Secrets

For the last month of her summer break, Nyssa was awoken by the sounds of crying babies (Cassia and her family had moved in so that Lyra could help look after the twins). Cassia, her sister, had given birth to twin girls in late June, much to the vexation of her husband, Caius. He had not wanted more children after their first and feared that his wife would have several like her mother. But that would not happen, Cassia promised, for she wanted no more after the twins. She complained continuously for the first week after the birth of her daughters that it had been painful and she almost died. The latter declaration was untrue, Nyssa told her, because if it were she would not be up and about annoying everyone with her nasally voice all day long. In response, Cassia had made a vicious comment on Nyssa's poor final grade in her Potions class, which prompted Nyssa to bring up Cassia's dismal skills with household spells. The two had not spoken since.

"I didn't cry this much, did I, mom?" She asked one morning whilst sitting at the breakfast table. It wasn't a pleasant morning, in her opinion. The two newborn baby girls were crying in their highchairs between Lyra and Cassia – Caius had already headed to work and Tristan was staying over at a friend's – and could not be consoled. It was disturbing, trying to eat breakfast only to have a loud wail erupt just as you were about to swallow a piece of toast. A person could choke.

Lyra had one hand clutching her wand, which was emitting sparkly little stars in front of the older of the twins – Lyra hoped this would console the baby – and the other stabbing a fork into a sausage so that she might have a chance to eat as well. "It's been so long that I can't really remember," she responded offhandedly, thinking to herself that it was not just that she could not remember but that she had no memories at all of Nyssa's first few months. Whether she cried for her mother's embrace or only cried for seemingly no reason as small babies often do, she did not know.

"Mother can't remember what she wasn't there for," Cassia sniped, her nose turned upwards as she brought a glass of orange juice to her lips and sipped it like they were at the muggle White House dining with foreign leaders and royalty.

Silence ensued at her words, all except for the crying babies. Lyra stopped trying to console the oldest, looking horror-struck towards Cassia. How could she have said such a thing? She knew that Cassia held very little love for Nyssa. Their relationship was one similar to that of Lacerta and Nyssa, only made worse by the fact that Cassia had tried to and sometimes did harm Nyssa when she was small out of spite. But they were sisters still. They shared the same blood, came from the same womb. That Cassia could be so cruel to her sister was something that Lyra could not grasp.

"What's that supposed to mean? I wasn't adopted. Of course mom was there when I was a baby. Or was I adopted?" The idea was absurd. She was not adopted. What pure-blood family would send their child to an orphanage? They would not run the risk of the child being adopted by half-bloods or muggle-borns.

"No, you weren't. You are our daughter." Phoenix asserted, staring at Cassia with a look that Nyssa had only seen once before when Andreus and Ronan stumbled through the front door drunker than Cooter Brown, as her grandmother said while standing beside a fretting Lyra in the living room. They had both been underage at the time and after it was discovered that Andreus had slept in the same bed with some muggle girl, though Nyssa had no idea even to this day what was so wrong about sleeping in the same bed together, the scary expression Phoenix wore now appeared on his face. He sent Nyssa to her room, though she remembered hearing shouting for what seemed like hours before someone came stomping up the stairs and the shower was turned on down the hall.

"Then what did she mean?"

"Don't listen to Cassia's lies. She's just a jealous bitch!"

"Language!" Lyra reprimanded Andreus, who was holding the metal fork in his hand a bit too tightly while staring across the table at a now enraged Cassia. The spoons and forks had stopped hitting the bowls now; all gathered now closely watching the two older siblings shout at each other. Only the twin babies continued to cry. Babies appeared to be very sensitive to the emotions of others. Perhaps that was why they had been crying nonstop since they'd been brought into the Valentine family home, Nyssa thought, because even she had picked up on the odd tension lingering.

"Language, mom? After what she just said, you're going to reprimand me and not her?"

"You always were mom's favorite! You got away with everything!"

"That's not true," Lyra protested, wishing that Andreus and Cassia had taken up their issues with each other somewhere else than the dining room table. She was furious, no doubt, at Cassia for having made such a remark. But she would not scold her in front of Nyssa. That would be like a sign of her admission to Cassia's claims and though it was the truth, she was not ready to tell her youngest that she had neglected her at the very beginning of her life when she needed her mother the most. While she suspected that Andreus was angry that she had said nothing to his older sister, Lyra suspected that his little outburst was partly because of his personal qualms with Cassia. The two had never been close, always bickering about the littlest things. "Please don't fight right now."

But the two siblings must have been possessed by the spirit of rage, because neither paid mind nor acknowledge that they had heard their mother. They continued their argument instead. "Look at how you treat our sister – all of us – like your better."

"Maybe I am better. I don't associate with filth,unlike you."

"What sort of filth do I hang around, sister? Tell me. People like you? I'd like to know so that I may scrub myself clean of them. Maybe I should start with this cup," he sneered, wiping at the glass full of milk. Cassia had been the one to set the cups on the table, pouring everyone's preference of breakfast beverage into them.

Raising her voice an octave higher so that it could be heard above the growing cries of her two newborns, Cassia taunted him, "Oh, you think that you've hidden it so well. Don't you? You really think no one knows about your filthy mudblood whores?"

Andreus was glowering now, his eyes narrowed and filled with a rage Nyssa had never before seen on the otherwise always happy, smiling face of her brother. "Did grandmother teach you that word? You always did like to copy her. Grandmother liked to do the crosswords in the newspaper, and then, suddenly, so did you. Right?" He took a short pause, dropping the fork from his hand so that he could move it towards his jeans. "My filthy mudblood whores, you said. Need me to wash out that dirty mouth?" In a swift movement of limbs, he had gone from a sitting to standing position and was now pointing his wand at Cassia, who was not slow about mimicking his actions.

"Enough!" Phoenix roared, banging his fists down upon the table – it shook violently – as he stood, the chair he was sitting in falling backwards onto the floor with a loud thud. He had often had to break up fights between Andreus and Cassia when the two were in their teenage years and beyond, but never had they pointed their wands at one another. Family did not point their wands at one another, not even playfully, he had taught them. How was he meant to protect them if they wanted to harm each other?

"Put your wands on the table," he demanded in a voice so deep and stentorian that Nyssa felt the need to cover her ears. She did, pressing her index fingers over her tragus so that the rumbling sound in her ears was now louder than her daddy's voice.

As their father had commanded, Cassia and Andreus put their wands on the table, watching each other as both lowered their hands and then dropped the thin sticks to the tabletop. "Accio," Phoenix shouted when they had moved their hands away from the wands, pointing his own white-wooded wand in the direction of Cassia's wand first and then Andreus'. He pocketed them along with his wand, and said, "Follow me." Andreus and Cassia followed him out of the room, to his study, no doubt. Nyssa had only been called in his study once and that was only because her daddy wanted to show her some old family pictures his father had found stuffed away in one of the guest bedroom closets.

A sandy-blond haired girl of twenty-four stalled at the door leading to the President of The Wizarding United States of America's office. She had just been appointed Junior Assistant to the President yesterday after Margaret Redding, who previously held this title, went one step too far on a potion that had yet to be identified and landed herself in Melcinda's Hospital for Maladies indefinitely. So far, the job was turning out to be much more than she could handle. There was so much paperwork, much more than she'd had to handle in the Agency of International Magical Peacekeeping where she'd been a lowly assistant to a portly man named John Neviers.

Aside from the paperwork, yesterday, on her very first day, the President had come in looking as if he'd just been told Voldemort was back again, and then he'd left shortly afterwards looking much worse than he had when he came in. She'd heard a few whispers here and there that someone he knew had died.

So it was a surprise when he returned to work today - hours late - with a determined expression, strode into his office and loudly pulled the door to a close. Thirty minutes later, an elderly woman with long, striking emerald green hair rushed past her desk. She had half a mind to stop the woman and ask her if her hair was natural or dyed, but knew the answer was the latter. No one could be born with that hair color.

She now stood outside the President's office, paperwork clutched in her hands, listening attentively, although at first unwillingly, to the raised voices in the office.

=ooo=

Inside the office, which was painted a royal shade of blue and adorned with assorted instruments Everett Avery, current President of The Wizarding United States or America, sometimes used to waste away time, stood a very tired, yet alert Everett. He was wrinkly – his dark brown hair was peppered with white – and his skin lined, but carried himself with a regal air. Across from him stood the emerald haired woman; her arms crossed over her chest and clear blue eyes narrowed at Everett.

"There was no need for you to come all the way here, Alcina. I will take care of our son." Everett was leaning calmly against his desk, his eyes fixated on the emerald haired woman. They had never been married, she had too much of an independent streak to allow that.

"You zink I will leave him 'ere? Zere are dark powers at work. I will not take the chance zat 'arm may come to him." Her voice was crisp and clear, and very heavily accented when it came to the English 'th' sound. It was not for this matter that she had made the journey from her home in southern France at Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic originally. She came to visit her goddaughter, but was diverted from this task once she'd heard whisper in One More, a small bar named after the owner's brother (he always wanted 'one more'), of five deaths in one night.

The victims were a married half-blood couple found at home, a muggle-born male outside a pub, and one pure-blood female with her muggle-born boyfriend lying abandoned in the woods. All had no obvious signs of an attack. All wore expressions of fright, eyes open wide. The pure-blood and her muggle-born boyfriend were found with their hands clasped, as if both had been struck at the same time. There was no question as to what killed all five. It could be nothing else but the killing curse. The half-blood couple that was been murdered were both old friends of Alcina and Everett's. They'd gone to school together, Rémi Darrieux, Lyra, and her. She had been the one to introduce the blonde-haired Rémi with roguish good looks to Rachel Temple, the shy and quiet dull brown-haired girl with a heart big enough to embrace the world. And when Alcina had landed her dream job at Beauxbaton's, it had been Rachel and Rémi who'd offered to care for her and Everett's son.

Everett sighed, massaging his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. She'd always been difficult, the love of his life. But she was not worried for an unfounded reason now, as she had often been when Julien was first born. There were dark powers at work, like she said. He knew that. It had been causing him trouble ever since he'd taken office one year ago. The previous President had warned him of a group, one that was supposedly acting on leftover sentiment from the time of Voldemort's terror. American witches and wizards told their children that Voldemort had not affected the states and that was a lie. At the same time that Britain was going through all their troubles with the man, his supporters in the states were causing trouble as well. It was a nice delusion though, for the children, to believe that European affairs had no impact on Americans; that they would be safe in the states at all times.

"He will be safe," he assured, "I will make sure of it."

Alcina scoffed, unsatisfied with this response. It seemed that Everett did not realize what was truly happening, what was going to occur. You could not guarantee anyone's safety in the years that were to come. "You will not be able to protect him so easily. Why do you zink Lyra was not so against Nyssa going to 'ogwarts?"

"And will you tell him that? That he and everyone he knows is in grave danger from something he cannot see in front of him?"

"He does not need –"

"You would uproot him from the only life he's ever known! From his friends! And take him to France. France! What will you say to him? Hello, Julien, I'm your mother and you'll be living with me from now on? He doesn't even know you!" He immediately regretted his words once he'd finished and seen the crestfallen look upon Alcina's face. There was no need to have said that her own son did not know her. She knew it. Julien did not know either of his parents well, only having communicated through letters, receiving Birthday presents from faces he'd only seen in photographs all these years.

"I only want to protect him," Alcina mumbled, running her fingers over the oval pendant on her chest. It was a gift Julien had sent her when he was still young and believed his mommy was coming back for him soon. He stopped sending gifts two years after that, having come to the realization that he had been left behind with his parent's friends so that they could pursue careers.

"So do I," Everett responded, removing his hand from his forehead to let it fall back down to his side. He was always saying the wrong thing. It was part of the reason, he thought, that Alcina did not want to marry him even after so many years and his promises of giving her freedom. His quick temper and harsh words reminded her of her father, an alcoholic in his later years that hit her mother more than just once or twice. "Maybe it would be better for him to go to France with you," he admitted, though was quick to add, "But it should be up to Julien, don't you agree?"

"Oui."

Dear Nyssa,

In your last letter, you wrote about the five deaths that recently occurred in the United States. I asked Father about it over supper last night and he became rather silent. He said he'd heard about it though, at work. And then, would you believe that just two nights ago there were attacks here. Two muggles died. The Daily Prophet said it was the killing curse. Albus' dad was at the scene, so I suspect he might know more. I'm going to write him about it. It's strange though, that these killings would happen so close to each other. I hope this doesn't have any negative effect on us going back to Hogwarts in September.

Wishing you the best,

Scorpius Malfoy

=ooo=

Dear Nyssa,

I can't believe that someone killed all those people! Mum and dad are worried, you know. They won't say anything if I ask, but I think these killings remind them of the time when Voldemort was still around. Have you heard about the two muggles that were murdered here? It's too much of a coincidence. James says something bad is happening that our parents want to keep from us. What do your parents say?

With Love,

Rose Weasley

=ooo=

Dear Nyssa,

I'll tell you what I've told Scorpius: I don't know anything about what's happening. Dad won't talk about it and mum switches the subject whenever James or I bring it up. She says we'll frighten Lily with that sort of talk. I've asked Teddy, but even he won't talk about it. He's arguing with Victoire right now, by the way. I hope they don't end it. Your house elf called me Master Potter. Can you please ask him not to? It sounds odd.

Write soon,

Albus Potter

=ooo=

Dear Nyssa,

I've read the news, yes, but the topic has not been brought up at home. I think it's someone that does not like muggles and muggle-borns is doing the killings. We don't need to worry then. How has your summer been so far? Are your sister's babies still living with you? I hope you've looked over your books for next year already. It's always good to be prepared beforehand.

Warm regards,

Asher Zabini

=ooo=

Dear Nyssa,

Have you heard about the killings? It's scary. Mum says not to worry, but I do. I'll be glad when we're back at Hogwarts. It's one of the safest places in the world, you know. We'll be safe there. I can't wait to be back. See you soon.

Take care,

Olivia Browne

After the news of the five killings in the states had spread like wildfire, Nyssa had contacted her friends and learned, to her surprise, that they'd had some killings of their own. That made it a total of seven people – living, breathing humans – murdered by the killing curse over the summer. It had been unexpected, Olivia sending her a letter. They were roommates, but the two did not spend a great deal of time together outside of the dorm. She wondered if Olivia had sent similar letters to their other roommates, or if she had only confided her fear to her.

She thought about Rose's letter most, asking her what her own parents had to say about the recent deaths. Not much, in truth. Her father had asked her mother on the day it was printed in the newspaper if the couple found murdered in their home were old friends of her? Somberly, her mother had replied that yes, they were old friends; the husband had gone to school with her. He, Nyssa's godmother, and Lyra had all been close friends.

Perhaps Alcina would tell her more. She was never one to shy away from giving her opinion on matters. Nyssa was going to see her today. Her mom was going to drop her off at Tally's Inn, where Alcina was staying, before heading off to her brother's house to help him set up a room for their parents. Her mother's parents had decided to move in with her uncle after her grandpa's recent illness. They were getting old, they said, and wouldn't last much longer now. Nyssa found the though upsetting.

She managed to finish writing a reply letter to nearly everyone – the return letters to Asher and Albus were all that remained – before she left. Again, she traveled by means of side-along apparition, though she had complained hundreds of times to both her parents by now of how much she hated it. It felt like a huge weight was pressing down on your entire being and you could not breath in the few split seconds that you were traveling. They ended up outside the tavern, which was brimming with several other witches and wizards pointing at newspapers in groups talking in hushed voices. Her mom weaved through the crowd, bringing her inside the rowdy inn. It was loud inside and there was a strong smell of alcohol in the air. Several witches and wizards sat at the bar drinking, and Nyssa watched a short old man fall backwards off one of the stools, causing her to giggle. She was quickly dragged upstairs, away from all the drinking and noise, by her mom.

Up two flights of stairs and at the end of a hallway, they found Room 23, the room Alcina had said she was staying in. Lyra knocked twice, glancing behind her as if suspecting a crazy person wielding a knife to lynch either her or Nyssa at any moment. The door swung open moments after Lyra knocked, the blue eyes of Alcina greeting the two of them. She invited Lyra to stop inside for a short while before she headed off, but Lyra refused and bid her goodbye, telling Nyssa that she would be by to pick her up later.

Inside the room, Nyssa was puzzled to find an older brown haired boy with blues eyes staring at her. He had his arms crossed over his chest and looked very grumpy. "Who is she?" He seethed, jerking his head in Nyssa's direction.

Alcina placed her hands on Nyssa's shoulders, calmly replying, "This is Nyssa Valentine, my goddaughter. Nyssa, zis grumpy young man," said boy scoffed, "is my son, Julien Avery."

Nyssa gasped. "You have a son?" She had no idea. Never had her godmother told her that she had a son. Did her mom even know? Maybe it was a big secret, Alcina Mizell's hidden child.

"So I'm a secret then?" The boy was quick to question, venom in the tone of his voice. He had paid no thought to his mom and dad for years, until the couple that had been substitute parents for most of his life was murdered and his biological parents showed up on his doorstep. It was actually one of the neighbor's doorsteps, because the home he'd grown up in was now a crime scene and no one without the proper authority was allowed to go in.

"No," Alcina lied easily, "I only zought zat Nyssa might be jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Nyssa insisted. Why should she be? She'd actually always wished that Keenan or Alcina had children. Their children would have been her close friends, though she wasn't sure now, looking at the angry Julien, that she could ever become friends with him. "I have too many siblings to be jealous. You could have told me."

"Oh, does she actually write to you and visit? Give you a kiss on the cheek and a hug round the middle? She treats someone else's child better than her own," Julien spat, staring at the ugly yellow-painted wall. Had he been able to produce fire with glares, the wall would have been burnt to crisps.

Nyssa did not like the way he was speaking of her godmother. It made her angry. Who was he, this random boy that did not even know her, to speak about her that way. Even if he was justified in being angry because Alcina had not been a good mother to him, he had no right to go talking about her that way. "Don't talk about Alcina that way!"

"She's my mom! I can talk about her how I like!" He roared, jumping to his feet and turning his glare upon the younger girl.

"She's my godmother! And I say you can't!"

"You two stop right now," Alcina ordered with a stern expression on her face. She looked every bit the Professor that she was at this moment. Her friends had often joked that she would be kind to students, but her students would disagree as they often called her the 'She-Devil' behind her back.

The two children went silent, averting their eyes from one another. "Zat's better," Alcina commented, her cheery disposition back. She walked towards a rickety side table shoved against the wall beside the left side of the bed where ten or so bottles of Cream Soda were laid down. Grabbing two, she walked back to the two children, handing one off to Julien first, who snatched it from her rather than gently taking it, and then Nyssa while she ushered the girl further into the room and made her sit down in a chair by the dirty window.

"How has school been? Julien goes to Byzovion," she said to Nyssa and then to Julien, "and Nyssa goes to 'Ogwarts."

"It's Bythovion," Julien corrected. He bitterly thought that she should have been able to learn to pronounce English better by her age, though he did feel a slight pang of guilt for being so rude, knowing as he did that she had an accent. But it wasn't enough guilt for him to apologize. She deserved this kind of treatment from him. It was her fault he was so angry.

"Do you know Tristan Valentine? He's my brother," Nyssa asked. She had thought to make a comment on his correcting Alcina's pronunciation, but bit her tongue – literally – and did not.

"He's a year below me," he replied off-handedly. It wasn't that he did not have anything else to say about the boy, more so that he had too much. Tristan Valentine was too conceited and proud of his 'pure-blood' lineage. He acted like he was better than others and constantly demeaned the muggle-born students or those he deemed 'blood traitors' for hanging around them. In the past school year he'd managed to bully one muggle-born enough that he left school, saying that he no longer wished to be a wizard. He thought he ruled the school, Tristan Valentine, because his ancestor had been a co-founder. But he wasn't about to say all this to the boy's sister, even if it would give him vindictive pleasure.

"Julien likes, what was it, dear?"

"Alchemy," Julien said, for once not sounding as if he wanted to rip someone's head off.

Alcina smiled, remembering that Everett had once said this was his favorite class at school as well. They were alike, father and son, though both had only met three times so far that Julien was able to remember. She would not tell Julien though, that he was like his father, because when Everett had made the comment that Julien looked like he did at his age, the boy had become upset. "Zat is similar to Potions, I zink. Julien could help you zen, Nyssa."

"No thanks."

Julien chuckled, "You're lousy at something so simple?"

"It is not!" Nyssa cried indignantly. That was what everyone seemed to think so far, that Potions was an easy class. It really wasn't, even Professor Sawyer had assured her of that. Some people just had a natural talent for it and that was why they say it as easy, but others had to work hard and actually learn to have talent in potions-making. To avoid anymore commentary on the subject, she asked Alcina what her parents had said little about, "Mom said that the witch and wizard found at home were friends of yours. They were murdered by the killing curse, weren't they? That's what the papers say. And my friends from Hogwarts have all said that two muggles were murdered in England not long after. Do you know who did it? Why?"

Perhaps she had asked too many questions, but Alcina's face had gone pale and Julien looked lost, staring down at his hands lying in his lap. Julien was the first to say something in a very shaky, quiet voice, "They were my parents, sort of, the couple. There was no reason for anyone to kill them. No reason at all."

"Ze people zat murdered zem so heartlessly are not good people." Alcina forced the words from her mouth. It was hard, because her throat suddenly felt very tight. She wanted to hug Julien in this moment but was too afraid the he would recoil at her touch. "Zat is what you need to know." This was not true. Nyssa needed to know that people around her were not safe. But Alcina could not tell her that the people she was meant to trust the most were not good people.

Nyssa nodded, not satisfied with this answer. It wasn't what she wanted to hear. Not even close. But it was obviously a touchy subject and she should never have asked. That much she realized. Still, she wanted to ask more. She wanted to know what was happening and not be left in the dark, like all the other children. Even her older siblings, she was sure, knew what was happening when she didn't. Tristan, maybe not, but the others definitely did. It was evident in the way they came over to visit more often than usual this summer and how her dad often went to see them.

It just wasn't fair.

Chapter 9! XD And here we finally see something sinister starting up, yes?

Do you think Alcina knows who did the murdering specifically? If not, Everett, the President? What will Julien do, go with his mom to France or stay behind in the states with his dad? Did you picture Tristan as the type of boy he is at school on the way he acts at home? Many people are keeping secrets from Nyssa.

Please review and tell me your thoughts!