly clicked all at once.

“The Fidelius Charm.”

I jumped as a hand suddenly came down on the top of my head.

“Clever girl! Are we positive you’re not in Ravenclaw?”

I glanced up to find Sirius playfully stroking my hair.

“Sorry. I’m as slithery a serpent as they come, unfortunately.”

“I do believe the real question here is ‘how did you know where they’d be staying in the first place?’”

I shrugged at Lupin who appeared out of fucking nowhere, “I don’t know, maybe because it’s the Black ancestral home and my grandfather is a Black? And if you’re still curious about how I knew your name earlier, Harry has a scrapbook of his parents that has some of their friends with him. You were in a few photos. I knew your name because of your guys’ rivalry with Snape back in the day.”

Remus winced, “You know about that?”

I reached over and patted him on the arm, “It’s okay, buddy. It was a long time ago.”

Remus Lupin was another character I was never particularly fond of. I didn’t know much about my past life, but whenever I thought of Remus abandoning Teddy and Tonks I got weirdly bitter. And I mean more bitter than when I think about how shitty Snape is. Words cannot describe how personally I appear to be taking that scene. (Was I just doomed to a fate of absent fathers?)

Anyway, I didn’t like him all that much for that but honestly, the guy was too pathetic at times to not at least feel some sympathy for.

“I’m sorry, did your grandfather was a Black?”

“God damn it, Sirius,” I groaned, “can you save your questions about my parentage until it’s not Harry’s birthday?”

Harry, to his credit, didn’t seem all that offended by the situation. “After Hermione leaves, you two should talk. It’s better to get it out of the way…”

I groaned again and shoved down my urge to curse my mom for being so god damn beloved.

After I said my see-you-soons to Hermione, I took Sirius back outside (Remus had decided to head back to his abode) and sat with him beneath a large tree in the garden. The enchanted lights adorning the tree reminded me vaguely of fireflies.

We sat in silence for a few seconds before silver stars hesitantly met black beads. At that moment, I could've sworn his eyes were glowing more than the moon above.

“You… you aren’t Marius’ illegitimate child, are you?”

I couldn’t help the small amount of bile that crept up my throat.

“Did Daisy leave me for my married, elderly, squib uncle? Is that what you’ve led me away from everyone else to tell me?”

“Ew! No! Marius is my great-grandfather, you sicko! Ugh, it’ll take me weeks to get that image out of my head… look. The reason I brought you out here is… There’s no easy way to say this…”

As I struggled to find the right words, Sirius’ once more began to stroke my hair. This time, however, it appeared to be in an attempt to calm me down.

“Aurelia, Daisy and I split long before I went to Azkaban. I’m a grown man. I can handle hearing that she’s moved on—“

Well, moved on to the next life, that’s for sure.

“—I just want to know how she’s been getting on all these years. I’m not going to go and wreck your family. I’ve got to do right by Harry. Rest assured, breaking up Daisy’s marriage isn’t anywhere near my to-do list. I… I’d like to be her friend again, is all.”

He continues to absentmindedly run his fingers through my ebony locks, “In my darkest moments in Azkaban, one of the few things that kept me alive was the thought of Daisy’s smile. A smile that I see you’ve inherited.”

His tender, saccharine expression damn near broke me. Oh my god. He wasn’t just carrying a torch. This man had been hauling around a fucking pyre for over thirteen years. She wasn’t just an old flame, she was an entire inferno. The sheer amount of pure love in his polished-sterling eyes was enough to make my own water.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, carefully wiping away a stray tear.

“She… she... Last summer, in June, she was… the other driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and lost control of his car… she normally would’ve taken the bus but she didn’t that night… Sirius, I’m so sorry. She’s… she’s gone.”

The handkerchief fluttered out of his hands as he froze.

“What? No… no… that’s a cruel joke to make, Aurelia.”

I grabbed his hand and forced his gaze back to mine, ignoring the onslaught of tears. “Sirius, I lived with her and my grandmother in California until she died. I’m sorry.”

“She… she never knew it wasn’t me. She… You and Harry are all that’s left…”

My heart bled for Sirius Black as I threw my arms around his shaking figure.

“Mom never dated anyone after you, you know. Me? I’m the product of a one-night-stand with a man she hated.”

I took a deep breath, “You were the last man she ever loved. And she might not have known about your innocence in life, but she’s looking down on you with James and Lily fondly. You know how she was. You’ve been so strong and she is up there and so proud of you. Don’t doubt that for a minute, okay? She’s proud of you.”

I had no idea the circumstances surrounding their break-up, but I did know what kind of person my mother was. Kind and forgiving to a fault. Unless he slept with our cousin or something, I knew that she truly was smiling down on him.

“Is there truly no chance that you’re mine? Are you absolutely sure?” He mumbled into my shoulder.

I felt a pang of… something stab at my heart. I couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact emotion I was feeling, but it wasn’t pleasant in the slightest. Was it empathy? It was certainly close.

Dying before making amends with a loved one… Out of everything else in my current life, this particular concept seemed to strike some type of cord with me. A powerful one, at that.

But what would I know of such things? Was there something I wasn’t remembering? Surely not. I was— am— eighteen. Nowhere near enough time alive for that brand of regret.

With a deep sigh and a lot of emotions that weren’t even my own to feel, I squeezed him tightly.

There was no way I could tell this poor man who exactly sired me. Not at this moment in time. I almost wanted to lie to him to make him feel better, but I knew it would only harm him further.

“My eyes, Sirius. They’re as black as your name. Hazel and grey don’t make that color. I’m sorry.”

I could feel him gulp before he returned the squeeze.

“Who… Whose eyes do you have?”

“…Do you happen to have a wand yet?” 

He blinked rapidly in confusion. “Not one of my own, no.”

I got up, brushed the grass and dirt off my clothes, then held out my scarred hand to him. “I've got her wand in my trunk upstairs. Test it out if you'd like. Gotta warn you though, it’ll bite if it doesn't like you. But, hey, we’ll have cool matching scars in that case.”

“I’m sorry your birthday ended on a note like that,” I said as I nuzzled into (a surprisingly touch-tolerant) Harry’s side. The three of us that were left were currently all lounging around in Ron’s very orange room, unbeknownst to Mrs. Weasley.

He shrugged before adjusting the new glasses his godfather had gifted him, “Honestly, this has been the best birthday of my life. Besides, Sirius’ll pick me up after Diagon Alley.”

“Yeah, but literally what was the point of moving in with him now if you’re only gonna spend like, two days with him before dropping you off at the Weasleys for a whole ass business week? Don’t get me wrong, the sooner you’re out of the Dursleys, the better…”

“The poor bloke just found out the bird he’s fancied for years is dead. He’s probably drinking himself into Tuesday,” Ron pointed out.

Harry shifted before sheepishly running his fingers through his hair, “The place we’re staying in has a lot of dangerous artifacts. Sirius didn’t want us to live there in the first place, but with Voldemort out there… Dumbledore thought it best since there are so many layers of protection— even without that charm he put on. Sirius isn’t happy about it, but… It’s the safest place for me now that I’m not living with my aunt.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed, “How the bloody hell could that place have been safe for you?!”

“Blood protection from Lily’s sacrifice,” I answered for Harry, who looked thoroughly stunned that I knew that. 

“How—”

“Okay, for the sake of time, any time some new lore about your life gets dropped on you, flip a coin. Those are your chances that I already know about it.”

Actually, the odds were astronomically higher than that, but he didn’t need to know.

”Seriously, you need to— ¡MIERDA!”

The boys both jumped at my exclamation.

”Shh! Keep your voice down! Mum’ll hang me by my toes if she sees you in here this late!”

I threw myself around and grabbed Harry by the shoulders, leaving my forehead in to his. His glasses were knocked askew by how close we were.

”Au—Aurelia!”

“Harry! This is important! Has Sirius dismissed Kreacher?”

”Wha—”

”Answer me!” I shook him, “Did Sirius Black dismiss Kreacher the House-Elf?”

”N-No? He’s keeping him until he’s done cleaning out the house! He’s not allowed near me! How do you even—”

”Flip a fucking coin!”

I all but threw him off my hands and got up to start pacing around the room. Fucking hell, I’d been so caught up on my own bullshit yet again and failed to remember a huge fucking problem.

Okay, okay. I need to chill out.

I took a deep breath and bit the tip of my thumb’s painted black nail. I just needed to figure out a way in to… whatever the fuck that place is called before Sirius inevitably completely loses his shit with Kreacher and chucks a sock at him. Since there wasn’t an Order of the Phoenix hanging around talking about super secret stuff, there was no reason for Sirius to keep him on. 

That meant if I didn’t haul ass, I’d lose track of the locket horcrux. And I couldn’t afford to lose any advantage— especially one as big as that.

”Aurelia? Aurelia! What’s wrong? What does the Black family house-elf have to do anything? What are you plotting?”

I let out a sardonic laugh. “Harry, mijo, could you do me a favor and tell me the name of the place you’re staying? I need to go there urgently. Like, if I don’t go right this fucking instant it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“No!” Harry snapped at me. “Not unless you tell me what that was all about!”

”Keep it down!” Ron hissed in a very Hermione-like fashion.

Harry repeated his demand, only quieter.

”Harry, this is important! Have I ever been wrong about anything important?”

”I’m not saying anything until you tell us.”

”Stubborn child!” I took another deep breath before scrambling to think of a plausible lie.

”I… I need to tell Sirius about Snape. And I need to do it right away. It’s better for him to go on one big bender than a bunch scattered out, don’t you think? It’s not your birthday anymore, so I should go now. I’ll be a wreck all week if I don’t!”

The boys’ shared expression seemed to scream “bullshit” at me.

”…Pretty please?”

“It’s the middle of the night!” Harry stage-whispered. “You’re always doing things like this! You just run off and do stuff without telling us! Or worse— you lie about it until you have no choice but to confess!”

”Have I not always had your best interest in mind?” I countered. “Were it not for me, you’d be miserable in Surrey right now! You’d have stayed with the Dursley’s until your coming-of-age and Ron would’ve had a grown man sleeping next to him for years!”

“Both of you shut it!” Ron threw his hands on our mouths before we could fight any longer.

”Aurelia, you can’t just throw that in our faces every time we hold you to promise you made about not keeping major secrets from us. But Harry, you kind of owe her one for the whole Sirius thing. So I say let her go just this once. It’s better to get it over with now so she doesn’t hold it over your head for the rest of the year.”

I placed one hand over my heart and the other on Ron’s shoulder, “You’re a real one, manito.”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this completely,” he glared, “I don’t owe you anything.”

I unintentionally did my best stag-in-the-headlights impression.

”Er— remember how I kept the majority of Slytherin off your back last year…”

Harry’s eyes snapped wide-open, “What?”

Ron ignored Harry, “We both know you’ve more than likely run out of good will with our housemates. I wouldn’t be shocked if you’ve made more than a few enemies after the trial.”

“Pft. Please,” I said with more unearned confidence than Cormac McLaggen and literally any politician combined, “I’m still our head of house’s daughter. They wouldn’t mess with me or anyone under my protection.”

“I don’t need your protection or anyone else’s,” he said sharply. “I can handle myself.”

”Oh, give up your pride on this one. If anyone fucks with you or Harry or Hermione, I’ll put the fear of me in to them. We’re getting older, Ron. Very soon it won’t stop at just strawberry jam. You’re welcome for resolving that, by the way.”

”Strawberry jam?” Harry muttered in confusion.

Ron’s nostrils flared with anger, his face heating red as his hair. “I’ve always had your back. Whenever anyone questioned you or tried to fight you on something, I stood up for you. I did it just now, for Merlin’s sake! When will you stop treating us like we’re children in your charge?”

“When you stop being children in my charge! At least I’m being upfront about it this time! And before you go on about us all taking on the world together, know that if I really needed your help, I’d ask!”

“That’s the thing, though,” Harry said quietly before Ron could rebuttal. “I don’t think you would. I think if you thought you couldn’t handle something, getting us involved is the very last thing you’d ever do. You’d go to Snape before any of us. You’ve already proven that.”

I flinched before stumbling through my next words, “Are we seriously bringing up old stuff that you already forgave me for?”

Blood rose to my face as I inwardly cursed myself. I was being a hypocrite and acting like a child, but I couldn’t back down now. It’d be admitting defeat.

The resident Chosen One sighed.

“I understand, Aurelia. I do. I know why you have to play both sides and you do everything out of loyalty and love and all that… I just wish your love wasn’t so...”

I clenched my fists, “‘So…’ what? What is that supposed to mean?! What is my love and why is it apparently such a huge burden?”

Harry sighed again, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want us all to argue anymore. I can’t stand it.”

Christ on a stick, Harry sounded like the defeated child of a couple that should have divorced before they were ever married.

Ron glared at me again, “I won’t step up for you next time. After this, you best get better at sneaking about. Because we won’t let you keep us in the dark. Not anymore.”

I bit my lip and counted to ten in an attempt to calm down before I did or said anything that I’d regret, “Guys… I’m sorry. I’m… I’m balancing a lot right now, and I just… I don’t want anything bad to happen to any of you. I’m afraid, okay? I’m afraid that if I take my eyes off of y’all for more than a minute… I… Everything I do, I do for the ones I care about. I’m shoving down all of my own bullshit to make sure everyone goes well.”

”We never asked you to do that,” Harry pointed out.

”…Can we please talk about this another time? We can get ice cream or something with Hermione on Wednesday.”

Harry scratched the back of his hand, “Even if I wanted to, I can’t. Dumbledore’s the Secret Keeper. Our home isn’t even connected to the Floo Network. We took Remus’.”

Ah, that’s right. Knowing the Secret didn’t allow you to share said Secret. That was the whole point.

”…Fuckin’ A.”

Chapter Text

He fiddled the maple wand between his fingers as he lied draped across the tufted chaise lounge in the parlour. He reached over to take another shot of the golden spirit he’d been nursing for the past three and a half hours. It has been one of the first things he’d searched for after his properties had been restored.

Sirius smiled softly at the bottle, over half gone. His memories of life before Azkaban had been rather hazy at times, but the ones of Daisy, James, and little Harry were for the most part untouched thanks to his dog form.

It had been the first night he and Daisy moved in to their cozy flat after months of communicating solely through letters. Her curls had been wild and untamed as she rummaged through her trunk and offered him a nip of tequila. He had declined, recounting the one time he’d had a shot at a muggle pub. He was certainly no lightweight nor stranger to alcohol, but that one shot alone left him feeling as though his stomach would be better off if he’d slammed an entire bottle of industrial Skele-Gro.

He relayed this information to her and was shocked to see her roll her eyes at him. She’d typically been the type to fuss and coo over those types of things, albeit at times sarcastically.

“What color was it?” She asked, her soft Latin accent nearly driving him wild.

“Clearer than a crystal ball.”

She snorted at him, the first time he’d ever seen her do so. Then again, they’d not spent much time in person together so they were each experiencing a lot of firsts.

“Well gee, no wonder! I bet you just threw it back too, didn’t you?”

“That is usually what one does with a shot, yes.”

Daisy snorted again. He found the sound to be unreasonably adorable.

She pulled out a glass bottle of honey-colored liquid. “There’s two types of tequila— silver and gold. Silver is pure and not typically drank as-is. Gold goes down much smoother. That’s what you wanna savor and sip on. This stuff only comes from México, did you know? That means I know more than you, so you can stop looking so concerned.”

He eyed the glass that his girlfriend had poured for him. She ignored him and raised her own.

“Salud.”

“Salud,” he repeated before hesitantly taking a sip.

“Merlin’s beard…” he muttered in shock before taking another, larger sip.

He couldn’t tell what was sweeter— the tequila or her bell-like laughter.

“See? What did I tell you? You should trust me more… mi amor.” She let out another giggle, feeling awfully clever.

“Say that again,” he begged before he could stop himself.

She took another sip before leaning over towards his reddened ear, “Mi amor…” Daisy whispered. She planted a slow kiss to his cheek, leaving behind a red stain in the shape of her heart-shaped lips. He gently caught her chin with his finger and pulled her closer…

Sirius rapidly shook his head in an attempt to bring himself back to the present. It probably wasn’t very respectful to the dead to have such… thoughts about them. He swallowed another shot of tequila as he remembered the feeling of Daisy’s calloused hands caressing his face… She often lightly teased him about his own soft hands.

“You’ve got the hands of gentle maiden. Never done a day labor in your life.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Why would I need to? That’s what magic’s for.”

Daisy looked at him with an emotion he hadn’t been able to decipher at the time, “Not everyone is born with the blessing of magic, mi amor. I’ve the softest hands in my family, you know. You should see my Papá’s or Tio Luis’… One hard from many years of farm work, the other from working on cars he could only dream of being able to afford… Even Mamá’s hands are hard like stone… You don’t realize how precious our gift is…”

At the time, he hadn’t known how to respond to her. In fact, he was fairly certain he’d changed the subject to James and Lily’s engagement right after that.

Daisy and Lily, despite both being muggleborns, had such different views on magic. Come to think of it, they hadn’t had much in common at all. Daisy had gotten on more with the other lads much more than the redhead, though it would be a lie to say they particularly disliked each other.

James had easily accepted her as a sister. Remus had kept a polite distance between them until she’d all but bombarda -ed her way though his walls and in to his heart. Peter…

Fuck that arsehole. He didn’t deserve to be thought about any more.

Sirius clutched Daisy’s— well, he supposed it was his wand now. He hadn’t wanted to take it from her little dark-haired clone— Merlin, he wasn’t even sure how to fully process Aurelia at all— but it had bonded with him.

Aurelia’s jaw dropped as not only was he completely unharmed, gold sparks erupted from the tip and his whole being was filled with warmth.

“I… I didn’t think it’d actually… It chose you, but wouldn’t even let me wield it?” She mumbled in a daze.

He felt sorry for the young girl, but the fact that Daisy’s wand had chosen him— Sirius Black— and not even her own daughter…

He knew he ought to feel ashamed of his giddiness, but he couldn’t fully bring himself to.

“I…” She paused before letting out a dejected sigh, “Well, I knew this was a possibility. Do you happen to know what the core is? All I know is that it’s maple wood.”

“Thunderbird tail feather,” he replied automatically. Daisy had always found it utterly hilarious that her wand’s core was the same as her house’s symbol. It had been grounds for bragging rights when she attended Ilvermorny.

“Pfft. Really? That’s fucking hilarious.”

He narrowed his gaze at the twelve-year-old. “You swear quite a bit. I know that didn’t come from Daisy.”

Aurelia laughed sheepishly before her black eyes widened, “Wait, she didn’t cuss back then either? I always assumed she stopped swearing after I was born so I wouldn’t pick up any bad words.”

Sirius kissed the handle of his new wand before giving her a ghost of a smile, “She kept a swear jar in our flat. She’s always hated foul language. After a fortnight, she used the money in the jar to buy me a book on etiquette.”

The young girl laughed nostalgically, “Yeah, that’s Mom. No doubt about it. Abuelito was the same way, weirdly enough. It’s Abuelita who swears like a sailor that’s subbed his toe…”

It was nice to see that Aurelia was as close to Carmela and Alejandro Rodriguez as Daisy had been— although it was highly probable that Alejandro had passed given what Aurelia said about her living situation prior to Hogwarts.

“Mom never dated anyone after you, you know. Me? I’m the product of a one-night-stand with a man she hated.”

Daisy hadn’t exactly been a hateful person. Then again, she also hadn’t been the type have one-night-stands.

“That’s a little uncalled for, Lily. I don’t see anything wrong with that kind of behavior, so long as it’s done safely and enthusiastically.”

Lily huffed, “I’m not saying there’s inherently anything immoral about it, I’m only saying I could never do anything like… that.”

The honey-tanned woman took a sip of her coffee (she famously disliked tea), “I understand. Personally, I require a great deal of passion and romancing myself.”

“Then why’d you start dating an Englishman?”

“The real question is, then why’d you start dating Sirius?”

Remus and James snickered at their own quips.

Daisy dramatically threw her arm over her forehead, “Ugh, I know!”

Sirius grumbled into his chocolate biscuit as everyone laughed at him.

“Aww, mi amor, no need to pout,” she leaned in to his chest and kissed his jaw.

He wrapped her in his arms and buried his face in her chestnut curls. Her hair smelt vaguely of her amber spice perfume.

Lily and the boys began to gag.

Who the hell could Aurelia’s father be?

He’d bet his left arm that she hadn’t been unfaithful. Daisy’d never do anything like that. Perhaps…

Could…

Could Aurelia have been conceived on that night?

Ah. That was it. The dates lined up rather nicely.

“Fucking hell…” he let out a derisive laugh. “Can’t accuse her of being unfaithful in that case, can I? Suppose that one’s on me…”

He returned to his bottle of tequila.

Chapter Text

"...Wow, guys! This ice cream is delicious! I haven't had anything mango flavored in forever! You know, my favorite treat is this thing called chamoyada—" I rambled on to distract from the painfully awkward mood that had loomed over the boys and me for the past few days. Hermione, bless her, had been trying to get to the bottom of it for the past thirteen-three minutes, but none of us really seemed up to elaborate. Although, the ice cream was actually pretty fucking bomb. It also served as a reminder of why I was doing everything. There was just no way I could allow Florean Fortescue— a man with a goldy gift such as this— to die for no reason.

Prior to this, the Weasleys and Harry had met up with the Grangers at Gringotts Bank while I'd made my way to the ice cream shop with everyone's orders. Marius and Elsinore had Tipsy slip a small, expanding pouch that had a rather generous amount of sickles and galleons so there'd been no need for me to go with (although I did manage to exchange pleasantries with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.) We were due to meet up with the others in a little under an hour. 

"Aurelia—"

"—and oh god, you guys just have to try elote next summer. When Tio Luis and the grill meet, sparks fly! I'm sure your parental units wouldn't mind y'all tagging along with me to Cali for a week or two. Ron, your mom didn't seem all that opposed when I mentioned the other day.”

“Aurelia—”

“—Lord knows how much Abuelita wants to meet Harry. And ugh, Hermione, you made too good of an impression on Abuelita. I’m pretty sure she loves you more than me now—"

"AURELIA!" Hermione was fuming at this point. "What on Earth happened after I left? I was gone three days!"

"Just a misunderstanding--"

"Oh, is that what we're calling you going back on your promise?" said Ron snarkily.

Hermione paused for a moment before realizing what the redhead had been referring to. 

"Already?! It hasn't even been a full three months!"

"I said I was sorry! This past year has been really hard on me! I'm doing my best! I... I just don't want to lose anyone else. What's so wrong about that?" 

The three of them softened considerably at me like I knew they would. It felt so wrong to do this, but I knew there was no other way that would be as effective.

Mamá in heaven, please forgive your daughter for what she's about to do...

"Ever since my mom died," I sniffed, "and I was taken from the rest of my family, I've been scared to lose anyone else that matters to me. You guys are the only best friends I've ever had. You're family to me. The thought of anything happening to any of you..." 

I wiped the crocodile tears forming with the back of my hand. It wasn't technically a complete lie, but oh god was that such a dick move. I didn't want to think how disappointed Mom would be if she knew I was using her and the family as an excuse for my actions. Actually, considering that there was a for-sure afterlife in this universe, she probably did know. 

Fuck, did I just make my beloved mother start weeping out of shame in heaven of all places?

That's it. If there’s a hell, I’ve just been damned to eternity there.

I internally cringed with guilt as Hermione placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, "Nothing is going to happen to us. You're right. We're best friends. I might not have had many friends prior to any of you, but I do know that friendships means we are all there for each other. If you're that set on 'protecting' us, then you need to let us protect you too. It's only fair, after all."

An arm was thrown around my shoulder in true Ron fashion, "What she said."

Harry smiled at me for the first time in days. "We'll get through this together."

"Together."

I AM THE HUMAN EMBODIMENT OF A FLAMING PILE OF GARBAGE

I glanced over towards the direction of Flourish and Blotts. Draco and Lucius would soon be making their way to the bookshop. What was next was absolutely critical. I'd already potentially lost track of one Horcrux, I couldn't afford to lose another.

"...I've got one more place in mind before we get our books. Better to get that done sooner than later."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Didn't you say Snape had all of your books set aside for you?"

This was true. He'd owled me not that long ago to let me know that everything would be waiting for me when I go to Hogwarts. It was one of the few, few perks that came with having a professor as a parent. Shout out to Snape for not being completely useless.

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean that you don't need your supplies. And didn't I just say I had another stop? Speaking of which, Ron, sweetheart, for the love of god do not tell your parents where it was exactly I took you."

"What?" He asked as we all left the patio of Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. "Why?"

"If you're so dead-set on holding your own against the rest of Slytherin, I can't in good conscious allow you to go about waving a wand that isn't even bonded to you."

Ron froze, which really wasn't a good idea considering everyone and their mother was out school shopping. I grabbed his sleeve and dragged him along with the others.

"Aurelia-- you can't-- don't joke about that."

"I don't think she is," said Harry with a grin.

"Of course. Why would I mess with you on that? Just... don't let your parents know quite yet. We both know how they'd take that."

It was good of me to be the one walking him because this kid looked like he was about to cry tears of joy. "I'm getting my own wand..."

It was the same as the original: fourteen inches long, willow wood, and a core of unicorn hair. 

I don’t any of us had ever seen Ron smile so brightly.

GILDEROY LOCKHART

will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.

Oh great. This asshole. I knew the right thing to do would be to expose him at some point, but honestly, was he even significant enough to bother? I suppose he did try to kill Ron, Harry, and Ginny… 

Oh! Exposing him would be the perfect way to strengthen my bond with the Golden Trio and get them to trust me more! If I convince them to “look into” Lockhart with me, we can expose him as a fraud together! 

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed.

"I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harrassed-looking wizard stood at the door,
saying, "Calmly, please, ladies… Don't push, there… mind the books, now…”

We all squeezed inside the shop. They grabbed their spellbooks and we made our way towards the non-orphans parents.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute…”

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

God, this man was such a tool. He was nowhere near hot enough to justify this amount of arrogance. Sirius totally could pull it off though. Wait, was it no longer appropriate to think Sirius was hot? 

Would it be even less appropriate to make a joke about my mom and me having similar tastes? 

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

“Out of the way, there,” he snarled at Ton, moving back to get a better shot. “This is for the Daily Prophet—“

“Big deal,” said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron— and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he kept to his feet and positively shouted, “It can’t be Harry Potter?”

The excited crowd parted like the Red Sea as Lockhart yoinked Harry to the front with him. My poor bespectacled friend’s face was redder than the Gryffindor common room. I coughed as the purple smoke from the rapid camera made its way over to the rest of us plebs.

Lockhart began his pompous speech about how he’d be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and blah blah blah, did this guy ever shut up?

It was a good thing Sirius wasn’t here because he’d be getting dragged right back to Azkaban for annihilating Gilderoy Lockhart for handing his precious godson like that.

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering under their weight, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.

“You have these,” Harry mumbled to her, tipping the books into the cauldron. “I’ll buy my own—“

”Bet you loved that, didn’t you Potter?”

That one bit where Draco is introduced in “A Very Potter Musical” kept playing in my head. It was taking everything in me to not go, “Did somebody say Draco Malfoy?”

"Famous Harry Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page.”

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Ginny.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Malfoy.

“Oh, hello Malfoy,” Ron said cooly. “Surprised to see you here.”

“Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley. I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron went as red, but before he could throw hands I kicked his shins. Draco had yet to notice my presence. Which was weird, considering I had the most melanin out of everyone else in a ten-foot radius. I knew he wasn’t ignoring me because it was Draco Malfoy of all people. If he was upset with me and saw me with the Weasleys I would never hear the end of it.

”Ron!” Said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

”Well, well, well— Arthur Weasley.” said Lucius Malfoy like a fucking cartoon villain.

The real Lucius Malfoy was… well, for starters, his hair wasn’t long and flowing like in the movies— which was an absolute tragedy. He literally just looked like an older Draco. Same pointy, pale features. Same chilly grey eyes— oh, they were definitely the same eyes, only Lucius’ had a bit more… I wanna say bite? Yeah, one look at him and you just knew he was Asshole Supreme. Besides him being a bit blonder, this man really said “copy and paste.”

I blinked impassively as Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy exchanged insults then eventually fists. Honestly, if it weren’t for this being how Ginny gets the diary, I’d have put a stop to this before it even started. Fisticuffs really were not my thing. Though admittedly, I did admire Mr. Weasley for straight-up cold-cocking a wizard Nazi.

Hagrid was wadding toward them through a sea of books. In an instant, he pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley has a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.

"Here, girl— take your book — it's the best your father can give you—" Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the bookshop.

As Hagrid and Mrs. Weasley chastised Mr. Weasley for brawling with Lucius, I snatched both books out of Ginny's cauldron. She looked at me, confused. 

"I'm gonna get you one that he didn't touch. A pretty girl like you shouldn't even so much as graze trash," I winked and stopped myself from laughing as her face heated up. How cute.

I ended up buying Ginny a brand-new copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration once Mr. and Mrs. Weasley turned their backs. The others noticed but didn't mention it; except for one of the twins who affectionately patted my shoulder then said to not make a habit out of it.

"Sirius is supposed to pick me up at the Leaky Cauldron," said Harry at the end of the day.

"Oh, sweet. I can come back to... wherever the hell it is with you."

Harry cringed, "I'd rather you didn't..."

I bit the inside of my cheek. I'd fought with him too recently to push the issue. So, instead, I smiled at him. “I get it. Go monopolize your godfather’s time. I expect you both to be inseparable come September.”

The jade-eyed boy sighed with relief. “Thanks.”

”Of course, cuate.”

Nothing else of note really happened the rest of August. I participated in some regularly scheduled Weasley shenanigans and exchanged weekly letters with grandparents on both sides of the world— as well as Harry and Hermione. 

Sirius had managed to pull himself together in time for Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived hadn’t even detected a drop of anything more than butterbeer on his breath, and so far they’d been getting along swimmingly. Harry said in one of his letters that this had been the best summer of his life.

There was, of course, the problem with Kreacher. There hadn’t been a way for me to organically bring him up in conversation, thus I had no fucking clue what the house-elf was up to.

Meaning:

Where the FUCK is the locket?

Okay, okay, I can deal with that later. It’s not like Kreacher is going to die randomly.

Jesus, I hope thinking that hasn’t jinxed me. I swear, other people reincarnated into Harry Potter didn’t have these problems (probably because I created these ones myself.)

But oh Lord, speaking of house-elves.

There was a little floppy-eared problem named Dobby. Harry hadn’t said a word about him nor had he gotten reprimanded by the ministry for underage magic usage. My current working theory is that Harry’s been either here at the Burrow (where there was always magic) or the… Black Ancestral Home (where there was also always magic but with a metric fuck-ton of protective enchantments.) Most likely, by the time Dobby discovered the plot to The Chamber of Secrets, there wasn’t much he could do.

That is, not until…

“Oh.”

The Weasley clan looked at me as I stood frozen in front of the iconic Ford Anglia. It had been over a year since I’d been in a car. It was when Tio Luis took Abuelita and me to Mom's funeral in his rust-colored pickup. God, it felt both like twenty years and only twenty minutes.

”Sorry,” I forced a laugh, “It’s been a while since I’ve so much as seen a car… Oh hey, the driver’s side is on a different side compared to America! Did you know kids start learning to drive at fourteen back home?”

I’m pretty sure in my previous life I wasn’t able to get my license before I died, but I'm certain I had a permit. In theory, I should still be able to drive, right?

Mrs. Weasley whipped her head around to yell at Fred and George, who looked like they were plotting things they really shouldn't be.

We all piled into the car that Mr. Weasley had secretly expanded with magic, causing me to cover my mouth to avoid laughing when Mrs. Weasley made a comment on how wizards didn’t give muggles enough credit considering how spacious the car was on the inside compared to the outside.

I wouldn’t have had the heart to tell her that muggle car manufacturers did not in fact have the ability to make TARDIS-like automobiles— even without Mr. Weasley’s pleading.

We went back a few times for Fred and George, but besides that and a short argument between the Weasley parents about the Invisibility Booster, it was fairly uneventful.

We eventually made it to the barrier. Percy and Mr. Weasley had gone first, then Fred and George. Right after Mrs. Weasley went through, Sirius and Harry appeared.

”HARRY!” I yelled before flinging myself onto him, nearly knocking him over.

”Aurelia!” He protested as I smooched both his cheeks and attempted to flatten his hair.

”Look at you! When did you get so handsome?” He definitely looked more filled out. He wasn’t chubby or anything (not that there was anything wrong with that— Mom had been very curvy and everyone agreed she was the world’s most beautiful woman) but he looked so much healthier. I’d never seen him radiate such a positive glow.

”You saw me only a few weeks ago!”

Sirius chuckled as I kept fussing over Harry. I could've sworn I heard him mutter, "Just like Daisy..." But I chose not to comment on it.

"Alright, we've got to go through or else Mum will riot." Harry shot Ron a grateful look.

I cringed behind one of my hands, "You boys go first. I love seeing how the barrier works."

Harry and Ron shrugged before both of them bent low over the handles of their trolleys and walked purposefully toward the barrier, gathering speed. A few feet away from it, they broke into a run and…

CRASH.

Both trolleys hit the barrier and bounced backward; Ron's trunk fell off with a loud thump, Harry was knocked off his feet, and Hedwig's cage bounced onto the shiny floor, and she rolled away, shrieking indignantly; people all around them stared and a guard  nearby yelled, "What in blazes d'you think you're doing?"

“They lost control of their trolleys,” said a panicked Sirius as he helped the boys off the floor.

”Are you guys okay?” I asked after brushing the dust off their clothes.

"Glad it was us rather than you.." said Ron, the world's most chivalrous Slytherin. He and Harry hardly ever seemed to notice Hermione was a girl, but they often seemed hyper-aware when it came to me for some reason. "But why can't we get through?"

Ron looked wildly around. A dozen curious people were still watching them.

"We're going to miss the train," Ron whispered.

"I don't understand why the gateway's sealed itself—"

"Alright,  stay calm everyone," Sirius placed both his hands up. "I don’t know why it’s sealed itself early, but everything will be fine. Let’s figure this out in the car park away from the muggles. I'll send a message to Molly and DUmbledore with the Patronus Charm..."

At the mention of the parking lot, Harry's eyes widened with excitement. "Sirius, what about—"

"NO!" I snapped at him, "If you're referring to flying of any kind, I will personally—"

"¡AY LA VERGA! LET ME OFF THIS FUCKING PURPLE DEATHTRAP! I TAKE IT BACK! WE CAN FLY! FUUUUUCKKKK!" It didn't take long for my speech to devolve into incoherent Spanish screaming.

Dobby's head was going to get the Black Family Treatment whenever the little shit made himself known.

"YOU'RE THE ONE THAT SUGGESTED THE BLOODY KNIGHT BUS!" Ron, who was also having a bad time and holding on for dear life, yelled back at me.

"IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME!"

"WATCH OUT!" Harry warned as a large trunk fly towards the back at us.

Meanwhile, Sirius, the only one who seemed to be enjoying themselves, let out a holler of excitement. "I HAVEN'T BEEN ON THIS THING IN OVER A DECADE! ITS MORE FUN THAN I REMEMBER!"

"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!"

The literal mother-fucker had the cojones to look back and smirk at me.

"WHY, YES I AM!"

Everyone under the age of thirty groaned. This was the most carefree any of us had seen Sirius, but at what cost?

"I THINK I'M GOING TO SPEW!" cried Ron.

Despite the absolutely absurd speed, we unfortunately hadn't managed to come close to beating the Hogwarts Express to Hogsmeade Station. Waiting for us at the enterance to Hogwarts was Professor McGonagall. I was rather grateful that it hadn't been Snape. Ten points to Dumble-Buns, I suppose.

"I see you're all in one piece." She looked over at Sirus, her usual strict expression turning into something a lot more fond, "Mr. Black."

Sirius flashed a winsome grin at her. God, I really needed to start thinking of him as my mom's ex or else I'd go back to writing Sirius Black x Reader fanfiction. Maybe I'd write it in Tom Riddle's diary as a form of torture. I could even bust out some of my old PJO works.

I felt a flare of indignation at the fact that I wasn’t reborn in to Percy Jackson instead. That would have been so much easier!

It didn’t last long, though, as I immediately thought of that self-insert fanfic I wrote sometime in the middle of puberty. I was the daughter of Artemis and had a love triangle with a later canonically gay child and a twenty-year-old man. Ugh. Of all things to remember from my life before, it just had to be The Adventures of Moonica Arrowdust. 

Sirius wrapped Harry up a fatherly embrace. “We’ll see each other again at Christmas, Harry.” 

The black-haired twelve-year-old nodded silently and didn’t even protest to Sirius gently kissing the top of his head in front of his best friends and Head of House.

”I’ll write every day,” he promised.

Sirius laughed and ruffled his godson’s already wild hair, “I won’t hold you to that.”

Ron and Sirius shook hands. I raised my hand up for a high-five. The unfairly sightly man captured my hand and once more placed a gentlemanly kiss on my knuckles.

MUST. NOT. SWOON.

“Should you ever wish to hear more about Daisy in her youth or feel particularly bored, you are most welcome to write as well.”

I gulped and thanked God that my skin was tan so it was hard to tell that I was blushing.

”Y-yeah, I’ll definitely take you up on that…”

"Did we miss the Sorting, Professor?" Ron asked as we walked towards the castle. "I wanted to watch my sister—"

“The Sorting Ceremony is over,” said Professor McGonagall. “Miss Weasley is in Gryffindor.”

“Oh,” Ron smiled softly, “Good for her…”

“I hope Hermione hasn’t expired out of worry,” I said randomly, “considering we weren’t on the train…”

McGonagall sighed and shook her head as the boys’ eyes widened.

”WE FORGOT TO TELL HERMIONE!”

I ended up skipping the Welcoming Feast and going straight to bed, stating that Knight Bus wrecked my ability to eat anything for the next twelve hours. It wasn’t a total lie, but it was mostly me not wanting to deal with anyone for a hot minute.

I looked around the second-year girls' dorm once more. There shouldn’t be anyone else here for a few more hours, but I pulled my emerald green bed curtains shut just in case. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing what I was doing.

What was I doing? Was this really the path I wanted to go down? Was the risk worth satisfying my own curiosity? 

With a deep breath, I brought my fountain pen to the paper. I could do this. I was strong enough to not let him possess me. I simply wouldn’t tell him anything true about me.

Yes. I could do this. As long as I played my cards right…

‘My name is Rosa Mentira.’

The ink bled and disappeared into the page.

“…”

‘Hello, Rosa. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?’

Chapter Text

It was both very difficult and very easy to forget that Severus Snape was my biological father. With a few large exceptions, he was a rather lenient and uninvolved parent— usually preferring to leave me to my own devices. He hardly ever said anything about the fact that I was BFFs with the son of his sworn enemy. I had to give credit where credit was due. Most of the time he allowed me to forget we even knew each other.

Alas, this was not one of those times.

"Wow, I haven't even been at Hogwarts for an hour and I've already been summoned to my Head of House's office. Must be some kind of record, haha... Are these new chairs?"

I managed to write ONE SENTENCE in the diary before Snape came a-knocking at my door and all but dragged me to his office by the ear. The feast was still going on in the Great Hall.

The sallow man glowered at me from behind his desk. I doubted it was because of my overly casual demeanor— seriously, as long as I was polite and respectful to him in front of others, he really did just have a laissez-faire attitude to my impertinence.

He let out a very Hemione-like hiss, "I've clearly been too magnanimous with you. I've allowed you to take the train to allot you some sense of normality. Not only do you frequently take advantage of the freedoms I've given you, but I also have to find out from Professor McGonagall that you took the Knight Bus of all things with Sirius Black!"

I let out a strangled noise, "What are you talking about? The barrier to Platform 9 3/4 closed early! That's why I had to take the damn bus— our only other options were a car or brooms! Do you think I had a good time on that godforsaken three-tiered death machine?! I'm pretty sure that I almost died like eight times because of Harry's friggin’ trunk!"

"I would have fetched you immediately! I do not care what Black does with the Potter brat and Weasley—"

I clenched my hair in frustration, "How was I supposed to know you'd come get us?"

"Not them! You! As much as both of us are loathed to admit it, you are still my daughter! You are not to be around Black more than necessary. If anything had happened—" 

"Wow," I scoffed, "you almost sound like you care."

"For the last time, child, I do not abhor you!" Snape pinched the bridge of his hooked nose and appeared to be trying to collect himself.

Well, this was new. Normally he would've just kept yelling at me. 

"Have I not left you alone this summer? We might not particularly care for one another, but that does not mean I wish to find you harmed! You were on the Knight Bus with a violent man who spent ten years locked in Azkaban—"

"Sirius is a good man—"

"What would you know of his character?" He hissed once more.

I sighed and rubbed my temples, "Can I please go back to bed? I'm still reeling from that stupid bus…"

Snape stared fiercely at me before sighing and pulling a letter out of his desk, "You did an... acceptable job of surviving Slytherin house last year, but we both know that was in great part to the house points bestowed on you. Lucius Malfoy has asked about you— more than once. Young Mr. Malfoy has written to his father on numerous occasions regarding you. He claims that you only associate with the Potter spawn for, and I apparently quote, 'the prestige.'" He rolled his eyes. 

"Hey, I'm doing my best here! It's utterly exhausting listening to them spew out the things they do. I just want to be left alone and be friends with whomever I please, but I'm always having to make up an excuse or 'justify' my actions so I don't become a total pariah," I ranted.

"Then get better at lying. Neither of the Malfoys noticed you at Flourish and Blotts, but I know you were there that day. All actions have consequences. Remember that you aren't the only one affected by your decisions. I expect better behavior this year. Now get out," said Snape.

"She got in some time last night, right? She skipped dinner…”

"Weasley said they missed the train, didn’t he? Had to take the Knight Bus."

"Poor dear... Seems cruel to wake her up, but she'll miss breakfast if we don't."

"She didn't write to me all summer. Let her sleep the day away."

"Daph, how much are you willing to bet that Pans didn't write to her either?"

"Aurelia was clearly busy, Pans. She had to focus on getting that absolute piece of pureblood man-meat out of Azkaban."

"Daph!"

I buried my face into the firm pillow and was very grateful for the closed curtains. The girls had been gossiping and giggling for the past seven minutes. Now, I usually love getting in on those (I was unashamed to admit that yeah, I did find the sordid love affair between Sarah Fawcett and Cassius Warrington interesting actually. What of it?) but I was dead-tired. The moment I got back from Snape's office I showered, wrote a letter to all of my grandparents, then immediately passed out. I had gotten a lot of shut-eye, but it wasn't exactly quality sleep. Not to mention how starved I was. I should've snuck into the kitchens after getting lectured.

With a stifled groan, I yanked my curtains open and threw myself out of bed.

"Morning, everyone," I said with a yawn. "Have I missed anything?"

"Aurelia!" They greeted me with an unexpected amount of enthusiasm.

"We've got so much to catch up on!" Chirped Daphne. Ah, good old Daph. She and Tracey were always a sunny sight for sore eyes.

"Yeah, I can tell you all what the hunk is like in person," I teased.

"You make fun, but have you seen the latest issue of Witch Weekly? Ten years in Azkaban and yet he's still the most dashing wizard I've ever laid eyes on!" gushed the curly-haired brunette.

I couldn't help but silently agree as I put my uniform on. I oughta start calling Sirius "Stacy's Mom" because fuck did he have it going on.

A nagging voice in the back of my head that sounded suspiciously like Harry reminded me that he was in love with my dead mom with whom he had a loving relationship with. Sirius once again suddenly got a little less attractive.

"He's not that good-looking," Pansy said with her nose in the air. "You've been reading too many of your mum's romance novels."

Tracey balked at her words, “Do I need to lend you my glasses? Because clearly, you haven’t had a proper look.”

"It's the Black blood. They all look impossibly fit," said Millicent matter-of-factly.

"I hear Mrs. Malfoy is quite the looker," I chimed in. "She was born Narcissa Black, right?"

"See, that's why Pans doesn't get the appeal of Sirius Black. She's got her eyes on a much younger Black-blooded prize," Daphne wriggled her eyebrows.

"And what of it?" asked Pansy smugly, daring any of us to say that she and Draco weren't totally written in the stars.

They weren’t— the older sister of his future bride was literally less than two feet away from us.

Wait, without the war and the return of Voldemort, would Draco Malfoy ever abandon blood prejudice? Would he still end up marrying Astoria Greengrass?

"Well, I say you can have him," I said as we exited the girls' dorm and made our way towards the Great Hall. "I'm not into blonds."

The girls all giggled in unison.

"That's right. You're more into gingers."

A few of the girls gagged and I rolled my eyes. "Hey, now! Percy's real easy on the eyes! Besides, that boy is made of pure ambition. I'm half convinced the Sorting Hat only placed him in Gryffindor because of his last name— his Sacred Twenty-Eight last name, mind you."

To say Percy wasn't a handsome guy would be a lie. Percy Ignatius Weasley was, to quote an icon, a major fucking hottie. But contrary to popular belief (aka the hole I dug myself with all those jokes) I was not in love with him— let alone anyone at all— and I most certainly didn't give a rat's ass about how "pure" he was. He was a genuinely sweet and intelligent young man and I knew he'd make someone very happy one day.

But unfortunately for him, I found my “crush” to be hilarious and a great way to deter any talks of romance involving myself. I wouldn’t date or anything of a sort until every single piece of Voldemort was destroyed and my friends and family were safe.

Daphne shuddered before putting both hands on my shoulders, "Aurelia, you can do so much better than blood traitors! You're a powerful witch from a good family. Know your worth."

It then hit me that they thought I was a pureblood. I knew they didn't know my mother was a muggle-born, but I hadn't realized they thought I was anything more than a half-blood. Only Draco seemed to have any idea that Snape was my father, but did he even know Snape's blood status? 

"Aurelia! Over here!"

Ronald Weasley, you beautiful bastard.

"My heart's set on Percy, so it doesn't matter. I can fix him. Anyway, I'm gonna go sit with Ron. I'll talk to y'all later."

I made a mad dash over to Ron, who was munching away at some eggs and ham. "Ay, how I've missed you."

My freckled friend raised an eyebrow, "You saw me just last night. You spent the whole of August with me."

I gestured to the other second-year Slytherin girls with my eyes and he immediately understood.

"Gotcha. Orange juice?" 

I accepted them looked over at the food spread out on the table and sighed.

“I can’t do it, Ron. I can’t do another year of this boring, bland-ass English food.”

“Oh yeah,” said an upperclassman (I want to say Adrian Pucey?), “I suppose you’re used to Indian food with lots of spices, right Prince?”

The Latina was too stunned to speak.

”Pardon?”

“She’s Italian, you dunderhead!” 

“Isn’t she Egyptian?”

“No? She’s clearly Brazilian?”

”Wait, I thought Prince was the other kind of Indian?”

There had been so many things wrong with all of those statements that I didn’t even know where to begin. Ron and I exchanged looks that screamed “what the fuck.” This was probably my first encounter with regular good old-fashioned racism in the Wizarding World so far.

Ron scoffed, “She’s Mexican. And you shouldn't make a bloody guessing game out of her." 

There was a sudden chorus of “Ohhh” and “Yeah, that sounds familiar.” 

Ron wasn’t doing as good of a job hiding his irritation as I was.

“Hold on,” Theodore Nott inched closer, amber eyes shimmering with intrigue, “does that mean you’re skilled at necromancy?”

”Excuse you?!”

Apparently, Magical Mexico was known in Wizarding Britain for spiritual magic and necromancy, of all things. I’d have to look into what exactly that entailed because last I checked my culture was extremely big on respecting the dead and I sincerely doubted it was just a muggle thing.

Knowing the people I was sitting with, it was more likely than not an offensive stereotype. 

“Have you seen the kippers?” Asked Blaise Zabini.

"You know, I've lived here for over a year now and I still have no idea what the heck that means."

"It's an oily herring," said a familiar pompous voice. "And they’re behind the sausages."

I screeched internally as Draco Malfoy sauntered over closer to me. I really did not have the energy to entertain Little Lord Fauntleroy. Not after the whole fucking fiasco that happened only ten minutes ago.

"Good morning, Draco!" I smiled brilliantly at him. "I haven't seen you in forever! How was your summer?" 

Jesus H. Christ, I hate "The Game." Sometimes I would get this incredible rush of adrenaline, but most of the time it was all petty nonsense that was only meant to keep the peace and involved me doing most of the talking. Ron couldn't pretend to buy into prejudice as I could. He was curt yet civil with the rest of Slytherin (not that they were all bad— it would be hypocritical of me to generalize an entire population) and that's the most he could do. For the most part, he was left alone.

I didn't mind lying my butt off, but those months off in the summer spoiled me. And that was a problem.

Mom dying made me realize something very important: People died in the blink of an eye every day. Most deaths didn't come with a warning. They weren’t meaningful or glorious. Death just happened for no fucking reason.

There was a distinct chance I could fall down the moving stairs and break my neck or get eaten by an acromantula. Maybe whenever I got around to the Black Ancestral Home I would touch some dark artifact and all my organs would spill out of my mouth. Maybe Lockhart will scramble my brains this year. If that happened and somehow Voldemort managed to come back, it would be up to Snape to act as a double agent. If I go around showing Slytherin my true self... 

I couldn't afford to die or succumb to madness. The lives of so many people were in my hands. But to ignore any possibility of getting knocked out of commission would be a fool's gambit.

As I chatted with Draco about things that meant very little, I began to wonder if maybe I should tell someone what I knew. Not any of my friends, that’s for sure. That'd be a total disaster.

I didn't think Dumbledore was this nefarious puppetmaster, but I also didn't trust him. Sirius and Remus had their own issues to deal with. Percy would think I'd gone mad... The only person that came to mind was Snape, but I quickly banished the thought. No. That would be my final Hail Mary. The absolute last resort. The only person I could fully rely on was myself.

Not even my friends— the other reason I kept playing The Game. My amazing, courageous friends. At least this year and next would be relatively uneventful.

My palms bled from my nails unconsciously digging in under the table. Draco was talking about his peacocks or something as I silently prayed for clemency to any god that would listen.

I was two-thirds done with the first day back when I realized not a single Slytherin had talked to me about the trial. 

"Alrighty, homies! I’ve called this meeting to discuss how we’re going to expose Lockhart as a fraud and finally get me that Order of Merlin that I deserve!"

Ron buried his head in his hands and Harry blinked in confusion. The four of us were currently gathered at our usual spot under the oak tree by the Black Lake.

“Er— and because it’s the right thing to do, of course, haha…”

"Aurelia! Professor Lockhart is not a fraud! You haven’t even had a class with him yet. Have you even bothered to do any of the reading?" harped Hermione.

She actually had a point on that last bit. To be honest, I’d been a bit behind in my reading. And by “a bit” I mean I hadn’t even so much as cracked open the textbook Snape had given me for Christmas. I should really remedy that ASAP…

I huffed, “You said you wanted to be a part of my schemes, didn’t you? Haven’t I shown that I’m never wrong when it comes to something important? Who are you going to trust? Your best friend who slayed a troll and got an innocent man freed from Britain’s torture prison or the grown wizard who can’t even handle some Cornish pixies?”

Hermione pressed on, "The aftermath of his deeds is undeniable! How can you possibly accuse him of being a fraud when in Wandering with Werewolves—"

”Oh, that’s easy. He’s been casting memory charms on the people that actually did the things he’s claimed.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “Aurelia, I agree that he’s an obvious fraud but you might be giving him too much credit. You haven't seen him in class yet."

My hands did all sorts of wild movements as I explained how it was obviously the only thing that made sense. Because it was and I was right.

The Brightest Witch of Her Age was not amused.

”That’s enough, Aurelia. I won’t stand idly by while you slander a professor. Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job—”

”The only reason that man got the position was because literally no one else applied. There’s a jinx on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Nobody’s lasted more than a year since the 1940s,” I pointed out.

Hermione tried to insist that I was being unreasonable and began to imply that I was envious of Lockhart’s achievements.

That one struck a bit of a nerve.

”Girl, I get your pubescent hormones are acting up around him, but do you remember last year when I realized that Ron’s rat was a man and our Defense teacher was a host to a parasitic dark lord?”

The other girl blushed and began to stutter an incoherent jumble of words.

Ron and Harry looked at each other. Then at Hermione. Then at Lockhart’s book in Hermione’s hands. Then finally at me. 

“We’re in,” they said in unison.

I pumped my fist in victory. “Awesome! Okay, first order of business…”

Dear Aurelia,

I found this photo of your mother and thought you might like a copy. I’ll bet you never knew Daisy was quite the fair beater. She and James used to go on arguing for hours about their Quidditch teams. She never did fully convince him to switch teams, but she did manage to instill a love of fútbol in him. When they weren’t facing off in Quidditch, it was always fútbol. I know there are photos of those two playing together somewhere. 

If and when I find more photographs, I’ll be sure to make copies and send them your way. Feel free to write to me whenever. I’d like to get to know you if that’s alright with you. 

— Sirius Black

The photo enclosed was of my mother in her later years at Ilvermorny, dressed in gold and maroon quidditch robes with a beater’s bag slung over her shoulders. Her chestnut curls were pulled back with a black ribbon and she had this wild grin that seemed to imply she was about to do something she knew she ought not to. Tears pricked my eyes when she laughed and winked as she blew a kiss. In the eleven years that I knew her, I’d never seen her act in such a flirty and mischievous manner.

This was also the first magical photo I’d ever encountered of Mom. The first time I’d seen her move in over a year. She was so young and vibrant… Mom had always been beautiful, but the witch before me had me floored with how she just seemed to ensnare you with her mere image... I knew she enjoyed watching the occasional baseball or soccer game, but as far as I knew she wasn’t into athletics as an activity. Was this woman really my mom? She felt like an entirely different person.

Just how much of herself did Margarita Rodriguez give up when she became my mother? 

Dear Sirius,

Thank you very much for the picture of my mom. It's been a long time since I've seen her so... alive. Magical photographs really are something, aren't they? I made a copy of one of my own pictures of her for you, though I'm sorry to say that they don't move. The one I'm sending was taken only two years ago.

If you do manage to find any of Harry's dad and my mom, please make a copy for Harry as well. It's kinda weird, but I never actually considered that Mom knew James Potter. It makes sense, though. She knew you and Remus Lupin, so it would go without saying. Lupin seemed to think fondly of her. I didn't realize she and James Potter got along so well. Was she close with Harry's mom too? How and when did you two even meet? What kind of stuff was she in to? You were right, I didn't know she was a quidditch player. Those robes look like school ones, so I'm assuming she played for Thunderbird?

Oh, Harry mentioned that you had a house-elf. Kreacher, was it? I'd really like to meet him sometime. Perhaps over Christmas? I LOVE house-elves and one belonging to an old family like yours has to at very least have some interesting stories. I heard that he's a bit cranky, but I think I can melt his cold exterior!

Sincerely,

Aurelia R. R. Prince

'Hello? Is anyone there? Tom?'

I inhaled sharply as the ink disappeared. It had been roughly two weeks since I’d last written. Hermione’s birthday would be in a few days and I’d been busy doing doing schoolwork and trying to convince her that our DADA teacher’s so-called achievements were totally bogus before she became an official teenager. An refreshingly boring start to second-year, if I may say so myself.

'Hello. Yes, I am here. Is this still Rosa?'

'Yes. I'm sorry for disappearing like that. I wasn't expecting the empty diary I found to write back.'

'I completely understand. I apologize for frightening you. May I ask again how you found my diary?'

Tom's script was unfairly elegant. It's rather unsettling how half of a soul could have better handwriting than me.

'I got it at a shop in Diagon Alley.' Technically not a lie, but very misleading. 'Where are you? Is this like a two-way mirror? Or are you not really, well, real?'

'I am here, in the diary. And I am very real.'

Jesus, Tom. You sound creepy as fuck. Aren't you supposed to be some master manipulator? How the heck did Ginny not realize how suspicious you are immediately?

'In the diary? Are you trapped? Do you need help?'

Pfft. As if I'd ever actually help this asshole.

'I am fine. No need to worry about me. Although...'

After about twenty seconds I realized he was prompting me to inquire.

'Although? Tom, are you alright?'

'I must admit that I am rather lonely. If it wouldn't be any trouble, could you perhaps talk to me every now and then?'

I chewed on the cap of my fountain pen. 

'I'm rather lonely too. Let's be friends! Allow me to re-introduce myself: My name is Rosa Mentira and I'm a third-year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's very nice to meet you.'

'It is very nice to meet you too, Rosa. My name is Tom Riddle and I was a fifth-year prefect when I entered this diary. I would like very much for us to be friends too.'

"Aurelia," a high-pitched voice barged in, "can you help us with our History of Magic assignment? You've got the best marks in that class out of all of us."

I snapped the diary shut and stuffed it back into the small magic chest I usually kept it in.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute, Daph." I opened my bed curtains, "But I expect some kind of recompense for waking me from my nap."

"Blaise could help you with Transfiguration.”

"I could just make Potter's pet Granger give me the answers," I pointed out before inwardly cringing.

Sorry Hermione. I’ll make it up to you later. 

The bubbly brunette paused before perking up like a sunflower, "My sister sent apple tarts."

"Now there's an incentive."

Chapter Text

Dearest Aurelia,

Happy thirteenth birthday, my dear. Your grandfather and I are so proud of the young woman you are blossoming into. It's been nearly a year since we first met and we could not be happier to have you in our lives. We hope you enjoy the sweets enclosed. We special ordered them from Wizarding America for you. 

With all our love,

Elsinore A. Prince

Marius P. B. Prince

Aurelia,

Happy 13th birthday. Only two more years until you become a woman. Your mother would be so proud of you— almost as proud as I am. The family sends their regards. I deeply regret that we cannot celebrate together, but we will see each other soon. Every night I pray to God, asking Him to watch over you.

No more dangerous stunts this year. We all expect you to be in one piece in time for Nochebuena. 

I love you so much. Stay safe. Keep the rosary on you, it was your Abuelito's. Enjoy the Mazapán. I remember how much you love them. 

Kisses and hugs,

Abuelita

Congratulations on surviving to thirteen. I expect you to keep up the trend. Be at my office door a quarter after five sharp next Saturday evening. Late arrival will result in consequences.

“Wow, I got a lot of candy this year,” I mused aloud as I twirled a Soprano Sucker between my fingers. I grimaced when I saw the insane amount of mazapán she’d yet again given me. One of these days I’d have to come clean about how it was one of my least favorite things on the planet.

“What’s with the beaded necklace?” Pansy asked when she peeked over my shoulder to get a look at what all I’d received. Ron was with Harry and Hermione today and I was continuing to build up my relationships with the other Slytherins. 

I picked up the dark wooden rosary and smiled. I wasn’t particularly religious (though I knew something had to be out there to explain why/how I was here) but I knew how important it was to the familia. To be honest, I couldn’t remember a great deal of my early life in this world, but some things did stick out. Abuelito died when I was around three, but I did remember the rosary his father carved for him. He carried it everywhere and I was fond of playing with it as a small one.

”It’s just something that belonged to my grandfather,” I said, not bothering to explain that it wasn’t something you’d wear around your neck. I wouldn’t carry it around unless Abuelita was present, but I would make sure to take good care of it.

Pansy nodded but soon her attention joined everyone else’s.

Daphne tilted her head, “May we ask why you’ve suddenly received a slew of American sweets?”

The brunette picked up a small pack of Lazarus Lozenges, which claimed to provide enough energy in just one to make you feel like you’ve risen from the dead.

“Are those Pixie Puffers?” Millicent gave a rare public smile. “My brother-in-law always gets me a box when he and Marianna visit.”

“Oh, you can have one then. Here, take a mazapán too. It’s made from nuts, fair warning. So be careful not to go into anaphylactic shock. It would ruin the mood for the day.”

”Do you mean marzipan?” Asked Blaise.

”Similar, but not quite,” I made gestures with my hands to convey what I meant. Judging by the look on the tanned Italian boy’s face, it appeared to be lost in translation.

“Who’s Anna Flatic?” Millicent whispered to Tracey, who merely shrugged.

”You didn’t tell us what the occasion was,” Draco pointed out.

”Oh,” I said lackadaisically, “It’s my birthday.”

”What?!”

“Pardon?!”

“Merlin and Morgana, why didn’t you tell us sooner?!”

Oh god. There it was. I should have lied and said it was the anniversary of me winning my fourth-grade spelling bee or something.

I’d never been all that stoked about my own birthday as a concept. The only reason I really enjoyed birthdays in the past was because that meant Mom would try to take the day off and we’d spend the day together. She’d do my hair, make chilaquiles for breakfast, then “steal” Tio Luis’ pickup and we’d go around the city doing whatever we fancied. After hours of walking, we’d catch Señor Hernandez with his fruit cart and he’d give me mine for free, then it was home for Abuelita’s menudo. Well, everyone else would have carnitas or something. Abuelito had been the only other person to like menudo besides me. Even Mom didn’t like it.

My ninth birthday in particular suddenly came to mind. It had only been four years ago, but it had been one of the best of my second life. Mom had all but told me that yeah, I was for sure a witch and she thought I belonged in her house. Yes, that had been a spectacular day…

I jumped in my seat as Daphne loudly clapped directly in front of my face while Tracey pinched my arm.

”¡híjole!" I exclaimed. “What was that about?”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “You were doing that thing you do.”

”Thing?”

”You spaced out again. You’re almost as bad as those two sometimes,” Theo said bluntly, gesturing towards Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Wow, did my inner monologues really take up that much time?

”Anyway, I’m not big on birthdays. Instead, why don’t we talk about how THEY STILL HAVEN’T GIVEN ME THAT ORDER OF MERLIN!” I slammed my hand on the table.

Everyone at the table groaned loudly. The entirety of Slytherin— nay, Hogwarts— had been hearing me complain about it for the past twenty-three days. The poor Weasleys even longer.

”Lockhart gets one for stuff he hasn’t even done! It’s ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And with that, the subject of my birthday was forgotten. I spent the rest of the day going to class and ended it playing/getting beaten at chess with/by Ron. Wednesday the twenty-third of September went by as just another day.

‘It’s my birthday today.’

It wasn’t. It was two days after the fact. I figured it was a way to start a conversation and build my “relationship” with Tom. I knew I should probably have been working to spend more time with my friends, but I just needed some time away from everyone else. I loved Harry, Ron, and Hermione greatly but at the end of the day I was eighteen and they were twelve. The maturity gap got a bit tiring at times. Hence sneaking off to the oak tree by the lake without inviting them sometimes.

’Happy birthday, Rosa. You’d be fourteen, wouldn’t you? Have you made any plans with your friends?’

’Fourteen would be correct, yes. And no, I haven’t any plans. I don’t have any real friends.’

’I doubt that. A kind and clever— and no doubt lovely— witch like yourself surely has many friends.’

Ay, who did this vato think he was fooling?

‘Not really, no. I’m in my third year and I still don’t have any true friends. Everyone thinks I’m weird. A bit pathetic, isn’t it?’

’Not at all. I can’t imagine why they’d think that. I find you to be excellent company.’

’Well, everyone else in Slytherin comes from long lines of wealth and magic. I’m just an American half-blood bastard that comes from poverty. My mother died a few years ago, you see. The only reason I’m here at Hogwarts is because my father came out of nowhere (I’d never even known the man’s name before then!) and took me back to Britain with him. I don’t know why though, considering how much he hates me. He looks at me like I’m a stain on his line. He won’t even give me the family surname.’

The best lies always have a layer of truth to them, but I knew better than to be completely honest with a serpent like Tom Riddle.

’I am truly sorry to hear that. You don’t deserve to have such things happen to you. I must confess, I empathize a great deal with your plight.’

‘Do you really? That makes me feel less lonely, though I’m also sorry. In the short time we’ve known each other, you’ve been kinder to me than a great deal of people.’

I let out a yawn. Apparently all the socializing was a lot more draining than I first thought.

‘Sorry, Tom. I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?’

’See you soon, Rosa.’

I closed the diary and placed it underneath me as I leaned further back into the tree. With a deep exhale I took in the last bit of sun and closed my eyes. Nobody could blame for taking a nap outside on such a lovely Friday afternoon.

“Um… pardon me? Hello? Miss?” 

I groaned and opened my eyes to see an excited-looking firstie with a mop of mousy brown hair gazing tentatively at me. He was a tiny little thing, looking closer to nine than eleven, and had a muggle camera secured in his small hands.

“Colin Creevey?” I asked, slightly bewildered.

He perked up considerably when I said his name. “Yes! How did you know?”

I’d seen him skulk around Harry but unlike the book, he hadn’t managed to build up the courage to ask him for any photos when I was around, so I didn’t pay much mind to him. I didn’t have any strong feelings about the character and his death during the Battle of Hogwarts felt more like it was meant to be slight angst porn than anything of real consequence.

I hadn’t expected him of all people to be the one waking me from my nap under the oak tree. 

“I’ve seen you around. What’s a Lilliputian Gryffindor like you want with me? You do know I’m Slytherin and your upperclassman, right?”

His beam grew even brighter, “‘Lilliputian,’ you say? That’s from Gulliver's Travels. That’s my mum’s favorite book. I thought Slytherins didn’t like muggle things?”

Damn! I hadn’t been expecting him to know that word! 

I sighed and raised my palms in defeat, “You got me. Now, what do you want, kid? I’m not going to ask Harry to pose for you if that’s what you’re after.”

Colin shook his head, his pale cheeks turning carnation pink. “No! I don't mind asking him on my own! What I wanted was…” his blush darkened to a rosy red, “I wanted a photo of you.”

I choked in disbelief. “Me? You want a picture of me? Why?”

The petit tomato fidgeted, “Well, they say you single-handedly killed a troll only two months into your first year here! And that you realized your friend’s rat was actually a murderer in disguise and your testimony freed Sirius Black from prison after ten years! There are even rumors that you put a stop to a dark wizard thief! You’re a Slytherin, but you’re a hero!” 

Colin muttered something else at the end that I couldn't quite catch.

Well, I wasn’t expecting me-wank from Colin Creevey of all people today. It was flattering, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t exactly do all that for praise for a background character. Or anyone, for that matter. Though an Order of Merlin would’ve been nice…

But that made me ponder more. More than a dozen people from other houses had come up to ask me throughout the first and second week about the trial. I refused to comment on it to any news outlets so that naturally left a lot of unsatiated curiosity.

So why did not a single Slytherin ever come up to ask me about it? We were over halfway through September and not even Draco Malfoy had bothered to say a word. The girls had occasionally asked me about Sirius himself, but never Pettigrew or trial. 

Speaking of Draco, it occurred to me that because Harry hadn’t been out of commission due to a certain dark lord, Gryffindor had won the quidditch cup. There’d been no reason for Oliver Wood to make the Gryffindor quidditch team get up at the ass-crack of dawn to train. So they didn’t know Draco Malfoy was the new seeker for Slytherin house. 

Huh. I should probably get around to mentioning that to them.

I snapped back to the conversation. “Colin, not I'm not a hero. I'm just an American, is all. And I can’t be seen posing for you, kid. Kick rocks.”

My face heated with guilt. Being mean to children wasn’t exactly something to be proud of, but what else could I do? Call me a cold bitch, but I didn’t need another person to risk it all for. I was already doing him a favor by stopping the return of Voldemort. Thanks to me, this kid would live past sixteen.

My frosty attitude did not deter the little Gryffindor.

“Please,” he begged. “Just one?”

Oh no! Puppy eyes! 

I took a deep breath in and out.

”You get one photo. ONE. Then I expect you to scram and leave me alone until I graduate. You’re lucky no other Slytherins were with me.”

His wilted demeanor shifted back to his usual sunny disposition. “Thank you, Aurelia!”

”That’s Prince to you.” Unlike with the Hermione Issue, I couldn’t think of a plausible excuse as to why Colin Creevey would be friendly with me. It was a shame. The overzealous firstie was rather adorable. Like a mousy puppy.

“Thank you, Prince!”

I adjusted my tie and leaned against the tree as he readied his camera, "Don't mention it, kid."

“Ugh, why can’t I get this right? This wand’s supposed to be good for transfiguration, yet it’s one of my worst subjects!” I groaned.

“I’d reckon that it is your worst subject. You barely scraped by with an A and that’s only because of Hermione.”

”Gee, thanks, Harry. You’re so kind and helpful. Not like you and Ron didn’t also rely on Hermione’s help all the time last year…”

Said Homework-Helper rolled her eyes at my whining. “Your written work for all your classes is fairly good, but it looks to me that you don’t care enough about Transfiguration to make it work. Not to mention how you stubbornly refuse to use magic on animals…”

“It’s completely unethical! How would you like it if someone just turned you into a snuffbox all Willy-Nilly! If I expected anyone to understand, it’d be you ‘Mione!”

Harry and Ron shared a look then quickly moved to change the subject before Hermione and I started arguing again.

”Why don’t we take a break from studying? We’ve been going at it for so long, our brains might fry.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, didn’t you make sandwiches, ‘Relia?”

I lit up, “Yeah! I snuck into the kitchens to make some chicken tortas! You guys oughta come down with me sometime. The house-elves were a huge help.”

The bushy-haired brunette snapped her quill in her hand.

Ron realized Harry’s mistake and choked, “Oh no…”

”You’re unbelievable,” Hermione hissed at me.

The poor Chosen One tilted his head in confusion, “What’s happening?”

“You weren’t there, mate… It’s not your fault…”

“I still can’t believe you continue to indulge in slave labour!”

With how Hermione was shrieking, we were lucky to be in an unused classroom instead of our spot by the lake or, heaven forbid, the library.

“They like the work! I thought we already ended this discussion with Tipsy!” I countered.

“Well, I talked more about it with Doña Carmela when she taught me how to make shell bread! She’s just as— if not more— appalled than I am! The house-elves don’t know any better! They don’t know life without enslavement! And even if they do supposedly enjoy it, it’s still morally wrong!”

Harry opened his mouth to intervene but Ron threw his hand over his mouth and slowly shook his head.

”They aren’t human Hermione! It’s just in their culture and nature!”

It was literally how they were written! Yeah, it sucked and was reprehensible but that didn’t change the fact that that’s how this world worked.

“You are being incredibly hypocritical!” She accused. “You sit here and go on about the of ethics turning a rabbit into slippers, but then openly and proudly benefit from unpaid, magically indentured servitude of a sentient race of beings! Even if they don’t care, even if they like it, it does not make it alright! The excuses you and all the wizards spew out to defend the enslavement of house-elves is hardly any different to that of muggle societies that held human slaves!”

I balked in offense and took a step toward Hermione, “How dare you! Do you have any idea what kind of horrid atrocities my ancestors suffered through under the rule of the conquistadores?”

Doe eyes narrowed critically at me. “Yes. Apparently more than you do if you still feel the need to stand there and defend slavery. Doña Carmela was kind enough to give me a rather interesting history lesson when she was explaining why she was also against house-elves. I ended up doing more research after I went home, you know. Did you that unpaid house-elf labour is illegal in Magical Mexico? In most Wizarding Latin American societies, actually. And the house-elves there are doing quite fine.”

I froze. Wait. Seriously?

”Hold on,” Ron was even more confused than I. “I thought… but… they get all depressed…”

Hermione took a deep breath but kept her eyes narrowed, “That’s because here they know nothing else. Magical Mexico has a thriving society of free house-elves. Apparently, they make up a good bit of their entertainment industry, specifically in music.”

”Well,” I dropped my arms, “that… that certainly changes things.”

Dobby— I was gonna have to watch out for him soon, if I was remembering correctly— wasn’t just a weirdo outlier. Well, maybe in Wizarding Europe, but if what Hermione was saying was actually true… If Dobby wasn’t the house-elf equivalent of Spiders Georg…

Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been so elated to be wrong. Normally, I detest being incorrect, but on this issue, I would happily accept the egg on my face.

“Hermione, I’ll always be the first to admit when I’m wrong about something as serious as this. Pro-slavery is not exactly the hill I wanna die on. I'm... You're right. You… I’ll stop relying on the house-elves. We all will.”

A skeptical look was cast in my direction before her eyes finally softened. “Thank you.”

”Wait, this doesn’t mean we have to do our own laundry, right? Right? And how exactly are we going to eat? We can’t be expected to do our own laundry and cook our own meals! We don’t have the time or the skills for that! Well, maybe ‘Relia does with the latter, but the former certainly not!” The ginger protested.

”We don’t have to go on a hunger strike, do we?” Grimaced Harry.

”Hermione, we can’t starve Harry again. Not after I went through all that trouble to get him out,” I muttered in her ear so as to not offend the local orphan. I then reached into the bag I brought and threw some tortas at the boys. As a Hispanic woman, I was legally obligated to make sure no children around me went hungry. I was already on thin ice for not yet introducing a soccer club. Any more infractions and they'd take away my Latin Card.

The Gryffindor bookworm shifted in place, madly scrambling to figure out a solution.

Suddenly, a beautiful idea popped into my mind. "Hey, what if we start small? What if we made like, a club or something? A secret society of abolitionists!"

Hermione stilted before her eyes snapped wide. "Aurelia, that's brilliant! But why be a secret? We should start with advocacy and awareness! Oh, we’ll need a name! How about the 'Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare?'"

"S.P.E.W., huh? I like it!"

Two years early, but it would give her a worthwhile cause to focus her energies on.

"Spew?" Ron and Harry said in dumbfounded unison. They were clearly unhappy with the result of our conspiring.

"It's S.P.E.W." Hermione and I corrected.

"We should make lapel buttons!"

”Do you think Mrs. Weasley would help us make club sweaters?”

"I think I'd rather them go back to fighting about Lockhart..." Murmured the resident redhead. 

"Agreed..." said Harry.

Chapter Text

"So why am I here?" I asked as I unceremoniously barged into his office. Saturday evening had finally come.

Snape looked at me, unimpressed. "'Why am I here, sir,'" he corrected.

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor," I quoted before I could stop myself.

Oh, Mierda. 

Snape's nostrils flared and I quickly apologized to avoid a minimum of a week's detention. Detention meant we had to see each other more than necessary.

"I'm sorry! Sorry! That was too far. You haven't even done anything in a while. That was uncool of me, sir."

The pale man's beady eyes narrowed severely at me and I could tell he was mentally tossing a coin on whether or not to punish me.

“Twenty points from Slytherin for your cheek.”

Oh, I got off really light. I could tell that I was getting on his last few nerves lately, so twenty points was a lot better than I expected. Still, I’d have to work extra hard in my classes in order to make those points up lest the other Slytherins hang me from the rafters.

“So, er— whatcha need from me? Sir?” 

Eyes still narrowed, he took a few seconds to answer. “Come,” he said as he started walking towards the door in the back of his office.

I stood there confused before lightly jogging to catch up to him. He rolled his eyes before opening a wooden door to reveal a set of stone stairs leading down, dimly lit by blue-fire torches.

”…Eh?” I said dumbfounded as I realized that we’d be traversing even deeper below the school.

”It’s not that far,” he said… almost reassuringly? Honestly, his less than scathing tone somehow managed to increase my anxieties.

To be fair, he was right. It took less than a minute for us to reach another door. It reached from floor to ceiling and had a silver serpent for a handle. Snape muttered something in a language I didn’t know and it swung open.

Hesitantly, I trailed after him and was struck dumb by what I saw.

It was a rather spacious room with black stone walls adorned with shelves and tapestries. The floor was smooth dark stone that was mostly hidden by a rather large green and silver damask rug. There was a spacious-looking ebony armoire next to several cabinets and bookshelves that reached from floor to ceiling. At the end of one wall was an intricately carved stone fireplace with an emerald chaise lounge and an old frosted-glass cocktail table with an antique tea set on the side. There were two nook areas. One held a large dark canopy bed and in the other was a chess table and a desk surrounded by more bookshelves. A decent-sized roundtable sat in the center of the room and I could tell it did not normally belong there. It had been brought it rather recently. Sitting atop of the table was two cloches and a goblet to along with each.

“Is this… is this your room?” I asked, blinking in astonishment. I must have been the first student in Hogwarts history to be in a teacher’s room, at very least with their permission.

He gave me a tired look that seemed to say, “What do you think?”

I suddenly remembered all those mature Snape x Student fanfics that existed and I damn near vomited on the spot. God, I sure fucking hope no other students had been in any teacher's room.

The idea that anyone wanted to nail my father also kinda made me want to die. 

‘Snape shagged your mum,’ a voice that sounded suspiciously like a mix of the twins and Ron snickered.

’Shut the fuck up,’ I hissed at the disembodied voice.

“Sit down,” he commanded as he took a seat at the round table. I complied then looked back and forth between him and the dull metal cloches.

“Dare I ask?”

I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t find the head of Sirius Black or something.

With a wave of his wand— seriously, what was it with wizards and using magic for things you could easily use your hands for— the cloches vanished and revealed two bowls containing a rather familiar dish.

The nostalgic and tantalizing aroma of guajillo, oregano, onion, and beef wafted up to my nose, my mouth instantly watering.

”Is that…?” I asked, but I’d know that scent anywhere. “How… why…”

He cleared his throat, “It has occurred to me that you might wish to have something… familiar for your birthday. I inquired about some of your favorites from Marius and Elsinore. Think nothing of it.” His tone was harsh and cold and completely contradicted his words.

Good god. Hell must’ve been completely frozen over. I reached over the table and gently placed the back of my hand on his forehead.

”Well it’s not a fever. Must be the result of a confundus charm…” I murmured with a furrowed brow.

Snape scowled and swatted at my hand. “Eat before I send you to your dorms starving.”

“‘S’cuse me for being concerned about your health," I grumbled before warily eyeing the menudo. "This isn't like... poisoned or otherwise spiked with any potions or magic in general, right?"

Had I been a lesser man, I've disintegrated beneath Snape's glower.

"Take a bite of it first, please.”

Snape continued to lock eyes with me as he took a spoonful of the menudo from his bowl. It occurred to me that he might have subtly been using legilimency on me with all the eye-locking, so I immediately started translating the 2004 hit "Dragostea Din Tei" from Romanian to English to Spanish. I didn't actually know Romanian and only had a slight idea as to what the song was about though, so between all the languages it was just an absolute fucking mess.

"Now one from mine, please and thank you," I requested, still trying to make the song into something more coherent. I recognized this was by no means a strong— let alone a permanent— defense, but it would at least throw off any surface probing. I should really get around to learning actual occulmency. Maybe Harry and I could start a "My Life Was Ruined By Severus Snape" club and our first activity could be learning to clear our minds.  Sirius and Remus could be co-founders with us. Our respective mothers could come back from the dead and be advisors.

'They weren't exactly innocent themselves.'

Okay, all these disembodied voices that don't sound like my own were starting to become a concern.

Wow, how were Snape's eyes not watering in the slightest? We'd been having a staring contest in all but name for nearly a minute... Alright, based on his expression I can deduce that the menudo isn’t poisoned and he’s not reading my mind. Meaning I dealt with the garbled nonsense of translation for nothing.

”Alright, thanks for the food,” I picked up my spoon and took a bite.

”Oh sweet cuppin' cakes, that’s delicious.”

It wasn’t quite Abuelita’s, but good god it was still pretty fuckin bomb. See, most people I knew didn't like the chewy honey-comb-like texture of the tripe, but it was one of my favorite aspects of the stew. 

I looked over and eyed Snape as he quietly ate. He seemed... oddly relaxed? It was hard to explain. He kept his typical stiff posture and frown but I couldn't help but notice the lack of crease that typically plagued the area between his brows.

"So... thoughts?" I said between bites. The silence had been killing me.

"On?" He quirked a brow.

"The menudo. It's got a lot more flavor than most English dishes, and even fewer people like the type of meat it uses..."

He paused and suddenly his face took on an almost wistful, "I can handle spices quite fine. And... My mother often made tripe and onions throughout my youth..."

The expression soon darkened and vanished quicker than it came.

"Could you tell me about Eileen? Grandma Elsinore damn near went into cardiac arrest when I tried asking her. Clearly, you must've liked her at least a little bit, if your insistence on replacing my middle name with hers is anything to go off of."

Snape looked down at his bowl and appeared as though he wanted to curl up and die. "Gobstones," he said.

"Gobstones?" I repeated, not quite understanding.

She loved gobstones. When she was in school, she was president of the cobstones club and captain of the Hogwarts gobstone team. She had a collection of various sets that she prized more than any other material possession," explained Snape.

“Huh. Gobstones.” Not quite what I meant, but you know what it’s more than anyone else has said about her. I think I vaguely remember a Pottermore article mentioning that but it’s been over a decade so who knows.

It occurred to me that the man I was dining with was Severus Middle-Name-Pending Snape, master spy extraordinaire. He wouldn’t just volunteer information unwittingly. This whole situation just felt way too off. Which, somehow, made it even weirder? Was I overthinking this? Probably, but Snape didn't exactly have an immaculate track record of not being terrible. 

”Why am I really here?” I asked again.

“Would it be too much for you to believe that I merely wanted a pleasant meal with my daughter to celebrate her birthday?” He asked.

"Yes," I replied honestly.

He locked eyes with me again, and once more I implored my "mental defenses." 

'¿hola!, ¿hola!, soy yo Picasso...'

He moved back slightly, eyes widening in confusion. Yup. This man was attempting to read my mind. Not today, Satan. Not today.

Snape quickly regained his composure.

"For future reference, you never know what all the person next to you has immunity to," he said blankly, eyes glancing at the menudo then myself. "Although it was… almost clever of you."

I blinked rapidly before tilting my head. “Was that… Did you just compliment me?” I chose to focus on that part rather than him admitting that he wasn't above poisoning my beloved menudo.

“I do believe I said—"

”Yeah, yeah, I know what you said. Look… what do you want? I haven’t gotten up to any schemes lately, if that’s what you’re worried about. Unless you count my friends and I trying to expose Lockhart as a fraud. Though I think several upper-year Ravenclaws are also on that quest…”

The mention of Lockhart made Snape sour even more so than usual.

“…Honestly, I don’t know how we’re going to recover from this. Academically speaking, that is. Hermione’s too enamored with him to— Anyway, that’s not the point. What I’m saying is, I don’t plan on doing anything like I did last year for a while.”

Snape was getting visibly more stressed, which would normally be a win for me but I wasn’t even trying this time so instead I was mildly concerned.

”Are you okay, sir? You aren’t… you didn’t call me here because you’re lonely, right? Oh my god. That’s it. The fact that you have zero friends because you’re the human equivalent of a saguaro has finally caught up to you.” I said with the confidence of a thousand Oxford professors before taking another bite of my food.

Snape’s eye twitched and he took a deep breath, clearly attempting to remind himself that it’s illegal to beat a child. 

”…Cooking was another favoured activity of your grandmother."

"Oh? Did she learn after she got married? Tipsy damn near had an aneurysm when Abuelita cooked while she was visiting. I can't imagine her letting a 'young mistress' anywhere near a stove."

"...She also enjoyed gardening," He continued, ignoring me. "She loved hyacinths. She embroidered them on everything she could get her hands on."

"Hyacinths are pretty cool," I nodded. "I like marigolds the best, although I've also recently developed a deep appreciation for daises... What's your favorite flower? You look like an orange lily kinda guy."

His black beads narrowed at me, "Burning hatred?"

"They also represent pride and disdain!" I chirped.

For a split second, I could have sworn the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

"...Asphodel, if I absolutely must choose." He stated plainly, as if commenting on the weather.

I dared to let my eyes flicker back up to his. "...Heh, I was pretty close. That's a type of lily, right? They're said to grow in the fields of the underworld. Much spook. Very on-brand of you."

A silence took over the room, but strangely enough, it wasn't as cumbersome as before. Honestly, this was probably the most pleasant interaction that we'd ever had. It was extremely suspicious.

"...You will be in America for the winter holiday, correct?" Snape asked before taking a sip from his goblet.

"Mm-hm. I get to escape this god-awful Britain weather and soak up that sweet California sun,” I beamed. “Plus, I'm really excited to see everyone again. Nochebuena last year just wasn't the same."

"Nochebuena?" he asked.

"Christmas Eve. That's when all the fun stuff happens. It's like one big party. Christmas Day itself doesn't hold a candle to Nochebuena."

A smile took over my face as I recalled the incident two years ago when Mom threatened to throw Tio Luis to the caracaras for attempting to spike the ponche. Abuelita had joined in, only to hand him a mini-bottle of rum for his own cup when Mom's back was turned. I remembered thinking that if Abuelito had been alive, he'd have given his wife and little brother his signature exasperated yet fond sigh and go placate his seething daughter with an empanada. Instead, it had been up to me to distract Mom by requesting a song for her to play on the guitar.

Man, it was gonna be great to spend the holidays with her a—

Ah. That's right.

"Anyway! Um, What electives do you think I should take next year? I don’t want to do arithmancy, though. I hate math."

Snape raised a brow on the abrupt topic change but otherwise didn't comment on it. "That depends on what career you plan on entering, although I highly doubt you'll get anything useful out of divination."

He said divination with the same amount of contempt that he normally saved for Harry or Sirius. Can't say I blame him, though.

But he did pose a very important question. I hadn't put any real thought into what my plans for the future were— beyond saving the world, that is. What exactly did I want to do when I "grew up." My default answer in elementary school had always been a vaquero or ranchero, much to Tio and Mom's amusement. That was something a lot of my cousins that had seen a few too many westerns had said. I didn't actually want to work on a ranch— not that that was really an option in the L.A. area. Whenever I said it, Abuelita's eye would twitch and say that she did not lead our family across the border just for her granddaughter to run off back to Mexico and tend cattle and/or crops. Then someone would point out that I could just go Texas and she'd claim that was even worse. At least there was familia in Mexico.

Although I wasn’t by any means serious about it, I couldn’t deny that she had made the excellent point that I was far too delicate and Americanized to survive in any manual labor job. Let alone one in Mexico. At least she hadn't called it a "man's job" like several relatives had. Abuelita had always been too tough to designate any particular kind of work to a gender.

It was evident just by talking to her that Abuelito's type had been a woman who could kick his ass.

"A nurse," she had told me. "You'll be a nurse."

“I don’t really wanna be a nurse…”

”A doctor, maybe?” She quipped.

Tio Luis jokingly suggested I start coming to the shop after school and see how I'd like being a mechanic.

Mom had sent them both a look and pulled me aside.

"Don't listen to her, mija. You do whatever it is that'll make you happiest. Even if that means a ranch in Mexico. Or a mechanic." She reassured me before patting my cheek. "Although you have a lot more options than you know..." She had said the last part low enough to where only I could hear.

"Oh, I see. Fuck me for trying to keep Aurelia alive and well. Pinche Mocosa..."

"Mamá!"

"I don't know what I want to do," I said with complete honesty to Snape.

This seemed to genuinely surprise him.

“Have you no great ambition?” A fair question to ask, considering our house.

I did. I’d argue that my ambition was so great it was really more like a wish than a goal.

“Well… yeah, but not career-wise. I mean, I can think of occupations that don’t interest me. I definitely don’t want to work in the medical field.”

I loved Abuelita with all my heart and soul, but I absolutely had to spite her there. There were already several nurses in the family. She could pester them.

“To be real here, I don’t even know what jobs there are beyond like, Wizard cop or professor or whatever Newt Scamander was.”

Snape paused before walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a rather large box. He glanced at the empty bowls and vanished them with a silent wave of his wand then placed the box down with a loud thunk.

"I normally don't have to have this talk with students of this house." Snape sounded annoyed and yet... oddly eager? He opened the box to reveal an unholy amount of pamphlets.

"The box is deeper on the inside..." I whispered in horror.

So... So many pamphlets...

"Let's start with the ministry..." He said wickedly.

By the gods, what have I done?

Chapter Text

"How can the Ministry of Magic have so many jobs yet be so fucking useless?"

"Aurelia!" Hermione hissed. "You shouldn't swear— especially in the halls!" She glanced around and pointed at a group of first-years.

"What? I'm just saying. They have a bunch of departments that have even more subdivisions. You'd think they'd be more competent and less... Wait. Maybe that's what's wrong with the Ministry. You know how too many cooks spoil the broth? It's like that. Too many corrupt assholes spoil the government."

"Was Snape's lecture last night really that dreadful?" Harry asked.

"I thought it was 'too many wizards spoil the potion...'" mumbled Ron.

"You of all people should be agreeing with me," I pointed out before realizing that this version of Harry would never have to go through the Umbridge and the Ministry smear campaign. And even if he did, that was still three years out.

He titled his head, "Now why's that?”

It took me a second to scramble up an answer, "Sirius. Had the Ministry given him a proper trial back then, you'd've had your godfather the whole time."

Harry's jade eyes darkened considerably, as did the mood of the group. Ron noticed before I did and quickly acted.

"I think I'd make a fair killin' at professional quidditch. Or an auror, but Mum would hang me by my toes if she found out. You should've seen the way she shrieked at Charlie when he got his papers for Romania." He shuddered.

Hermione rolled her eyes and I light kicked her shin.

"I'm going to work for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," she announced.

"Say that five times fast," Ron said under his breath.

"For the house-elves," I nodded. "I expect nothing less from our awesome founder."

Hermione reddened and adjusted her already perfect posture, sticking her chest out slightly to show off the S.P.E.W. button she'd recently made. Her pride was practically gaining sentience and dancing around her.

"I think I'd want to open up a joke shop," I said, thinking of Fred and George's. I'd have to find a way to make Wealeys' Wizard Wheezes come to fruition. There was simply zero way in hell that I was allowing Harry to participate in the Triwizard Tournament so the twins wouldn't be able to get their start-up money. I'd have to start with making sure they don't bet with Bagman...

"A joke shop?" everyone asked in unison. That certainly had not been what anyone expected.

"Are you just saying that because you know it will irritate Professor Snape?" Hermione accused.

Ron snickered, "If that's the case, I fully support this brilliant idea of yours."

I waved my hands about as I explained, "Look, I won't say that isn't a big reason—"

Harry sent me his usually fond-yet-exasperated look as I launched into an elaboration on how yeah, I thought it was pretty effing sweet to piss off Snape by running off and starting a joke shop (I left out the part about it being with Fred and George but I knew that would just be the icing on the cake), but it was also because all my other options sounded like a fucking drag.

”…And really, how else am I supposed to rebel? It’s not like I can go goth or something. Snape already beat me to the punch. Ooo, do you think he’d let me paint his nails black—"

Honestly though? It has nothing to do with Snape or my other options being lame with few exceptions. It was mostly guilt. But, hey. What can you do? If I ever find something I have a passion for, then I'd probably pursue it. Maybe one day, I'd move back home to America... maybe not exactly East L.A., but close enough. Ventura would be nice… A large house by the harbor… A few kids with someone who loved me… No ominous dark lord looming over and endangering everyone I care about…

Anyway, until that day came, I felt as though I owed it to the twins. 

"—Anyway, I've decided that my electives will be Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies."

Hermione, much to the boys' surprise, brightened up when she heard I'd be taking not only more than the required two electives, but one of them being Muggle Studies.

"Oh yes! I think it would be absolutely fascinating to see a wizarding perspective on muggle life!"

"I'm fairly certain that Aurelia's only planning on taking it for an easy O."

"Harry!" I exclaimed. I mean, it was true, but he didn't have to point that out in front of Hermione. "Why, I'd never—"

"Yes, you would,” he said, absolutely one-hundred percent correctly.

”If you’re not going to take Muggle Studies seriously, why not take Arithmancy?”

“Hermione, I did not escape the clutches of the American public education system to voluntarily do math ever again. These assholes don’t even have calculators. I’ll die.”

Hermione looked scandalized. Her hair seemed to take on a life of its own and somehow managed to get bushier in outrage.

"Can't a girl underachieve in peace?" I whined before she could lecture me.

”Don’t worry, 'Relia,” Ron patted my shoulder, “I’ll do the bare minimum with you.”

”Ron, you are my one true ally in this world.” I grabbed his hand before holding my other one out towards our black-haired bestie.

“Harry! Join us and together we can rule the school as underachievers!”

Hermione choked in disbelief as Harry smirked and took my hand. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“Hah! You’re outnumbered, 'Mione!”

We all paused for a moment before bursting out into laughter.

“Quick question,” Ron said after the laughter died down, “What’s a calculator?”

Before Hermione could explain and I could tell him about the 80085 trick that every young lad liked to do, I saw someone merrily skipping towards us and nudged her side.

It appeared that Colin Creevey, despite his promise, was not going to leave me and Harry alone. Not even a week after I let him take a picture… Ugh. Kids. You give ‘em an inch, they’ll take a thousand miles.

"Making my way downtown, walking fast..." I sang under my breath as I attempted to usher the four of us away.

"Hi-ya, Harry! Hullo, Prince!" He trilled.

"Damn. Not fast enough."

"Hello, Colin," Harry sighed dejectedly.

Maybe I needed to pawn him off on Ginny or— HOLY SHIT I FORGOT LUNA LOVEGOOD EXISTED. 

I don’t have to interact with her, do I? I mean, I haven’t got anything major against her… It’s not like she’s critical to the plot or anything. At least, not now that I’ve changed so much… If Ginny’s as friendless as she was when I last checked on her, then I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to nudge her and Luna together. Perhaps throw Colin in there as well. Maybe if he had friends he would leave us all be.

"What are we? Wallpaper?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"You've already made that joke, remember?" I pointed out. "Try, 'What are we? Chopped liver?' or 'Are we just set-pieces to you?' perhaps."

"I don’t need advice on old jokes from someone who’s been harassing my brother for a bit for the better part of a year, but your suggestion has been noted,” said Ron in best Percy impression.

”Touché.”

”Bless you.”

Hermione cringed. "No, Ron—"

“Creevey, can you like, fuck off anywhere else?” I said tiredly, causing Hermione to once again yell at me. Even Harry looked a little uncomfortable as I lifted the eleven-year-old’s chin to look up at me. Hmm. You’d think a kid that hyper wouldn’t look so tired up close. Now that I think about it, he didn’t seem to have any friends, so that was probably stressing him out.

”Listen, I already warned you once before and I’m not gonna do it again.” I ever so slightly tightened my grip on the mousy boy’s chin, “It’s real annoying when you come up and pester us like this. Harry and I are people who enjoy our privacy just like anyone else. Now, normally I’d hex you in to next Tuesday, but I’m feeling unusually kind today, so instead I’m gonna give you two names. Are you listening?”

The terrified child nodded rapidly.

”Ginny Weasley, first year Gryffindor. Luna Lovegood, first year Ravenclaw. I want you to go seek them out and bug them instead. It’s your first year at Hogwarts. Make some freakin’ friends and have fun getting into trouble with them instead of trying to hang around us. Go... start a Harry Potter fan club or something. Just don’t talk to us ever again unless you're in mortal peril. Am I understood?”

He nodded again and I released his chin.

”Great. Now make like a dog and piss off.”

“Yes, Miss Prince!” He saluted before running off, stumbling frequently in the process.

”…Merlin, Aurelia, did you have to be so mean to him? And what’s with you setting him up with my sister and neighbor?”

I groaned and leaned into a very confused Ron for comfort. “Hey, I was way nicer to him than I could’ve been. And none of those three have any friends so I was doing my civic duty by hookin’ ’em up. Anyway, I’m like, really hungry… OW!” I yelped as I felt someone pinch my ear.

”I understand why you did it, but that was no excuse for traumatizing the poor boy.” Hermione scolded.

”Yes, Mom,” I grumbled under my breath.

Harry, looking rather put-out, sighed and scratched the back of his messy black head. “You looked a little too much like Snape there. He was getting on my nerves too, but I’ll handle it from now on, alright?”

My faced heated and it felt as though I’d just eaten a very large rock that was now settling in the pit of my stomach. “Okay…”

Was I actually that mean to him? I was trying to be as nice as I possibly could given the circumstances...

Harry, sensing my dejection, awkwardly placed a hand on my shoulder. “Er— but it was kind of you to try and help him make a few friends…”

I did my best to beam at him, although I still felt a little hurt by everyone’s reaction. In my defense, I wanted to nip the whole Colin thing in the bud before he started to draw major attention— especially that of someone like Draco Malfoy. In this version of events, Draco and and Harry were still rivals, but to a much lesser degree thanks to all my meddling. I fully intended to keep it that way, if not try to even improve their relationship.

You might be thinking, 'Aurelia, why in God's name would you wanna do that? You're not one of those Drarry shippers, are you?'

First of all, it's not my cup of tea, but I can think of a million other ships that are way worse so don't be rude. Second, Draco was a Malfoy. And the weight of the Malfoy name matched the weight of the gold in their vaults. If we managed to make Draco a less of a douchey bigot, combined with Harry's untapped influence, a lot of things down the line would be much easier. It would be playing the long con, but it would be worth it, I think. Without the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, the events leading to Lucius Malfoy being kicked off the Hogwarts Board of Governors would not occur. I wasn't entirely certain how large of a ripple effect that would have, but I fully intended on using that to my advantage.

I jumped slightly as I felt someone tug on one of my braids. "Ay! What was that for?" I glared at the redheaded perpetrator, who merely looked away and whistled.

"You wondered off to your own little world again," said Hermione.

"Still, no need to tug my braids..." I grumbled.

"Come to think of it, I don't believe I've ever seen your hair loose," she noted.

The boys' eyes widened.They hadn't either.

"I've seen you with different styles of braids, but its always two tied with ribbons. Even when you stayed at the Burrow."

"Well, yeah. I don't think even my roommates have seen it un-braided. The only time it isn't is when I'm in the shower. I hate my hair."

"Is it because of how greasy it gets when you forget to shower—oof!" Ron coughed as Harry jabbed him in the stomach.

I scowled but not at Ron. "I always say that I've got wavy hair, but that isn't the full truth. A good chunk of it is, but there's patches randomly here and there that are either perfectly straight or varying degrees of mild curls. It inconsistent gets all in my mouth and eyes and ugh I just hate it."

Abuelita had made the right call when telling me not to chop my hair off. I would've had to spend a fortune on potions to make my hair fully curly for me to tolerate it... Huh.

I turned and are studied Hermione's bushy mane. Hmm... I wonder...

"Hey, 'Mione, do you brush your hair when it's wet or dry? And do you dry it with a towel?"

"Er— when it's dry? And yes, I do. What—"

"Comb you hair in the shower and scrunch it when you've got conditioner in. Then let it air dry. Trust me on this."

She looked skeptical but nevertheless acquiesced.

Ron and Harry looked at each other before shrugging.

"Girls."

Hermione Granger, born in England on September the nineteenth, 1979, had gone thirteen years of life on planet Earth before learning that she had been blessed with very lovely curls indeed.

Dear Aurelia,

Hey-a, kiddo! Tis I, your cool Auntie Alya. I was gettin all sentimental and stuff and looked over your file and noticed it was your birthday not too long ago! Well then, Happy birthday! I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I rummaged through my old school trunks to see if I still had anything of Rita's. Turns out, I've got quite a bit hehe... I think I'll save up the bulk of it for your later birthdays. For now, enjoy her old Thunderbird scarf and pins. My spouse also thought you might like to hear about your mom in her school days! They knew her too, although they were part of our biggest rival "gang."

I say gang, but it was really only another group of three: Erika Hollis, Pukwudgie; Enfys Edelstein (that's my spouse!), Wampus; and the notorious Amanita Grimm, Wampus.) It was them versus me, Rita, Thunderbirds, and Belinus Theodosius Ravenscroft the third, Horned Serpent. Though we never actually called him that. Your mom started calling him Linus in their first year. Have you ever met him? He and Rita were thicker than Siamese twin thieves by the time I arrived at Ilvermorny. I haven't spoken to him in well over a decade (he was always more keen on Rita than anyone else.) I figured if she kept in contact with anyone from the magic world, it'd have to be him. He won't reach out to me, but perhaps you could give it a try. You're Rita's little girl. If you tried writing to him he may very well respond. He probably has even more old stuff of your mother's. Last I heard, he was wandering through some forest in Lithuania.

Or was it Lativia?

Actually, there's a chance it might be Luxembourg or Liechtenstein. Definitely a forest in an L country, though.

You know, Linus are Rita used to go on and on about traveling the world together after graduation. Hearing that she ended up staying in one place as long as she did came as a real shock, to be honest. She always bemoaned the idea of settling down in one spot— especially near her mother, the bitch. Claimed she'd sooner die. She must've really, really loved you. She didn't even do that for Sirius Black.

Enfys has informed me that that was "entirely inappropriate of me to say to you" so if you're able to read the crossed out bits, no you aren't. I am going to end this letter now, lest I be found dead by morn. It used to be Rita and Linus who had to parent me. Now it's my damn spouse— I do not mean that, Enfys is a wonderful and loving partner and it is not their fault I am a pain in the backside.

Anyway, Happy Birthday again.

Sincerely,

Alya Porpentina Kowalski

and Enfrys Edelstein-Kowalski

P.S. When do you think you'll be back in the states? You should come over to our house in New York for a day. I'd absolutely love to meet you. Have you ever been out east? And don't worry about travel fare. Consider it making up for us not being in you life sooner. — Enfys

Chapter Text

Alya groaned and leaned into her spouse's lithe figure. She had sent an letter and package to one miss Aurelia Prince via International Post approximately thirteen minutes ago.

"Her girl's thirteen now, En. The big three-ten. And she's at Hogwarts! Rita wouldn't have wanted that. She always said that should hell ever curse her with kids, she'd send them to Ilvermorny... Oh sweet Circe, she has a kid! Has? Had? Oh yeah, she’s dead too and now I don’t even know what tense to use!"

Enfys sighed and pulled their wife in closer, "There's no point in another meltdown about it. Every time you remember the poor child, you practically expire on the spot. Your boss has had to send you home twice now."

The cotton-candy haired witch made a string of incoherent moans into their partner's chest. "It's not fair, En! I was her best— well, second best friend— for over seven years! One day she just vanishes without a trace and next thing I know I'm representing her orphaned kid in the British Wizengamot.

"Shhh. Hush now, my love. You'll wake the girls with your whining."

"Grrr...BAH! Carys a heavy sleeper..."

"But Nerys..." Enfys pointed out.

"Damn. You're right. I am really not in the mood to sample her latest 'invention...'"

"What was it this morning? Marshmallow and pixie wings as the cure for the common cold?" They teased as they toyed with Alya's fluffy pink locks.

"No, that was last week. Apparently she received a no-maj chemistry set from one of her classmates. She’s been mixing it with random potion ingredients that are scattered throughout the house. I’m fairly certain she’s concocted one of the most foul poisons in the past three hundred years.”

Alya brought her knees to her chest, “You know, had Rita not vanished, we might’ve received a heads-up on how bizarre children are. Were we this weird growing up?”

”Well, you were. I, on the other hand…”

The pair glared at each other before bursting in to muffled laughter.

”I can’t even argue with you. The more I think on it, the more certain that we were way worse…” The witch trailed off before jolting. “And I didn’t even recognize the father! Severus Snape! Who the fuck is Severus Snape?!”

“Apparently, Aurelia’s father.”

Alya huffed and chewed on the inside of her cheek. “You know, I like our dynamic a lot more when it’s me being the smart aleck.”

Enfys lightly poked her cheek, “You need to calm down. Quite frankly, it’s none of our business.”

”But it is! I might’ve only ever been ‘best friend number two’ in her eyes, but to me Rita was the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister! I was the only one who supported her pursuing Sirius Black! I was the one who pushed her to try out for the team!”

”I also recall you getting chastised by Professor MacArthur for only doing cheers for Rodriguez during games. I think it was the Christmas match against St. Idyllwild… I want to say ‘73? When he cursed your mouth shut for an hour?”

”It was ‘74 end of the year match. Christmas of ‘73 Salem Witches’ Institute forfeited due to a dragon pox epidemic, so Thunderbird ended up playing a match against Horned Serpent, remember? Anyway, MacArthur totally had it out for me! What’s so wrong about cheering for a friend?”

Enfys rolled their sea-storm eyes. “Your head of house was probably the only teacher left keeping you from expulsion by the time graduation came, you absolute troublemaker. And it mattered because you were on the cheer team.”

“Fair point. You know who really had it out for my friends and I?”

”Oh for the love of—"

”Professor Medea!”

“Will you ever let that go?” asked Enfrys.

“YOUR DAMN BEST FRIEND USED THEIR AUNT TO TRY AND GET US EXPELLED HOW MANY TIMES? AND FOR WHAT REASON?!”

The ginger pinched the bridge of their nose. ”Amanita and I have apologized how many times now?”

The former Thunderbird grumbled, “As if that makes up for, say, Valentine’s Day of ‘74…”

“I stand by Margarita Rodriguez cheats...”

”Here, Rita. This one’s got got caramel in it.” 

A pale lanky boy with bottle green eyes and  coal black side styled hair grinned at his pleasant looking companion as he offered her an owl-shaped piece of chocolate from his pile.

The honey-skinned girl smiled sweetly at him, “Thank you, Linus. Here, you still like the orange ones, right? Let’s trade.”

The second-year blonde looked between her two friends and scrunched her nose in disgust. Linus hated the orange flavor even more than Margarita did, yet every time he traded with that gross look on his face.

”Um, I like caramel too. Want my orange ones?”

The blonde received also received a smile, but to anyone other than the resident Latina it was clearly a threat on her life.

”I couldn’t possibly, Alayna.”

Brown eyes twitched. He knew she hated her legal name. “Alya.”

“My mistake,” he said in a faux demure tone.

Alya didn’t even know a man could play prim as well as he did without getting called a bad word, but Belinus T. Ravenscroft was an expert in everything, it seemed. He could probably find a way to tell Headmaster Gallowhead to shove a bezoar up his butt and say it so prettily that he’d end up winning house points.

”Oh, I’ve got a few caramels here in my bag you’d like, Alya?” Margarita offered kindly.

“That’d be wonderful, thanks Rita.” 

The curly-haired third year nodded before turning around and leaning over to search her bag. Alya took the opportunity to stick her chocolate covered tongue out at her best friend’s best friend.

Linus’ smile grew tighter and his eyes more piercing. The boy had a way of making green eyes look like pure ice. Alya could physically feel her skin getting tighter and pricked. It almost felt like a light stinging hex was spreading all over her body. Of course, she knew it wasn’t actually magic. The upperclassman was just naturally terrifying. Thanks to Rita, though, she knew his Dark-Lord-in-Training persona was just a front.

But Merlin almighty, he was still the most intimidating person she’d ever met.

”Rude,” she mouthed as her friend came back up and slid over a handful off caramels.

”Thanks, Rita. You’re the best.”

”Oh,” her skin was too tan to show much red, but Alya could still tell she was blushing. “It’s no problem.”

How could someone a year older than her be so cute?

Rita was the perfect opposite of Linus, who was clearly some kind of cunning and scheming villain. She was like something out of a princess fairytale book. Beautiful, sweet, caring, amazing voice, fantastic cook… If she were a man, Alya would’ve proposed marriage on their first meeting. (Well, she did actually but unfortunately for her Margarita didn’t swing that way…)

Not to mention her skills on the Quidditch pitch. Best beater Thunderbird has seen in fifty years. Although, certain people would disagree…

”Rodriguez!” A sharp voice called out.

Margarita let out a sigh, “Ay. We were having such a good time…”

The trio looked up from their table in the school’s commons to see a sandy-haired third year witch in a red and black uniform bow stalking towards them, followed closely by another in red and black and a witch in brown and orange.

”Good morning, Amanita. What can I do for you?” She asked politely.

”Eat dirt and die, Grimm,” Alya hissed at them, which caused her friend to gently kick her under the table.

”You’re going down in the match tomorrow, Rodriguez. Wampus is going to be the one representing Ilvermorny against St. Idyllwild at the end of the year match. Thunderbird doesn’t stand a chance,” Amanita snarled.

Linus, who’d been doing his best to ignore her, rolled his eyes. “As if, Grimm. Thunderbird has bested Wampus in every match since last year.”

”Shut it, bookworm,” said a nasally Enfys Edelstein.

”You’ve got chocolate on your nose, did you know? Strange. I didn’t think anyone would give you candy today. Had to buy it yourself? You know, since nobody likes you?” Alya asked innocently.

The freckled ginger sputtered in indignation before furiously wiping at their nose.

”Ignore her, En.” Erika Hollis, Amanita’s pet Pukwudgie, patted them on the back.

”Really, Amanita,” Margarita shook her head, “I don’t understand why it’s always me you come to argue with. Shouldn’t you be having all this talk with Tori Takahashi? You know, our seeker? I’m not even the team the captain…”

“Because! You’re just a beater! You don’t even play the game right! It’s up the chasers to get the quaffles in, yet you always manage to use the bludgers to hit them past the Keeper! That’s not how quidditch works!” Erika whined in her friend’s stead.

Linus narrowed his eyes at them, “There is nothing in the guidebook that says she can’t do that. Besides, I seem to recall Andrés Ortega getting injured when he tried to replicate it. You’re just upset she’s the only one with the talent on a broom to pull it off."

Margarita placed her hand over her heart, "Ah, thank you Linus..."

”Just be a chaser, you cheater!” Complained Enfys. “Stop ruining the game for the rest of us!”

“I tried! All the positions will be taken until next year! And there has to be more to it than that. You have been harassing me since first year. What did I do to you?”

”Like you don’t know,” Erika scoffed.

”I really don’t, I promise you,” she responded tiredly.

“And are you three really ones to lecture me on ‘ruining’ the game? You two aren’t even on your houses’ teams and Amanita nearly killed poor Mavis Montgomery two games ago. Wanna talk about dangerous strategy? Ay, dios mio. What were you thinking, attempting a Wronski Feint? You could’ve both died,” Rita chastised.

’Wow,’ Alya thought, ‘she’s like a mother to even those shrew-faced spit-bags.’

Amanita’s face burned as red as her namesake. “What would you know about quidditch? Your family is a bunch of poor no-majes! You didn’t even know about quidditch until three years ago, you ugly little mud— eep!” Everyone gasped as Linus drew his wand and prodded her throat with it.

”You’re out of line, Grimm.”

”Expelliarmus!”

Linus turned to Margarita, looking very, very confused. As did everyone else, Alya supposed.

The Latina witch delicately tucked her wand back in its designated pocket on the front of her maroon pinafore uniform before turning to lock eyes with Amanita. “Next time you run that sour mouth of yours against my family, I’ll report you to the headmaster. I have dealt with too many people like you looking down on me for my family, though they did it because of the color of our skin and the language we speak.”

She walked over to pick up Linus’ wand and handed it to him before looking back at the sandy blonde. “I have been called mud before, and I swore to myself that I wouldn’t deal that in this world. I don’t like fighting. I have been doing my best to turn the other cheek, but…”

Margarita picked up her bag and glowered at her rival before adjusting her sky blue and gold bow and walking away, “See you on the pitch, bitch.”

“There’s a distinct lack of Professor Medea in that story.”

Alya ignored her spouse.

“That was the only time I’d ever heard Rita swear in all our years of friendship. I’m pretty sure that was the only time she ever swore in her life, now that I think about. Still can’t believe you were friends with someone who called people the m word.”

“Amanita was… going through some things at home… Not that that excuses it, of course. She’s grown a lot since then.”

Alya bit her tongue. She’d heard all about Amanita’s no-maj mother before.

”Rita’s mother was way worse to her and she was still kind to everyone she met… You know, I’m glad that Snape guy struck his legal claim on Aurelia. I can’t imagine Carmela must’ve been much kinder to her than her own daughter. Ugh, I can’t stand that awful woman.”

Enfys brushed a stray pink lock out of their wife’s face, “I thought she and her mother reconciled summer before sixth?”

“They did,” Alya did some more groaning, “but I still haven’t forgiven that woman. I mean, would you ever forgive ‘Nita’s mother if she had attempted to reconcile with her?”

”…Fair point. But you aren’t that one whose forgiveness she needs. People are capable change, if they try. I mean, I myself wasn’t always what you refer to as a shining example of maturity. Nobody has to stay the same. Amanita’s shown that, and it sounds like Carmela became a far better person before Margarita… and that’s all that matters. She didn’t have to forgive her mother, but she did. So as someone who was her friend, you need to respect that,” said Enfys.

“I really don’t, but that other stuff you said wasn’t so bad.”

Alya got up to stretch and pop her back. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? I’ve gotta go look at that case file they just sent me. Some kid from Florida gave an alligator wings and set it loose in no-maj theme park. Gotta go and find a way to make sure his wand doesn’t get snapped…”

“Smile for the camera, champion!” Alya grinned as she positioned her camera to best capture her friend.

Margarita laughed and blew a kiss towards the camera, her bag slung over her shoulder. It was clear she was basking in the high of victory against St. Idyllwild and the feeling of the maroon and gold quidditch robes. The school quidditch robes, not her blue and gold house robes. She wasn’t merely representing Thunderbird, she was representing Ilvermorny as reigning champions. She was the school.

Alya and Linus silently negotiated a truce as they watched their best friend. Just for the day of course.

It belonged solely to Margarita.

And technically the rest of the Thunderbird team and Ilvermorny, but she and Linus really didn’t give a damn about them.

Chapter Text

"Oh, no way. I think it's really cool of them, but I'd much rather hang out with my family. Haven't seen anyone other than Abuelita in two years. A lot of them aren't exactly getting any younger, you know. If they wanna see me, they can come to LA or wait until summer. God. I’m getting real sick of all these birthday letters…"

Silence.

"...You're not still mad about not mentioning my birthday, right? Because in my defense, that's not really something I like celebrating. That was the day Snape abandoned me, you know. The literal day of my birth. I don't even think the literal motherfucker even held me."

Come to think of it, where exactly did my mother give birth to me? It wasn’t until like, a half hour into existence that I gained sentience and I couldn’t see shit for at a few weeks (those SIs I read in my previous life were total bullshit and did not prepare me for being an actual baby) but I’m fairly certain I wasn’t born in a hospital? I genuinely can’t recall anyone but Mom and Snape being there.

Granted, that was thirteen years ago, so who knows. 

Hermione didn't even have it in her to lecture me on my foul language. "You... You threw me a birthday party..."

Seriously, how did those other SI OCs remember every god damn detail from both lives? Even considering that I’ve got some weird memory blocker, I can barely remember last Tuesday— let alone my first few years of re-existence.

“Aurelia?”

I think the extent of my memory for those first few years was Abuelito, and I barely remember what he looks like.

”You alright, mate?”

I just remember his rosary, love for menudo, and the sound of his voice as he sang ‘Cielito Lindo’ to Mom and I…

“Aurelia!”

”Gah!” I jumped back. “Dude, what’s with the yelling?”

”You were spaced out again… and do not refer to me as ‘dude,’” said a rather irked Hermione.

“Would you prefer dudette?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes before shaking her head. “Honestly…”

Harry’s jade eyes widened comically behind his glasses, “You’re doing that thing again! The thing you do where you say something odd and change the subject!”

I shrugged, “Look man, I don’t know what you want from me. I really, really don’t like celebrating my birthday anymore. It’s just… it’s not the same and I don’t wanna think about it. There’s really not much to it. It’s not like I’m hiding the Dark Lord in my suitcase or something.”

I was, actually. But they didn’t need to know that.

Ron frowned but it didn’t take long for him to pat me on the back, “Alright. We won’t talk about it anymore.”

Harry nodded, although rather hesitantly.

Hermione, however, didn’t seem to get it. “Honestly, you shouldn’t let Professor Snape sour something like your birthday. You constantly—”

”Hermione,” Ron cut her off before whispering something in her ear that made her eyes widen more than Harry’s had.

”Oh.”

The redhead nodded grimly.

Her pale cheeks heated to a soft pink color before she cleared her throat. “Well, er— Aurelia, how are you doing on that Transfiguration essay? Is there anything you don’t understand?”

”Oh, everything! I haven’t even started,” I grinned the confidence of someone barely passing. It was getting to the point of Snape threatening me whenever he saw me do something that wasn’t studying. Apparently, McGonagall had talked to him about my inability to grasp more than the most basic elements of the subject.

”Neither have I, actually,” admitted Harry.

“Ditto,” said Ron, with absolutely zero shame.

I’m pretty even the Giant Squid in the lake heard Hermione’s groan of frustration.

Aurelia,

I apologize for the time it took for me to send this letter.

Thank you for the photo of her. Trust me when I say that time had only enhanced her beauty. I only wish I had been able to see her like that with my own eyes.

I heard your birthday passed recently. I have something for you, next time we meet. I think you’ll like it rather much. For now, please settle for this photo of James and Daisy arguing over their teams. I’ve sent one to Harry as well, worry not. Remus and I are currently on the hunt for one of them playing against each other. You’ll be the first to know when we find it.

Yes, those two got on so well that Lily and I often joked about them leaving us behind and running off together. All in good fun, of course. James had once mentioned that he felt that he’d found the sister he’d always dreamt of in her. There were times when I wondered if I’d been replaced as his best friend.

Remus was extremely fond of her as well. Daisy’s ability to love and be loved was no match for his walls, despite how hard he tried to keep them up. You’ll have to ask him about it. If I revel too much, he’ll have my head.

I’m not sure I could say honestly that Lily and Daisy were friends, but they didn’t dislike each other. Lily seemed to think they didn’t have much in common. I tried asking Daisy once, but she wouldn’t answer.

Daisy and I met on Christmas Eve of 1975. She and her friends from school— one of which was your representative— were on holiday in Britain. She and her friends had walked into the pub James and I were at. I’ll tell you the rest of the story next time we meet. It deserves to be heard, rather than read.

Daisy had many interests and I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew more of them than I— you did get many more years with her than I did. But she liked hearing about different places. James and I invited her to meet our parents once. She had gotten lost on her way back from the loo and it took us a half hour to find her. It turns out that she’d accidentally wandered into the portrait room and was having an intense conversation with the portraits of Merrick Potter, James’ late great-great uncle who did extensive traveling across Southeast Asia, and Radhika Potter, Merrick’s wife, about the things they’d seen. 

Fleamont and Euphemia didn’t have the heart to interrupt. James and I eventually had to pry her away. Daisy became determined to see the sights herself after that, though she’d always loved the idea of traveling the world. Did she ever get to see India, at least? That was one of the places she wanted to visit the most. She wanted to see as many as possible, of course, but India was within her top five.

The robes in the photograph are her school quidditch robes. Her house ones were light blue and gold. Ilvermorny tends to have several matches against their fellow American schools each year. Whichever house wins the last home match gets to represent the school in the final match of the year. It was Thunderbird the entire six years Daisy was on the team. She was a beater for five out those years and she was damn good at it. In her seventh year, she played as a chaser like she’d originally wanted. She once wrote to me in a letter that she regretted changing positions but it had been too late.

Tell me about yourself. What are your interests? Harry said you aren’t all that fond of quidditch. Do you prefer muggle sports? Or perhaps you’re more interested in the arts? Are you and Harry up to any adventures yet? It warms my heart to know that you two are close. I know James would be thrilled knowing his son and Daisy’s daughter are friends. He’s such a good boy, isn’t he? 

Settle a decade-old debate for me, will you? Who is the best band? Before the 80s, of course. I missed that era of music entirely.

If you answered anything other than The Beatles or Fleetwood Mac, I want you to know that Lily and I are very disappointed in you. If it’s ABBA or Queen, your mum and James are ecstatic.

Remus says it’s actually Pink Floyd, but he is wrong and we will ignore him. 

Anyway, this letter has gone on long enough. Harry mentioned that you’ll be in California for the winter hols, but how would you like to spend the Easter hols with us? I’ve already ran it by Harry. He said it’s for you to decide.

Once again, Happy Birthday. Congratulations on making it to thirteen.

— Sirius Black

Dear Sirius,

All of you were wrong. Clearly, Tio Luis and I are the only ones with good taste because it’s clearly Santana. Mom was never all that into them, but nobody’s perfect. ABBA’s pretty good though. I’ve got a lot of fond memories of Mom playing their songs on the guitar. Mom once told me that if I were a boy she would have named me Fernando.

Please, please catch up on the music of the 1980s. You won’t regret it.

Aside from trying to get our DADA teacher arrested for fraud. I’m afraid the year has been rather boring so far. I’ll be sure to tell you when I manage to convince Harry to get in some trouble with me.

Mom never got to see India, as far as I know. Nor the world. I honestly didn’t know that was her main ambition until I was told about it. 

Harry is indeed the most wonderful of boys. I promise you that I will protect him with my life. He and Ron were the first friends I’ve ever made. And I do mean ever. I fully intend on looking out for his well-being until the day I die.

It’s true. I don’t really like quidditch. I have a fondness for soccer, however. My main hobbies include impressing McGonagall with new ways to fuck up Transfiguration and baking. The latter is more out of necessity these days, to be honest. Ron says that if he doesn’t get his pan dulce fix at least once a week he’ll expire. Can’t have that happening. Harry would never forgive me for killing his only male friend with my negligence.

It would seem I have no choice. I would love to spend spring break with you and Harry. And Remus, I presume? He seems like an interesting fella. Kinda handsome too. Do feel free to tell him I said that. (Although don’t let him get his hopes up. My heart belongs solely to Ron’s older brother Percy.)

Sincerely,

Aurelia R. R. Prince

The months seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. Before I knew it, it was the day before Halloween.

I am thoroughly convinced that this damn holiday is cursed because I woke up with the world’s more intense stomach ache. First dead Potters, then Dark Lords sucking trolls on the castle, and now the feeling of being head-butted by a careless kiddo running around on the playground.

”Are you alright, mate?” Asked a very concerned Ron at breakfast.

”I think Snape has finally gotten around to poisoning me,” I said, only partially joking, into my marmalade-slathered toast.

Daphne looked over at me and frowned with worry. “Aurelia, perhaps you should go to the hospital wing? You’re looking… well, your complexion is closer to mine than your usual sun-kissed look.”

The sweet brunette’s concern drew the attention of the other second years.

I gave a weak grin and shook my head, “Nah, I’m okay. Just a small stomach issue. I should be better by the end of the day. I’ll go see Pomfrey if it gets worse.”

"Are you sure?" She frowned and gently rubbed my back. "Let me know if you need me to walk you there. Wouldn't want you falling down the stairs again."

God, Daphne was such a cutie. Easily could've been a Hufflepuff.

”She probably just has that cold that’s been going around,” Pansy dismissed.

"You still got those Lazarus Lozenges? Try taking one of those. You'll still feel like shite, but at least you'll be productive," said Milicent.

"I might have a few left. That is if Theo hasn't swiped them all," I sent a pointed look towards the weedy boy, who suddenly became very interested in the beans on his plate.

"It's times like this that I wish Hogwarts offered coffee," Blaise lamented, truly a boy after my mother's own heart.

"Are you even English?" Tracey joked.

"Distinctly not," he said before turning to Draco, "Can't you ask your father to pull some strings and get at least Slytherin some good coffee?"

"Possibly, but why would I want to do that?"

The table continued to chat animatedly about the pros and cons of having Lucius Malfoy provide us with copious amounts of caffeine while I leaned into Ron for support.

"You certain you aren't dying?" He whispered in my ear.

"That is a great question, Ron. Wish I had an answer."

He sighed. "At least we've got History of Magic first thing. You could take a nap."

"Am I seriously the only one who actually likes that class?"

"Yes," chorused everyone on our side of the table before returning to their debate.

"Damn, alright. Anyway, it's not History of Magic that I'm worried about. It's our later class..."

"Prince! It specifically says to dice, not mince! Are you so incompetent that you can't even tell the difference?"

I winced. "Sorry sir, won't happen again."

"Prince! It's one part valerian root, two parts lavender! If you're trying to kill Weasley, at least be subtle about it!"

"Sorry, sir!"

"Prince, where did you even get orange flower essence? It isn't even in stock!"

“Don’t put the ingredients in the fire, you stupid girl!”

"How did you manage to make it a powder?!"

“Class dismissed! Unless you’re Prince.”

The other students looked at me sympathetically on their way out. The only to stay was Ron.

Snape made his way over to the two of us and scowled at him. “I do not recall your name being Prince. Get out, Weasley.”

”We’ve actually got a contract marriage going on until Percy notices her, sir. I’ve got her last name in the meantime. Been meaning to let the school know,” said a straight-faced Ron.

I shook my head before Snape could physically throw him out of the classroom. “I appreciate the show of support, but you go on ahead. Tell Harry and ‘Mione that I’ll see them later.”

Ron wasn’t overly keen on the idea of leaving me alone in my state with my father but after seeing my pleading expression he nodded curtly to Snape before making his exit. “Professor.”

With a sigh, I placed my head on the desk. “I know, I know. I’m having a bit of an off day.”

Snape pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose. “I am almost impressed at how badly you manage to muck up every single step. Longbottom preformed better than you in his class.”

”Geez, I get it…”

He grabbed my chin and tilted my head up to face him. “On a normal day, you aren’t my… worst student…”

Translation: I’m usually the best potions student in my class.

“You will tell me what in Merlin’s name has gotten in to you,” demanded Snape.

I didn’t have the energy to be sassy. “I think I might be dying.”

Well that certainly wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. “Explain.”

”I woke up with a massive case of tummy hurt syndrome and over the day it’s spread to the rest of my body, including my head.”

Snape seemed a little dumbfounded at my response but gained his composure more quickly than he’d lost it. “Why aren’t you in the hospital wing?”

”I figured I’d feel better after breakfast. Evidently, I was incorrect in my assessment.”

”Clearly,” he said before dropping my chin.

”Don’t ever step into my classroom— in any classroom— when you are so clearly in a state where you might cause damage to yourself or others besides Weasley and Potter. I expect you to go straight to the Madam Pomfrey immediately.”

”Yeah, yeah, I’m—”

Oh. So that’s what today has been.

”Why are you still sitting down?” barked Snape.

”Um…”

Yeah, there was no way I was standing up right now. I don’t know how I completely managed to forget that this was a thing that was gonna happen to me at some point.

”I appear to have entered the sacred sisterhood,” I said cryptically.

”What? This is no time for your nonsense. Get out.”

I laughed nervously. I hadn’t exactly prepped for this conversation.

”So, er— I am the opposite of pregnant right now, and my uterus is making that an everywhere problem.”

Snape no longer appeared at home once I’d finished my sentence.

”Trust me, this was not on my list of things to do today, but here we are. Actually, this wasn’t even on my list of things to do this year. Was really hoping I could like, bypass this or some— woah!”

Before I could process what was happening, Snape had picked me up, magically cleaned the chair I’d been sitting in, carried me to his private chambers, tossed me in the bathroom, told me that one of the house-elves would be bringing me a change of clothes along with appropriate supplies, and slammed closed the door in my face.

”I will notify Madam Pomfrey and have you excused for the remainder of your classes today. When you are done you may rest on the lounge, if you need. Dinner will appear on the table if you stay long. I trust you to see yourself out after that.” He said through the door before leaving to prep for his next class.

“Huh,” I said while in the shower, “so he does own shampoo.”

I ended staying in Snape’s quarters way longer than anticipated. I’m genuinely shocked that he trusted me enough to leave me unattended in his room— let alone that that was allowed at all. Maybe it was some kind of special Professor’s kid privilege, because there’s no way in hell he’d risk getting in trouble for me. Maybe if I was in mortal danger, but definitely not for something like Mother Nature roundhouse kicking me in the abdomen.

Honestly, I’m genuinely shocked at how he approached the situation and something told me had I been literally anyone else it would have been a lot different.

I felt a lot better as I made my way to the Great Hall to see if I could make it in time for supper, but I still didn’t feel good.

”Fuuuck, I hate… life…”

Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit—

“Aurelia?”

I whipped around to see a gobsmacked Harry standing in front of newly released crowed staring at me in horror.

”This… this wasn’t me, I swear—”

”What’s going on?”

”Merlin, is that—”

”Oh my God!”

On the wall behind me, there it was. Exactly one day early.

Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

But it wasn’t a petrified Mrs. Norris hanging by her tail.

“No,” Neville hiccuped.

On the floor, there he was. Trevor the Toad, dead.

This… this can’t be happening. This is all just a bad dream.

“Merlin’s beard! Prince killed Longbottom’s pet!”

I’m still napping on Snape’s chaise lounge right now. Any moment now, I’m going to wake up and reality will kick in.

Draco pushed his way to the front of the crowed and gave me a deranged and animalistic grin. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so gleeful in the year and half I’ve know him.

This isn’t happening. I have the Diary. This isn’t real.

I felt as though I’d be sick all over the floor as he said his next words so breathlessly and unabashedly.

“You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

Chapter Text

I didn't do anything. I am innocent— I mean, I'm not guilty.

"Miss Prince?"

I did not kill the toad. I did not open the Chamber of Secrets. I haven't done anything.

"Miss Prince?"

I have an alibi. I was in Snape's room, recovering.

"Miss—"

THIS IS NOT MY FAULT!

"Agh! Huh?"

I looked up to see Snape looking a mix of angry, confused, and terrified.

"Oh, uh, um— where am I?"

"You're in Professor Lockhart's office, Miss Prince," Dumbledore said patiently.

I looked around and saw only the headmaster and Snape, along with what felt like at least twenty photos and portraits of Lockhart adorning the stone walls.

"If you wouldn't mind—"

"It can't be me!" I interrupted. "My mother was a Mestiza muggleborn and, and— and my grandfather on my father's side is a muggle, and said father is right there—"

"Miss Prince—"

"I know I've displayed an advanced aptitude for destructive magic previously, but clearly whatever happened here is NOT my style—"

I jumped when I felt a hand come down on my shoulder. It was then I realized just how much I was shaking. I looked up to see any trace of emotion gone from Snape's face as he tightened his grip.

"What motive could I possibly have to kill Trevor? I've never even properly spoken to Neville..."

"Miss Prince." Dumbledore's tone was soft and kind. "We know it was not you. No second year could have done this. You are not being accused of anything. We merely wish to receive a witness statement. After all, you were the first to arrive at the scene."

"I... I was taking a nap beforehand. I didn't mean to sleep for as long as I did, but when I awoke dinner was nearly over. There was food on the table near the sofa, but I wanted to let my friends know that I was feeling better and hopefully get the chance to dessert eat with them." I explained as calmly as possible, which wasn't much. "On... on my way up from the dungeons... That's when I saw... I was only there for a second before Harry called out to me."

The headmaster frowned at my last admittance.

"What? Why are you—"

It was Snape who spoke next. "Child, you were there for at least several minutes before Potter called out to you. You were first seen by several others, staring blankly at the dead toad. It was only the sound of his voice that broke you out of your trance."

"What? No. That— That can't be—"

"It is unsurprising," interrupted Dumbledore, "That you would be in a state of shock, given what you had just witnessed."

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

"I believe it's time for Miss Prince to get to bed—"

I gave Snape a pleading look. "Could I sleep in the Hospital Wing tonight? I'm scared that... I'm scared that if I go back to the dorms right now, I'll receive some kind of hero's welcome..."

Getting praised by Draco Malfoy again was not something I could handle at this moment in time. In fact, there was nothing more I wanted to do than get on the first plane back to the United States.

Because if this was real... That means that the Diary is in the hands of another.

Someone who isn't Ginny Weasley.

Someone that I haven't the first clue as to who they might be.

Someone who isn't me.

"I’m afraid that would be impossible, Miss Prince. The safest place for any student would be within their house dormitories," said Dumbledore.

"What about a professor’s office, sir? Could I sleep on one of the chairs in—"

Snape’s hand was suddenly back on my shoulder, but he didn’t look at me. He stared straight at Dumbledore with an expression I couldn’t read.

The old headmaster merely smiled. Another unreadable face. "Very well. Should you find yourself unable to sleep or withstand the prodding of your housemates, Professor Snape’s office will remain open to you.”

”I…” I stood up from my chair and nodded. “Thank you, sir. Goodnight.”

Snape escorted me in silence. The only time he spoke was to hand me a vial I was all too familiar with.

”Do you just carry these on you?” I asked.

”You’re an anxious creature. I never know when you’ll need them,” he responded, sounding far too tired and far too old. “There will be more on your nightstand when you wake.”

”I’m scared.” I said to him.

”Ilvermorny’s always an option.” 

I froze. He stopped once he noticed I did.

”No, it’s not. Don’t joke about that.”

”When have I ever been the type?”

I swallowed a mouthful of spit before walking again. “No. Not a chance.”

Snape sighed. “I won’t have much of a choice if this continues. I’ve a list of people who’d have my head on a spike if you were to die in my care.”

I didn’t bother responding. Any other night, I would laugh at how much I’d fought with him about going to Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorny. How he had to threaten and bribe me, and now here I was. Shutting down any talk of leaving Hogwarts.

It might’ve been “just” a toad this time, but it wasn’t like canon. Trevor wasn’t petrified, he died. Someone’s beloved pet was murdered and no matter how much I tried to spin it in my head, I was complicit.

This happened a day early with someone else entirely. How sure could I be about the next attack? Colin Creevey was supposed to be next. Sometime in early November, I believe. Who is to say he won’t die? Or that it won’t be him at all. It’ll be Dean Thomas or even Percy Weasley next Tuesday.

I know should tell Snape about the basilisk. I know I should say literally anything. But could I really explain how I knew such a thing? I felt as though if I spoke any of it aloud, the blood of that damn toad would appear on my hands. I felt like if I came clean about the situation, I would be stained forever.

“What do I say to them?” I asked as we approached the entrance to the common room.

“Nothing damning,” was his response.

I looked over at the clock near the fireplace.

”Happy Halloween,” I said.

Snape sent me to bed without another word.

I awoke to the sight of three girls surrounding my bed on each side.

”It wasn’t me,” I said immediately as I sat up. True to his word. There was a small box filled with vials of Calming Draught on my bedside. I quickly took one.

”Sure it wasn’t,” Tracey winked behind her glasses.

”We would never accuse you of such a thing,” said Pansy in a “knowing” voice.

”Not at all,” Millicent grinned.

“Leave her alone. She must be exhausted.”

We all looked over to see Daphne pulling herself out of bed and making her way over, her brown curls tied back into rather adorable pigtails.

”Aurelia, I know it’s still rather early, but would you mind accompanying me to the shower room? I’m a little afraid to go by myself.”

“What do you have to be afraid of?” Millicent sounded genuinely confused.

I ignored her and got up myself. “Of course.”

We walked in silence as we made our way to the Slytherin girls' shower room. Most people weren’t up yet since it was Saturday morning and the majority, myself included, typically chose to shower in the evening anyway. It was just us when we made it.

“Are you the Heir of Slytherin?” Asked Daphne point blank.

“No.”

”Do you know who it is or might be?”

”No,” I said honestly.

The normally chipper brunette sighed before pulling me into an unexpected hug.

”I know, I just had to ask.”

I blinked before awkwardly returning the hug. It was taking everything in me to not start weeping profusely.

”I’ve seen the way you look at Granger. The others have too, but I’ve managed to push your ‘for the prestige’ lie for you. You don’t hold blood prejudice, I know you don’t.”

I stiffened in her arms. "What—"

”I won’t lie and say that I like muggles or anything, or that I think they’re equal to us. Because I don’t. I fully believe with my whole heart that wizards and witches are better than muggles. But I don’t believe that muggleborns are beneath us. The Greengrasses have always believed that magic is magic, no matter where it comes from. We aren’t extremists like most of our peers.”

”But… you’ve… when…”

She tightened her grip on me.

“I’m smart enough to go along with the room. Clearly, I’ve been doing a good job. You, on the other hand, could stand to do better…”

“The only thing I’m going to do,” I shook her off. “is making sure my friends come out of this alright.”

Daphne didn't seem either offended or shocked.

”You’re going to go after the true Heir.” It was less of a question and more of a statement.

“Yes? No? I— I’m gonna try.”

Every minute that I didn’t have the diary back was a minute too long.

She gave me a wistful smile. “I won’t be able to stop you, will I? I don’t know if you feel the same, but I do consider you a friend.”

”There’s a higher chance of a rainstorm in hell than me leaving this alone”

I was suddenly pulled into another hug. “I can’t help you, but I wish you all the best.”

I returned the embrace in earnest this time. “Thanks, Daph.”

“It’s nothing, truly.” She patted my back before we parted. “Now, I really did need the shower. So please get out.”

“Nothing…” I murmured as I went through the last of my roommate’s trunks.

The moment they’d all gone to breakfast, I barricaded the door and neatly searched through all their belongings in a way that wouldn’t make it look like someone had ransacked the place. The only way I was able to remain calm doing so was thanks to a lot of potions.

All that was left was my own. It was something I’d been dreading to do. If admitting that I knew what was going on made Trevor’s death real, not finding the diary in its guarded box would make the thing that killed him real.

And finding it in its place would be unthinkable.

Did that make me a coward?

Actually, I don’t think I want to know the answer to that— which tells me the answer all on its own. I suppose the Sorting Hat may have had a point.

“You aren’t nearly noble nor sincere enough for Godric’s house.”

I like to fancy myself as a person who does the right thing at the end of the day, but this has me afraid that I give myself too much credit.

After all, what is this internal monologue if not me delaying the inevitable in order to keep a semi-clear conscience?

A knock at the door pulled me away from my thoughts.

”Aurelia? Are you still in? Weasley asked us to tell you to meet him at ‘the spot,’ whatever that is…”

I jumped to my feet and pulled the trunk I’d been using to block the door back into its place. I opened the door and nodded at Tracey.

”Right, thanks for letting me know.”

This seemed to send her over the moon. “Of course! You know you can always count on me!”

It took everything in me not to slap that self-serving grin off her face. “Right… Well, I’ll see you later…”

The walk to oak tree by the lake was long and hellish. Despite the decorations and candy everywhere, it was hard to feel festive. The entire way there I was met with one of three reactions from people: fear, disgust, or— worst of all— admiration. A few of my housemates had come up to me and given the names of some muggleborn or other that annoyed them. I ignored them.

Really, the only thing pointing to me being the Heir was being at the wrong place and at the wrong time. Or was it the wrong place at the right time? I never understood the difference.

The sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione was a greatly welcomed one. The moment I arrived within eyeshot I immediately ran over to them.

”Hola,” I said, the happiest I’d been since Thursday. Just being in the presence of my friends was like taking a straight shot of dopamine. “And Happy Anniversary, Hermione.”

She seemed a little taken aback. “Er— Anniversary?”

”It’s been exactly one year since I slayed the troll we become friends. Really, what’s all this Halloween nonsense? Obviously, they should change the holiday to International Herelia Day.”

”Herelia?” They parroted in confusion.

“It’s Hermione and I’s platonic ship name,” I said, knowing full well they wouldn’t know what the fuck I was talking about. “I thought it sounded better than Aumione. There’s also Ronelia and Harelia—”

Before I could get any other words in I was pulled into yet another hug today.

Ron had run his hand up and down my back and squeezed as tight as he could without hurting me. “It’s alright. We know it wasn’t you.”

This time I couldn’t stop myself from letting the tears fall. I buried my face in the crook of his pale neck and squeezed him back. “I swear, it really wasn’t…”

Hermione’s mass of soft corkscrew curls invaded my field of vision as she joined the familial embrace. She smelt comfortingly of mint and the library with a hint of pumpkin juice.

Harry had been standing awkwardly, observing our group hug with hesitance before Hermione yanked him in. I could feel his body stiffen against my back before slowly relaxing and placing his arms around us all.

The realization that they’d never do this if it was just the three of them made me cry harder. On their own, the closest to actually liking physical touch was Ron, but other than a few pats or playful shoulder checks he still wouldn’t pull Harry or Hermione in unless someone had died.

They were all ignoring their frigid British sensibilities by initiating close touch just for me… Because they know it’s my language of love…

There is no way in hell they can ever know I was reincarnated.

I deeply inhaled them exhaled as the group hug broke.

”Of course you believe me,” I said, slipping into my best “everything is fine” mask while grinning at Ron. “What kind of husband wouldn’t believe his wife? Ey, Mr. Prince?”

I turned to Harry and Hermione, who looked as though they were experiencing mental, emotional, and possibly even physical whiplash all at once. Not that I could blame them.

Ron flushed redder than his hair. “I really should have picked a better reason…”

”I’m sorry, what is happening right now?” Asked a slightly mortified Harry.

"Oh? Haven’t you heard? He’s Ronald Prince now. We’re in a contract marriage—"

The tallest boy kicked my shin. “It was the first thing I could think of!”

“Is this some Slytherin inside joke?” Harry stage whispered to Hermione.

”I hope so,” she responded, equally put out by the whole thing.

”Ronald Billius Prince. Got a decent ring to it, although I must admit that I like Percy Ignatius Prince better. Our ship name would be Perelia. Ooo, yeah. That sounds way better than— AY!”

Ron tackled me to the ground before I could finish teasing him. Hermione, well used to Ron and I’s tomfoolery, took the opportunity to help Harry with the latest charm he’d been struggling with while my “husband” and I roughhoused like the siblings we were clearly meant to be.

”Don’t get too dirty! We’ll be heading to the library after this!” Hermione took a break from tutoring to scold us. Harry, however, found the whole thing to be hilarious.

“Yes, mother!” We yelled in unison before immediately going back to wrestling in the leaves.

If only things as sweet as this were meant to last.

Hermione emerged from between the bookshelves. She looked irritable and at last seemed ready to talk to them.

”All the copies of Hogwarts, a History have been taken out,” she said, sitting down next to Harry and Ron. “And there’s a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn’t left my copy at home, but I couldn’t fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books.”

”Why do you want it,” said Harry.

”The same reason everyone else wants it,” said Hermione, “to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.”

”Why don’t you just ask your parents to send it to you? Ask Harry if you can borrow Hedwig for your next letter, then ask her to stay until your parents mail it,” I suggested.

”That’s brilliant, Aurelia! Why didn’t I think of that?”

Because J.K. Rowling really didn’t want you to have it for some reason, that’s why.

”Anyway, I don’t know why you’re going through all this effort when Ron and I are both Slytherins. You could’ve just asked us about the legend of our founder’s secret clubhouse,” I pointed out.

Hermione flushed a brilliant pink. “Er— that is…”

”She sometimes forgets you’re both in Slytherin,” Harry answered for her.

"Literally how—"

“That’s not important!” She squeaked. “Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?”

”You know, it sort of rings a bell,” said Ron slowly. “I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts… might’ve been Bill…”

”Well, Ron’s got nothing,” said Harry. “Aurelia?”

”Alright, settle down, children. Tia ‘Relia’s got a legend to share,” I stood up from the chair only to flip the chair around and straddle it like one of those inner city teachers who think they’re starring in the next Stand and Deliver or Dead Poets Society or Dangerous Minds or whatever fucking movie teachers will put on to make themselves feel like they’re not just churning out more cogs in the machine for an unlivable wage.

…Sometimes I remember things about life in East L.A. and I get a little testy.

“We were already sitting down,” said Harry.

”Shut up. Anyway…”

I leaned in closer to them.

”Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff. Gryffindor. Slytherin. Long ago, the four founders taught together in harmony. Then everything changed when Salazar Slytherin decided to become a prejudice asshole.”

It occurred to me they wouldn’t understand the reference, but I went on.

”When the founders first set up the school, they just kinda picked up whichever kids displayed signs of magic and jetted them off to Hogwarts. Slytherin, however, thought that muggleborns were untrustworthy and therefore learning magic should only be done by those with a ‘proper’ magical lineage. Now, I’m not excusing his actions, but I think it’s important to contextualize the scene here. This was over a thousand years ago, long before the Statute of Secrecy. This was back when if you were found to be a witch, there might be a burning waiting for you.”

Hermione opened her mouth but I preemptively shushed her.

"Again, what he wanted was totally uncool and there’s never a good reason for magical racism, but that was his reasoning. Anyway, the other founders, understandably, thought he was pulling a major dick move and there was this huge argument about it that ended in Slytherin leaving Hogwarts—"

"Why is Slytherin house still a thing, then? If he left the school?"

I opened my mouth to answer Harry before slowly closing it.

”Great question. Don’t have an answer. Where was I again? Ah, so the legend goes that Slytherin had this huge chamber somewhere within the school that none of the other teachers knew about. Allegedly, no one but his true heir would be able to open it; and when they would, a horror within will purge Hogwarts of those Slytherin deemed ‘unworthy’ of magic.”

The table was filled with silence as my friends processed the information I was telling them. Hermione was the first to speak.

”…What exactly do you mean by the ‘horror within’ the Chamber?”

”It’s supposedly some kind of monster that only Slytherin and his heir can control. Also, I should probably mention the fact that people have been looking for the chamber since they heard about it and nobody’s found anything. Not even Dumbledore himself. Most people chalk the whole thing up to being a spooky legend made to make firsties piss their britches.”

Obviously, I knew it was real, but it felt like something important to mention.

It was honestly a miracle that I wasn’t on the floor hyperventilating right now.

“I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony,” said Ron, ”But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff…”

If I was remembering correctly, in the original text Ron claimed that nobody could pay him to be in Slytherin and that he’d taken the train straight home if it had put him there…

I wonder what would happen if I put this Ron in a room with the original Ron.

I wonder what would happen if I also put a chess board in that room.

"It doesn’t matter," he said. "Well, obviously it does, but just because Aurelia and I are in his house doesn’t mean we have to share all of his values. Hermione’s the cleverest witch I know and she’s got muggle parents. And look at Neville. He’s a pureblood, but—"

I tapped Ron on the chest. “Hey, Neville’s going through a bit of a rough time right now…”

Ron blinked before coughing and blushing. “Oh, right…”

”And really, even if Hermione was as dumb as the rest of us, she’d still be a witch. It’s not any person’s place to decide who is or isn’t worthy of magic. In the end, there’s no real difference between wizards and muggles. Wizards might live a little longer on average, but at the end of the day, we all end up in either a tiny pine box six feet under or on an urn on our family’s mantle.”

Horace Mann might’ve thought that the American public education system was the Great Equalizer, but, personally, I’ve always thought it to be death.

Even Voldemort with all his horcruxes is destined to die.

Harry blinked slowly at me. “That was a tad morbid.”

“Feel free to correct me if you think I’m wrong.”

Hermione suddenly broke from the trance I hadn’t noticed she was in. “I think this whole Chamber of Secrets nonsense was just some sick person’s twisted idea of a prank. There were no signs of poison or any marks on Trevor. More likely than not, someone cast the killing curse on him and then wrote on the walls so stir panic. After all, why would the Heir kill a toad of all things?”

If I didn’t know what I did, I would’ve agreed with Hermione. That was the most rational and logical conclusion one could come to, given the evidence before us.

Harry and Ron both let out an exhale of relief.

”Yes, that makes a lot of sense.”

I silently nodded along, thinking of the box in my trunk that I had yet to check.

”Hey, I’ve gotta go. I’ve got like, mad cramps right now and I wanna take a nap.”

I didn’t, actually—although my headache is still very much present. Along with the vials of Calming Draught was the magical equivalent of Midol that the school kept in stock. It worked like a charm (or potion, I should say) but I still wanted to ask Snape if there was a potion that would just stop it altogether. Like magic birth control but without the acne and mood swings, maybe.

What I really needed to do was suck it the fuck up and look in my trunk.

”Cramps? Did you eat something strange?”

”No, God is just a misogynist and is punishing me for being born a woman.”

Ron ah-ed, Hermione blushed, and Harry only seemed more confused.

"A-A-Aurelia!" She sputtered. “You can’t say that in front of—"

”They make a potion for that. I could ask my mum if she’s got some you could have,” offered a completely unfazed Ron.

”Nah, it’s fine. I got some in my nightstand, I just forgot to take it.”

”I’ve got a few chocolate frogs in my trunk if you want later. Would rather toss you a few than have you getting all moody on us. Percy’ll give some to you too if you ask. Don’t take anything from Fred and George.”

I rolled my eyes as I collected the scarf I’d sling over the chair. “Gee, thanks, Ron. Such a gentleman.”

Hermione was still completely shell-shocked at Ron’s blasé reaction. Poor Harry was still extremely lost.

Ron shrugged her off. “Dad made sure to let us all know about it early so we wouldn’t be surprised when our friends and future girlfriends went through it. Told us to always offer chocolate and tea, and to never tell them that they’re overreacting if they randomly burst into tears.”

”I’m sorry, what are we talking about?” Harry finally asked.

”Alright, you guys have fun giving Harry ‘The Talk’ I’m gonna head out. See y’all at the Halloween Feast.”

As Hermione and Ron launched into two wildly different styles of explanation while I made my way out of the library, I couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that our carefree days were about to become few and far between.

Chapter Text

Time seemed to pass on by in a bit of a blur and before I even realized it it was the end of November. I really could not recall anything of note happening within the past few weeks. I didn't even get to celebrate Dia de los Muertos like I wanted because of the whole Heir debacle. It had completely slipped by mind until the following weekend. I had been really looking forward to sharing the experience with Harry. When I get my hands on that fucking Diary, the first thing I'm doing is dragging that candy-ass Riddle kid out of his little Horcrux hiding place and beating the ever loving shit out of him with my bare fucking hands.

Speaking of the Diary, I hadn't had the opportunity to look in my enchanted box. Every single damn time I make an attempt, someone is either in the room or I remember that I have to be somewhere. Something always comes up. The. Entire. Month. Of. November.

It’s getting real fucking old.

At least my dorm-mates didn't seem to think I was the Heir anymore. That or Daphne did me a major solid and told them that they'd have to face my wrath if they kept bugging me about. Honestly, it was a 50/50 coin toss.

I picked at the black polish on my nails in agitation as I paced by my lonesome through the halls. I had this massive headache and figured walking it off might help. I knew that it probably was not the best idea, but all of my friends were busy and Pansy wouldn't stop moaning to everyone in our dorm room about her elder brother getting shot down by Zinna Rookwood. Apparently, he made a very loud and public proposal at the ward she'd been working in at at St. Mungo's despite them not even dating. She had allegedly been so irritated by him that she threatened to put him in the fourth floor if he didn't leave and never speak to her again. It evidently caused a huge scandal for the Parkinson family.  I knew there was a reason I liked Zinna. She's a fucking legen—

"Oof! Ow!" I rubbed by nose before looking up to see what I'd run in to.

Or rather, who, I should say.

"Percy?" I said, a little shocked. He'd been extremely busy the past few months so I hadn't had much of an opportunity to pester—I mean, to talk to him.

The tall prefect readjusted his horn-rimmed glasses before looking down at me and blinking in surprise. "Oh! Hullo, Aurelia. What are you doing walking up here so late?"

I tilted my head in confusion. "What are you talking about? It's still afternoon?"

He shook his head at me. "It's nearly dinner time. You should be making your way towards the ground floor, not heading up toward the seventh."

"Wait, I'm on the sixth floor? Really? Huh. Must've been walking longer than I thought..."

I rubbed my eyes before looking over at the large windows near the ceiling and noted that, yeah, it's dark as fuck outside. My feet probably noticed my loneliness and subconsciously took me to where Harry and Hermione would be. (Ron was currently having mini chess tournament with a few fifth years over his family honor or something.)

Percy sent me a concerned frown. "Is everything alright, Aurelia?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. I've got this annoying headache, but other than that I'm doing okay."

Strangely, his frowned deepened. His azure gaze was piercing and precise. I nervously shuffled under the sheer intensity of it. It almost made me uncomfortable.

"Follow me," he told, not asked, me before walking towards one of the ends of the sixth floor.

I gulped and shuffled along after him. I couldn't help but notice how he slowed his stride when he noticed me struggling to keep up with his unreasonably long legs. I was already used to having to constantly pick up my natural pace around Ron and his damn spider legs, but Percy was much taller than all of his brothers. At very least, the ones I met.

Finally, we reached what appeared to be an unused classroom. Percy held the door open and ushered me inside. He closed the door and pulled his want out, pointing it at a set of dusty chairs.

"Tergeo," he cast expertly, the dust and grime coming right off. He tucked his wand in then gestured towards one of the now clean chairs. "After you."

I hesitantly sat down, still unsure of what exactly was happening. He sat down on the opposite chair facing me.

"Now that that's done, tell what's really wrong."

I stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing's wrong. It's just my headache..."

"I believe that you've got a headache-- which you should really see Madam Pomfrey about, mind you-- but I don't believe that's the extent. I'm an older brother: I can always tell when somethings amiss."

Normally, I'd mention that it's also my time of the month but I knew from Ron that saying that wouldn't faze him in the slightest. After a few moments of contemplation, I figured it wouldn't hurt to give him a half-truth.

"I'm... I'm worried about... the... the Chamber of Secrets," I told him. "Everyone... everyone thinks it's me. For the most part people are leaving me alone, but I still keep getting looks in the halls..."

That was true actually. It had died down a good amount after a month of nothing (although Neville was still greatly shaken up), but I still couldn't go most places without their being whispers.

Not that I cared. Why should I concern myself with the opinions of anyone other than my friends and family? As long as they didn't hate me, I couldn't give less of a damn about the populous thinking I was some deranged toad-killer. So long as I wasn't getting into any real trouble over it, of course.

I briefly felt as though I should be ashamed at how little I cared about anyone outside of the sphere of those I loved, but we can't all be as pure of heart and soul as Harry.

Percy's face morphed into one filled with sympathy. "Aurelia, everyone who truly knows who you are knows that it wasn't you."

He brought his chair closer and encouraged me to meet his pool-like eyes. "Would you like to know how I know it wasn't you?"

"You mean besides the obvious that the Prince's have no relation to Salazar Slytherin and my mother is a Mexican muggleborn?"

"Well, there is that," he admitted, "Although, I keep telling everyone it makes no sense for the Heir to have killed a pureblood's toad..."

Percy seemed to get lost in thought for a few seconds before clearing his throat. "As I was saying, I know it wasn't you because of one thing: the answer to the question I'm about to ask you."

I raised an eyebrow, curious as to where this was going.

"Did Neville Longbottom or his toad greatly threaten Ron, Harry, or Hermione with a serious intent to follow through?"

"What? No, of course not. For starters, Neville couldn't hurt a fly even if he wanted to. Second, it's just a toad. It might have more brain cells than Vincent and Greg, but it's still completely harmless— save for the prospect of warts."

"Then there you have it," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Huh.

"I like how you essentially just said that I would absolutely murder someone's beloved pet for your brother and our other friends."

"Perhaps not murder. You would more likely than not expose them in a grandiose manner to the public," he said without a hint of sarcasm or humor in his voice.

"Okay, Pettigrew had it coming. Although I will admit my presentation was a little... I believe Hermione had called it 'ostentatious.'"

Percy seemed to shudder a bit at the mention of Pettigrew. Ah. I'd forgotten that "Scabbers" was originally his pet.

"Next time... I ask that next time you uncover something like that, don't do something as foolhardy and dangerous as what you did. You're lucky you didn't get hurt doing that. Please come to me first if you're too nervous to tell a professor. Or another prefect after I've graduated..." He cringed as he recalled what I did to expose Pettigrew.

"Aw, was someone a little worried about me?"

"Yes!" He snapped, looking particularly peeved. "Peter Pettigrew, despite hiding in rat form for ten years, was still a fully-trained adult wizard. Had he managed to grab a wand, he could have very easily overpowered you. You could have been seriously injured or worse! I will not hesitate to report any dangerous activities of yours to Professor Snape. Perhaps you’ll listen to your father and head of house, if not a prefect."

Woah. I hadn't expected him to care that much. I guess it made sense, the more I thought about it. I was his youngest brother's best housemate.

We were both quiet for a moment before I spoke up.

"...So if I can't find you, I suppose I've got permission to bug one Miss Penelope Clearwater? She is a prefect, after all," I teased, hoping to lighten up the mood.

Percy's pale freckled face was immediately overcome with a fierce blush. "I would still like to know how you found out about that and why in Merlin's name you would tell Fred and George about it."

I snickered behind my right hand, the one with the small burn scar that had begun to slowly fade. Had it not been for Percy's quick thinking, it would've been a lot worse.

"Technically I was only able to tell them the first syllable of her name before you stopped me. They figured the rest out on their own. Have you also considered that you two aren't as slick as you think you are?"

I wonder if I had someone I'd sneak off to go on dates or make out with in my previous life...

Actually, no I don't.

Poor Percy looked as though he'd die from mortification.

"Alright," he cleared his throat once more. "Enough about Penelope. You are far too young to even think of what a couple might be doing. We're nearly late for supper, as it is."

Percy got up and put the chairs back where they should have been in the first place before escorting me to the Great Hall.

"Aww, c'mon, Perce. I think I'm handling you with another woman particularly well. You're lucky I'm not one of those jealous types."

"Unless a certain cat is involved."

Oof! Critical Hit!

"Okay, but why does Clawdius love you more than me? I barely get him one night a week! How does he even get in Gryffindor Tower?" I whined loudly, causing several portraits to laugh at me.

The prefect shook his head. "I haven't the foggiest, but he gave Oliver Wood a terrible fright as he hoped on to my bed a few nights ago. He thought Clawdius was a house-elf attempting to suffocate me."

God, I fucking loved Clawdius. My little goblin-house-elf hybrid looking baby.

I snorted loudly. "It was the ears, wasn't it?"

"He stopped screaming once he realized who it was, fortunately. I must say that I am incredibly impressed by Clawdius' ability to stay asleep once he's started."

I groaned in envy. "He's only like that with you. God, I can't believe you seduced my son... Or I guess our son. What is this, is this the communism or something? Should I start calling you comrade?"

"I truly believe that you will survive. And why in Merlin's name do you know a word like seduced—"

"Aparecium!"

Hermione and I looked down at the parchment. She frowned and I cackled in delight.

"I knew it! Lemon juice, baby! It just registers it as a spill!"

Hermione grumbled. "Perhaps you didn't cast it right..."

"I think you've lost this one," said Harry, who was attempting to be sympathetic.

Ron picked up the parchment and held it to the candle.

"What does 'get wrecked' mean?" He asked me.

"It means that I was right and Hermione was wrong!" The boys laughed at my celebratory dance.

"Excellent, Miss Prince! That will be four points to Slytherin! And a point to Gryffindor for you too, Miss Granger! For being willing to test your beliefs!" Professor Flitwick beamed brightly at the four of us. When he overheard Hermione and I debating over if old muggle tactics for writing secret messages would appear under the revealing charm, he immediately jumped in and suggested we test out our individual hypotheses in his office.

While charms wasn't my favorite subject, Professor Flitwick was easily my favorite teacher. He was just a really nice dude ready to help out his students whenever he can.

…Damn, of all the professors in Hogwarts I can’t believe I got stuck with Snape as a father AND head of house. Should’ve fought to for Ravenclaw.

The fact that Flitwick was also a dueling— mierda! I’ve got it!

“Thanks, Professor!” I smiled at the short teacher before tilting my head. “Say, Professor Flitwick, I heard you’re a crazy good duelist. Is that true?”

Flitwick lit up. “Why, yes, if I do say so myself! I was widely regarded as a Dueling Master before I began my tenure at here at Hogwarts!”

Ron, Harry, and Hermione couldn’t hide the shock on their faces, although the latter most had enough decorum to at least attempt to hide it.

“Were you really? That’s bloody wicked! Er— sir.”

Professor Flitwick’s cheeks grew rosy at Ron’s outburst of admiration.

”Now, now, Mr. Weasley. No need for such language. I’ll have to take point next time.”

”That’s really awesome, sir! In that case… oh, never mind. It’s too silly…”

Everyone leaned in towards me, curious as to what I’d been about to say.

Hook.

Flitwick in particular seemed most eager. “I assure you, Miss Prince, I have more likely than not heard sillier things in my time as a professor.”

Line.

”Well,” I “nervously” looked at my feet. “With that whole… debacle last month, and with our… questionable defense curriculum this year, I had been hoping to… What I mean to say is, I was hoping to potentially reinstate the dueling club? I think it would put a lot of minds at ease— and it would be most beneficial to our minds. I’d wager that not many of us have learnt anything worthwhile in… that class lately.”

And…

“Oh, what a splendid idea that is, Miss Prince!”

Sinker.

I inwardly smirked. Appealing to both his pride as an accomplished duelist and a caring teacher had been the right move after all. Not too bad for a plan made up on the fly.

Jesus Christmas, I was acting like I’d concocted this grand, elaborate scheme that had alas come to fruition. All I did was start a club.

Harry and Ron were immediately invested in the idea and began to ask Flitwick when they could start and raved about how cool he was, much to the charms professor's delight and slight embarrassment. At first, it looked as though Hermione was less than enthusiastic on the idea—more than likely due to her unwavering determination to believe in Lockhart— but as the boys continued to chat with Professor Flitwick on his dueling prowess, Hermione couldn't help but grow more and more invested in the newly forming dueling club. Hermione's endearing inability to resist learning something new prevails once again.

"Oh, would you look at that? I wonder when the house elves decided to bring us this," the cheery professor beamed at a tray filled with tea and fixings that most certainly hadn't been there earlier.

"Ooo, sweet! What kind of scones—"

My hand stiffened after grabbing a scone. House elves...

Oh. Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—

It was practically December. Harry had had a quidditch match earlier this month. I didn't attend, but I wasn't certain why.

I... I think I had an assignment? Yes. I had a History of Magic essay and I had gotten far too invested in topic. But... how could I have forgotten? That was the match in which Dobby would send that bludger after Harry, causing him to break his arm then lose his bones after Lockhart botched his attempt at a healing spell. But... that hadn't happened. Harry had caught the snitch without issue, leaving Slytherin to lick the wounds of our loss without even the satisfaction of the rival seeker being horrifically injured. Where the cinnamon toast fuck had Dobby been? A pet dying was considerably more dire than one being petrified, wasn't it? Why was he not warning Harry about the Chamber of Secrets? He had sealed the barrier at King's Cross...

Ay dios mio... My head pounding, as if there was an animal trapped inside my skull attempting to claw its way out.

Why did none of this make any sense?!

"Aurelia, are you alright?"

I was pulled away from my internal crisis by Hermione's voice and soon rose from my seat.

"Please excuse me and feel free to keep going. My headache seems to be getting the better of me. I... I'm heading to bed early. Do make sure to fill me later. Later, playas... and Professor."

I ignored their words of confusion and dashed towards Slytherin dormitory the moment the door to Flitwick's had closed.

I could never have a relaxing time of the month, could I? Perhaps I ought to dig in to Ron's chocolate frog stash. He did offer, after all.

And it wouldn't hurt to check on...

Check on...

Ah, that's right! The Diary! I should...

I'd arrived at my destination far faster than usual, most likely due to the urgency. And the headache... And nausea... And cramps...

I was pleased to discover that I had the dorm to myself for the first time in a while. Time to...

Ugh. The Diary could wait. First things first, I was in desperate need of a nap. That bed of mind was all too alluring...

I let out a rather un-ladylike yawn and stretch my arms before ripping off my shoes and collapsing on the bed, not even bothering to get under the covers.

Hmm. I really needed to check in with Snape or, preferably, Pomfrey about these period symptoms. They were murder.

"I can't believe she only just now did it. Good on her, I say. Doing the world a service."

"I can't believe her methodology."

"Clearly she didn't to break him. She just wanted to get an unworthy pest out of the way. Aurelia would do well to be less soft."

"Will the lot of you please be quiet? You'll wake her at this rate. She hasn't been feeling been feeling way these past few days... She's earned some rest."

"Yeah, I imagine her... extracurricular may be rather taxing."

I groaned and rubbed my eyes before sitting up and pulling open my bed curtains.

"What in God's name are y'all yammering about right now?"

Pansy scoffed. "Oh, as if you don't know. Nice work, by the way. Though a tad half-arsed, if you ask me..."

I was only growing more and more puzzled by the moment. "What..."

Tracey let out a disturbing giggle. "I must say, the Weasleys probably owe you a life debt now. You've managed to keep their bloodline pure, at least for now. Merlin only knows what those twins will marry..."

My blood ran cold. No. No, there couldn't have been... It was too soon...

"Everyone knows the dragon-tamer Weasley doesn't date, so at least they don't have to worry about him," said Millicent. "Our Weasley should be fine too, but there's no saying what the curse-breaker and twins will do..."

"Ugh, knowing that pair they'll probably seek out mudbloods to marry. Or worse... muggles," Pansy shuddered and the other girls gagged.

Another attack wasn't supposed to happen until after dueling club in December before winter break... But that had been Justin Finch-Fletchley, hadn't it? After Harry's parseltongue abilities had been revealed, and everyone thought he had been targeting the muggle-born Hufflepuff...

But, who on Earth were they—

"But honestly, even without her dating Percy Weasley, that mudblood prefect had it coming. Took points off of Flint and Warrington for no reason the other day... Don't know why you didn't go all out and kill her, Aurelia, but points for creativity on the petrification."

Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos... Santificado sea tu Nombre... Venga tu reino... Hágase tu voluntad...

The prayers I'd often heard Abuelita dutifully recite in church played over and over again in mind as I prayed to every God I could think of that this was all a dream and that Penelope Clearwater hadn't become a victim of the basilisk while I slept.

Chapter Text

I wiped away the string of saliva that had formed on the corner of my mouth and let out a serious of pants before flushing away the unfortunate amount of stomach acid that had escaped me.

"Aurelia, should I come in there?"

I groaned in response to a rather concerned Daphne.

"It’s not really not all bad… They have no evidence that it’s you… It’s highly unlikely you’ll face time in Azkaban…"

"That’s not the point! Everyone’s gonna think I tried to kill Penelope in a fit of jealous rage! Christ on a stick, it was just starting to die down…"

I slumped down the floor of the stall and placed my head between my knees. My attempts to steady my breathing were futile.

"God, my head’s pounding… everything hurts…" I muttered to myself, nearly in tears from the pain and stress of the situation. I wrapped my arms around my torso and tried to steady my breath. My whole being felt as though it was being torn to shreds from the inside. When I find out who the Heir is, I’m going to shove my foot so far up their ass that they’ll be able to floss their teeth with my toe nails.

Daphne sighed. "You sound awful… Forgive me, but I’ll have to fetch Professor Snape."

"What a coincidence," said a familiar snooty voice (when the hell did Gemma Farley get here?), "Professor Snape just sent me to collect Prince for him."

Another groan escaped me. Great. An impromptu appointment with Snivellus Snap. Just what the doctor order.

Wait, actually Snape always has the good stuff. His office is exactly where I need to be right now.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Just let me take some calming draught and... uh… scourgify my mouth real quick..."

"Where were you at dinner tonight?" Snape asked accusingly before I'd even managed to sit down.

I waited until I was able to get comfortable in the seat across his desk to answer. "I was bedridden in my room. As luck would have it, that whole menstrual thing comes every month and I've got the worst symptoms. Ask my friends or Flitwick if you don't believe me— I was with them beforehand and told them where I would be."

"Yes, yes. Flitwick told me all about your plans to revive the dueling club. Commended you on your determination to boost morale, if you can believe." He stopped to rub his temples. "He then asked me to come for the first few demonstrations."

I raised an eyebrow. "You seem weirdly... upset about the whole thing. I figured you would be ecstatic to show off your skills. You know... knock some fear into the other students..."

"I was," Snape sighed, "until a certain Defense instructor weaseled his way into the conversation."

I shared his grimace. "Hey, I mean, think of it this way: you get to magically kick his ass in front of a sizeable portion of the student body."

Snape seemed to take great pleasure at the notion of putting the magical smack-down on Lockhart for the populous to see before he remembered why he called me.

"I assume you are aware that the Clearwater girl has been petrified," he said in a way that made it clear he knew that I knew.

I reflexively sucked air through my teeth. "Yeah... That..."

"The Clearwater girl who also happens to be the known... romantic partner of a certain Weasley of whom you've made your intentions quite clear?"

The tone of his voice caused me to shrink in my seat.

"What was it you said last year at the Leaving Feast? 'You might even know me as Percy Weasley’s future second wife. To which, what happened to his first wife, you may wonder. The answer is, not anything the Wizengamot can prove.'" Snape said, verbatim to my infamous Pettigrew exposure.

It was impossible for me to get any smaller in that moment. My iCarly reference that nobody would understand for a minimum of fifteen years was coming back to bite me ass. Hard.

You’d think the fact that I publicly thwarted the Dark Lord and later one of his Death Eaters would grant me some immunity from these Heir of Slytherin accusations, but guilty until proven innocent, I guess.

"Pssh," I waved my hand and gave a high-pitched laugh. "I said that, what, how many months ago? Really, who else but you is gonna remember that..."

Snape's glare grew more intense. It forced me to confront the fact that the cards were not looking in my favor.

"...I've still got the fact that the Princes aren’t descended from Salazar Slytherin… Wait, just double checking in case someone decides to look, we are most definitely not related to him, right?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose. "Your homework for the winter holiday is to memorize our family tree."

Our family tree. Something about that made me feel conflicted but now really wasn't the time to delve into my daddy issues.

"...You didn't answer my question."

He snapped up to glower further at me. "You stupid girl! Obviously not. But once they realize that fact, they'll be looking towards your mother."

Oh. Oh shit.

"My mother... who nobody knows anything about... including the fact that she's a... So unless I openly and proudly announce her blood status… oh I'm fucked either way, aren't I."

It was not a question.

I let out another high-pitched laugh, this one coming out more strangled than the last. "Well, it's not like I'm the actual Heir of Slytherin, so I've got nothing to worry about, right? Besides, if my own innocence won't protect me, you will. Right? Please tell me I'm right."

Snape's face was... shocked?

"You... you are asking me to protect you?"

"...Yes?"

I was confused as to where he was taking this. I mean, wasn't it his one job as a father? To keep his kid from being imprisoned (or worse) for crimes they didn't commit?

"...I will begin work on your transfer papers to Ilvermorny post haste then. You are dismissed," he rose from his seat and began to make his way over to one of his cabinets.

Wait, what?

"Time out! I take it back! I'm a strong, confidant young woman who don't need no man to protect her! I can handle this whole thing on my own! I don't need to leave Hogwarts!"

Snape slammed his hands down on his desk. "Then what would you have me do, child?! Look at you! You reek of bile, your cheeks are stained with tears, an even with calming draught you're shaking!"

"You try to not be afraid with all this shit going down!"

Before I knew it my shoulders were being tightly gripped by him as he shook me.

"How am I supposed to keep you at Hogwarts when you tell me you're afraid? Stupid girl, you do not realize the severity of this!"

"Then shouldn't you keep me where you can keep an eye on me? If you're suddenly so concerned for my well-being—"

"How many times must we go over this? I do not hate you! I am trying to keep you safe! All I have done for you is try to keep you safe!"

"THEN WHY DID YOU LEAVE AND NOT COME BACK?!"

I shoved him off of me and took several steps back.

"I am NOT leaving Hogwarts and I am NOT going to sit here and listen to you pretend to actually give a fuck about me. I know damn good and well that I'll never—"

I cut myself off. Bringing up the fact that I— his own flesh and blood— could never occupy space in his heart all because what little there was left of it belonged to a dead woman was the last thing this conversation needed. It was the least important thing right now period. As it was, Penelope Clearwater has been petrified and I had zero clue as to who the culprit may be. After Trevor, I'd spent hours trying to wrap my head around the situation and had come up with nothing. I needed to find whoever had the Diary and—

Wait. Why don't I just tell Snape that I took something suspicious out of Ginny Weasley's cauldron at Flourish and Blotts and ever since I lost it all this crazy shits been going on? Dumbledore could order a search of everyone's—

"¡MIERDA! FUCKING DICK!”

I fell to the floor, clutching my head for dear life. Snape immediately moved in to get me up and helped me over to the chair. Fuck me, this headache was just getting worse.

"What is wrong? Tell me now."

"I..."

I...

I let out a deep exhale and did my best to steady my breathing. "Sorry... It's just my time-of-the-month headache. Nothing serious..."

I... I couldn't help but feel like I was going say something to Snape, but I couldn't for the life of me recall what it was. Ugh, everything just feels... fuzzy. Like when you wake up and realize that you've fallen asleep on your arm. It was as if my entire body was trying to emulate the existence of TV static.

I massaged my head before shakily standing up. All my weight felt as though it was concentrated elsewhere.

"I'm fine, I'm fine... I'm... I'm going to bed. And I'm NOT leaving Hogwarts... Good... G'night."

He tried to call for me several times but I ignored him. I needed some rest immediately.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…So we really aren’t going to talk about the Nundu in the room?"

I kept my eyes focused on my Charms essay.

"I haven’t the faintest idea what you might be talking about, Ron."

“My arse!”

”Language!” Hermione hissed before slamming her textbook down on the desk. The first sign of snow had begun, and teachers didn’t want students out of the castle more than necessary with the whole… thing so we had currently taken up shop in an unused classroom.

”What, don’t tell me you think it’s me, Ronald,” I said, far more on the edge of violence than intended.

Ron’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t. Don’t even try to play that game with me, Prince. You won’t win.”

”Was that a threat, Weasley?”

"When have I ever not stood by you—"

”Can you lot please…” Harry begged.

I bit my lip before apologizing to our resident redhead.

”I’m sorry… that was really rude and uncalled for. I’m just really tense at the moment.”

Ron sighed and shook his head. "I’m sorry too. This Heir thing is getting the best of us… I’ve never been so stressed in my life."

"Which is precisely why I called for this six in the morning study session. To help all calm down before classes resume."

"Only Hermione Granger…" muttered Ron.

"Hermione, I understand your intentions, but I don’t think studying at six in the morning is what we need now,” said Harry cautiously.

"Should it have been at seven? I figured none of us would be getting much sleep so we might as well be productive…"

“Half of what you said was right, and I promise it’s not you think it is,” said Ron.

Hermione sniffed. "I was trying to ease our way into talking about the Heir later. I figured... Well, I thought that Aurelia might start crying if I just went right into it."

I put down my charms essay and sent her an affectionate smile. Ron waking me up at six-something in the goddamn morning per the request of Hermione was suddenly almost worth it. That is, until I remembered why she's called for us.

"It isn't me," I insisted. "I would never—"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course it isn't. We've been through this already."

Harry frowned and ran his fingers through his hair— a nervous and unsuccessful attempt to smooth it out.

"It is strange, though. Soon as the rumors of you being the Heir slow down, all of a sudden Percy's girlfriend gets petrified. Something about this feels... off."

"Are you suggesting that someone is trying to frame Aurelia?" Inquired Hermione, who looked as though the thought had some merit to it.

"Penelope Clearwater was— or, is, I should say— a muggleborn. It's possibly this is just a really unfortunate coincidence on my end," I pointed out, thinking of how she was an original victim of the basilisk in the books— albeit a much later one.

I grimaced, as I'd been doing a lot over the past twenty-four hours. "How... how's Percy holding up? Is he..."

The sympathetic looks I was receiving from everyone weren't good for my, well, everything to be honest.

I plopped down on the floor and brought my knees up to my chest. My heart was hurting almost as much as my head's been.

Harry came and sat down beside me. "He knows it wasn't you. First thing he after Penelope was worry about you."

My head snapped up. "He doesn't hate me?"

Harry shook his head before his jade eyes looked kindly upon me. "He cried for his girlfriend and then for you. You're like a little sister to him, I think."

Hermione and Ron both nodded.

"...I'm going to hunt down the Heir of Slytherin and beat them to death with a sandal."

I mean, I was already planning on looking for them. It was safe to say that the Diary was missing if there was another attack. There was point in checking my trunk, since I knew I couldn't be possessed.

So, yes, I was going to do that anyway, but making someone I was quite fond of upset was a mistake worthy of death, in my eyes.

My three companions all gave each other a look before turning to me.

"We figured," sighed Harry.

"We just had to get to you before you decided something stupid, like going after the Heir on your own." Ron gave me an especially pointed look.

"Last thing we need is for you to get petrified. Or worse," said Hermione.

"Expelled," I nodded.

Ron reached over and swatted the back of my head.

"Not funny," Harry said sternly.

I shrugged sheepishly before I recalled my conversation with Snape last night.

"Speaking of being ejected from Hogwarts, Snape's threatening to ship me off to Ilvermor— Hang on, why isn't that bitch dead? Why was she only petrified?"

I suddenly surrounded by a ring of appalled faces. Hermione didn’t even have it in her to chastise me for swearing, that’s how affronted she was.

"Not like that! I mean, Trevor got axed, so why didn't Penelope? She could easily be restored with some mature mandrake juice or something. Isn't the muggleborn girlfriend of a pureblood a much greater 'enemy' to the Heir than a simple toad, right? So why was she just petrified? Where was she found, by the way?"

"The sixth-floor girl’s loo,” answered Hermione, who much like everyone else was very confused.

Well, that solved that. If she were in the restroom at the time, there’s a good chance she was looking into one of the mirrors at the time of the attack. That or the reflection of toilet water, but was probably the former.

"She got lucky," I said before I could stop myself.

Ron gave me the side-eye. “I’m not sure ‘lucky’ is the word I’d use…”

"No, she’s right. She’s lucky she was only petrified. She could have been dead,” said Harry.

"Perhaps the Heir isn’t strong enough to kill a human? Didn’t the legend mention a monster? It’s entirely possible that the monster doesn’t have the power to kill larger beings like humans. It might only be able to petrify them," Hermione theorized.

"Maybe the Heir is building up their power," suggested Harry.

"It could be a warning," Ron threw out there.

 I… I feel like I should help them out here… Give them a hint…

I squeezed my eyes and tightly clenched my jaw as to not let out a moan of agony. There goes that sharp pain again. My friends were too wrapped up in their theories to notice, thankfully.

”Maybe,” I said, looking at the clock in the corner of the room once the pain had subsided, “we should head off to breakfast before a search party is called for us.”

It was comical to see how each set of eyes widened.

I chuckled, “Alright team, let’s get some food in us.”

As each of us packed our things and made our way to the Great Hall, I was once again struck by the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

It made sense, though. Of course everything is off.

The… the…

I need to check on Ginny Weasley ASAP. She didn’t seem possessed last I checked, but since I couldn’t manage to take the diary out of her possession at Flourish and Blotts, anything could’ve happened to it.

I staggered a bit, but luckily nobody noticed.

Wait, that’s not right. I definitely took the Diary… But… Where did it…

”Are you excited for Dueling club, Aurelia? The first meeting is supposed to be on the seventeenth.”

I blinked rapidly and grinned at Hermione.

”Hell yeah I’m excited! Snape said that Lockhart is gonna be there.”

Hermione perked up and the boys groaned.

”But get this, Snape’s also participating. We get to see him totally pwn Lockhart!”

”Pwn?” The chorused.

“Er— have you guys ever seen a computer keyboard…”

Chapter Text

"Merlin's beard, Prince. How much marmalade do you need on a single slice of toast?"

"As much as I want, Theo," I hummed as I deliberately slathered more of the the sweet orange-y goodness on my breakfast. I even made a point to put some on my eggs then took a bite while making eye contact to establish dominance. "Got a problem?"

Theo gagged, “Several.”

"Theodore. Aurelia can have as much as she wants," said Draco before refilling my goblet, unprompted.

"Uhhh... Thanks?" I said, extremely confused.

"It is never a problem for you, Aurelia." Draco managed to say this somehow incredibly seriously yet smug at the same time.

Theo raised an eyebrow at the exchange. "You can't really believe that she's the Heir of Slytherin."

The area around us at the table went quiet.

"Whatever could you mean, Theo?" He asked, not the least bit subtle. "I would never accuse our dear friend of such a thing."

Fucking hell, how was he managing to wink without even moving his eyes at all?

Theo rolled his swamp-like eyes. "You can't be serious? She has no relation to Salazar Slytherin. And even if she did, there's no way she'd petrify Percy Weasley's mudblood."

Boy, was I glad Ron was at the other table. It had taken him nearly half an hour to convince him that yes I’d be fine on my own and for the love of God go be with your emotionally wrecked older brother. 

"Thank you, Th—"

"She'd kill her then make it look like a tragic accident that she couldn't possibly have been involved with, obviously," Daphne piped up. “And she also wouldn’t do it now. She’d do it when she was of age to legally wed."

My eye began to twitch but I bit my tongue as some people seemed to nod in agreement, as if they were surprised they hadn't realized that "fact" from the start.

"Exactly, Daph," his voice was softer than usual. "You get it."

Daphne hummed non-comittledly, but I couldn't help but notice the slight dust of pink gracing her cheeks.

Aww, looks like spring's come early for these two— wait, not the time to focus on the love lives of twelve-year-olds!

Was that seriously what people thought of me? Wasn’t that giving me a little too much credit in the Slytherin department? In… every department, really.

"Or, or, consider the third option? Which is, hear me out, that I simply wouldn’t risk Azkaban for a boy? Hmm?"

"I like how you aren’t denying the idea you would kill someone," said a bemused Blaise.

"I figured that part was obvious and didn’t need to be stated aloud."

”Completely unrelated, but do you recall last year how you broke your leg in order to pressure Professor Snape into excusing you from flying lessons?"

"…Point taken, Zabini. Anyway, I’m still not the Heir."

Draco frowned, looking clearly depressed at idea that I was, in fact, not the Heir of Slytherin.

Just then, a small black owl swooped in to drop an envelope on my lap and left as soon as it came.

"Uh… thanks?” I blinked, extremely baffled. No one else seemed to pay what just happened much mind.

"Um, that was odd, right? Is nobody gonna comment how weird and abrupt that was? Really?"

"It’s just mail, Prince. It probably has other deliveries it needs to make."

"Well, yeah, but— Oh, whatever! Anyone got a clean knife?"

Greg reach over to hand me his plate’s knife, but before he finished Draco had wordlessly pulled out an ornate white marble letter opener from the inside of his robe sleeve.

"I… do you just carry this around on you at all times?"

Draco blinked in surprise. "You don’t carry one?"

"No? That’s why I— anyway, thanks," I said, tearing open the unmarked envelope with it then handing it back to him. "The peacock design is cool. Are the eyes ruby?"

"Red beryl," he boasted. "It’s Mother and I’s favorite stone. It’s one of the most expensive in the world. Father actually had this made for her before she passed it on to me when I started school."

"Red beryl is my favorite too, Draco," Pansy batted her eyelashes at him, making her look a little silly.

Daphne tsked. "Are you lot even real Slytherins? Emerald is the only way to go."

"Well I’ve got something even better than pricey gems," I said with a grin before setting down the old, slightly faded piece of parchment that had been in the letter on the table. "Read it and weep, kids."

My fellow second-year snakes looked over.

"Oh, I didn’t realize we were related," Daphne smiled. "Moira Nevermind was my great-great-aunt Cleomestra’s daughter."

"Let’s be real here, Daph. We’re all at least a little related. My Black blood certainly sees to it in my case."

"Marius Black? Strange. I don't believe I've ever heard of him..." muttered Draco as he studied the tree.

"I have," said Theo, who promptly gave me a look.

"How is Cantankerous Nott and his testicles?" I asked in a faux-concerned voice.

Several others gasped but Theo merely snickered. I was glad he had a sense of humor over it. "Six-feet under and non-existent, thank you."

"Aurelia! Why in Merlin's name—"

"Elsinore Prince famously castrated Cantankerous Nott after he publicly insulted her husband," explained Millicent.

"Actually, the aurors couldn't prove it was her," I corrected before looking over the family tree again. "Wow, they really just straight up named their daughter 'Misery.'"

"If I'm recall correctly, the Prince family can trace their roots back to the original Roman invaders of Britannia. It's more likely than not a reference to the Roman goddess Miseria, the goddess of... misery," said Theo.

"Good point, but Rome invaded Britain like, a thousand years ago and— Huh. Weird. Grandma Elsie never mentioned that she had two brothers..."

I inwardly shuddered at the fact that one of them was named Hadrian. Too many bad Indy! Harry fanfic flashbacks.

If I ever went up against a boggart, I'm pretty sure it would just be Harry demanding I call him "Lord/Heir Hadrian Potter-Black-Peverall-Slytherin-Gryffindor, Friend of the Goblins" and claim that muggleborns were taking away Wizarding culture or something equally as insane.

"To be fair, they appear to have been dead for over sixty years. One of them was also a child," Blaise stated in a tone that clearly meant he thought I was being purposefully obtuse.

”Fair enough… but geez, what the hell happened in 1926? Hortensia, Moira, Hadrian, and Cawdor? Four people, most of whom rather young? Was there some a massacre or something that I don’t know about?"

"If there was, I’ve never heard of it," said Theo. "Which, considering how much the older folks of my family hate yours, if anyone were to hear about it it would be me."

"You don’t hate me, do you?" I asked, more curious than afraid.

Theo scoffed. "He had some brilliant ideas here and there, but Uncle Cantankerous tormented my mother when she was alive. Every year on Christmas I like to spit on his grave. It’s a tradition I greatly look forward to. If I ever meet Elsinore Prince, I’ll ask for her hand in marriage. Merlin knows her current husband… no offense, Prince."

"I will look the other way if you don’t marry my great-grandmother."

A sentence I never thought I’d have to say.

The Nott boy gave a rather frightening smirk. "I can’t say I won’t, but I’ll try not to."

"This only goes as far back as the late 1600s," Blaise pointed out, pointedly ignoring Theo. "And it doesn't give any information after Eileen, who seems to have died a year before you were born so she can't be your mother..."

"I don't know why it doesn't go earlier than Aurelius Prince... Or why it lists Eileen's death but not her son who was born very much before that..." I murmured.

Actually, I had a hunch but if I thought too much on it I would be irate.

"And really, I thought everyone knew that the last direct descendants of Slytherin were the Gaunts— the last of whom never had any children… on record, that is."

"Who is your father?" asked Pansy, completely ignoring the last thing that I said much like everyone else.

Was I a joke to these people?

...I don't want to know the answer to that.

"You all don't know?" Draco seemed shocked. "Surely you do," nodded towards Theo.

The rabbity-looking boy sent me a sympathetic look that told me everything.

I groaned and preemptively rubbed by temples. "Before I say it, promise me you won't make a big deal out of it."

"Promise," most of them said in unison, save for Blaise who put a "no" before his.

A small whine escaped me. "It's Snape."

The second years went silent. Well, Vince and Greg had been quiet the whole time, but they’d already known (presumably) because of Draco. 

"You... You're joking."

"She’s not," said Draco.

"Seriously? Snape? Ew. Gross."

My nose crinkled. I mean, yeah he kinda sucked but she didn’t have to be rude about the whole thing.

"Tracey, keep that up and I will stab you with Draco's obnoxious letter opener."

"It's not obnoxious—"

"It is," interrupted Millicent.

"Merlin and Morgana, I sort of see it now," remarked Pansy, who was currently looking over my every feature.

"Yes! She has his eyes and— see! Her scowl is just like Professor Snape's! Only less intimidating. And her hair isn’t as oily."

"One more word out of you Tracey Davis and I'm hexing you."

"Her nose isn't quite as big and she's not nearly as ugly, but—"

"Radicaput!"

"MERLIN'S SAGGY TITS, MY HAIR!" Tracey cried as her whispy black hair fell proceeded to fall off.

I tucked my wand back in my robes. "Next time it’ll be more than your hair being severed."

The entire Great Hall went silent and looked over at the weeping second-year.

"Prince! Twenty points from Slytherin!" bellowed Snape from his seat over at the staff table.

"The Hair of Slytherin," one of the twins joked before getting thwacked on the head by the person next to him.

"Bulstrode! Take Miss Davis to the Hospital Wing. Miss Prince, what could possibly be your excuse for this behavior?

I put my hands up. "I was defending my family’s honor."

"That is no excuse excuse for hexing another student," chastised McGonagall. "Quite frankly, twenty points isn't enough.'

The transfiguration professor sent Snape a pointed look, clearly believing that Snape was showing double favoritism.

To be fair to her, if I wasn't a Slytherin AND his daughter, I probably would've gotten detention and a LOT more points taken off.

…Huh. I probably should stop taking advantage of that…

Nah. I’m not that good of a person.

"It's true, Professor," said Daphne. "Tracey kept making fun of her and her father, even after she told her stop multiple times."

Draco nodded. "Aurelia gave several warnings."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Malfoy, I believe I should like to speak to Miss Prince in my office after breakfast," Dumbledore, who'd been silently observing the whole time, said calmly.

Several "Oooo"s could be heard throughout the Great Hall. I, not feeling bad in the slightest, nodded before returning to my marmalade covered meal. I ignored the stares and whispers that were surrounding me. I caught the words “Heir of Slytherin” and “it’s gotta be her” multiple times.

I could physically feel Ron and the others burning a hole into my head, trying to telepathically get my attention. I ignored them too. I didn’t want to face their disappointment in me.

Well, Hermione and possibly Harry would be. If Ron’s probably choking down laughter.

"Do you lot have nothing better to do? Mind your business!" Pansy snapped at the remaining onlookers.

I sighed. "Thank you all. Truly, thank you."

"Of course," Daphne patted me on the back in a show of comfort.

"Even if you aren’t the Heir," Draco began as if the idea physically pained him, "we’ve got to keep with our fathers’ tradition and have each other’s backs."

It was almost so easy to forget that every single one of them— even sweet Daphne— was a contemptible bigot. None of them were really on my side, because none of them actually knew me. If they knew who my mother was— who my family that I loved so dearly was— they wouldn’t act this way towards me. They think I’m one of them so they treat me with kindness and respect.

I hated them. Daphne much less so than the others, but even she had been rather open about her dislike for muggles.

My stomach churned as I forced a smile. "Yeah. Friends for life. Just like our fathers."

I can’t let myself get comfortable around these people. They aren’t my really friends.

These people disgusted me.

For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I despised everyone at the table. It almost burned as my head filled with more and more hate. It was as if someone opened up the floodgates then tried to block it with a 2x2 piece of plywood.

I shuddered. Thankfully whatever the heck that was didn’t last very long. I mean, I was completely right but… I don’t know. All this stress was getting to me.

”First and foremost, I must apologize for summoning you in the middle of Sunday breakfast, Miss Prince.” Dumbledore paused for a moment before sending me a contradicting look of both admonishment and amusement. “Although you did publicly hex another student…”

Shout out to the melanin in my skin for hiding how hot my face was.

”Making fun of me is one thing, but I don’t like it when other people make fun of my… my father. That’s my job… sir,” I grumbled.

Yeah, Snape was a greasy puto, but as the person he has fucked over the most in life (well, second: sorry, Harry) the right to bully him was mine alone (and Harry’s.)

I wouldn’t even let Sirius— ehhh, actually I might. Poor guy still has no idea that the dead love of his life had a kid with one of his mortal enemies. He can say whatever he wants.

But Tracey fucking Davis? Bitch better sleep with one eye open or her lack of hair will be the least of her problems. I have a reputation to uphold.

Dumbledore shook his head but didn’t bother hiding the fond smile on his face.

I straightened my posture. “Er— This isn’t about Tracey Davis’ hair, is it, Headmaster?”

His expression turned grave in an instant. “Yes, I’m afraid you are correct, Miss Prince. I am certain you are already aware of this, but recently one Miss Penelope Clearwater of Ravenclaw has been petrified.”

Bye-bye good posture. "Things… don’t look good for me right now, do they, sir? Because of my… publicly known attraction to Percy— which is mostly a joke by the way! I’m only thirteen! That’s way too young for a boyfriend, especially one Percy’s age. And I think Snape would kill any man who tried to— or woman for that matter, I never actually put a lot of thought in to it, but I definitely-for-sure like men. But I mean, if Bárbara Mori asked for my hand in marriage— Oh, but who isn’t a little attracted to Bárbara Mori— I am so sorry, sir."

The realization that I had just word-vomited that to the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore made me want to evaporate on the spot. His bemused expression had me wanting to die even more than I thought possible.

"Would it be illegal for you to obliviate me, sir? I’m sure if you asked Professor Lockhart—"

"Oh, is that your leading theory? Two points to Slytherin for creativity. Of course, I would never encourage such wild musings about our staff," Dumbledore winked at me before getting back on topic. "I know it wasn’t you who petrified Miss Clearwater. You have nothing to fear from the administration. I merely wished to ask that you take great care, Miss Prince. And to not pay any mind to the baseless accusations thrown your way. You know you are innocent, and that is what matters most."

If you asked me, I’d argue that it was most important that the aurors and the Wizengamot knew I was innocent, but whatever.

”Thanks, Professor Dumbledore. I will be sure to keep that in mind."

He gave me one of his signature Wizard-Grandpa smiles and sent me on my way.

I couldn't pin-point why exactly his kindness left me feeling so uneasy.

"How in the name of Merlin's trousers did you end up receiving two points while being lectured by the Headmaster about hexing people at breakfast?"

"Well, good afternoon to you too, Hermione."

The curly-haired bookworm glared at me. It was clearly taking everything in her not to raise her voice in the library.

"Why on Earth would you hex someone's hair off in the Great Hall? Please tell me that Professor Dumbledore at least gave you a detention."

"Ignore Hermione, I've heard Tracey Davis say some nasty things about muggleborns in the common room. You are officially my hero."

Hermione groaned as Ron and I did the one-armed bro hug thing. She looked to Harry for support.

"What exactly did she say?"

"She found out that Snape's my father then made fun of him in order to make fun of me."

"Understandable." Harry nodded.

"Harry!"

This was honestly hilarious coming from the girl who was supposed to cold-cock (or was it just a slap in the books?) Draco Malfoy next year.

Harry put his hands up, "Although, you really shouldn't have done it like that."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to tear her hair out. Which would have been a real shame considering how nice it's been looking lately. She certainly got made fun of less for it, although I knew the teasing hadn't completely stopped. Nobody did it in front of Harry, Ron, or I. They certainly wouldn't now, at least.

"Anyway," I pulled out my family tree from one of my inner robe pockets, "Look-y here."

"Behold! The Prince mainline!" I set it down on the table and watched as my friends took their seats, huddling closer to get a good look at the parchment.

"…What the bloody hell happened in 1926?"

”I know right!" I stage-whisper-yelled. "I’m spending a few days with Elsinore and Marius before I head back home. I’ll ask them then."

Hermione gave me an admonishing look. "I am not saying that you shouldn’t ask, I’m just asking that you be gentle when you do."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

"You aren’t just asking about names on parchment," explained Harry. "That’s her mother, grandmother, and both her brothers… That must be a difficult time for her to remember."

I recalled her reaction to me asking about Eileen. “…I might just have to ask Marius alone. Grandma Elsie can be a bit… delicate when it comes to family death."

"It’s completely understandable. I mean, I imagine you most likely don’t like speaking about…"

"What, my dearly departed mother?"

Hermione squeaked. "That’s not—"

I shrugged. "I love talking about Mamá, actually. In my family, we think it’s really important to talk about the dead. It keeps the memory of them alive. It’s the least we owe them, for all the love and good memories they gave us. Every family and every culture’s different, though. Everyone grieves in different ways."

"That’s all good and well," said Ron, "but even you cry over your mum sometimes."

”I love how you guys just assume I’ll go in there, guns blazing and accost her about her dead family."

Everyone suddenly went eerily silent.

"…Wow. Screw you guys too, I guess."

Hermione was about to say something, but Ron nudged her with his elbow and shook his head.

"It’s not that… it’s… you… you can be rather… impulsive…" Harry said hesitantly, as if trying to soothe a thoroughly vexed animal.

"You know what I wanna talk about? Literally any other topic. How about we talk about Lockhart again? We haven’t had much time to think about exposing him lately. I think the dueling club will provide some good evidence in our favor."

The three of them had a short telepathic conversation before relenting.

Ron leaned back in his chair, his hands cradling the back of his head. “Honestly, I could care less—”

“Couldn’t. You couldn't care less,” corrected Hermione.

“Does it really matter?” Ron asked.

Hermione— oh my god, her hair was practically getting bushier.

"Does it— what do you mean 'Does it matter?' It's proper—"

"Yeah, but everyone knows what I mean."

"That doesn't—"

Harry and I shared a look as the pair began bickering as loudly as Miss Pince would permit. Granted, that wasn't very loud at all, but boy did they try to test her patience.

"Are Ron and Hermione really friends?" Harry whispered to me.

"They are. They might even be more in a few years," I said... impulsively.

Harry's nose scrunched in disbelief. "Are you sure? I'm having a difficult time imagining them as best mates."

"Oh, never change, cuate. Never change."

Dearest Aurelia,

Severus has informed us about the issue regarding the Chamber of Secrets and the possibility of transferring schools. I am genuinely shocked and appalled that he hasn't already submitted the paperwork to do so. He claimed it was because you kept fighting him on the issue.

Aurelia, we implore to listen to your father. Were you in our charge, you would have been beginning classes elsewhere the moment this Chamber nonsense began.

Why must you fight this? For once, your father is looking out for your best interest. If you will not listen to him, would you heed our words? Marius and I love and care for you very deeply and cannot comprehend why you would choose this particular issue to be stubborn about.

If not your mother’s alma mater, won’t you consider Beauxbaton? Or any other school? Durmstrang is completely out of the question. I will not stand for that kind of bigoted filth being taught to my grandchild.

Be clever about this, or Marius and I will have no choice but to tell Carmela about the situation. I know you haven’t dared to say a word to her about it. If you’ll listen to anyone, I imagine it’s her.

With all our love and sincerity,

Elsinore A. Prince

And Marius P. B. Prince

Sweet Aurelia,

Please try not to take your grandmother’s words too harshly. She’s worried beyond her wits, is all. I beg your patience in the matter.

Whilst I do agree with her and Severus, I also firmly believe that your life is your own. You’re thirteen now. At the end of it all, you are the one who has to live with your choices— although, if I were Severus, you wouldn’t have a choice in this at all.

But I am not your father, so that matters not.

I trust that you’ll do whatever it is that you think is best for yourself. All I can do is do my best to nudge you in the right direction.

I won’t let Elsinore tell Carmela. I fully believe that is your decision alone. I’ve seen firsthand what happens when you hover over and suffocate a child. I won’t allow that to happen to you.

Love,

Marius P. B. Prince

Chapter Text

“Aurelia Prince, you are a disgrace.”

”Hello to you, Professor-Father-dude.”

Snape rubbed his temples in exasperation. The sight was all too familiar at this point.

”Why? Why are you the way you are? Why must you continue to have such a blatant disregard for rules or decorum? Hexing a fellow Slytherin in the middle of breakfast! Have you completely lost your senses?”

I put a finger up. “To be fair… she insulted both of us. Honestly, you’d think you’d be proud of my totally sweet hex work—”

“The issue does not lie within the act of you hexing Miss Davis— nor your hexing abilities. The issue is—” Snape dejectedly collapsed onto his office chair and pulled out a glass and his decanter of firewhiskey— never mind the fact that it was a Sunday afternoon. “I don’t know why I bother lecturing you. You’ll just do whatever impulse pleases at the moment. You have absolutely no self-control nor regard for what consequences your actions might have. You’ve only gotten worse this year… I don’t know how many more office meetings I can have with you…”

Oh my God.

Did I break Snape?

"Er—" I reached over and gently ran my hand through his hair. It was less greasy than the last time I’d touched it, but still a bit of an oily mess. He didn’t tell me off for touching him, at least. He only took more sips of his hard drink.

“Listen, I… I’m not going to pretend to like you or anything, but I’ll give credit where it’s due: you’ve been very, very lenient with me lately, and I really do appreciate it. I’m not… For once, I’m trying to be a total inconvenience to you. I’ve got too many things going on right now for that. I don’t know why I’ve been so quick to anger more than usual lately. Maybe it’s that Latin passion or something kicking in. Maybe it’s puberty—"

Snape snorted.

"—point is… I… ugh… Look, I’m dealing with a lot right now, but know that I’m not actively trying to make your life a living hell. I’m truly thankful you’re letting most of my crappy behavior slide."

Snape set down his mostly empty glass of firewhiskey and looked at me with renewed vigor. I had a feeling that despite my best attempt at being as civil and repentant as possible, this conversation would not end well for me.

”You’re right. I have been letting you behave as you please. I’ve been making an attempt to be less harsh on you for the sake of peace. Clearly, I’ve been over-correcting. I will not have my only daughter turn into an arrogant, spoiled brat.”

I gulped nervously. I was not liking where this was going.

”You will be spending winter holiday with Elsinore and Marius here in Britain. You are not to leave the country until summer.”

I rapidly retracted my hand from Snape and gasped in shock. “You— you can’t be serious! You— you— you can’t do that!”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. "Or you can transfer to Ilvermorny by next week. Take your pick. This is your final warning. Consider yourself lucky I am even allowing you to leave Hogwarts for the holiday."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from sassing him. My attitude of “fuck you, I do what I want” was starting to catch up to me. Actually, it had been fucking me over a lot longer than I cared to admit. I couldn't even blame Snape— he warned me from the very beginning.

I held back my tears. The worst part about this would be writing to Abuelita and explaining why I wouldn't be able to make it.

"Is that all?"

"Yes. You are dismissed."

"Good evening, students! Welcome to this year's first meeting of the dueling club! Come now, gather—" Professor Flitwick was abruptly cut off.

"Gather round, gather round. Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

Flitwick, appearing rather miffed, clenched his fist before inhaling and exhaling slowly. Clearly making an effort to not expel Lockhart's organs. Snape's face remained impassive, but I knew that was only because Lockhart had yet to affront him personally today.

The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

“Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions— for full details, see my published works. “Let me introduce my assistants, Professors Flitwick and Snape,” said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "They tell me they know a tiny little bit about dueling themselves and have sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry — you'll still have your Potions master and charms professor when I'm through with them, never fear!”

Snape scowled with an intensity I'd never seen from him and even Flitwick's breathing exercises stopped being enough. The two professors looked at each other briefly before nodding, seemingly forming an alliance to kick Lockhart's ass ASAP. Damn, it hadn't even been ten minutes yet and they'd already decided to murder Lockhart. Good for them.

"That's odd..." Hermione muttered. "He must have asked Professor Dumbledore about starting up a dueling around the same time Aurelia and Professor Flitwick did..."

The mental gymnastics this girl was doing, I swear...

"Who do you think will do him in first? Flitwick or Snape?" Ron asked.

"Maybe Flitwick will take out Lockhart and Snape." Said Harry, who sounded weirdly hopeful.

Ron began muttering prayers. "Please, God... If you're real..."

Hermione flicked them both on the ear.

Snape and Lockhart assumed the proper dueling beginning stance.

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

“I wouldn't bet on that,” Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth.

“One— two— three— ” Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: “Expelliarmus!” There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

A bunch of us Slytherins started cheering. I gave a whistle of approval.

Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. “Do you think he's all right?” she squealed through her fingers.

“Who cares?” said Harry and Ron together. I didn't bother hiding my laughter.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end. “Well, there you have it!” he said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm— as you see, I've lost my wand— ah, thank you, Miss Brown— yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy— however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…”

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Ah! Professor Flitwick! How about you and I treat them to a show, yes?"

Lockhart must have forgotten or possibly didn't even know that Flitwick was a world-renowned dueling champion; he looked at the charms professor with a sense of relief and condescension— as if not even he could possibly lose to someone like Flitwick.

Flitwick smiled at Lockhart in a way that made my bones shiver.

"Is it weird that I almost feel bad for him?' I said to the boys.

"Go Professor Flitwick!" Ron cheered.

"Cheering for the underdog, Mr. Weasley? How sweet. Worry not! I shan't harm him too badly!"

"Famous last words, sir," I muttered.

"One— two— three—"

Before Lockhart even had time to blink he was flying backwards through the air before sliding across the floor where he landed. Flitwick's wand was pointed at him and his smile had only gotten more frightening. It was then I realized that he hadn't even opened his mouth.

The whole of Ravenclaw and a good chunk of several of the other houses cheered loudly.

"That was a non-verbal knockback jinx!" Hermione said in awe before once again showing concern over Lockhart, who locked positively dazed and confused. His cheeks flushed to a brilliant carnation pink.

"Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me—" said Lockhart, not even bothering to look at Professor Flitwick.

"Coward." I didn't even bother whispering before looking between the boys. "Alright, I assume you two are pairing up. Hermione, you wanna—"

"I think not," said Snape, who came out of absolutely fucking nowhere.

I jumped in surprise. "¡Ay, dios mio! Did you teleport here or something?"

"You'll go easy on them," he said, completely correct. "Granger, work with Parkinson. Weasley, you'll take Finch-Fletchley. Potter, you and Malfoy will pair."

"...And me?" I asked, slightly afraid of why he hadn't said my partner yet.

Snape gave me a nasty smirk. "Longbottom."

I choked in shock before turning to Neville. His face was pale as a ghost.

"Nope. No thank you. I've had enough of dueling club today. I don't really need it anyway; I mean, remember when I single-handedly killed that mountain troll? I'm gonna go check if the gobstones team is still a thing—"

Snape grabbed me by the back of my collar and dragged me closer to Neville. It would appear I did not have a choice in the matter.

I could feel what felt like hundreds of eyes looking at us. It made sense why, but that didn't mean it didn't feel horrible.

Neville took a deep breath and offered me a shaky smile. "It's alright, Prince. Harry told me it wasn't you."

I didn't know whether or not I believed he knew it wasn't me, but I appreciated it. Still, being forced to actually interact with me must be giving him PTSD flashbacks to the Trevor Incident. That and also my skill level was above his. Expelliarmus was one of the first spells I made an effort to perfect when I could freely use magic. How could I not? I was one of the most iconic spells in the entire franchise.

Wow, Snape really hates this kid for no reason. Now Harry I understood. But Neville? The hell did the Longbottoms ever do to him?

I did my best to give Neville a reassuring look. "If you need any help, let me know, okay?"

He gave an uncertain nod.

"Okay. One—"

Before I could do anything, I was cut off by Harry and Draco yelling random hexes and jinxes at each other. Lockhart told them off for not practicing disarming only but alas to no avail.

“I said disarm only!” Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Harry hung back, with a vague feeling it would be unsporting to bewitch Malfoy while he was on the floor, but this was a mistake; gasping for breath, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry's knees, choked, “Tarantallegra!” and the next second Harry's legs began to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep.

“Stop! Stop!” screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge. “Finite Incantatem!” he shouted; Harry's feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing, and they were able to look up.

"I think perhaps it might be best to do a change in the partner system," Flickwick sent Snape a pointed look. "Miss Prince, why don't you switch partners with Mr. Potter, hm?"

God bless Filius Flitwick and only Filius Flitwick.

"No problem, professor!" I chirped. Neville let out a sigh of relief. I didn't take it personally.

"Gladly, sir," said Harry.

Snape's expression soured but he didn't argue with Flitwick.

"Hey, Draco."

"Aurelia, why in Merlin's name do you put up with Scarhead?"

"The prestige, Draco. The prestige," I said before casting the disarming charm.

"Hey! You didn't do the count!" Draco grumbled as he picked up his wand.

"My apologies. Won't happen again."

As soon as he took position, I once again casted expelliarmus without waiting. I let out a giggle and thankfully Draco didn't appear to take great offense. He seemed to think I was teasing him. Which, I kind of was.

“Dear, dear,” said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. “Up you go, Macmillan… Careful there, Miss Fawcett… Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot…”

“I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. “Let's have a volunteer pair— Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you— ”

“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.” Neville's round, pink face went pinker.

"Now, Professor Snape," Flitwick chastised. "There's no need for that. Besides, it would be much better for the students to see it in action first. That should minimize accidents. Why don't you and Professor Lockhart show them how it's done?"

Have I ever mentioned how much I love Professor Flitwick?

Thanks to The Power of Timeline Changes™, we managed to avoid the whole "Harry is a parselmouth" fiasco. I'll admit, there was a dark part of me that was tempted to let everyone know so it would take the heat off of me, but I chalked that up to being around Snape too much. There was absolutely no way in hell I'd ever make Harry (or any of my other friends, for that matter) go through such unnecessary hardship. And so, even now, at the start of winter vacation I still remain suspect numero uno. Never mind the fact that they can't even seem to properly ask themselves, cui bono? If they did, they'd see that there's no way it's me. What could I possibly gain from terrorizing the school in such a manner? What could killing a toad or petrifying— okay, the fact that there hadn't been any attacks since Penelope Clearwater certainly did not look good for me, but to be fair—

Ugh. There was no to be fair. To anyone who doesn't know me beyond the Percy jokes, I look guilty as shit. I'd berated myself a lot these past few weeks, for wishing that someone unrelated to me entirely would be petrified. I had no reason to hope for such hateful things. I knew that I was not guilty.

Perhaps not innocent, but definitely not guilty...

"Aurelia?"

I jolted upright before smiling sheepishly at my friends. "Sorry, haha... Totally spaced there..."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all frowned sympathetically at me.

"I'm sorry, Aurelia, I truly am, but... Professor Snape did warn you multiple times—"

Ron nudged Hermione 's side. "Don't. Not right now."

I sighed and leaned into Harry, who was a tad startled but more or less used to me at this point. He hesitantly patted me on the arm but otherwise made no indication that he wanted me off of him.

"It's not.. it's not Snape or Abuelita— I mean, hey, at least Harry'll get to meet her. And you all get to meet Tio Luis! They were a little disappointed in me, but I'm glad I get to at least see them. Elsinore and Marius said they were happy to have me..."

Ron frowned. "Don't tell me—"

Knock! Knock!

The door to our train compartment opened to reveal a tired-looking Percy. I reflexively cringed at the sight of him. I'd been intentionally and successfully avoiding him for almost a month now. Judging by the intense look he was giving me, it would seem that he did not appreciate that.

"Heyyy, buddyyy..." I gave him some nervous finger-guns.

Percy was not amused.

"Aurelia."

"We'll just get out of your way for a moment," said Harry as he gently pushed me off and stood up to leave.

"I need to finish that conversation about quidditch I was having with Seamus Finnigan..." muttered Ron, following after him.

"Quite frankly, this talk is long overdue," said Hermione, shaking her head and not even bothering to make an excuse like the others before exiting the compartment.

And then there were two.

Percy looked at me with such exhausted betrayal that it shook me to my core. There was nary a red hair out of place, as per usual. His horned-rimmed glasses were polished clear and his red and gold tie was neatly straight. His posture was perfect.

But his skin, already normally milky white, was gaunt and waxen. The underneath of his eyes were brilliantly violet and I could see the sea of blood coursing through small and formally hidden veins. Percy was scrawny on a good day. But now? I wouldn't be surprised if a rather strong breeze tipped him over.

"Oh, Percy..." My voice cracked as he sat across from me.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" He asked softly.

"If... if it means anything, it hasn't been out of guilt."

"Aurelia..." the way he said my name was far too tender for comfort.

"I didn't... I'm sorry..."

"Didn't I already tell you?" Percy shook his head sadly. "I've always believed you. I know you, Aurelia. I know you..."

I took a deep breath before sighing and reaching over to take his hand in mine. "It'll be okay." I squeezed his shaking hand. "I'm gonna figure out who is behind this. They will be brought to justice."

Percy returned to squeeze. "You'll tell me anything and everything you find out, alright? I know I can't stop you... Nothing, I think, could ever stop you..."

"...We're still friends?"

I don't think I'll ever forget the smile Percy gave me. Full of such uncertain reassurance. It was so difficult and almost painful to describe...

"Why wouldn't we be?"

Chapter Text

“...and since you’re older now, Marius and I have discussed opening up more of the manor and grounds to you. You may walk through the gardens on your own, but only after notifying an adult or Tipsy. If you wish to see the portrait room—”

“Oh, yeah, I wondered why there weren’t any portraits— erm, sorry, haha…” I nervously scratched my palm under Elsinore’s admonishing gaze. I’d arrived at Prince Manor only a few minutes beforehand and my grandmother had insisted on updating me on the new rules as we made our way to the library where Marius was.

“As I was saying… should you wish to see the portrait room, you must ask me in advance. There are some… unsavory family members of the past that I’d rather you not encounter, if I can help it…” Elsinore paused before pulling me into her arms. “Welcome home, sweetling. I’m terribly sorry about Severus, but you know that we are always more than delighted to have you home. Although… hexing another Slytherin in broad daylight? Tsk tsk. I thought I taught you better. Next time, hex her in a way and place where no one can prove that it was you.”

I laughed and hugged her back. “Aye-aye, ma’am.”

"Doth mine ears deceive me, my love, or did I hear you encourage our granddaughter to hex her fellow students?"

I whipped around to see Marius standing there in his tall and proud stance. His formerly balding salt-and-pepper hair was now shaved off, sideburns and all. My face broke into a wide grin and I bolted towards him.

"Grandpa!" I yelled as I threw my arms around his neck. He laughed and spun me around a few times before patting me on the head.

"My, my. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? Let me get a good look at you."

I smiled and dramatically turned around and framed my face with my hands. Marius laughed once more and put an arm around me and Elsinore. He began to lead us towards what I'm pretty sure was the parlor.

"You've gotten taller, sweet girl. Hasn't she gotten, Elsie?"

My great-grandmother hummed in agreement. "Yes, yes she has. Her hair's gotten longer as well."

"Amazing!"

I giggled into my hand. Elsinore and Marius always knew how to lift my mood. "Thank you, thank you. So, when are Abuelita and Tio coming? tomorrow, right?"

"Day after, sweet girl. You will see them on Christmas Morning. It should be quite a delight to see Carmela again. She's become a rather dear friend of ours."

"Yes, that she has. And your friends will be here for New Years, is that correct?"

I nodded. "Yup! It'll be all of the Weasley children, Hermione, and Harry Sirius Black and Remus Lupin will be there for a few minutes to meet you before releasing Harry into our care for the night. Oh, and I'm gonna need help setting up for the party that night."

"Of course, my dear girl. I'd be happy to help, since I hear you're suddenly against house-elves these days," Elsinore rolled her icy blues.

"Start paying Tipsy and it won't be an issue."

"We tried, but she looked as though she'd rather hang herself."

"Sirius Black, you say? Why, I never thought I'd speak with another Black in this lifetime. Though, I suppose he should be alright. Who is this Remus Lupin character? His inamorato?" Marius asked with complete sincerity.

I snorted before dissolving into a fit of laughter. It got so bad that I slipped from Marius' grasp and clutched my stomach.

"...Shall I take that as a no, then?"

I shook my head. "No, they aren't like that together. Speaking of which... please don't bring up Severus Snape. Like, at all. Especially his relation to me."

Elsinore raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

"Er..."

My great-grandparents let out an exasperated sigh.

"Why do I have the strangest feeling that Sirius Black is unaware of your... paternal origins?"

A nervous laughed escaped me. "Hahaha... so, funny story..."

A ray of light peaking throw the stained glass window in my room woke me from my sleep. I let out a yawn and stretched before rolling out of the canopy bed and getting ready for the day. I was going to spend some quality time with Elsinore and Marius before Abuelita and Tio came tomorrow, as well as do some exploring. The majority of Prince Manor had been forbidden the last time I visited, although I hadn't really payed much mind at the time. It was a big place and I had so much going on that I didn't really question it. Of course, there was a lot going on now but call me selfish but I needed a few days of relaxation before diving back into the Chamber of Secrets thing. I would work better after some mental rest anyway.

I threw my hair into my signature twin braids as I walked through the long hall towards the stairs. I glanced around the walls.

"There really are no portraits..." I muttered to myself. "Some nice landscapes, though..."

"The first thing Elsie did after we took over the house was move them all to the portrait room."

"Ay!" I jumped before turning around to see an already sharply dressed Marius smiling at me.

"You're up early."

"I wanted to explore a bit before breakfast," I explained.

"Ah, I see. Well, seeing as breakfast won't be for another hour or so, shall I accompany you? I could answer any questions you might have," he offered.

I thought for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, that sounds good. I already have a few in mind, although... Where's Grandma?"

He took my arm in his and began to lead me downstairs. "She's in the solar, dear. Another room that I'm afraid will remain off-limits until you inherit the house."

I wasn't sure what exactly a solar was outside of the context of the sun, but I didn't wanna seem dumb so I made a note to myself to ask Hermione later. "Oh, okay... Where are we going?"

"I thought we might have some tea in the conservatory. It wasn't prohibited last time, but I don't recall you ever going in."

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so. I spent most of my time in either my room, the parlor, or the library. I only ever went outside when it was mandatory flying lessons."

"That's right, that's right... Now, you said you already had a few questions? Ah, before that," He stopped in front of a door that I'd previously assumed led to the back gardens. "Tpisy," He called.

Pop!

"What can Tipsy be doing for Master Marius and Little Mistress 'Relia?" asked Tipsy with a cute curtsy.

"Could you fetch Aurelia a thin coat and some shoes? We'll be taking tea in the conservatory."

"Certainly, Master! Will yous be taking breakfast there as well?"

Marius paused for a moment before smiling. "Yes, I think we shall. Do tell Elsie about the change in plans."

"Yes, Master!"

Pop!

I gave Marius a look.

"Really?"

"We're still figuring out a compromise with her. I'd like to see you try to convince a house elf to accept payment."

That reminded me.

SERIOUSLY, WHERE THE ACTUAL FUCK HAS DOBBY BEEN?!

Pop!

"There yous are! Will that be all, Master?" Tipsy asked as she handed me the clothing articles. I gave her a warm thanks.

He smiled at her before nodding. "Yes, thank you Tipsy."

The small house-elf curtsied a final time before popping away.

"...Hermione and I will work on negotiations with her on New Year's." I said as I slipped on the coat.

"You both are more than welcome to.”

The Prince Manor conservatory was on the smaller side, yet it was somehow one of the most gorgeous buildings I'd ever been in. It was connected to the house and made primarily of glass and intricately carved dark stone and was host to a wide variety of ferns and flowers— several of which I'd never seen before in my life. There was a long yet thin little pond surrounding most of the round table in the center filled with oddly colorful carps. I was unsure what exactly separated it from a greenhouse, but I elected to just roll with it.

"Now, what questions did you have for me?" Marius asked as he took a sip out of his cup. It'd only taken us a minute or two to reach the center table, yet somehow it had already been covered in flowers and a well-stocked tea set filled with hot Darjeeling. I suspected it to be Tipsy's work.

”On a scale of the Malfoys to the Weasleys, where would you say the Prince’s fall economically?”

He blinked slowly before giving an answer. “Richer than the Weasleys, yet poorer than the Malfoys and even the Potters. We’re throughly middle class, we’re simply land rich from bygone days of glory.”

"Do we have a family motto? I know the Black’s was—"

”Toujours Pur,” he said in disgust. “I’ve always hated that. I was often called a waste of perfectly good blood. But yes, the Prince family does have one of their own. It may sound better at first glance, but it has been used to justify horrid things, just as Black's has. Nos sumus Triviae electi. We are Trivia’s Chosen. The Prince family has never much cared for blood status, but Merlin almighty has their prejudice against muggles and squibs carried on throughout even to this very day. Elsie is considered to be the greatest disgrace amongst the other sides of the Prince family. Married to a squib, mother of a witch who married a muggle… The remaining Princes have all left Britain in protest of her inheriting the family home."

“Trivia? That’s… Hecate’s Roman counterpart, yeah?”

I briefly recalled a scene in The Adventures of Moonica Arrowdust where Moonica found out she was made by Artemis with the help of Hecate and thus she was also a super powerful sorceress, actually.

Ugh. I'm still mad at remembering Moonica but not myself.

”Yes. Goddess of Magic and the like. There’s a large statue of her deep in the gardens somewhere. There’s a few other Roman gods scattered about, but the founding Prince’s worshiped Trivia above all other deities. Although, no one has practiced in well over a few hundred years. Nearly a thousand, I'd argue. Now the statues are just a neat old family heirlooms. They mainly deter gnomes, for some reason.”

I nodded before pulling out and unfolding the family tree Snape had given me a few weeks ago. "So, er— I figured it would be better to ask you this than Grandma... Um... What exactly happened in 1926?"

Marius' lips were pulled into a thin line as he looked over the parchment. "I assume Severus gave this to you? He got Hadrian's birth year incorrect. It should say 1912, not 1914. I blame Eileen's handwriting. She always wrote her fours as the symbol of Jupiter for some reason... Easy to mix them up with that knowledge…" He trailed off before sighing. "You were wise to come to me about this instead of Elsie. She hates thinking about damned New Year's Eve..."

"I'm sorry, New Year's Eve of 1926?" As in, Tom Riddle's exact date of birth? Fuck. That was just a shitty day for everyone, huh? "Is she gonna be okay on..."

"Enough time has passed. She will be, so long as she stays out of The Room."

"'The Room?'" What did Tommy Wiseau ever do to my great-grandmother?

He waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's been magically sealed and hidden even from her. Mercury didn't want anyone to ever step foot in it again, let alone his beloved daughter..."

"Mercury... Mercurius?"

Marius nodded. "Yes, Mercurius Aurelius Prince. He preferred Mercury, though..." A sigh escaped him. "Of all questions to ask me, you had to ask one of the hardest ones after two simple..."

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. "We don't have to talk about this. I mean, it sounds like Grandma lost four people in one day. It's probably a pretty gruesome story..."

Marius sighed again. "It was three people—and even then, technically only two. Hortensia had been murdered a few days prior."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean by 'technically two?' Wait, murdered?!"

Black eyes looked around the conservatory before leaning closer to whisper, "Swear on your magic you won't speak of what I'm about to tell you to anyone without consulting me first?"

My own black eyes widened. "That serious?"

Well, it fucking had to be if people were getting FUCKING MURDERED!

Marius nodded gravely.

"Alright... I swear not to tell a soul without asking you first. Alright, so Hortensia was murdered?!"

Marius nervously licked his lips. "It was all done to protect young Cawdor Prince, who, contrary to record and public belief, didn't die that night— nor was he Mercury Prince's true-born son."

What in the Game of Thrones?!

"I'm sorry, did you just say—"

"Good morning, everyone."

I bolted upwards and looked over to see Elsinore making her way towards the table. Marius swiped the parchment to tuck in his robes and got up as well, albeit much more gracefully. He kissed his wife on the cheek before we all sat down again.

"Good morning, my love."

"Morning, Grandma."

Elsinore gave Marius and I a suspicious look but didn't ask what the parchment thing had been about.

"We were about to discuss Mercury, my love."

Elsinore's face brightened considerably. "My father? Oh, he was a wonderful man, Aurelia. Gone far, far too soon. I do wish you could have met him. It was a potions accident; he invented them regularly, have I ever told you?"

I shook my head in surprise. "No, I had no idea. What did he invent? How come I've never heard of him?"

Her face fell into a disgruntled sneer. "The Ministry didn't approve of most of his works and forbade him from ever publishing the majority of his recipes. He was a madman who tipped the line far too close to Dark Arts, they claimed. What utter nonsense. My father was a genius, far ahead of his time..."

Breakfast was soon served by Tipsy and Elsinore spent the entire time telling me about Mercurius Prince’s many— quite frankly morally dubious— achievements. It was fairly interesting stuff (liquidized-spells and his proclivity towards mixing magic and muggle science caught my attention the most), but nothing mind-blowing until:

"Wait, he was rivals with Fleamont Potter?! As in, Harry’s grandfather?!”

What was it with my family and Harry’s hating each other?!

"They were friends first,” said Marius. “Well, school rivals, then friends, then Mercury started a one-sided rivalry with Fleamont Potter that the man didn’t pay much mind to once they graduated from Hogwarts. All over some girl, if I recall. Euphemia Potter née Fawley."

Over a girl again?! Oh, god, please don’t tell me Harry and I are gonna have a falling out over some stupid romance nonsense. I don’t even date!

Elsinore sighed, “I think you’ve given her the wrong impression, darling. My father hated Euphemia Potter until his dying breath for supposedly stealing his best friend.”

She pursed her lips before once more sighing. “My father was a man who greatly valued intelligence. It didn’t matter to him what your blood status or social class was, so long as you were clever. If you couldn’t keep up with his intellect, if you couldn’t challenge him, he saw you as beneath his time. He… the person he ever saw as his true equal was Fleamont. When Fleamont met and subsequently fell in love with Euphemia Fawley, he spent less time with my father and academics. Father became enraged and was utterly convinced that Euphemia had him under her ‘dark spell.’ From what I understand, Euphemia was an exceptionally beautiful and kindhearted woman. Sweet as may flowers and just as gentle, but… by no means was she an idiot, but she wasn’t the genius my father or Fleamont were.”

”Why do I have a feeling that he didn’t treat her very well?” I asked, cringing. 

“In their sixth or seventh year, he publicly belittled and accused her of holding Fleamont hostage with a love potion. That had been the final straw for the Potter man. He broke off their friendship then and there and proceeded to pay Father no mind for the rest of my father’s life. Father… did not handle this well. Instead of doing anything productive, such as perhaps reflecting on his emotions and abhorrent behavior, he instead dedicated his life to outshining Fleamont and trying to prove to the world that he was the better wizard and superior potions master. Still, I don’t think he ever hated him. Euphemia, however? His hatred for her burned until his dying breath.”

I blinked slowly. “That… was kind of depressing and I have so many questions.”

Elsinore began to rub her temples.

“There’s… much more to the story, but let’s not dwell on that today. You’re here to spend the holidays with us, not to be made depressed by our family history. Come, sweetling. Why don’t we decorate the tree in the drawing room?” She stood up and held her arm out to me. “Tell me, do you prefer reds and greens, or silver and gold for your Christmas decorations?”

I took it and walked with her and Marius. “Silvers and light blues, actually…”

“So what were you and your grandfather really talking about?”

I stiffened but didn’t bother looking away from the fire roaring. It was late— near midnight— and the anticipation for tomorrow had made it impossible for me to sleep. I paced around my room for an hour or so before taking refuge in the library. I wished that Clawdius could be here for comfort, but Percy needed him a lot more than me.

”Hey, Grandma. You’re still up?”

Elsinore took a seat beside me on the black upholstered sofa.

”After all these years, Marius still insists on trying to protect me from my own memories… So, what was it? Eileen?”

I cringed and sucked air through my teeth. “I swore not to speak of it to anyone without his permission first.”

”Hm. I see,” she stared into the fire, silent for only a few moments. “Must have been about That Night, then. New Year’s Eve, 1926.”

I clenched my jaw.

”I do not know what all you know, but I guarantee I can give the most accurate story out of the two of all of us. I suppose… I shall start at the very beginning, then.”

I finally turned to look at her. “You don’t have to.”

Elsinore shook her head. “No… no, you'll find out some way or another. It might as well be from a primary source... Oh, how I wish this conversation had been about Eileen…”

“It can be,” I offered. “My father told me a bit about her. She loved hyacinths, right?”

My great-grandmother smiled tenderly. “Yes, she did. They were my father’s favorite as well. When she was born, my father made her a crown of silver hyacinths that was charmed to grow with her as she aged. It was one of her most cherished possessions…. Ah, you’ve distracted me on purpose, haven’t you?”

“Guilty,” I said.

“It all began with my grandmother— Hortensia Prince. She was a despicable woman,” her tone was full of more disdain than I’d ever heard from her. “You think Severus is horrid? My dear girl, Hortensia was cruel in every way imaginable. I dare say that the majority of our family’s relatively recent tragedies can be traced back to her. Her hate haunts me to this very day. Have I ever mentioned that I had an aunt?”

”Miseria Prince,” I murmured. “She died before you were born; she was only sixteen, right? How did that happen? If you don’t mind…”

“The official story is that she tripped and fell out of a window at a friend’s home after being startled by a particularly nasty letter from her mother.”

I gasped, my hands flying up to my mouth. “She… Oh my god... No. No, I don’t want to hear anymore tonight. Can we please talk about something else?”

Elsinore took my hands in hers and brought them briefly to her lips. “Of course, my dear. You’re right— this is far too morbid for Christmas. I apologize. Ah, so tell me about this Uncle Luis of yours. Carmela mentioned he was a... mechanic? What is that?”

"Um... So you know what a muggle car is, right?"

Aurelia,

It's been a while, hasn't it? Harry made it home safe. We'll be doing a joint Christmas with the Weasleys; it's a shame you won't be attending, but I understand. I'm sorry your father grounded you. Hexing a girl's hair off at breakfast? I know as an adult I should chastise you, but I fear you've been punished enough.

Harry still won't tell me who you're father is. Says it's not his place to say...

Aurelia, I want you to know that I don't care. I don't know why it is you're afraid to tell me, but truly, I will not be upset with you— nor Daisy. You could tell me that Voldemort himself sired you, and I doubt that it would make it possible for me to care any less about you.

The love I have for Daisy will burn until my dying breath. No matter who your father is, even though he isn't me, I will look after you just as I do Harry. I would do anything and everything to ensure both of you are alive and happy. If there is one thing I will ever ask of you, it's to believe me on that.

Before I forget: Happy Christmas. I look forward to seeing you and your family on New Year's Eve. I hope you'll enjoy the gift I sent. Harry said your friend Hermione wouldn’t approve, and I did have my doubts, but I think the everything should work just fine.

— Sirius Black

“It’s time… I can do this… It’s just Abuelita and Tio. There’s nothing to worry about…” I whispered over and over to myself in the mirror as I redid my braids for what must have been the tenth time this morning.

Christmas Morning.

Sure, I hadn’t gotten to do any Nochebuena traditions yesterday— actually, yesterday was a massive blur— but it was fine. There was always next year. All that mattered right now was Abuelita and Tio Luis. 

God, Tio Luis. How long had it been since I’d seen or heard from him? I hesitate to call him a father figure— if anything, he was like a big brother— but he had been there my whole life before Mom died. I inwardly cringed at how little I’d thought of him— of anyone other than Abuelita— in the past few years. Perhaps it was me just trying to escape the pain of separation and uncertainty.

I don’t know; I’m not a psychologist. 

I took in a deep breath before slowly exhaling.

'Everything will be alright.'

Chapter Text

“Are the color-changing icicles too much? They're too much, aren’t they? Oh, man, they’re gonna be down here any minute…” I compulsively picked at the skin of my palms as I paced around the magnificently decorated drawing room. The entire room was decorated with blue, white, and silver with the occasional red and green holly. The ceiling was charmed to show the snowfall happening outside. The fire roared and crackled a brilliant white and the tree was frosted and adorned silver with crystal ornaments. 

It looked like a winter wonderland— a far cry from the style of decorating I grew up with— the kind with red and green and discount rainbow lights and a weird amount of Jesus portraits above some poorly painted ceramic nativities. I looked up at the apparently diamond and white gold star crowning the tree.

“Oh man, is it too late to transfigure something into an angel tree-topper? What’s Abuelita gonna think? That I’m some kind of godless heathen? I mean, I kinda am, but—ah! I’ll never hear the end of it! Oh, how does my hair look? I’m not used to braiding the ribbons themselves in my hair by myself… Ugh, why aren’t they down here yet?”

Elsinore exchanged a bemused look with her husband before taking a sip of her grown-up hot cocoa. “My dear girl, do try to give them a moment. They’re still adjusting to the abrupt time change. Besides, Carmela spent nearly all of last night slaving away over the stove for you.”

I let out a garbled, anxiety-riddled sound that Marius took as his cue to rub calming circles on my back.

“Shhh… there, there, sweet girl. Everything will be—” Marius was cut off by the sound of the door to the drawing room opening.

“TIO! ABUELITA!” I whipped my head around towards the absurdly large and ornate door. I couldn’t help the massive smile that overtook my face as I saw him.

His thick dark hair was slicked back with pomada. His left ear was mostly missing, just like the front tooth missing from his dimple-inducing smile. Despite the blizzard happening outside, he still wore a white wife-beater and open flannel combo, complete with a single gold chain with a humble cross and his Vietnam War dog tags hanging from his neck. Even from here, I could smell his signature scent of motor oil, Modelo beer, and Irish Spring soap.

“Ayy, chamaquita! You just gonna stand there or you gonna give Tio some love, ey?” He asked as he straightened his flannel before opening his arms.

“TIO!” I yelled, running past the startled little girl and into his familiar embrace.

“CHAMAQUITA!” He yelled back as he lifted me up and gave me a few quick spins. Tio's face broke out into a toothy grin as he pinched my cheek with one of his calloused hands. "You've gotten chubbier. We oughta start callin' you Gordita, ey?”

I swatted his hand away from my face. "I change my mind. Go back to America."

His grin got even wider. "Ey, I've always wanted to be told that!"

"I hope you are not forgetting about me."

I looked over my shoulder to see a smirking Abuelita. I opened my mouth but she shoved a bandera de coco in there before I could say anything.

"I already know, no need to yell it loud enough for the world to be hearing," she said as she pulled me in for a hug. "And don't listen to that pendejo, you've gotten skinnier. Too skinny... You're practically wasting away!"

I would argue with her, but all her worrying just meant more tamales for me. Plus I still had the coconut candy in my mouth.

"Ah, Carmela, Luis. It’s good to see you. Feliz Navidad,” Marius said warmly.

"Feliz Navidad,” they repeated in unison, which caused Abuelita to gag.

"You are still repeating me after all these years?" She said whilst giving Tio the side eye.

"Wouldn’t dream of it, cuñada." He said the last word almost like it was a slur, but I knew it was all in good fun for them. I always thought it was sweet how much they teased (cough bullied cough) each other after all this time. I've half a mind to think the universe brought Abuelita and Abuelito together just so they could make Tio and her the siblings they so clearly were,

Elsinore and Marius shared a bemused glance, although there was something almost melancholic about it. It then occurred to me that whilst both of them might've technically had siblings of their own, they were all dead and/or terrible people. Or straight up missing, like Cawdor Prince allegedly was.

Wait, was Marius ever gonna follow up on that? I know I declined further info from Elsinore, but that was because of obvious reasons.

Ah, well. It didn't matter right now. Today was Christmas and I had my favorite family members with me. That was all that mattered.

I clapped my hands together and busted out my best holiday cheer. "So! Who wants to make ponche with me?'

Hours later I collapsed onto the parlour sofa (or, more accurately, Tio who happened to be sitting there) with a sigh before letting out a series of intelligible groans. Tio snickered and began to pat me on the head. It was just the two of us. Abuelita had gone to bed, as did Elsinore and Marius.

"You okay, chamaquita? Did you get too many gifts today or something?" Tio teased. 

I rolled my eyes and glanced up at him, once again secretly taking in his scent. It was no amber and spice perfume, but it still smelt like home. For some reason, the juxtaposition of having him here in the manor was somehow more jarring than it had been with Abuelita. Seeing him here...

I'd always been aware of the fact that I was in the world of Harry Potter, yet... living with my mother and her side of the family felt so real. They'd always made me feel so grounded in what I'd always known to be reality; hell, I'd be lying if I said I didn't often forget I was living in a world filled with magic and mythos when I was growing up. Tio Luis in particular was so normal to me— in the most wonderful and greatest way possible, of course. Normal, I think, can be a very good and relaxing thing. I've not felt anything other than safe and settled around him.

"Today was perfect— if not oddly blurry— but I still feel... oddly drained. I almost feel like I was on autopilot for a moment there... As for gifts... actually, what all did I get again?"

I think I got a... book from Hermione? Yeah, that sounds right. And... how did I even get here? Wasn't I just in the kitchen making... Oh, well. It doesn't matter.

Tio hummed. "Ey, you've had an eventful day. I'm not too surprised you've already blocked most of it out-- you're probably feeling every emotion possible right now. Too much for your little baby brain to handle."

I'm surprised my eyes aren't facing my "baby" brain by now. "You know, you're handling being in a magical manor in another country pretty well."

"Aurelia, I've been to more countries than you." He dangled his dog tags over my head and I was briefly reminded that the remnants of his ear were probably still scattered about in some Vietnamese jungle— if it hadn' probably already completely decomposed by now. His cheerful demeanor made it easy to forget that he'd seen horrors beyond my comprehension all the way on the other side of the world back when he was not much older than I.

"Well, yeah but I doubt you visited any—" I paused at the look on his face.

"Margarita was magic too," he said softly. "She had this friend— some little uptight pendejo whose family made magic sticks— I had to be there to watch her for the first few times she went over to his house." It was now Tio's turn to roll his eyes. "House. Ugh. The kid lived in a small fucking castle. It was bigger and more crazier than this place. This place just looks as if someone threw black and green paint all over one of those telenovela sets. I keep looking over my shoulder thinking I'll see some hot lady slap her maid for fu— Er— kissing her husband."

I snorted before fully relaxing into Tio. "Could you tell me about Mom when she was growing up?"

He closed his eyes— the same sea green Abuelito's had been— and smiled shakily. "Ey, I'm not sure you wanna hear about that, chamaquita."

"Why not?"

"She..." He opened his mouth before closing it again. He scratched at the dark, leathery skin on his cheek. "She had two best friends that she was very close to. Once her second summer home from school started, she would spend less than a week at home before spending the rest of her summer with them— at least, that's what Carmelita said. I was still on tour in 'Nam at the time." His eyes were suddenly very far away. "Margarita would write to me every week back then. Her letters always were stained with her tears. She kept talking about how she was looking for a way to give me her magic, that way I could come home... How if she couldn't, she'd protect the family with her magic anyway. From the Soviets, from Charlie..." He coughed and got back on topic. " Still, most years I didn't even get to see her off to school. The summer before her fifth year, I only saw her for a single lunch hour. She grabbed me from work and teleported us to the magic side of L.A. and took me to this place that had singing drinks..."

He opened his eyes and looked down at me with a somber expression that I hadn't even realized he was capable of. "I don't blame her. She was so sad and alone as a kid. Nobody in the family understood her. Nobody loved how special she was."

"You did." I, admittedly, guessed. This conversationed had not gone where I initially thought it would go, and now my heart was pained more than ever for my poor mother. Growing up in the height of Cold War America with the person she was closest to fighting a pointless war in another country... I suddenly felt ashamed for all the times I complained about my own life, and then even more so when I realized I was once again making something completely unrelated about myself.

"Margarita was never really a niece to me. She was always more like my precious little sister. She kept me alive out there in the jungle, ya know? I couldn't die or anything. Not when I had that sweet, lonely little girl waiting for me back home..." He wrapped me in his shaking arms. I could feel his tears hitting the top of my head. "I'll never come home to her again. You're all that's left of her. Mi hermanita... Fuck, I haven't seen or heard from you since we put her in the ground. You wrote to Carmelita, but never to me."

I tightened my own grip around him, my guilt skyrocketing. "Lo lamento, Tio. Te quiero. I promise I'll do better. I'll write to you as often as I can. I'll behave better so I can come home in the summer. I promise."

"I love you too, chamaquita. I love you too." He let go of me before awkwardly scratching his cheek. "I... I'm gonna go to bed before I ruin Christmas for you again. Go sort through your presents if you still can't remember..."

I let out a laugh that was more strangled than I meant it to be before getting up to head to my room. "Okay, Tio. Still love you."

"Yeah, yeah, love you too..."

A smile overtook my face as I opened my bedroom door and saw the decently sized pile of boxes on my bed. One plain black one caught my eye first and I immediately rushed over towards it.

I opened the box and found two good-sized vials each wrapped in long silver silk ribbons: one of thick black liquid and one of runny light purple. I looked at the attached note and couldn’t help but crack a smile.

'Your incessant picking at your palms and biting of your nails grows rather tiresome and irritating. I cannot speak for the state of your palms, but your nails shall at least remain in a tolerable and intact state. I would have provided an assortment of other colors, but I doubt you’d ever use them.

In case it wasn’t obvious to your small head, the polish will only come off with the use of the lilac liquid. Do not attempt to ingest either.'

It was both demeaning and weirdly thoughtful. Even without his distinctive elegant script, I would’ve known it was Snape from a mile away. I hadn’t been expecting— well, anything really, but it was greatly appreciated nevertheless. I secretly hoped this meant he felt bad for forbidding me from going to California for the holidays, but I wasn’t gonna push my luck.

I picked up one of the vials and swirled it around. Somehow, I knew he’d made it himself. I tugged at the ribbons and realized they were a) high quality and b) the same length as the ones I use for my hair.

A pair of high-quality pretty ribbons in my favorite color. Presumably one for each of my standard braids.

I couldn’t for the life of me figure out his motive for this… almost sweet gift. He gave me a mandatory textbook last year that didn’t even have sick Half-Blood Prince notes in it. This… this had thought out into it. But why? That wasn’t his style at all. That’s not to say Snape wasn’t observant or anything…

I felt the slightest twinge of guilt at the gift I had sent him this year, but quickly stomped it down. One— technically two— nice gifts do not make up for all the torment he’s put me through. It’s probably just a bribe anyway. Still... I would definitely wear the polish and ribbons around him. Something told me he'd appreciate it.

I gently set it aside before moving on to the rest of the presents my non-blood family had given me. Percy and Hermione had each gifted me spell books— one on defensive magic and one on how to get better at transfiguration, respectively. Ron's gift was a batch of fudge he'd made with Mrs. Weasley that was charmed to help with headaches; Harry's an assortment of wildly colored and patterned ribbons; Draco's was a gilded rose-covered letter opener. Lupin's gift had tugged at my heart most of all: a framed photo of my mother, smiling and dancing as she was surrounded by a kaleidoscope of ethereal white monarch butterflies— her patronus, I realized. I hadn't known she was able to do that. I took the photo out and flipped it over.

'Daisy finally does it, 1978'

I put the photo back and kissed her through the glass of the frame before setting it on the left nightstand beside my bed. It was then I noticed something off.

Where was the gift Sirius had been bragging about getting me?

Chapter Text

Aurelia looked bloody rough despite the time of year, but Ron didn't think it kind to say that out loud. He observed the way she painstakingly double-checked the ballroom (honestly, who the fuck had a ballroom?) to make sure everything that had a place was in its place. He had Floo-ed in a half-hour before everyone else would because Aurelia had requested his services as an... 'emotional support ginger'? Whatever that meant.

He hadn't expected her to go all out the way she had. The ballroom (seriously, Ron wasn't able to get over that) was adorned in glittering cool whites, icy blues, and sparkling silvers. The ceiling had an enchantment of some sort on it, very similar to the one at Hogwarts— except Hogwarts showed the outside sky as it was. The stars on the ceiling were far too clear and picturesque for the same to be true about the Prince ballroom. Being the twelve-year-old boy that he was, he was quite interested in the tables of food off to the sides. Towers of macarons, cupcakes, and glazed creampuffs stood proud amongst the plates of prime beef, carne asada, whole turkey, tiny little roasted chickens, mashed potatoes, seasoned vegetables, and those succulent tamales Doña Carmela had made. There were other such mouth-watering dinner foods and desserts, but as it was Ron was fighting with his inner demons telling him to ascend upon the plate of whole salted fish.

In the center of the ballroom was the marble dance floor that Ron wasn't really interested in. It wasn't that he was only interested in the food, but Merlin only knew how much of a fool of himself he would make were he to step out onto the floor. Even if it was just his friends and siblings, Ron felt a little too self-conscious.

Hermione would like it, he thought. He couldn't wait to bicker with her over it. He could already picture her in a pretty set of dress-robes. The formal invitation said to wear something formal and wintery-themed. Would she wear blue or silver? White, maybe? She'd look alright in white dress-robes. She wore a white blouse with some lace on it last summer, and it had looked quite nice on her. Would she style her hair? Ever since Auerlia showed her that new method of taking care of her hair (according to Aurelia, Hermione had something called Three-Bee hair?), Hermione's curls hadn't been very brushy or frizzy at all. Her hair was still quite large but lately, it looked... soft. More defined. It suited her much more.

Ron scrunched his nose and shook his head. He didn't know why he cared about how Hermione would dress for the party. She barely registered as a girl most of the time. Although, it felt different than it did with Aurelia.

Unlike Hermione, Ron was mostly aware that Aurelia was a girl. Not that he looked at Aurelia like a potential girlfriend. All those times he called her a sister hadn't been an exaggeration. She was firmly in the same cabinet in his mind that Ginny was in. Secretly, Ron hoped Aurelia would marry one of his brothers, be it Percy or even Charlie. Not the twins, though. The twins were already two headaches in one. Aurelia dating Fred or George would be far too much chaos for the world (mainly him) to handle. He quite liked the idea of 'Aurelia Weasley', but he didn't want to be the one to drag her into the fold. He felt similar about Harry. As the older brother of a girl, the thought of Ginny dating sent him into a rage, but oddly the thought of her marrying Harry didn't bother him at all. Harry made Ron feel like a big brother again, and he quite liked feeling like he had a little brother. Harry was probably the only boy he'd ever trust with Ginny. And that way they could be brothers legally...

He shook his head again. Ron blamed Aurelia for these weird thoughts about marriage that he was having. He blamed those Percy jokes she often made. Although, privately, he didn't think all of those were jokes at all based on how frequently she made them.

The point was that Ron felt comfortable around Aurelia but it was different with Hermione. Perhaps it was because she wasn't as traditionally girly as Aurelia or Ginny. Yeah, that must have been it. Hermione was basically a bookish boy.

Ron sighed and reached over to grab one of the shiny golden creampuffs when Aurelia threw a sharp pen at his hands.

"Hands off the croquembouche!" She hissed as she smoothed out her twin braids. There were little silver snowflakes in her hair that reflected brightly in the light. Ron suspected they had been charmed to shine brighter than they would've naturally.

"A croquet-cum-bush?!" Ron gagged in horror. Aurelia scowled at him in a way that was uncomfortably similar to Snape before throwing her hands in the air and screaming a string of incoherent curses in Spanish.

Out of nowhere, Aurelia's uncle with the missing ear (Luis, Ron thinks) came and handed her a crystal goblet full of a fizzy golden liquid with a lime wedge in it. Aurelia didn't even bother checking what it was before taking a very big sip. Luis patted Aurelia on the back. "Damn, Chamaquita. You pray to your mother with that mouth?"

She drank about a third of the goblet before hiccoughing and handing it back to her uncle. "Gracias, Tio." She then paused before gagging. "Yup. Beer is still gross."

Ron perked up. "Can I have a drink?"

Luis quirked an eyebrow. They were thick and appeared to be intentionally greased and slicked like his hair. "Ay, chamaco, ain't your parents coming by with your brothers and sister later?" His tone was disapproving, but he leaned in to whisper in Ron's ear. "I'll give you your own before midnight." He winked and ruffled Ron's ginger hair. Luis's hands were calloused and rough, yet they were also affectionate. As if Ron was just one of his nephews and they had known each other for years. He gave a lazy salute that reminded Ron of Aurelia's habit of doing so before humming some Spanish tune Ron didn't know and exiting the ballroom, saying he was going to go teach something called poker to Marius and Elsinore. He figured that would be the last he would see of Luis until later. From what Ron gathered, the adults would be having their own little party in the parlour.

Ron liked Luis. Aurelia said that Luis had been a soldier during Vietnam (although Ron didn't know what that meant— as far as he knew, Vietnam was a country and not a time) and that was how he'd lost his ear. That must have meant Luis was very brave, right? Despite the horrors he must have faced if he had lost an ear, Luis was one of the most relaxed and friendly people Ron had ever met. Ron hoped he could be brave like him someday.

Aurelia let out a whine and began to dry-sob into Ron's shoulder. She was shorter than Hermione and even Ginny, which Ron didn't think made much sense considering how tall Snape was. Her mum must have been short. It's a shame Ron would never get to meet her. She sounded like she had been kind, and based on the photos Ron had seen of Margarita Rodriguez, she had been even prettier than Aurelia.

He awkwardly rubbed her shoulder. "I don't know why you're so stressed about this, 'Relia. Honestly, all of us would have been happy with some butterbeer and some of those tamales Doña makes. Speaking of which..."

She scowled again and took a few steps back. She turned around to examine the ballroom for the final time. She glanced up at the far back of the room where a giant glittering clock was hanging from the way. It was a quarter till eight. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead. Everyone else should be here within the next few minutes anyway, so it's fine now."

Ron made a beeline for the tamales and happily devoured the green chicken and cheese tamales, as those had been his favorite of the ones Doña made. Merlin, Aurelia seriously needed to marry into the Weasley family one way or another. Or maybe Aurelia had a pretty muggle cousin that one of his brothers might fancy. He hadn't realized he had said this aloud before Aurelia, who looked mildly baffled and concerned, answered his private question.

"Yes, actually. I have a few, although everyone thinks my cousin Azalea is the prettiest now that Mom's gone. Which, by the way, is totally stupid since I look so much like my mom." There was a heavy undertone of jealousy in her tone, which surprised Ron. He hadn't thought she was the type to get jealous over something as petty as looks.

Before he could say anything more, the doors to the ballroom opened and everyone flooded in.

Ron had been right. Hermione's dress was white. Not robes as he had imagined, but a pretty muggle white dress that went just below her knees. Her periwinkle shawl had little embroidered flowers and snowflakes on them. It covered her shoulders, but it didn't cover the pretty golden locket she wore. For some reason, his throat got very dry and his palms got sweaty so he took a rather large swig of his goblet spiced punch, figuring he was just a tad dehydrated. It was only after Aurelia let out a little squeal of excitement that he noticed everyone

Aurelia threw her arms around Harry and Hermione. "Oh my god! It's been forever!"

"It's been a week?" Harry pointed out in a daze as he adjusted his glasses.

She ignored Harry and squealed again when she noticed Hermione's outfit. "Oh my god, oh my god! Shut. Up! You look so effing pretty! Gasp!" Aurelia had said the word gasp instead of actually gasping. "You're wearing the necklace I got you! Elsinore let me rummage through some old stuff in the attic so I could pick out some stuff for you guys and I thought of you when I saw it."

Ron felt a pang of inadequacy. So Aurelia had gotten Hermione that shiny gold locket? It made sense. Aurelia had gotten him a really nice magically expanded suitcase and Harry had received a gilded dagger from her (yeah, Ron was still wondering about that one. Aurelia was protective over all of them, but with Harry, in particular, she was extra cautious over. Ron wondered if she had a crush on him or something, but she seemed more big sisterly to Harry than a wannabe girlfriend.)

Aurelia, Harry, and Hermione were able to exchange really nice gifts. And what had he gotten all of them? Fudge, a second-hand quidditch book, and a schedule book (specifically one that he had gotten Bill to enchant on Ron's behalf) respectively. He averted his blue gaze, focusing on his plate of tamales.

'One day, when I'm older, I'm going to be someone wealthy and important; and I'll give all of my friends and siblings nicer gifts than they've ever gotten in their lives. I'll never have anything second-hand again, and neither will my family.' Ron thought to himself before beginning to mingle with everyone else aka his siblings. Luna Lovegood and Colin Creevey were here as well, for some reason.

"I asked Aurelia if they could come with." Ginny had said stubbornly before Ron could even ask. Ron rolled his eyes before nodding towards Ginny's friends. Honestly, he was just glad she wasn't bugging him and had made her own friends. Ron looked over to Aurelia to see if she had indeed given permission, but she seemed to be having an intense hushed conversation with Sirius over by the chips and salsa. Hermione was chatting with Percy and Remus (Ron wasn't sure why he felt annoyed by this) and Harry was laughing with Fred and George.

"Hi-ya, Ron!" Colin greeted cheerfully. Merlin, that kid was a bit of a headache. Thank you, Sorting Hat, for saving him from being in Gryffindor.

"You've got a lot of nargles around you." Looney— He meant, Luna— hummed, her head tilted. He couldn't tell if her eyes were widened in shock or if they were naturally that big and round.

"I'm sorry— what the bloody hell is a nargle?"

Ron sighed into his goblet as he sipped on the beer Luis had snuck him. It was clearly heavily watered down, but he liked the flavor. Three minutes till midnight and the party was going quite well. Ron didn't know why Aurelia was sticking to the punch bowl with Percy looking so troubled. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Percy gently holding Aurelia's hand to comfort her, although he knew his brother well enough to know that it was an innocent gesture. Her conversation with Sirus must not have gone well, although the way Sirius was enthusiastically dancing to some muggle band called Fleetwood Mac on the dancefloor didn't seem to fully line up with that theory. Ron noted that Sirius was the only adult present at the party, but he was so fun and charming that nobody cared.

1992 was almost over. It was hard to believe he was halfway through his second year at Hogwarts. Time was flying faster than a runaway snitch and Ron wasn't sure how to feel about it. He continued to nurse his beer when he felt Hermione approach him from where she had been dancing with Ginny. She glanced at his goblet, puzzled. Her brow furrowed in that way that it always did when she didn't immediately know the answer to something.

"The punch is dark red and the only other drinks are water, cocoa, and butterbeer. Where did you get cider? Tipsy? Ron, I am so close to getting her to agree to a paid salary, don't you dare—"

Ron wordlessly handed her his goblet even though he knew she would be a stick in the mud about him drinking beer. She sniffed it curiously before taking a sip. Hermione promptly spit it back into the half-empty goblet.

"Disgusting!" Her brown doe-like eyes widened. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, is that—"

"I got it from a responsible adult." He said in a bemused tone.

"Sirius Black is NOT a responsible adult." She countered.

"Good thing it wasn't Sirius then, eh?" Ron debated on taking a sip of the beer but thought better of it. He set it on the discard tray. Better to not drink your friend's spit, he thinks.

Hermione scrunched her nose. She reminded Ron of a disgruntled squirrel. "We are too young to drink anything more alcoholic than a butterbeer."

Ron snorted, although he knew she was right. Her hair looked even softer than normal and Ron had to resist the urge to touch her curls. "You're being dramatic. You're going to be so much fun at parties when we get older." He said with an eye roll, just because he thought it was funny when Hermione specifically got riled up.

Hermione's face flushed a pinkish rosy hue but before she could argue back, Sirius called out that it was less than a minute till 1993. Just as he said that, Aurelia's uncle, grandparents, and Remus rushed into the ballroom.

Everyone started counting down. It was time.

"FIVE!"

Ron looked over at Hermione, who was excitedly looking at the large enchanted clock with everyone else.

"FOUR!"

Aurelia was making an effort to be cheerful with everyone else, but Percy still had his hand in hers, which signaled to Ron that she was still upset about something. She was also frantically putting some grapes into a cup for some reason?

"THREE!"

Sirius had an arm around Harry, godfather and godson beaming.

"TWO!"

His siblings were huddled together with Luna. 

"ONE!"

Colin had his camera at the ready.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Ron looked back at Hermione, liking the way the enchanted fireworks going off on the high ceiling reflected in her eyes, though he wasn't sure why. He was only broken from his trance as he noticed Aurelia choking on her grapes at the sight of— Merlin! Ron would have choked at that too!

Luis and Sirius had exchanged a brief yet theatrical New Year's snog as a joke, causing everyone except for Aurelia and Doña to laugh. Doña still looked bemused, while Aurelia looked like she wanted to throw herself out of a window. Knowing her, she was probably thinking something along the lines of lamenting how Luis wasn't her first family member that he had kissed.

Ron snickered. At least she didn't look so worried anymore.

Small victories.

Chapter Text

“Alright, was kissing my uncle REALLY necessary?”

Sirius snorted and ruffled hair gently, careful not to ruin what must have been at least an hour of work. “It got your mind off of things for a minute, didn’t it?”

It was around three in the morning. The manor was quiet and still, save for the pair. They had taken refuge in one of the garden gazebos, needing the fresh air. A charm kept everything under the roof at a dry and toasty temperature whilst it snowed all around them. There was a statue of Hekate— no, Trivia— staring down at them intently. Sirius found the Roman deity statues around the manor to be unsettling, but Aurelia seemed comfortable around them. As if the piercing marble gaze of the crossroads goddess didn’t even register to her. Perhaps she was simply used to them by now. The statues reminded him too much of one of the Black family holiday homes. 

Was it Yewcroft or Persephone’s Palace? The latter, he thinks. The gardens there were overflowing with poisonous flora and ivy-covered statues of Greek mythological beings. But those had been there purely for decorative purposes— the Black family hadn’t dabbled in Hellenistic pagan beliefs in what was most likely over a millennia. Besides, the house of Black had always preferred Circe over Hekate. The Princes, on the other hand, were known for their strange grip on their gods. They had claimed not to worship Trivia for several hundred years, but Sirius’s grandfather had some choice words on Hortensia Prince purchasing an alarming amount of young animals during select times of the year.

Then again, Arcturus Black never said anything kind about anyone, so who could say one way or the other. More likely than not, Hortensia Prince only had been doing average pureblood dark magic.

“I’m frightened, Sirius.” Aurelia whispered as she tucked her knees under her chin. The girl was paler than the last time he’d seen her. Much paler than Daisy had ever been. Perhaps it was due to her mixed ethnicity, but that didn’t feel quite right..

“Of what?” He asked calmly. He wanted his tone to convey that she was perfectly safe. At very least, he would make sure she was safe. She was Daisy’s girl and Harry’s dear friend. Nothing was allowed to harm Aurelia so long as he drew breath.

Aurelia frowned deeply, her forehead creasing. She almost looked older than thirteen. Then again, there weren't a lot of things worse than being thirteen. “That’s the thing— I don’t know. Of the Heir of Slytherin, maybe? Of death and taxes? I just… I feel like I’m alone on an airplane— wait, do you know what an airplane is?”

Sirius raised a dark brow. “I was locked up for ten years, not a hundred. I’ve been on an aeroplane, love. James hated portkeys. They made him feel nauseated. When we went to California to visit, Daisy and Lily suggested we take a plane. James loved it.”

He smiled softly as he thought back to that ten hour flight. LAX had been a nightmare of a crowd, but the flight prior to that… getting to sleep with Daisy curled up at his side while they were thousands of feet in the air… oh, and the snog in the tiny aeroplane loo had been quite nice as well.

“We are going to get in trouble…” He muttered against her lips.

“Since when do you care about trouble? Most people are asleep now… I cast the disillusionment charm, anyway. We haven’t kissed in four hours.. I miss you, mi amour… Nobody will notice…” She leaned in to kiss him again, her hands tangled in his black hair. Sirius was trying his very best to be a gentleman and keep his hands on her shoulder. But bloody hell, this woman was making it difficult… It didn't help that they were in a cramped space.

“You taste different… like crystalized ginger…”

Her medium bronze skin flushed a pretty rosy shade. She must have been very embarrassed, as it was usually difficult to tell when she was blushing. “I… I had to drink a lot of ginger tea to help with the motion sickness. But I hate ginger so I had to put a lot of sugar in…”

Sirius did his best not to laugh. “You’re a quidditch player and yet you get motion sickness?”

Daisy kicked his shin lightly. “It’s my first time on a plane! Hush your tongue… there are better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Sirius grinned wildly at her. “Oh? Is there something else I could be doing?”

Realizing how her words could have a different meaning than what she intended, Daisy squeaked and buried her face in his chest. “You are not half as funny as you think..”

He chuckled at her embarrassment and kissed the top of her head. He loved the height difference they had— nearly thirty centimeters between them. “I am hilarious, actually…”

“No, you’re Sirius.”

Sirius gazed at her with glittering silver eyes. He could see their entire future flash before his eyes. He would get her family’s blessing to ask for her hand once they landed in Los Angeles, and he’d propose after James and Lily’s wedding. They’d marry and he would take her last name. They’d go on as many adventures as her heart desired and after she had seen all she had wanted to see of the world, they would settle down and continue to spoil their nieces and nephews rotten… and maybe, just maybe, have a little one of their own. He could picture a child of theirs so clearly: curly black hair, hazel eyes, tan skin, tall… Rhiannon Euphemia for a girl, and whatever she wanted for a boy.

“I would kill for you. I would die for you. Whichever you would like.”

“I’d prefer if you lived for me.” She said softly. “That would make me happiest.”

“I could do that, too…”

Sirius cleared his throat, “Continue.”

Aurelia sighed for the hundredth time. “It’s like I’m on an airplane, but I don’t know where I started or where I’m going. All I know is that it’s turbulent and there’s something weird about the pilot. My stomach is up to my lungs and the stewardess is nowhere in sight to answer my question. Oh, and the window screens won’t shut and I’m forced to look at the clouds.”

“...Aurelia, are you afraid of planes, by any chance?”

“...Yes, but that’s not the point.” She clenched her fist. “Something big is going to happen and I feel like I’m supposed to know what it is, only… it feels like it's on a shelf that's just a foot too high for me to reach or see. I’m so close, my fingers are almost touching it… it’s too high up.”

“So get a step-ladder.” Sirius retorted.

“Oh, and my step-ladder has also been burned to a crisp.”

“Then ask someone taller to get it for you. Or use a broom. Or, if you’re feeling lucky, climb onto the counter. There’s always another way, even if it doesn’t seem the most obvious. Are you certain you are not overthinking things? Sometimes, the solution is a lot closer than you realize. You just need to step back and look at the bigger picture. You’re too busy staring at dots up-close to know what is happening in front of you.”

“ A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte …” She mumbled. “I’ve always hated pointillism, you know.”

“I am inclined to agree with you, but I fear you’d use it to undermine my point .”

“Is Remus pregnant? Because that sounded an awful lot like a dad joke.” Aurelia said with a roll of her dark brown eyes. Sirius didn’t know how he had missed it before. Perhaps it was because her eyes weren’t as heavy as his were.

“Why do you assume Remus would be my child’s mother? He clearly isn’t my type, love.” 

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten about your terminal case of Latin fever.” She snorted.

“Cheers.” He nodded towards her before a grin overtook his face. Truthfully, he had no preference when it came to ethnicity, although he did find sun-kissed skin to be attractive.. “See, if anyone was going to be a mother to my child, it would be Luis—“

Aurelia cut him off by kicking his shin. “I don’t care if you swing both ways, just leave my poor uncle out of it.”

“You know, I’ve never put a great deal of thought into who or what I’m attracted to. I had girls chasing after me, but I always directed them towards James. I was a bit of a late bloomer, I suppose. I just… saw Daisy in that pub with her friends and… I hadn’t felt interested in anyone before or since.” He admitted with a bittersweet smile. “I don’t think I’d have cared if she were a girl or a boy or neither. I simply saw her smiling beneath the Christmas lights… I’d never seen such a charming sight. And then I approached and…”

Merlin almighty, Daisy had been radiant. Christmas Eve, 1975. She had been with her friends… Lucas and Anna? No, that wasn’t quite right. Lucien and Arya? No, Linus and Alya. That was it. Sirius hadn’t paid much attention to them at the time, though. Daisy had been the one to capture all of his attention at the time. He had liked her eyes, too. They’d reminded him of James, although hers were slightly darker shade of hazel than James. Still. They both shared that intense warmth that Sirius admired.

“You promised you would tell me how you met her.” She reminded him. Ah, yes. The letter.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me how she met Snivellus.” Shockingly, he had managed to keep his tone significantly less bitter than he felt.

Aurelia munched on her avocado-covered tortilla crisps as she side-eyed him. “You’re looking at me funny. Why are you looking at me funny?”