As soon as she reached her room, Isabella released Portia, who shot under the bed, tail bristling with indignation. Then she opened the door to the augury's cage but he sulked in the corner, morose.

"Oh, don't you be mad at me too!" the girl told him. The augury opened his mouth in a silent, plaintive cry. "No, we're not going back to England until summer's over, so you might as well come out now, Castro!" The bird gave yet another silent wail, but this time hopped out and onto her arm.

Isabella always felt guilty about bringing the bird here. He was bred for the wet highlands of Scotland, and hated the hot Italian summers. Plus, poor Castro didn't fit in with the rest of the family's pets. Portia usually found a place among the cats, but the augury was shunned by the Petrrocis' Harris hawks, which they used in preference to owls.

The fifteen-year-old witch bathed, then braided her wet hair back. She selected her clothes carefully, knowing she would have to be presented to her grandfather after supper. Isabella daren't wear black, in case it made her look even more pale and cause Great-Aunt Guilia to make yet another fuss.

There came a timid knock at her door.

"Come in!" the girl called, still wearing her blue bed-robe and staring over the contents of her wardrobe. A young woman with a kind, gentle face entered.

"I though you might need help," Aunt Juliet said. She was Isabella's mother's younger sister and had recently been married ("To an Italian, thank God!" Great-Aunt Guilia had exclaimed).

"Thanks," the girl said gratefully. Aunt Juliet moved to the bed, where most of the clothes had been laid out and looked over them critically.

"Well, nothing too dark, because it'll make you look pale," she mused and Isabella nodded wearily. "And not green, dear. I don't wish to be rude, but it makes you look a little sickly. I think... yellow... and white." She held up a sunflower yellow skirt, a white tank top, and a sheer yellow shirt to wear over it.

"Um, are you wearing your hair like that?" she asked politely. Isabella laughed and allowed her aunt to undo her hair. Aunt Juliet combed through its dark tresses gently.

"Bella," she said after a while. "I'm pregnant." Isabella turned wonderingly and grinned at her aunt with delight.

"That's wonderful!" she congratulated. "But why wasn't I told? Ale never even mentioned..."

"I haven't told Father yet."

"Oh." There was a pause. "But why? I mean, you and Taddeo are married and Grandfather would surely approve..."

"But it's this war, Bella!" Juliet said, and her eyes began to well with tears. "How can I bring a child into the family now? It will just be in danger..."

"Aunt, that's silly! Grandfather will be-"

"Isabella, you haven't been here this year, so listen to me," Juliet said firmly. She began to gently pull Isabella's hair into a low bun. "It hasn't been easy, even in Italy. Father is practically running the Ministry so many people have been transferred, or laid-off, or disappeared. Of course, Father believes that You-Know-Who is back, so every energy is being thrown into protecting our country. Taddeo's been pulling double shifts almost every day." Taddeo, Juliet's husband, was an Auror, or Dark Wizard Catcher.

"Magical protections have to be placed not only on all the wizarding establishments, but also the Muggle ones. Father has spent almost the entire year in his study consulting with various Wizarding and Muggle officials about protecting the Vatican! Valentino has been consulted on how best to save the Coliseum and other historical sights. And, of course, your mother has been tasked to convince those nimwits in the English ministry that You-Know-Who really is back." Isabella was silent as she listened. There had been an article in the English newspaper at the beginning of last year about an argument between her mother and the English Minister of Magic.

"Besides, there are a group of rebels in Southern Italy," her aunt continued. "We call them revoltoso and they are part of the rebellion, The Rivolta."

"Are they like Death Eaters?" Isabella asked quietly.

"No, just people trying to take advantage of a weakened government," Juliet said, her mouth twisting. "But they have very Death Eater-like beliefs. They are like the... how do you say? Like sixty years ago..."

"Socialists?" Isabella inquired, heart sinking.

"Violent socialists," Juliet nodded. "They call themselves Gloria-Creatore, the Glory-Makers. They are the ones everything and everyone needs protection from. So now you see what bringing a baby into all of this means!" Juliet sighed, placing the last hairpin in her niece's hair. "Poor Father has enough to worry about without yet another grandchild. Do you have any idea how many spells have been put on this place? It's been made Unplottable, and has a Fidelius Charm-"

"No!" Isabella gasped.

"Yes! Why do you think Ale had to come and get you?"

"I just thought... he gave a message to Professor Lupin from Grandfather..."

"Ah, yes," Juliet said, giving Isabella a sad, sympathetic smile as she stood in the doorway. "Well, good luck with... you know. All that." Isabella cringed as Juliet closed the door gently behind her. What on earth was she supposed to tell her Grandfather?