Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter. I own Unknown Daughter.

AN: This is a short chapter, but it's really just to give all the info on Alex's...uh, lineage I guess. What happened and such.

I was speechless. The boy Harry was panting, his fingers bruising into my shoulders as I slowly shook my head from side to side. Everyone in the room was silent.

"Look," I said slowly, "I don't know who told you that…but it's a lie. My dad is William Tracy." He snorted. "Seriously. Dumbledore told me about Voldemort," a few people shuddered, but I ignored them. "He said my family and I were in danger from him. I'm not related to him!"

"Actually, Miss Tracy," Dumbledore's voice floated into the room, "you are." Harry snatched his hands from me as if I were on fire and backed away from me as he looked towards Dumbledore, who was now standing in middle of the room. The old man looked incredibly weary, but I couldn't stop now.

"What do you mean?" I asked, walking up to him. "What the hell is going on?" He sighed and took my hand, guiding me to sit on one of the couches.

"I was hoping to tell you more gently," he said, casting a disappointed glance in Harry's direction. "But Voldemort is your birth father." I shook my head again.

"No," I said, "no, that doesn't make any sense." Dumbledore looked at me with compassion.

"No!" I stood, my hands shaking. "I look just like my parents!" He rose next to me.

"Miss Tracy," he said gently, "we've had this conversation. Do you remember? I told you you were adopted when we first met." He waited in silence as the memory came back to me. I sank back down on the couch.

"But it doesn't make any sense," I repeated, my voice thick with emotion. "How can I look like my parents if they're not my parents?" Dumbledore took out his wand.

"Because we put an illusion charm on you," he replied softly. "Would you like me to take it off?" I nodded, and he swished his wand at me. He said nothing, but I felt as if a bucket of warm water had been poured on me. Glancing up, I noticed the people in the room were blatantly staring at me. I also noticed a large mirror on one of the walls. Silently I stood and walked to the mirror, afraid of what I would see. My usually dark brown hair was now black and smooth, falling in soft waves below my shoulders. My hazel eyes were an icy blue, and my fair skin was now completely pale and flawless. I was frightening. My face looked the same; the same full mouth and normal nose, same cheekbones and face shape. I looked down at the rest of my body and noticed that my jeans were now slightly short for me. I was taller now, about five nine I would guess. I was also thinner; as if being lean was a genetic trait I inherited from one of my birth parents. I placed my hands, my fingers are longer, on the mirror to stabilize myself as I stared into foreign eyes. The room was, again, utterly silent.

"Who is my birth mother?" I asked quietly, still staring into those ice blue eyes. I want to see hazel…I should see hazel. Dumbledore walked behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Her name was Mnemosyne McGonagall," he said, motioning towards Ms. McGonagall in the room. "She was Minerva's sister." I tore my gaze away from the mirror to look up at Dumbledore. His eyes are gentle. His are like the sky. Mine are like icicles.

"Was?" I questioned. Dumbledore looked at Ms. McGonagall, and she stepped forward, lightly taking my hand into her own.

"Mnemosyne, my younger sister, was captured by Death Eaters in the first war when she was twenty seven," she looked deeply into my eyes, squeezing my hand, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…"she took in a shuddering breath and broke our gaze. "He raped her," she whispered, "then dropped her on our doorstep, beaten and cursed within an inch of her life." I was shaking now. I didn't want to hear any more, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from this woman, my aunt. "He did it as a warning to our family, because we were working against him. Mnemosyne wouldn't speak. The only time she made any kind of noise was when my mother asked her if she wanted to get rid of the baby," McGonagall looked up at me again, this time with a faint, sad smile. "She screamed and started to attack my mother. She couldn't stand the thought. So nine months went by and she had you." Her grip on my hand grew tighter, but in a comforting way. "She adored you. You bore, bear, a striking resemblance to him…or how he used to be…and we all thought that would make it harder for her to love you," she smiled again, "but it didn't. She called you her muse." My eyes filled with tears, as did McGonagall's, "we were almost positive that he didn't know of your existence, and we didn't dare find out what he would do if he discovered you. So we decided to give you to a family far away from the war to ensure your safety. Mnemosyne was crying so hard the night she put you in Albus' arms," at this point, McGonagall pulled me into an embrace, and I buried my head into the crook of her neck, my sobs muffled against her robe. "The day after she gave you for safe keeping, there was an attack in Diagon Alley," I didn't know what she was referring to, but it didn't matter, "she was murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange." I was gasping now, trying hard to stop the flow of tears. McGonagall pulled away, only to smooth my now loose hair from my face. "You may have his looks," she murmured, "but you are so like your mother." Her eyes brimmed with tears again. "I haven't even been able to get to know you, but just the way you hold yourself, you remind me of her so much…"she brought a shaking hand to her mouth, trying to stop her own flood of tears. I bit my lip and waited a few moments to compose myself before speaking.

"Was Alex…the name she gave me?" McGonagall nodded, and gave me a large, watery smile.
"She said she wasn't going to curse you with an odd name like our parents did to us," she chuckled, "so she named you Alex, for the city of Alexandria.

'Because she's beautiful, and she'll grow to be intelligent and loved,'

"She'd said. And she made sure we all knew your nickname was to be Alex, so you could have some normalcy in your life." I nodded, taking in deep breaths. I turned to Dumbledore, and almost started crying again at the warmth in his eyes.

"Did my parents know I wasn't theirs?" I asked, my voice still quivering with emotion. Dumbledore shook his head.

"No, but I'm sure they would have loved you just the same." I don't know why, but the way he said that made something twist in my stomach.

"You're never going to replace their memory of me, are you?" I murmured, already knowing the answer, "Not even after all this is over."

"No," he whispered, "it would be best if we did not." My eyes were aching from all the crying, so I just nodded dumbly and swayed slightly from fatigue. "Can someone…" I looked around blindly, my vision blurred, "Can someone show me to my room? I don't think I can find it on my own." Dumbledore walked towards me, but Minerva held up her hand,

"I'll take her Albus," she smiled affectionately at me, "after all, she is my niece."