From Gwenna's arms, the little boy gazed at him, drowsy but untroubled. He had curly black hair, and large soulful eyes that regarded Harry with a calm, owlish curiosity. One thumb was corked securely in his mouth.

"Yes," Gwenna said. 

"And … and Sirius' son?" His voice quavered.

"Yes," she said again. 

Movement caught his attention. Jane was sidling backward, toward the door, her mouth crooked in an apologetic smile. "I … I shouldn't be here."

"No," Harry said. "No, don't. Please stay."

"But this … this sounds personal. I'll go back to the Leaky Cauldron."

"If you go back without me," Harry pointed out, "you'll be right in the thick of it, everyone awake and confused and wanting to know what happened." 

And, he thought, Molly Weasley would raise the roof once she figured out that Harry was gone. If she got the idea Jane was in any way involved or responsible …

"Perhaps we should all have a seat," Lupin said. He swept his wand, and two other chairs floated from the corners of the room to join the two by the table.

Feeling like he, too, were floating, his bare feet hardly seeming to touch the carpet, Harry drifted in a sleepwalker's daze to the nearest chair and lowered himself into it. Jane, wringing her hands in an agony of propriety that might have been funny under different circumstances – the etiquette of the vicar's daughter – sank into another chair. Lupin and Gwenna sat, the latter with the baby on her lap. 

Arcturus dropped his toy. It came to rest near Harry. A black doggy. Harry's hand shook as he reached down for it. The baby made a cooing cry and waved his chubby arms. When Harry returned the toy, a beaming grin of genuine delight showed all six of Arcturus' tiny white teeth. 

"Ahgoo," he chortled. 

"You're … you're welcome," Harry said. 

Gwenna smoothed her son's hair and glanced at Lupin. "I'm not sure where to begin."

"It's all right," Lupin said. "Harry … funny, now that I'm actually telling you, I'm not sure how best to go about it, either."

"How long have you known?" Harry asked. 

"Not long."

"Who else knew?" His fingers went white-knuckled on the armrests of the chair as he thought that here was one more thing that they'd been keeping from him. 

"A few of the Order," admitted Lupin. 

"And was anyone ever going to tell me?"

"It isn't like that, Harry. We're not trying to keep secrets."

"That'd be a first."

"Remus, let me speak to him," Gwenna said. She leaned forward, touching Harry's forearm. 

He didn't pull away, but he tensed, still not sure what to make of this beautiful stranger. "You're Sirius' wife, then?"

"Well, it becomes complicated –"

"Don't give me that!" Harry said. "Either you are or you aren't! Why didn't he ever say anything? Why didn't he tell me he had a wife, a son?"

"He didn't know."

"What?"

"About Arcturus," Gwenna clarified. "He never knew."

"How could he not … how … I don't …" Harry floundered. 

"If you'll let me, I will try to explain," she said. 

"Harry, there's something you should understand about Sirius," said Lupin. "You already know that he cared for you very much. Losing Lily and James was terrible for us all, but it was the worst for Sirius, and even worse than that was his knowing that he couldn't be there for you. His only consolation in Azkaban was the knowledge that Dumbledore would have gone to any lengths to keep you safe. And then, when you were old enough, you'd be brought back into the wizarding world. Brought to Hogwarts, where you belonged."

"I know he cared about me," Harry said. "He died for me, it was all my fault –"

"He would have done anything for you," Lupin said, forestalling more of Harry's self-recriminations with a gesture. "More than anything, he wanted to have you think well of him. It tore him up inside, thinking of what you would be told. How he had betrayed your parents, how your own godfather was a treacherous murderer. When the truth came out, he still wanted to make up for those earlier misconceptions. He wanted you to be able to look up to him, to respect him."

"I always did."

"I know you did. Sirius was harder to convince. Your good regard was very important to him. He wanted to be a role model for you. Even, perhaps, a hero."

"He was!"

"And to that end," Lupin continued, "Sirius got it into his head that you couldn't see him with too many human failings. You'd already witnessed him drinking, and you certainly knew about his trouble keeping his temper in check. He thought that you might think less of him if you knew he … well …"

Here, clearing his throat, Lupin studiously avoided looking at either Gwenna or Jane. His wan complexion colored a little. 

"What?" asked Harry. 

"That he was … a man like any other. A man with … with a man's … desires. You must understand, Harry, that in school, Sirius was always … ah … popular with the girls. He always had a most active social life. He had strong drives, and he … he indulged them."

"Sure," Harry said, and now he was studiously avoiding looking at Gwenna and Jane as well, and thinking that he was probably matching Lupin shade for blushing shade. 

"While in Azkaban, of course, he had neither the opportunity nor the inclination. When he got out, he saw himself as needing to become a father figure for you … and it might have made you uncomfortable to know about that side of him."

"I understand," Harry said. He remembered how Ron had reacted when Ginny mentioned Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the context of passionate kissing, and supposed that he might have felt the same if they'd been talking about his parents. 

He had seen images of a younger Sirius Black in Snape's memories, recorded in the Pensieve. That Sirius had been handsome and arrogant, with an eye for the girls and an easygoing charisma. The Sirius in his parents' wedding photos had been much the same, seen dancing with various lovely partners at the reception. 

The Sirius he had personally known was not that same man anymore. Twelve years in Azkaban had crushed much of the arrogance out of him. It had never occurred to Harry to think that Sirius might still crave female companionship. He had been more big-brotherly than fatherly to Harry, and it simply was not the sort of thing he had considered. 

"So he thought," said Lupin, "that it would sully him in your eyes if you knew about Gwenna. He decided it was best not to tell anyone."

"That's … that's not very fair to you," Harry said to Gwenna. "Or to Arcturus."

"I told you, Sirius didn't know about Arcturus." She gave a piece of banana bread to the baby, who chewed it with great sloppy gusto. 

"Why not? Why didn't you tell him?"

"It's something of a long story," Gwenna said. "To begin with, I am not from England. I am from much farther away."

"You know that at the end of your third year, when you and Hermione helped Sirius escape before the dementors could administer the Kiss, he and Buckbeak left the country," Lupin said. 

"Yes," Harry said. "He went far away to stay clear of the Ministry."

"But he would sometimes send you letters."

"By bird. Not owls, but huge brilliant-colored tropical birds. I used to wonder where he was that they had birds like that."

"They came from my island," Gwenna said. 

"Your island? Where?"

"It lies in a part of the sea that the Muggles call the Bermuda Triangle," she explained. "My tribe has lived there for centuries. Our earliest ancestors were witches who fled the persecution of the patriarchal Muggle religions during the early Middle Ages. We established a land where women could be free and powerful, fearing and bowing to no man."

"Amazons?" Jane asked, looking interested enough to take part in what she still must clearly have felt was not a conversation that was any of her business. 

"Some called us that," Gwenna said, smiling. "We were not the warriors of Greek myth, we did not mutilate our bodies the better to draw a bow … but we did raid neighboring islands for male slaves, that we might perpetuate our race."

Harry's mouth fell open. "You … Sirius wasn't … I mean …"

Her laugh was merry, though tinged with sadness. "No, Harry. Sirius was no slave-captive of the Amazons. We gave that up long ago. Although women are still the rulers of our society, and men are considered lesser citizens, they are not our mere chattel. We had males of our own, bred to be small and docile, while our women were tall and strong."

Looking at her, Harry could believe it. She would have been right at home in bronze armor, carrying a spear. 

"Gwenna was queen of the island," Lupin said. 

"Not quite," she corrected. "I was to be the next Golden One, which is the hereditary title of our rulers. My mother was old and very ill, and I was her eldest remaining heir. Until my sister, Gethel, learned of my weakness, and usurped my place."

"What weakness?" asked Jane avidly. 

"I fell in love," Gwenna said. "Not just with a man, which is in itself forbidden to us, but with an outsider."

"Sirius Black," Harry said. 

"None other."

"How did he end up on a tropical island, anyway? Let alone one ruled by Amazons?"

"It was not intentional," Gwenna said. "We guard our shores with spells that confuse Muggle instruments, and the seas around our island are dangerous waters of shoals, storms, whirlpools, and aquatic monsters. Sirius Black was on a Muggle ship that met disaster there. With the hippogriff, he was able to escape the sinking. He made his way to land, both he and his steed battered by winds and rain, half drowned and half starved. One of our hunting parties found him, and brought him to my mother's palace."

"How did he get a hippogriff on a Muggle ship?" Harry asked. 

"A very large crate," Lupin said dryly. "After all, Sirius couldn't very well book passage on any wizard-owned sailing vessel. Not that there are many. Even so, his risk of being identified was still great. Do not forget that the Muggle Prime Minister and various law enforcement agencies were also given his description, and told that he was a violent escaped criminal."

"When I first saw him," Gwenna said, "he did not look like much. Thin, bedraggled, waterlogged. Yet something about him appealed to me. I took charge of him, and saw to it that he was tended and fed. My mother, her advisors and my sisters all thought it was but an idle curiosity. So did I, to begin with. I never expected to fall in love with him."

"Why is it forbidden?" asked Jane. 

"It is our custom. We take mates to sire and raise our children, but my people believed that to love a mere man was to give him power. It would be like teaching our sons to use magic."

"Hang on!" said Harry. "You're joking!"

"No, I am not. On our island, men are not permitted to cast spells. They are given no wands. Should a man demonstrate too many instances of spontaneous magic, he risks being killed or crippled or exiled."

"But Sirius was a wizard."

"He was clever enough to conceal that from us," Gwenna said. She sighed and stroked her baby's cheek. "I had never seen a man like him before. He wasn't like our men at all. He had such fire to him, such intensity and passion. I let my sisters think that I was keeping him as a pet. He told me about you, Harry, and your parents. How much you all meant to him. I helped him to send you messages, though that, too, was breaking island law."

"But you still held him prisoner?" Harry asked. 

"It may have seemed so, to the rest of my tribe. But as I first grew to admire him, and then to love him, I was determined to see him go free."

Harry covered his face. "You should have kept him there. He'd still be alive."

"I wish that were true," she said. "But even had he stayed on the island, eventually we would have been found out. And as much as he cared for me, perhaps even loved me, his heart was here. His thoughts were always with you, Harry. He couldn't have lived with himself, knowing that he was needed elsewhere."

"So," said Jane, "you sent him away … and then your sister found out?"

Gwenna nodded. "It all came out then. That he was a wizard, that I loved him and had helped him escape … and, finally, that I was carrying his child. I had not even suspected until well after he was gone."

"All right," Harry said. He felt a pang for Sirius … Sirius, who hadn't even known he was going to be a father. 

"My sister petitioned for my disinheritance and exile, but my mother would not agree. Nor would she force me to abort, or allow Gethel to kill Arcturus when he was born. But I knew that the time would come, sooner rather than later, when Gethel would have the crown. If I was still within her reach when she became Golden One, my life and that of my son would be forfeit. And so, I left my home."

"Gwenna made her way here," said Lupin. "Sirius had told her of this house, given her the address. Not knowing at the time, of course, that he would also lend it to the Order as their headquarters. I'm sure you can appreciate my shock the day someone rang the doorbell, and I opened it to find an Amazon princess with a baby in her arms."

"And mine," Gwenna said mournfully, "to come all this way only to be told of his fate. I do not know what I hoped for. I wished only to see Sirius again, and let him meet his child. Whether there might have been any future for us …"

On her lap, Arcturus seemed to sense her grief, patting her face with his pudgy little hands as if he hoped to soothe and console her. 

Harry had no reason to disbelieve her story. Wild as it was, with Amazon witches on some hidden Bermuda Triangle island, it was no stranger than an enormous castle in the English countryside harboring a school for wizards. 

He wasn't sure how he felt, though. His emotions were pulled in a dozen ways at once. 

Jealous that Sirius had been close to someone else, and never breathed a word of it to him … yes, definitely. Sympathetic toward Gwenna, who had loved Sirius enough to give up everything. Glad that, even though it had been short-lived, Sirius had found someone. Sorry for Arcturus, who would never know his father … but at the same time thankful that the boy at least had his mother, that he wasn't orphaned and alone like Harry himself. Aggravated that no one had told him, but understanding why it had been a difficult topic to bring up. 

He felt all that and much more. What he did not feel was any sort of resentment toward the little boy. Instead, watching Arcturus try in his baby way to comfort his mother, Harry was seized by a strong protective urge. Sirius was gone, but Sirius had, even unknowing, left part of himself behind. Harry owed it to him to do whatever he could for Arcturus. 

"—futile, if not dangerous, for her to go home," Lupin was saying. "And so, we thought it fitting that she stay here for the time being. When Dumbledore heard of her situation, he offered her a job. And, since she didn't know what she was letting herself in for, she accepted."

"I'm not sure how well I'll do," Gwenna said. "My knowledge of protective magics and counter-jinxes is more theoretical than practical. Our island has been so safe for so long that we had little need to defend ourselves. I only hope I can justify Dumbledore's faith in making this generous offer."

"Generous, nothing," Lupin said cheerfully. "He was desperate. There isn't a witch or wizard in England who'd take that job."

"Harry can help you with your lesson plans," Jane said. "From what I've heard, he's a good teacher."

"Now I get it," Harry said to Lupin, having been thinking so hard he'd barely listened to their conversation. "You told me that Sirius had named me in his will, since he didn't have any children of his own. But the complication being that he did have one of his own … only he didn't know it."

"That's it exactly," Lupin said. "No one was quite sure how to tell you. I'm most heartily sorry for that, Harry. I hope you'll forgive us."

"I do."

"Now we know why the house-elf was trying to kill you, too," Jane said. "He must have gotten it into his head somehow that with you out of the way, everything would go to Arcturus."

Lupin slapped himself in the forehead. "I should have thought of that. Of course, Harry. I wouldn't put it past Kreacher to reason along those very lines. It would suit his twisted sense of logic. To Kreacher, Arcturus is of the direct Black bloodline and therefore the rightful heir to this house."

Before anyone else could speak, there came a colossal crash from downstairs, and then a woman's voice raised in exasperation. 

"Ow! Blimey! Who left that there?"

"It's Tonks," Lupin said. "Evidently, your absence has not gone unnoticed."

Jane looked alarmed. "Is that the woman from the treehouse?" she asked Harry. 

"Uh … yeah."

A year ago, Tonks' noisy accident-prone entry would have precipitated a shrieking tirade from the portrait of Sirius' mother. Now there was only the sound of Tonks clattering through whatever mess she'd made, grumbling dark imprecations on people who strewed hallways with umbrella stands and other obstacles. 

Lupin left the sitting room. "Up here, Tonks."

"Did I wake you? Sorry, Remus, sorry. I stepped in this coal scuttle, or whatever it is, and was trying to get my foot out when I knocked over the umbrella stand. Anyway, we've got a problem."

"No, we haven't."

"Harry's missing."

"Harry's here."

Tonks' footsteps ascended the stairs. "He's here?"

"She's not going to be very pleased to see me, I have a feeling," whispered Jane. 

"Safe and sound," Lupin confirmed. 

"Thank goodness for that," Tonks said, her voice clearer now that she had gained the upstairs hall. "There was a hell of a ruckus at the Leaky Cauldron, and when nobody could find him, Molly was sure he'd been abducted. But why's he here?"

"Because there was a hell of a ruckus at the Leaky Cauldron," Lupin said. "Our dear friend Kreacher tried to stab him."

"Succeeded, I should say," Harry muttered, rubbing his shoulder.

"Why, that repulsive little toad!" Tonks cried. "Where's he got to? I'll wring his neck."

Lupin backed up, and there was Tonks in the doorway. Her eyebrows – one of them pierced by a silver hoop – shot up as she saw Jane. 

Tonight, Tonks was in full-blown punk mode, her hair screaming straight up in pink and black spikes. She wore a choke chain, a ribbed black tank top with a stretched and distorted white emblem of an eye in a pyramid across the front, tight white denims, and huge blocky boots. Silver jewelry jangled from her earlobes and wrists. 

"Wotcher, Harry," she said, not taking her eyes off Jane. "Had a bit of a scrap?"

"A bit," he said. "Hi, Tonks."

"You've got Molly Weasley having nervous fits again."

"I wish she wouldn't. I'm all right. Really. I can take care of myself."

"What about you, missy?" Tonks asked Jane. "What are you doing here?"

"Leave off, would you?" Harry stood up to confront Tonks. "Jane's my friend. Just because she's Slytherin doesn't mean she's out to get me. If that was what she wanted, she could have let Kreacher kill me instead of helping me."

Tonks turned to him, and Harry stared her down. Finally, Tonks shrugged and relented. "If you say so, Harry."

"I do say so."

"So what's this about Kreacher?"

He told her the whole story as he'd told it to Lupin and Gwenna, again leaving out exactly how Jane had happened to be there. 

"Makes sense, doesn't it?" Tonks sighed when he was done. "Kreacher's so far gone around the bend that he can't even see the bend from where he is, but he's not stupid. All he cares about is this house, and the Black name. Funny that here we are, busting our humps to protect you from Death Eaters, and it's a murderous house-elf comes closest to doing you in."

"We'd better find him and have it out," Lupin said. 

"Clothes," Tonks said. "Clothes, and out the door he goes. There's no use keeping him around. It's not like he could tell our enemies much of anything, now that we're not meeting here. He's done more than enough damage. Let the Malfoys have him. Harry cost them one house-elf already. It's the least he could do to make it up to them."

Harry almost snickered at the idea of Kreacher, insane mumbling Kreacher, working for the Malfoys. Let Lucius Malfoy try and treat Kreacher the way he'd treated – mistreated, rather – Dobby. Harry couldn't see Kreacher tolerating that kind of abuse for an instant, obedient or no. 

"He wouldn't take clothes from me," Harry said. "Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't think I had the right or the authority."

"Same here," Tonks said. "As far as he's concerned, I've never been one of the family. But we've got to do something."

"I know what to do," Harry said. "The only thing, really. The right thing. Gwenna?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I want Arcturus to have this house. It should be his. The house, the fortune, whatever else there was in Sirius' will. He would have wanted it that way, too, if he'd known."

"Harry, that's a grand gesture but –" began Lupin. 

"It isn't a gesture. I never wanted this inheritance. I don't need it. Sirius only left it to me because I was like a son to him … Arcturus actually is a son to him. It should be his."

Gwenna touched his arm again, and this time he let her without tensing. "That is kind of you, Harry, but this has been such a strange night … you shouldn't make any decisions when you're overwrought."

"I'm not overwrought." He looked from her, to Tonks, to Lupin. "Don't you understand, this is what's right? It's what Sirius would have wanted. I feel that. I believe it. He was my godfather. He tried to take care of me when my parents couldn't be there. It's the least I can do to see that his son gets what is rightfully his."

"I won't accept yet," Gwenna said, gentling her words with a smile. "But there is one things you could do for me, and for Arcturus, if you're willing."

"What?"

"Be his godfather, Harry. I think that if Sirius were here, he'd want that, too."

Slowly, Harry held out his hand toward the little boy. Arcturus seized his finger in one warm, slightly sticky fist and gurgled happily. 

"I … I'd be honored," Harry said.

Gwenna hoisted Arcturus toward him. Harry hesitated. He had no experience with babies, at least not since he'd been one himself, and could just see himself dropping the boy after all this. But Arcturus, with a cherubic giggle, slung his little arms around Harry's neck and let his dark, curly head fall with a soft thump on Harry's shoulder. Harry uncertainly patted him on the back, and Arcturus made a contented sound. 

He saw Lupin's bittersweet smile, saw Tonks mouth the word "Awww!" Feeling both sublime and sheepish, Harry glanced at Jane. She hitched a breath and turned away, brushing at the corners of her shining eyes. 

"Sweet moment though this is," Tonks said after most of a minute had gone by, "there's still Kreacher to contend with. He can't be allowed to get away with attacking you, Harry. I know where his favorite bolt-holes are. Let me track down the wretch."

"I'll help you," Lupin said. He and Tonks left, bound first for the dank and musty crawlspace where Kreacher kept his hoard of salvaged Black family relics. 

Arcturus refused to let go, so Harry had no choice but to sit back down with his godson on his lap. Gwenna left to make fresh tea for everyone. 

"Some night, huh?" Harry asked Jane. 

"I really shouldn't have been here," she said. "This was … this was about family. This was special, and wonderful. I don't belong. You … you're all so … so good. So … so Gryffindor noble and true."

"I meant what I told Tonks," Harry said. "About you being my friend."

"Harry, I can't be. We both know that, and we both know why."

"Not openly, maybe," he agreed. "I wouldn't mind so much, but for you, it'd be hell to pay if the other Slytherins found out."

"How … how can you trust people so easily?"

"You mean Gwenna? I believe what she –"

"No, not Gwenna. Me."

"Have you lied to me?" he asked. 

Jane opened her mouth, then closed it again and looked away. "Not exactly. But I've let you go on thinking some things that aren't true."

"About your mother?"

"More about my father."

On Harry's lap, Arcturus smacked his lips, blew a spit bubble, and started sucking his thumb. His other arm was wrapped snug around his stuffed black doggy. It was an odd feeling, the sleepy weight of the child. 

"The vicar's got secrets?" asked Harry.

"He's lucky," Jane said, gazing at Arcturus. "He'll grow up always knowing who he is and where he came from."

"Luckier than me," Harry said. "I didn't find out who I was until I was eleven."

"And when you did find out," she said, "it made everything better, didn't it? You finally understood. You felt good about your parents, about yourself, about who and what you were."

"Well, yeah. It was like a dream come true. I was alone, the Dursleys hated me and treated me like yesterday's rubbish. What kid, in a situation like that, wouldn't dream of suddenly learning that he was a wizard, that there was a whole other world where he belonged? Why? Wasn't it that way for you?"

"I always knew what my mother was," Jane said, sitting with her knees drawn up and her arms folded around them. "She'd given it up, thrown away her wand, but she was still a witch. She never kept that from me."

"Gave it up to marry a Muggle, like you told me. So you're half-blood, so what? It might matter to the other Slytherin snobs, but it doesn't to everyone else --"

"But I'm not, Harry. I'm pureblood."

"You mean the vicar is a wizard?"

"No."

"Then what …?"

"The vicar isn't my father."

Harry sat speechless for a span of several seconds. "Isn't he?"

Jane shook her head.

All he could think of was to ask who was, but that would have been amazingly tactless. "Oh," he said. 

"And he knows he isn't," Jane went on. "My mother never pretended that he was. They met when my mother was … it sounds silly, but she was seeking spiritual guidance. She'd witnessed terrible things during the days when … well, You-Know-Who was in power, and it made her question whether or not all magic was evil."

"That's not so," Harry said. "Not all magic is evil. It's a tool, like anything else. What determines good or evil is how it's used, and with what intent. Like fire. Fire can hurt and burn, but fire can also cook and keep us warm."

"Harry," Jane said, holding up her hands with the palms out. "It was my mother who wondered, not me."

"Sorry. What happened? She went to the church, to ask them what they thought of magic, and witches? Wouldn't that have violated a Statute of Secrecy? She could have been arrested by the Ministry, that is, if the Muggles hadn't tried to stone her to death first."

"I don't think they do that as much these days."

"You know what I mean, though," he said. 

"She did go to some churches, and that was how she met the vicar. They fell in love, and she decided that she would give up her magic and live as a Muggle, in the Muggle world. He asked her to marry him, and she said yes. Then, when they found out she was pregnant by someone else, he insisted on going through with the marriage anyway. He said he'd made a promise and he meant to keep it, no matter what."

"So he's your stepfather?"

"He adopted me. At first, it was all right. We lived like Muggles, all three of us. But as I got older, I started being able to do things … you know."

Harry did know. He had once accidentally set loose a snake at the zoo, terrorizing Dudley. Every Muggle-raised witch or wizard he knew had similar stories of spontaneous magic taking place when they were angry, or afraid, or excited. 

"How come they let you go to Hogwarts?" he asked. 

"My mother had made a decision for herself, but she didn't think it was her place to make that same decision for me. She wanted me to see both sides and choose my own way. Besides, I'm not sure that the parents really have much say in whether or not their children go to Hogwarts."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. The wizarding families, of course, it's expected. But what about the ones whose parents are both Muggles? Somehow, the Ministry identifies them, sends them their letters. What if there were some Muggles who refused? Can you see the Ministry leaving untrained witches and wizards out among the Muggles? I wouldn't be surprised if the Department of Muggle Relations has a special branch whose sole purpose is to browbeat or brainwash any stubborn anti-magic Muggles into going along."

"They never tried that on Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia," Harry said. "They just sent Hagrid to kick down the door."

"I bet that's pretty effective, too," she said, grinning. 

"So your mother told you everything, and you chose Hogwarts."

"Not quite. She told me everything, and then she died." 

"Hanged herself," Harry said, remembering what Jane had told him when they'd first arrived at Grimmauld Place. "How old were you?"

"I was eight. I'd done my first real magic, the first one they couldn't tell themselves was coincidence. I think that my mother, for all she'd been open with me about being a witch, had secretly hoped that I wouldn't be. When I turned out to be one after all, it made her have to face the truth again, and it was too much for her."

"What truth?" Harry asked, sensing that this was what Jane had been verbally dancing around in all of their conversations. He had a hunch … a terrible hunch …

"Got him!" Tonks suddenly crowed from the doorway. She marched into the room with her wand held out, and Kreacher, bound in magical green ropes, hovering in the air in front of her. 

**
Continued in Chapter Nine -- Hangman's Nott.