A/N: I can only hope I've gotten out what I intended in this chapter. Which is to say, that I haven't completely ruined the plot... then again, maybe not. What I'm really concerned about is whether or not you're going to believe this one. I hope you do. *crosses fingers*
Disclaimer: I read a post from someone on Nanowrimo.org, that this disclaimer is meaningless, useless, etc. I don't think it is. The story and many of the characters are mine, the basic elements belong to JK Rowling and company and I have no intention of trying to steal that from her, just borrow for a bit.
*****
Chapter Thirteen
I'd forgotten all about Nike Slytherin, about Fawkes, Professor Trelawney and her "warnings" and, almost, the puzzling and slightly disturbing relationship between Connor and the OGB. That hadn't been too difficult to manage, given all that had happened since the winter break had begun. And then each of those things could probably be easily explained anyway, if one had the time and the inclination to discover the truth. How fortunate then, that I had little of the former and a lot of the latter, and then, even more so, that Nike Slytherin came to me?
Wednesday morning met me sitting up in bed staring glumly out the window at the cold white day fast approaching. I was fourteen years old today, for fourteen years ago the Daily Prophet and every single magical newspaper in Wizarding Britain had proudly declared, "Harry Potter Has a Daughter! Say Hello to Magnolia Ingrid Potter (5 lbs, 3 ozs)!" and therefore it was so.
My family had already delivered their gifts. From my father I'd received a book titled Playing Quidditch for Dummies Magnolia, from my mother a set of romance novels written by Witch Weekly advice columnist Lavender Brown. Milo and Mackenzie had made a card, complete with sea sand, seashells and a lovely picture of the three of us on the beach in Nice. My grandparents had bought me a photo album and a camera, and attached a note reminding me that they would love to see more pictures of me at school; they had had so few of my Mum.
These were lying opened on my bed, having arrived via house elf shortly after midnight. I liked them all, really. Well, not necessarily the first, I was not made for Quidditch, Dad was barking up the wrong tree.
I didn't expect anything from Rigel. When we'd met Monday at break as planned I made the mistake of RWK: Rowing-While-Knackered. It was just destined to get ugly. He wanted to know what Kimberly had meant that morning about me being with Connor the night before. I wanted to know why he had ever used the word "freak" in relation to Connor. Neither one of us wanted to explain our actions, firmly believing that we had the right not to, and so we would row in the middle of the hallway until the bell rang and Kimberly and Aisling had to physically drag me off to our next class. Rigel was left standing in middle of the corridor glowering at me, face flushed, nostrils flaring, and that would be the last I saw of him.
So much for us being able to forget arguments in a matter of moments.
But then I wouldn't see Connor either. Not even the hem of a second-hand robe disappearing round a corridor, and though this was the usual pattern since, well, always really, it was strange not to see him at all, and not even at meal times. It made me wonder, worry actually, that my hasty departure when his roommates came in might have led him to believe that I didn't like him back, that I hadn't wanted him to kiss me in the first place. That was as far from the truth as one could go. But each time I replayed my actions in my mind it was easy to see how he could have drawn that conclusion. I'd acted as if his very touch burned me, so now the memory was like a sledgehammer blow to my chest every time I thought of it.
And then there was the issue of the Marauder's Map. It had been in my Rhys-Hussey novel and I'd left both on Connor's night table in my mad dash for the door. In turn I had his free copy of Úlfhéðnar, but that wasn't exactly the same thing. He'd given me the copy, I needed the map, and since I hadn't seen him and was not willing to go back to his room to get it, I was going to have a hell of a job explaining how I'd lost it to my parents in the event of another attack.
With a sigh I lay down on my side and wrapped my arms around myself and wondered if Connor had gotten me anything. It would mean that he wasn't upset, that he didn't think anything of it and that the reason I hadn't seen him was really simply that school was open again and we had classes. My gaze went to the drawing Kimberly had somehow stolen and stuck to the wall over my bed. That was it entirely, he was just busy and I was busy and I'd see him today, because it was my birthday after all, and everything would be fine.
Too bad it had already begun badly. Yet again I hadn't slept, and Tuesday night I'd only managed a few hours. I was apparently still having trouble sleeping, for though I'd rested reasonably in Nice my fright-induced insomnia had not gone away. Which wasn't a good thing, for Professor Bones had insisted that I continue where I'd left off with Camilla in duelling lessons before we'd been so violently interrupted.
Yay for me.
Camilla was the proverbial evil-with-a-pretty-face brought to life. Her every action could be described as beautiful, graceful, enticing... but she was the worst taskmaster. I would be dead-knackered every night by the time I crawled down to dinner and still couldn't sleep after. And then this weekend I had Professor Bones' own two-hour tutorial to look forward to, where she hinted that my duelling skills would be of the utmost importance. Why couldn't my father have accepted that my attacker had been captured like everyone else?
I sighed again, then yawned, rolled unto my back and sat up. Experience meant that lying here wasn't going to do me any good. I'd fall asleep, yes, but then when I awoke I'd be more exhausted than I was now. So I rose, found my bathrobe and slippers and quietly left the dormitory heading for the Common Room. Maybe the couches would be more comfortable than my bed, if not, I promised myself to go to the Infirmary after classes and demand a Sleeping Draught.
I was halfway down the stairs when I saw him, setting off the butterflies in my stomach at once. Connor was sitting quietly at a desk in the corner of the Common Room sketching busily, three candles burning low in a small candelabra that hovered beside him, the fire in the grates long gone out and every curtain drawn, so that, for the moment at least, he maintained the illusion of night. But even if they were wide open I doubted he'd notice. There was something about him bent over the sheet of paper on the desk, colouring in something black, while his gold-washed brown hair fell easily to his eyes that told of the seriousness with which he took to his comic book. He would risk exposure, and punishment, by using the library and Common Room as his personal studio at times when he should be asleep just to get it out each month on time.
Ha, I thought unsympathetically, he had no one to blame for that but himself.
I quietly turned and made to go back up then, deciding that it was best not to interrupt him. I stopped immediately when he said, "Maggie...?" Then I heard him rise from his place in the corner and say, "Maggie wait... wait, where are you going? You weren't interrupting, you know...?"
That wasn't the problem, I thought, but when I turned to him I replied, "Oh? W-well I ta-thought I was...."
My voice was irritatingly shaky, and when he smiled at me a moment later I felt the butterflies make a beeline for my throat. I resisted the urge press my hand to my chest to stem their movement and walked down to meet him, smiling, as I said, "What are you doing out here? Have you slept?"
In the intermingled candle and early morning-light I saw him blush mildly, and shake his head, scattering the gold flecks about. He replied, "I haven't actually, I got an idea late last night and just had to run with it. That happens sometimes, but as long as I don't fall asleep in the middle of an exam or something I'm not too worried."
I had come as close as I dared, which was to stand beside the last couch before his desk, merely feet away, and asked, "What, you have some kind of Keep-Me-Up Potion? If you do, is there an opposite, like Knock-Me-Out-Cold? I haven't slept in weeks."
As soon as I said it I regretted it. Connor's brow furrowed in concern and he asked, "You haven't been sleeping?" He began to come towards me, "Have you seen Madam Pomfrey? Is this because of the letter, or the Dementors....? Because I have to admit I should have run the other way...."
I shook my head and offered him a weak smile, "It's nothing, I was planning to see Madam Pomfrey about it actually, but I might be overreacting too. I slept like a log all the time I was in Nice."
"But you're not sleeping again, that's something you should absolutely go to her about," he insisted.
I made a non-committal sound deep in my throat, then side-stepped him and flopped down on the couch to ask, "So what's this issue about?"
He came round to sit beside me, not too close but not as far away as I'd have liked. "Have you read the last one?"
I grinned, embarrassed, "Er... it's in the drawer of my night table, disguised as an old Ancient Runes textbook, I haven't got around to reading it."
He grinned back, "That's okay, but do try to keep it hidden. When Uncle Dean found out I'd given you a copy he nearly had a heart attack."
"See, then I should give it back," I replied.
"He didn't say to do that, he just hopes that you'll be very careful. I, on the other hand, know that you won't let anything happen to it," he said, and I felt the butterflies practicing a waltz in my chest. They really had to stop doing that, it was quite annoying.
I shook my head at him, "I'll try. I'm actually not that careful, I left that Rhys-Hussey novel I'd gotten for Christmas in your dorm. I was told not to-"
The book suddenly shot off the table and landed neatly in my lap, over my hands where I'd been surreptitiously wringing my fingers from the moment he sat down. I released them though, to pick it up and open it, allowing the Marauder's Map to drop out. Connor took it up at once and said, "I had been carrying this around since Monday hoping to give it back to you, but school hasn't made it easy. Then last night this fell out of it and, well I have a confession to make, I'd also been hoping that by staying up I could see you and ask you: is this the Marauder's Map?"
I looked at the neatly folded sheet of old parchment in his hand, which was marked by a rainbow of colours all over the palms and his fingers with their bitten-down fingernails and tips flattened by continuous pressure against a pencil, and asked, "Didn't you look at it?"
He shook his head. "I didn't want to if it was something else... something personal to you."
I lifted an eyebrow and then gave him an incredulous look, "Are you serious?"
"I wasn't going to invade your privacy," he replied, seriously.
I shrugged, "Yes, it is. Dad sent it to me with Aunt Luna after the first attack. Since he doesn't believe the bollocks the Ministry's spewing about capturing my attacker he told me to keep it. I have the Invisibility Cloak too... which I should not have told you about because he said not to tell anyone. Some victim I'm turning out to be."
Connor smiled, "What? Don't you trust me?"
I refused to answer, instead saying, "Technically, though, it isn't really mine to keep. My grandfather and your Dad created it together at school with Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, it belongs to you too."
To my surprise, Connor snorted, and tried to stifle a laugh. When I looked at his clearly amused face, confused, he took a couple of deep gulps of air before replying shakily, "Your grandfather and my Dad... that sounded so terrible...."
I rolled my eyes. "I didn't mean it like that."
"I know," he said, still trying not to laugh. "But it sounds so...." He lost the battle and burst out laughing, and I couldn't help myself, I started to laugh too, wondering at the same time how contagious his laugh was. His eyes were sparkling, his dimples deep dents in his cheeks and I was suddenly almost completely overwhelmed by a desire to kiss him.
I crushed this quickly though, and asked, "So, do I get it back?"
He took a few moments to compose himself and nodded. "Yeah, you need it more than I do."
"Thank you," I replied, taking it from him, taking care not to touch him, and securing it in my book again. "Well then, my birthday just got a bit brighter."
He exclaimed then, "Oh right! I knew I'd forgotten something."
I looked at him open-mouthed, "You forgot my birthday?"
He grinned, "Well we've only begun speaking to each other...."
I swatted his arm, "You forgot my birthday!"
He laughed, then turned, cupped my chin and shook his head, "No, just pulling your leg, Happy Birthday Magnolia...." And then he leaned forward and kissed me again.
I felt the butterflies once more, and my ballet dancer on a trampoline, and his hand on my chin and the other over my hand at my side and his lips on mine and his nose bumping against mine and, oh my.... It was like our first kiss but only better, and since he had kissed me again there was the promise of more. Days, weeks, months of kisses, just like this, or even better....
I wanted to melt right there, sitting on the couch kissing Connor Lupin, and I would have too, if it wasn't for the butterflies in chest that were making it difficult for me to breathe. Without thinking I gasped, and felt Connor do the same, his tongue bumping into mine as I swallowed the breath he'd been holding. I forgot about breathing, and felt the ballet dancer freefall to my navel. It would be a few minutes more before this kiss would end.
And when it did we sat back staring at each other in a mild stupor, lips swollen and breathing heavily. I smiled at once, and was greeted by his lopsided grin. If I had weeks and months to look forward to of kisses like that, I didn't care if my attacker made an attempt every day, I'd greet him smiling.
As a matter of fact, I didn't want to do anything else for the rest of the day other than kiss Connor. There was nothing that would make me happier, no gift that would suffice, no greeting, gesture or charm that I wanted. And, emboldened by this, I made to kiss him again, leaning forward... when I was stopped by the sound of someone at the top of the steps calling, "Who's down there?"
I dropped my head to his chest, and heard him groan before replying, "No one."
The person's annoyance was audible in their voice when they replied, "Is that you, Connor Lupin?"
Connor grasped me by the arms and lifted me off of him, taking care to drop a kiss onto my forehead, before rising and going over to his desk to pack up his things. I gathered up the book and map in my lap and tried to look innocent as the person, a prefect, came round to us and asked, "What are you two doing down here?"
"There's no rule against being up early... studying," said Connor.
In the dim light I hoped the prefect couldn't see us properly, for I was sure we'd be caught in an instant. But he just stared at us for a moment, found nothing suspicious, and then replied, "Well... you shouldn't make a habit of it. Y-you're supposed to rest after these classes...."
I rolled my eyes and got off the couch. "I'm going back upstairs to get ready, see you."
Connor stopped packing to look up at me with a smile. I smiled back, blushed, then turned and hurried back up to my dormitory.
.
When I got back down half an hour later, showered, dressed and much-harassed by my roommates and Aisling, Connor was there waiting for me. We would leave Gryffindor Tower then, hand-in-hand.
*****
It was a lucky thing I'd unintentionally packed the Marauder's Map in with my books that morning when I was getting ready for class, for as it so happened, it would be quite useful when Nike Slytherin turned up.
With classes done for the day, and after a series of pleasantly odd mealtimes where Connor and I smiled, nodded and nudged at each other playfully while holding hands under the table, and I'd received hundreds of "Happy Birthdays" from my schoolmates, many of who I didn't know personally, and various members of school staff, the Board of Governors, the Headmistress, a few newspapers and the Ministry of Magic, I'd gone up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom for my usual afternoon duelling practice with Camilla. I was early by some fifteen minutes, which was Connor's doing for once I let slip that I had practice at five he insisted on forcing me up the stairs while reassuring that he would be spending the time doing homework until I came back. At the thought of what my coming back could mean, after that promise I would have walked over coals.
But getting up to the classroom early had a downside. And that was sitting there alone for fifteen minutes, nine hundred long seconds, until Camilla finally arrived after finishing her chores in the greenhouses with her father. So bored, I dug through my bag for something to do and pulled out the Marauder's Map.
I couldn't remember exactly the last time I perused the map, though it must have been some time before Uncle Lupin was attacked. After that I was much too preoccupied with other things to do so. Now that I had nothing to do though, I unfolded the map and whispered the command. Within moments I was staring down at my schoolmates as they settled into night after yet another long day at school.
There were rumours that my Housemates were planning to throw me a party, but looking at the tower revealed nothing particularly unusual. Well, if one ignored the curious number of girls in my dormitory and the queue forming outside the portrait hole.
I shrugged and looked away to find Connor. And there he was in the library at the last table before the Restricted Section. Like the map could be used to spy on others, it was also a wonderful cheating detector. As long as one's significant other happened to be in the same compound, one could keep a constant eye on their behaviour. But I couldn't, and wouldn't, do that to Connor, no matter how tempting.
Wondering where Rigel was then, I unfolded the lower portion of the map and spent an impatient few minutes searching anxiously until at last I spotted him also in the library at a desk with Bijou and friends. He and I were going to have a chat if he was still there later. His birthday was in five days and I didn't intend to ignore it as he was doing mine, we'd been friends too long to stop speaking altogether over something silly he'd done. This days-long embargo on each other was a blatant overreaction and I wasn't going to stand for it.
Then the OGB came walking down the hall that went by the library and went in. Ignoring his Slytherin students, he walked directly down to where Connor was sitting and stopped, and from the way he stood before the table it was clear that he was speaking to him. Remembering what I'd overheard in the dungeons I looked on wishing the map had come along with a charm that allowed you to hear what specific people were saying when you wanted to. I was forced to look on in frustration though, as they spoke for nearly two minutes, then as Connor began moving towards him and they both left the library together.
At once I unfolded another section of the map to check that Camilla was still in the greenhouses so that I could continue following Connor and the OGB. Once again, there went my resolution not to spy on people, and in this case, my... well, boyfriend really. But the only people in the greenhouses were Uncle Neville and Professor Bones.
Apparently there was some truth to that rumour after all.
That was to be quickly aborted though, when I heard footsteps in the hall and realised that she must be coming. I immediately swept my attention back up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom I was in and was stunned to discover that the person coming my way wasn't Camilla, but in fact Nike Slytherin.
There was no one else in the hall and I was sure that I was on the right floor for I could see my dot clearly on the inside of the room she was approaching. I stood at once, meaning to go to the door to finally have a glimpse at her, but she would beat me to it. I was halfway to the door when it opened before me and Camilla stepped in apologising, "I'm sorry Lillie, I know it's your birthday and your Housemates are probably planning a party but Dad insisted that I wait until Professor Bones came by and they had a `talk' with me. Nevertheless, you better be ready for this lesson, just because it's your birthday doesn't mean I'm going to be lenient...."
But the map didn't identify her as Camilla Longbottom. As a matter of fact, now that I thought about it, I had never seen the name `Camilla Longbottom' on the map, ever, and even when I wasn't looking for her. Instead the name I'd consistently seen, the one I was staring at now, identifying the person before I'd always thought of as Camilla Longbottom, was Nike Slytherin.
Before I could stop myself I said, "You're Nike Slytherin...?"
She froze.
"Oh my..." I began, but couldn't finish, and so stopped, staring at her in open-mouthed wonder.
She still didn't move, but her frozen expression morphed into one of shock and horror. And, annoyingly, she still managed to look rather pretty doing it. But then she shook herself a bit, tried, and failed to gain some measure of composure before finally asking, "How did you...?"
This brought me around somewhat, just enough to stumble, with even more astonishment, "You are... that's your real name? You're Nike Slytherin...."
She snapped, irritated, "It's pronounced `Nee-kay', not `Naik', and how did you find that out?"
That seemed to be the shake I needed myself and I stumbled through a reply. "M-my father gave me this-no, it belonged to my grandfather and Uncle Lupin and Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. They'd created a map of the entire school when they were at Hogwarts, called the Marauder's Map that would show you everyone and everything it, and then they'd lost it and Uncle Fred and Uncle George found it and gave it to my Dad and then he gave it to me. Its magic shows you people as they are exactly, even Polyjuice won't fool it so when I looked just now I saw you and you're Ni-ke Slytherin. I've been wondering who you were for weeks... but... then... who are you? How can you have that name? Slytherin?"
Camilla took a sad glance towards the map in my hands, then dropped her gaze to her feet and for the first time ever I saw her confident exterior fall away. She suddenly looked small and scared and weak, and more than a little nervous, and it was a time before she looked back up at me. And when she did, her eyes were shining with tears.
I took a step towards her, she put up a hand to stop me and then turned and quietly shut the door behind her. She then cast an Imperturbable Charm on the room, shut the windows and turned back to me looking just as nervous as before, and in that moment, strangely familiar. It was as if I knew something in that face, as if there was something about her features that I should know, I should have seen, and noticing now still could not quite place.
With a deep breath she replied, "I told you and Connor that my parents were Death Eaters, but that isn't exactly the truth.... My name is Nike Asterope Slytherin, I was born in the midst of the Second War, at the height of the war actually, two weeks shy of your father's eighteenth birthday. I said that my parents were Death Eaters, and that is true of my mother. She was a Death Eater, one of his best, one of the worst.... Many say that she considered herself the Dark Lord's right hand, his most loyal and most loved servant-"
My jaw dropped before she said it.
"-He encouraged her too, giving her a little pet name.... He used to call her `Bella'." She looked me right in the eyes, "My mother was Bellatrix Lestrange."
I couldn't think of a thing to say in response. I doubted that there was anything to be said, but if there was it surely wasn't staring back at her with my mouth open. She ignored this though, continuing, "You would think then, that my father was her husband, Rodolphus, but he wasn't. He probably didn't even know. By that time Mummy was no longer the doting little wife that she'd started out her marriage as, if she had in the first place. She had long found someone new, a handsome, ambitious older wizard with designs on world domination and immortality."
I gave her a look of open disbelief. She smiled grimly, "What was it your father had said when he met me the first time? `I didn't think he'd regained that much of his body in my Fourth Year....' But he had you see, Lord Voldemort...."
The stunned silence that greeted that revelation was almost triple that with which I'd greeted the first. There was no way, absolutely no way that she was the late Dark Lord's progeny. She was beautiful, very, very so, and smart and good and loved Uncle Neville. Lord Voldemort had been a mad, slimy, half-snake who would have killed people like Uncle Neville in his sleep a long time ago. As a matter of fact, her mother-strange as that was to think, I couldn't imagine how much it took for her to say-had tortured his parents to madness. I stared at her for a long time after she spoke then, before asking, "If... since you're.... How did Uncle Neville adopt you?"
She gave another grim smile. "You know that Professor Severus Snape spared himself the Dementor's Kiss by spying for the Order of the Phoenix during the war right?" I nodded. "Well my discovery was what personally saved him. He'd noticed when Mummy disappeared and heard rumours of her being given a special assignment, something that would assure her of the Dark Lord's eternal gratitude. But then she returned to the same treatment she'd always received at his hands and acted, in turn, as if she hadn't done anything special. Professor Snape decided to investigate and stumbled upon the biggest piece of information he'd had since he exposed the last Horcrux. By the time he got around to telling your parents and the Order though, your father had gone off to fight Voldemort. The War ended shortly after and whatever information he could provide then was considered useless."
She stepped away then and began to pace the floor space before me.
"As luck would have it though, he was up for trial before the Wizengamot to explain his actions in relation to Professor Dumbledore's murder. He had only one chance to save himself and since your father refused to plead his case, save helping him get a closed courtroom, he confessed to said courtroom his bit of information. Nobody trusted him, nobody really believed him, or wanted to, but because he wasn't known for larks, they sent out Aurors, including Mrs Lupin, to investigate. When they reported back that he was telling the truth, he got sentenced to here for the rest of his natural life while they went and collected me from the Riddle House in Little Hangleton. It wasn't the best location to hide something in the whole world but Daddy had set up so many wards they would raid it several times and find nothing."
Again with the sarcastic acknowledgment of her biological parents, and like when she'd said "Mummy", it was with such bitter sarcasm it was like she'd uttered a horrible curse. Then again, having Tom Marvolo Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange for parents was probably a really horrible curse.
"Anyway, since Professor Snape was forced to give his information before Ministry officials, I was to spend the next year of my life in Ministry custody, after a wonderful six safely under the care and instruction of my father's loyal servants having my every need being immediately met. The Ministry's place was more or less an underground prison in the Orkney Islands, but they'd never admit to it in public, and it's also why they haven't made an attempt to reclaim me since. Appalling way to treat a defenceless child, embarrassing, many people would lose their jobs. Your parents and the Order spent a year searching for information on me, until your mother found a way to strong arm the Minister himself and then went to collect me personally."
At this she stopped and flushed red, recollecting the moment. "I have to admit to not being the most pleasant or grateful person when she came, but she straightened me out right quick and whisked me off to the Order Headquarters and your Dad and Ron Weasley. And the entire Order was waiting for me, including Professor Snape, to decide what should be done about me."
She flicked her gaze back to me, looking me directly in the eyes again, "I had been created for a reason you know, I wasn't an accident, like Connor, or wanted just because, like you, I was born to fulfil a specific purpose. Otherwise, what use would the Dark Lord really have for a child? Your parents and Uncle Ron had been systematically destroying his Horcruxes and he didn't have enough soul left to create new ones so he needed another way to survive. What better way than a child? A child he raised specifically to his principles, to help him rule the world once he'd seized it, and worst of all, but ultimately, become a living Horcrux itself. A child who just happened to inherit some of his finer qualities: intelligence, confidence, and most important, great magical power which would include the ability to speak Parseltongue. It could have gone either way of course, I could have been weak or a Squib, but he was the Dark Lord and he often got what he wanted and that's what he did, he got me."
To think I'd called her before, "evil-with-a-pretty-face".... Well, I was almost right.
"So they had to decide what they were going to do. Obviously killing me was out of the question, as was further imprisonment and exile for the only crime I'd really committed was being born. It was agreed that I had to be concealed and protected and specifically taught against the principles Daddy had tried to instil. But who would take me? No one really wanted to have me; everyone had been touched by the Dark Lord in some way or the other. They had advice and opinions about what they should do, they often met my eyes smiling if I looked their way, but no one outright claimed me and eventually the meeting descended into a shouting match. Then your Mum decided that she was going to take me. You should have seen her. She stood up, they fell silent and she said that though she and your Dad already had the three of you they could more than an afford one more, and so they would take me home. But that was when Dad stood up and said that he would take me."
She smiled brilliantly this time, a smile that lit up her face and seemed to brighten the room, though what she spoke of was anything but bright.
"Now, you know that Bellatrix Lestrange was responsible for torturing Dad's parents to insanity, right? So everyone was really shocked when he stood up and said that he'd take me to the extent that they turned the meeting into a shouting match. But he argued and won them out saying that the best revenge-not that he wanted revenge-was raising the child of the people who hurt him to love where they would have taught her to hate. Winning me over afterwards wasn't as easy, but I love Dad now, I would do anything for him and he would do anything for me and we're happy that way. He gave up the opportunity to have a family of his own to raise and keep me a secret, me, the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange. I have no doubt that he loves me, dangerous though that is... which is why I didn't want to tell Connor, and you, my real name. If either of you let anything slip, even the smallest thing you don't think a big deal and someone found out the truth I could be killed."
She was still looking me directly in the eyes, and I imagined that she was pleading with me, willing me to consent to the unsaid request for silence. I was still processing what she'd said though, and could give her no reply. She continued, "In fact, your keeping this quiet is imperative to your family's future.... It's why your parents aren't here now."
I stared at her wide-eyed. "Your parents, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Mrs Lupin, my Dad, Professor McGonagall, Professor Hagrid... most of the Order really, were-are away trying to keep me a secret. A few months ago the Order learned that someone was stirring up trouble in Albania, amassing followers with the promise of great success where Daddy had failed, with me. They're afraid that they might try to kidnap me or something, so that's why they've been gone all this time. I know that you and Connor... he told me that you two, well, about you two, and I know that this is a bad way to start out in a relationship, but I'm asking you, please don't tell Connor or Rigel or anyone else about this. Can you do that? Can you keep this to yourself?"
I looked at the earnest plea in her eyes and asked, "You know, you could just Obliviate me...." I didn't like the idea of lying to Connor at all. Rigel was a different story altogether, but not Connor.
She shook her head fiercely, "No, you still have the map; you could just figure it out yourself all over again. And your Dad was going to tell you the truth anyway, once this was over and they caught the person who was attacking you, they were going to tell you everything. Please don't tell, please keep this a secret...."
I could not refuse. "I will, I won't tell him, I won't tell anyone."
She sighed with relief, smiled, and then surprisingly threw her arms around me in a hug as she said, "Thank you! Thank you so very much! Thank you!"
I barely breathed, "You're welcome," before she released me again, and then stepped away to compose herself. I took the opportunity to try to organise all that she'd told me in my mind, while looking on in wonder at the secret she carried. She was the daughter, the actual biological daughter of the Dark Lord Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, she had been conceived with the intention of evil, but had been rescued and was now being taught to be a good person. Someone was trying though; to bring her back to her Dad's ways, and my parents and the Order of the Phoenix-which I had assumed was defunct-were trying to prevent it. And I had to keep it a secret, or she would be killed. Like my parents had tried to keep me a secret, to no avail.
I would have to fact-check this with my parents, but otherwise I was not going to tell a soul about this. Uncle Neville had inadvertently spared her my fate when he adopted her, for if she had been taken in by my family they would have found out the truth in less than twelve days. I wasn't going to tell her secret, she was going to remain Camilla Longbottom to me and everyone else.
But this made me wonder, and I asked, "Nike Asterope Slytherin, right? Does it mean anything? How did you get that name?"
She gave me a conspiratorial look, "You just couldn't let that one go, could you? You and Connor have a lot in common then...." She sighed. "Daddy-Lord Voldemort couldn't just bestow any old name on the fruit of his loins, if she was going to be associated with the most powerful wizard in the history of mankind she had to have the name to fit the part. It was also why he had selected Bellatrix to be my mother. She was mad as a hatter but a powerful pureblood witch of the best stock, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and beautiful, and, most important, loyal. But anyway, he chose Nike Asterope Slytherin because it did just that, fit. It had been long decided that his heir wasn't going to have the name `Riddle' for that Muggle name died with his body and your father's parents in 1981. He chose `Nike' from the Greek goddess of victory, which is what it means, `victory'. `Asterope' means `lightening' and Professor Dumbledore's portrait thinks that it was possibly in memory of his mother, your Dad doubts it. `Slytherin' is for obvious reasons, as the Heir of Slytherin it was his duty to pass on the family name, or in this case, revive it. Dad chose `Camilla Tegwen' because he liked it, not because of the meaning, he didn't really care what it meant as long as it was the kind of name you'd expect someone to give a `pretty seven year old'."
She smiled her brilliant smile again, and then muttered, "Dad's just silly...."
I smiled too, and then seeking around for a change of topic, decided to ask, in the way that people do when one relates a deep secret to another, with as much blitheness that I could muster, "Listen, I really don't think I'm going to be able to concentrate after this... could we not have practice today?"
She looked up at me surprised, as if that was not what she had intended at all, even after our draining (to me at least) conversation. But then she nodded and said, "Okay, I don't think I would be able to concentrate either, actually...."
I then asked, "And er... I was wondering... would you like to come to my party?"
Now she gave me a wide-eyed stare of her own. I continued to smile, "I know they're going to have a party, I'm sure they are, and you can come if you want. I'd like it if you came."
She stared at me for a moment longer and then shook her head, "I don't think so. I'm still a Slytherin... oh ha-ha, I am Slytherin, and a cold, heartless... well, you know. I think I'm better off going back to my dormitory or trying to keep Professor Bones away from Dad. If she thinks she's going to get her hands on him... he's better of with Ginny Weasley; they're perfect for each other."
I looked at her surprised; this was a side of Camilla Longbottom I'd never seen. But then, she was a sixteen year old girl, she'd be a pretty odd one if she didn't have some petty jealousies. But her mention of Aunt Ginny reminded me of something and I exclaimed, "Oh poor Rigel!"
She was already on her way to door when I spoke and now stopped and turned back to me puzzled. "What's wrong with Rigel?"
I looked up at her smiling though, and said, "Oh nothing, nothing at all... but since you're Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter, that makes you his Dad's cousin through Grandmother and therefore his cousin as well."
"So?" she asked, and her tone suggested her usual cool arrogance. "I'm also Connor's cousin through Mrs Lupin."
"Yes, I know," I replied, trying not to laugh but knowing that it was a losing battle. It was cruel, yes, but the git was ignoring me. "But Rigel... well, he was kind of hoping you'd start dating him someday, but you're his cousin...."
There was a moment where I thought she'd not take the joke, or say something to ruin it, but then, like I'd hoped, and rather uncharacteristic of her, she burst out laughing.
-->