I certify that this story is based on the Harry Potter world of JK Rowling.

Chapter One

"Look!" Mrs. Evans said. "We're home!"

Her daughter Petunia shook her head. "We just left our home."

"No, dear," her mother insisted. "It's like I've told you these fourteen years, yeah? We are Welsh, not English. It's just we had to be there for Da's work. But now we don't. We can be right where you were born, right where we always belonged."

Petunia's sister Lily turned to look at her father. "Da? What will you do now? Will you quit your job?"

He turned back and smiled. "How many times have you asked me now?" He nodded and laughed. "Okay. For the thousandth time, then. I have a new job here. Being Marquess will take most of my time. But I am glad of the change. And there will be changes for us all, even you, Petunia." Petunia scoffed and turned to face the window. Mr. Evans nodded at Lily and continued. "Especially for you, Petunia, since you are the heiress. Not in school though. In the school year, you will be at the same boarding school."

Petunia protested, "But my Cokeworth friends-"

"We are not from Cokeworth, dear, and your friends are not your family. But it is always important to have friends wherever you go. You may visit whenever you like." Mrs. Evans reached for Lily's hand. "You, though, will go to the primary school in Bangor. It is a bit distant, but it is a good school, and I'm sure you will make lots of good friends there."

"Yes, Mam," said Lily. "It will be a wrench not to see Sev, but I will see him soon at Hogwarts."

Mrs. Evans nodded, her lips curving upward, but Petunia retorted, "Lily! You don't still believe that, do you? I told you it's not real!"

Petunia's words stirred Lily's emotions more than the entire process of moving had done. "Oh yes it is! You don't know!"

Petunia rolled her eyes. "Fine. I guess I don't know all the freakish stuff you do."

"Petunia," their father said.

"Lily," her mother added. "Remember that Petunia will help you hold back your magic. The incidents happen much less frequently than before, but they should not happen at all. This is a small town, and people might find out."

"Yes, Mam." Lily paused to remember her words. "Petunia will be Marchioness, and Da is the Marquess now, so it is important that I keep up the family's standards around town. They are important, not me. I will be sure to follow their instruction."

"Good for you, Lily." Her mother tapped her shoulder. "And you are very important to me too, Lily."

The car rumbled to a halt, and the family piled out to see the stone manor tower over them. Lily looked up. It was so strange that she was now living in the huge stone building her father and uncle had described so many times as the backdrop for all of their adventures. One of the waiting staff stepped forward. "Ardalydd, Ardalyddes, Arglwyddes Petiwnia, Arglwyddes Lili, croeso i Plas Newydd1," he said. "I am Mr. Davies, your butler."

"Good morning, Mr. Davies," Mr. Evans said. "And you are?"

"Bore da. Mrs. Jones dw i2," said the woman to Mr. Davies' left. "It is good to meet you. Now, may we take your luggage? Which rooms will you be using?"

"Da," Petunia asked. "Can we choose our rooms now?"

"Yes, of course," he said. "Take a look at the bedrooms on the upstairs hallway." He paused. "To the left of the stairs."

Petunia ran up the stairs, and Lily ran behind her. Petunia pointed to the largest bedroom.

"It was Hen Daid3's room," she said. "I guess it will be Mam's and Da's now." Petunia went straight to the room she had used on their visits, the first bedroom to the left of the stairs. Before even looking in the other rooms, she said, "I like this one. I'll stay here." She walked back down the stairs, leaving Lily to look at the row of bedrooms. Lily ignored the bedroom, the second to the left of the stairs, where she had stayed as a guest, and looked at all the bedrooms. She named the family member that had been in each one before. Taid4 (and Da), Modryb5 Brigit, Modryb Gwen, Modryb Eira. She stopped at the last one. She had explored all the rooms many times over, but Aunt Eira's room had been closed and locked. Now, here it stood, with the door wide open. Lily took a breath and entered the one room she had never been in before. The walls of the room were covered in Welsh landscapes, which was no different from the other rooms; Hen Daid had always liked landscape paintings. Above the vanity, though, was the one painting in the room that was not a landscape. Landscapes and — a mirror? Lily turned. Her face stared back at her. But the frame looked different from mirror frames. She waved a hand; her old-fashioned reflection did not move a muscle. So it was not a mirror. Was this the famous Modryb Eira? The one with Lily's same middle name? She would live in the room, and day after day she would find out. Lily turned to leave the room and gasped. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw the portrait nod solemnly at her.

As Petunia had done, Lily walked back downstairs to tell the servants which room she had chosen. "Arglwyddes Lili?" Mr. Davies asked. "Have you chosen a bedroom yet?"

"Yes, I have," she said. "I chose the third bedroom to the left of the stairs."

"Yr Arglwyddes Rhiannon," he said in an awed voice. "Very well. I will have your luggage put there straightaway."

They drove to hospital to see Lily's great-grandfather. Hen Daid was smaller than the last time Lily had seen him. Between the loud beeping of his many monitors and the raspy sound of his breathing, Lily wondered how they would be able to concentrate on their conversation.

"Dafydd, rwyt ti'n mudo i Plas Newydd?6"

"Ydw, Taid. Diolch.7"

"It is good that someone can take my place now, even if my son will not."

As Mr. Evans opened his mouth to reply, Arglwydd Owain looked sideways at Lily, almost as though he saw someone else. "Dafydd, we need to talk about your heir."

"Taid, I will be here-"

"For many years. But here, the heir to the marquessate has an important position, almost as important as the Marquess."

Dafydd blinked. "Yes. And Petunia will be a good Marchioness."

Was this Lily's first chance to perform her job here, to support Petunia? "Yes," she said. "Petunia will do well."

Hen Daid looked at Dafydd. "But I must be sure. So, please."

Lily's mother led Lily and Petunia to a row of chairs in the hallway where they sat for what seemed an eternity. Lily smiled at Petunia, trying to hide her worried eyes.

"What do you think they're talking about?"

Petunia smiled in a more realistic expression and took Lily's hand. "It's nothing to worry about, I'm sure."

"Right."

Petunia squeezed her hand. "Really, Lily."

Of course. This must involve Petunia, not her. She squeezed Petunia's hand back. "I'm sure it's fine."

Lily smiled at a row of nurses and patients, right before her father poked his head out of the door and beckoned them back in. They all returned to stand around the bed, and Lily tried her best not to flinch as Arglwydd Owain reached out and touched her face.

"You are so like my Rhiannon," he said. "That is why you must do this."

A rushing filled Lily's ears, and a sense of dread filled her. There were so many machines — no magic, not now! "Do what?" she asked.

Hen Daid looked at her, and she wondered whether her magic showed any signs. However, he asked her father, not her, "Dafydd?"

Lily's father began, "We always said Petunia would be the heiress." Lily and Petunia nodded. "Well, perhaps I did not go enough into the details. Since the two of you are both daughters, either of you may inherit."

Hen Daid pointed a shaking finger at Lily. "Rhiannon. It must be you."

Lily's father smiled tightly and nodded. "Yes. It must be."

Lily stood in shock, trying to process the information. Over her shoulder, she heard Petunia protest, "But I'm older! You said it would be me!"

"Yes, we always thought so too, but-"

"Well, you could've figured it out before. Before I spent my whole life planning for this. Before I found I couldn't go to school with my friends — oh no! I had to go learn Welsh in Bangor! Before-"

"Petunia," their father said, a warning in his voice, "I understand you are upset. We can discuss this at home." He turned to Lily. "So, will you do this, Lily"?

Lily stood motionless. Her mother nudged her. Something. I must say something. She opened her mouth. "Maybe?"

Mr. Evans shot her a look as though he expected something else, but she had no more words. She remembered a few words from a romance novel. She whispered, "It is good to do all I can for my family. But I do not want to take away from Petunia in doing so."

"You will not. This is just you."

"Rhiannon," Hen Daid asked, " Will you serve your people in this way?"

Lily stopped. This was Petunia's place, not hers. She was supposed to be important in a different way, right? But how could she say no? "Ie, Hen Daid.8"

"Good," he said. "Your father will explain what you must do. Now, Petunia, you know we think no less of you, dear."

"Yeah, sure," she muttered as she kissed Hen Daid on the cheek and prepared to leave.

Lily did the same and left the room. Was this what Sev had meant? He had sounded so certain they would meet again, at Hogwarts. But he also told her that this was her chance to find her power. Not a communal sort of strength, but just hers. So could this be it, to lead? Her and not Petunia. Petunia...

Petunia entered the hallway, her mother's arm around her. Her father came up behind her and tapped her shoulder.

"Yes?" she asked

"Petunia, I know you're hurt and disappointed, and we will talk about this, I promise. But not here."

Lily's mother patted her back. "We'll go home, have tea, and talk it all out. Doesn't that sound good?"

Petunia walked out to the waiting chauffeur, and the rest of the family followed. After a silent car ride, they sat down in the library, where David brought them tea and scones.

Lily's father cleared his throat. "So, we all had a bit of news today. I know it made you uncomfortable, Petunia, but it will be best for the family."

"How could you think that?" Petunia asked.

The edges in everyone's voices began to work at Lily's nerves, and she moved away from the scene, when Petunia looked at her and pointed her finger. "No! Lily, you do not get to walk away from this! Why should you? This is our family; this is our life-" she cut herself off and faced her father. "Da, when Lily began her magic or whatever, it made me sad. Because I already knew Taid and Hen Daid thought she was more special than I was-"

"Petunia, dear, that's not true, you know that's not true," her mother protested. Lily shifted in her seat.

Petunia waved the comment away. "Yes, they do, and most of the rest of the family does too. But you and Da never did. You made me feel like I was special and important too. But now-"

Lily's mother tapped her husband on the shoulder. "Dafydd, don't you think we could -"

He picked up her hand and set it back down on the couch. "No." He faced Petunia. "This is hard for you, I know-"

"But you aren't willing to do anything to help me. Thanks, I got that already."

"No, what he means is that within every challenge is hidden an opportunity, a chance to learn."

"So what's my lesson?"

"That what others think of you doesn't matter, only what you think of yourself. That no outside force can make you any more or less important than you really are."

Petunia stood, crying. "I don't believe that." She ran out of the room.

Mrs. Evans closed her eyes and looked away. Mr. Evans, though, turned to face Lily.

"Lily," her father said, "You understood what Taid said to you, right? That you are the heiress now."

Lily nodded.

"There are several big changes ahead for all of us, but most of all for you. As you will be the heiress now, your role in society will be very different from what it was before, Before, you were just to be one student of many at a primary school. You were to speak of your sister, not of yourself, and it did not matter what or how many friendships you made. But now, we will hire a governess to supplement your classes at school. She will help you prepare for your social events, of which there will be several. In just a few days, she will begin. Also, you will need to be sure you yourself can answer the questions the villagers ask you, rather than referring them to your sister or to me. It will also be important that you make friends here in the village. These relationships will become invaluable to you when you become Marchioness, as they have to me."

"Yes, Da," Lily said.

"So what do you think?" her father asked. "Does this sound like something you can do?"

Lily nodded. "I'm sure I will get used to it as time goes on. And I am proud to do my part for my country and my family. I just don't want Petunia to feel left out."

"She will be okay. This was big news for her. She just needs a little time is all."

"And your magic," her mother added. "I noticed that you almost had an episode in the hospital."

"Yes, Mam."

"You will be around others, much more than before. And if they see these — events, they could become confused and afraid. They might hurt you. So just try to keep it to a minimum, okay?"

Lily nodded. "Yes, Mam, I will."

"You might even hurt someone if you're not careful."

"Yes, Mam."

"Petunia isn't here to look after you during the school year, so I need you to remember to stay calm at all times."

Lily nodded. Although the way the last conversation with Petunia had been, she might not want to look after Lily at all.

"And Lily," her father said. Lily looked over. "Whatever Petunia said about you just now, she was just angry. She didn't mean it."

Lily smiled sadly. "With respect, Da, yes, she did." She stood. "Now, please excuse me." With nods from her parents, Lily climbed the stairs to her room. She heard muffled sobs as she passed Petunia's room, but a fierce internal debate convinced her the could do nothing to help. Lowering her head, Lily crept inside her room and closed the door. She looked around for something to do, but the maids had already put her clothes and luggage away. Lily sighed and looked at the pictures on the wall. Yr Arglwyddes Rhiannon. Modryb Eira. The strangest, saddest story in the family history. And now Lily was like her. The same middle name, heiress to the marquessate. And Hen Daid chose them both. Eira over her brother, Lily over Petunia. Were there other similarities How much was there that Lily didn't know about herself?

The sounds from the next room subsided. Petunia must have gone out. Lily glanced out the door and walked to the gardens outside. Lily picked up a rose from the ground. She would just have to work with what she had, wouldn't she?

The next day, Petunia boarded the train back to Bangor. Lily took her hand. Maybe she could still fix what had all gone so horribly wrong. Maybe she could still help her sister.

"We'll be the same with each other — we always will," Lily said, but Petunia did not reply.

When the family returned, Lily saw a woman walking in the front gardens. She looked up as the family approached.

"Helo, Ardalydd, Ardalyddes, Arglwyddes Rhiannon," she said. "I am Mrs. Jones, your governess."

Lily's schooling supplements would take her through her first ever Welsh culture classes, and other items such as etiquette and horseback riding. The goal of each lesson was to learn skills Lily could put to use in public dinners and hunts. Soon after their move, in the spring, Plas Newydd prepared for its first major festival, St. David's day. As Lily's father explained, it would be a garden party, an opportunity for Lily to show her place in the village by saying a few words. Mrs. Jones then beamed and set Lily the task of memorising the set of notecards on which she had prepared several lines of introduction.

As Lily helped her parents set up the tents and tables for the party, everything seemed in perfect order. The first guests had arrived just a few minutes later. The children formed a circle talking to one another in rapid Welsh. But each time Lily tried to join in their conversation, they broke apart with a muttered "Sais9."

Lily's mind went blank. This was the one situation for which she had never prepared. And why would she? She was Welsh-born, fluent in Welsh to her very soul, with a Welsh family... Her father came up behind her. "Show your Welshness," he whispered.

Lily took a deep breath. "Sais dw i ddim.10"

"Yeah, right," one of the boys said.

Lily cleared her throat. "Look, I lived in England a while, but I was born here! I am as Welsh as you are!"

The boy laughed and turned to his friends. "Look, Evan, she thinks she knows our language!"

"Oes - ydy!" Lily stammered out, berating herself. If ever there was a time to speak perfect Welsh, this was it.

"Oh, so sorry, milady," he said, emphasising his accent. "Did you have trouble translating the English in your head?"

Lily frowned. The mistake she had made was only because she felt stressed, not because she didn't speak Welsh, surely he knew that. People stammered the same way in English all the time.

She looked for the group of boys to tell them that, but they were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there were adults crowded everywhere Lily could see. Her father reminded the man by him that he had lived in Llanfair for the first twenty years of his life, while her mother explained to a group of women that she was Welsh, not English, and that her parents lived in Caerdydd. With such conflict on all sides, Lily, crying, ran to the door.

One of the men tapped her on the shoulder and asked, "Little girl, are you all right?"

His wife pulled his arm away. "Rwyt ti'n helpu yr Saesnes?11"

"Siân," he answered, "we must all be kind to little children, wherever they come from. It is not her fault that her parents dragged her here."

Lily wiped her eyes and spoke, deliberately, in Welsh. "I am very well, thank you." She walked away, pretending not to notice the eyes following her.

At dinner, Lily crept out of her room and down the stairs, where she heard her parents speaking.

"The trouble is Lily," her father said.

"No! You can't think that - surely you don't."

"Of course not; Lily herself is a kind, intelligent, Welsh girl. It's just-"

"Just the others don't see it."

"And how would they? She is not at a local school; she doesn't go to school here or even see anyone daily. Not that it should matter; I had a governess myself. But when I was her age, I'd been around town for years."

"While she was a visitor here, so she hasn't been."

"Yes. It's rotten luck, it is."

"It's only one more year until she goes off to Hogwarts - all right, or to wherever. Perhaps a year of school here is what she needs."

"Maybe."

"But they didn't really warm to me either. I told them I'm from Caerdydd, but they still think you moved to England to be closer to my family."

Lily crept back up the stairs. So, there was a plan for a local school, was there? At least there was a plan. She would try anything, really, to get the taunts of "Sais!" out of her head. And in Cokeworth, she had been too Welsh for everyone. But surely in Hogwarts everyone would accept her for who she was, not where she was from.

The bell rang. Lily wiped her eyes and went to the dinner. As her father served himself the lamb chops, he asked Lily, "What do you think of going to the local school?"

"Whatever you think is best will be fine," she said.

"We're trying to work that out," her mother said.

"At the school, would the boys who laughed at me be there?" Lily asked.

"Yes, they would be. Do you prefer not to see them again?" Lily's father looked over, and her mother added, "For just a year, it wouldn't make much difference ,anyway."

"No, but I should show them I'm not afraid. And I must become a part of life here."

"That's it, then. The school it is," her father said, sounding relieved. "We'll sign you up tomorrow."

Within the week, Lily began school. Its pace was even with that of her school in Cokeworth, and Lily quickly rose to the head of the class. She had her own share of trouble, but after a month there, Lily had become a well-known figure in the village, just as her father suggested. Soon she had friends of her own, teaching them the same language game Petunia had taught her in Cokeworth.

"This is how it works," she said to Anna, the friendliest girl there. "I talk to you in English. Hi, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks," Anna said.

"No! It can't be in English, though. What languages do you speak?"

"Um..." said Anna. "English, Welsh, and French?"

"So who else is playing? Elen?"

Elen stepped forward. "So now, Anna, say a sentence to Elen, but it can't be in English, since that's what I said to you."

"Okay. Bore da, Elen."

"All right. Now Elen, you reply but not in Welsh."

"Can it be English?"

Lily paused. "Yes, it can. But the object of the game is to use as many languages as we can. That's what makes it fun!"

Lily and Anna were sitting and talking under a tree at recess when one of Lily's tormenters came over.

"What's that you're doing?" he asked, pointing to the ground at Lily's feet.

"Nothing," she said stuffing her hands under her skirt to hide where the garden was coming from.

"What's this? English flowers?"

She picked a daffodil and thrust it at him. "The flowers come from the ground! How can they be English?"

"No, there are orchids here too."

"Well, they grow here too, I guess."

"No," he said. "My father is a gardener, and he says they do not. So, what kind of name is Lily, anyway?"

Anna broke in. "What, not Welsh enough for you? What kind of name is Charles?"

"What kind of name is Anna?"

"Only the best!"

Lily laughed. By the end of recess, the three of them were talking and laughing in Welsh, just as it should have been before.

Fortunately, it was much warmer on the summer morning Lily and her father stood on the street corner in London. Lily looked up at the building across the street. As they crossed the street, her father patted her shoulder.

"Lily, I know last night we met some people who... were very proud of themselves."

"The way they ordered Anna and Charles around!" she said.

Her father sighed. "Yes, I know. As nobles, we have a lot of influence, and sometimes that gives our position power. But it never gives us power. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, Father."

Her father opened his briefcase and pulled out two bands of metal. He put on the coronet and handed the tiara to Lily. He then placed his hand on his head. "I am nothing. I, myself, am just a man who helps his people, and thank goodness I have the power to do it. But I, myself, I am nothing without this."

Lily nodded. Her father asked, "Repeat that, please. 'I am nothing without this.'"

Her hand crept up to her tiara. "I am nothing without this."

"Good." Her father straightened. "You know, you still are significant as a person, just as Charles is or Anna is. But you cannot place too much importance on a title which came to you by birth, one you did not earn. If you become Prefect or Head Girl, you should be more proud of that, for you will have done it all by yourself." He opened the door. "Now, the House of Lords is just one way we can use our influence to do what matters, serving the people of Wales. The queen granted me a Life Peerage, and maybe she will grant you one too. As my child, you can come in with me, to see how it all works, but nothing more than that.

"So come in."

Lily followed her father into the building and along the hall to a large room.

"Everyone is gathering for a session," her father said.

"Okay. Do they not realise how old I am?" Lily asked.

"They do. Simply, they also assume there is a good reason for you to be here. Which there is."

"So, what will we do here?"

"You learned about this in school, right?"

"So this is Parliament too?"

"Part of it, yes. You remember from your lessons?"

Lily nodded. Her father said, "Good. Watch carefully today."

Before Petunia left after Christmas, it was time for one last family dinner. "A formal one," Mrs. Evans insisted, and she invited family from near and far to join in. Lily set out her clothes, and Gwen helped her arrange her jewellery and hair. A full party of twenty greeted her when she walked down the stairs.

"Welcome to our family," Mr. Evans said.

"Oh my goodness, will you look at all the crystal here!" said Aunt Janine. "And you inherited all of this, Dafydd?"

"Yes, I did," he said. "My grandfather specified that the inheritance should go to me rather than to my father."

"And it will go to Petunia next?" Aunt Siân asked. "Or can't women inherit?"

"It will go to Lily," Mr. Evans said. "If there are no sons in this line, it can go to either daughter."

"Yes," agreed Uncle John. Aunt Victoria cast a sympathetic glance at Petunia. Mrs. Evans changed the subject. "Should we eat now?"

The family all moved to sit around the table. Lily sat next to her grandparents so she could translate the conversation for them. "Good, Lily," her father said.

The big news was the recent move to Plas Newydd, and the choice of Lily as marchioness. Everyone wanted to talk to her, or at least acted as though they did, to see about how she liked being back in Wales, how she was getting along with the people of Llanfair, and what her plans were for school in the year to come. However, this was not such a pleasant topic for Petunia, and she excused herself halfway through the meal. Some family turned to Mr. and Mrs. Evans, looking up the stairs at the bedrooms. Uncle John and Uncle Bran, though, cornered Lily as she ate her dessert. The conversation continued for hours and hours, until Lily had to excuse herself to go to bed. As she heard the family talking into the night, in a mix of English and Welsh, she fell into dreams of family and staying forever just where she was.

1 Milord, Milady, Lady Petunia, Lady Lily, welcome to Plas Newydd.

2 Good morning. I am Mrs. Jones.

3 Great-Grandfather

4 Grandfather

5 Aunt

6 Dafydd, have you moved to Plas Newydd?

7 Yes, Grandfather. Thank you.

8 Yes, Great-grandfather

9 English

10 I am not English.

11 Are you helping the Englishwoman?