Remus was in a daze.

The sun shone through the window and the sky was a cheerful shade of blue, as feathery, white clouds fluttered across it. It was a hot day and a slight breeze reached Remus through the Kitchen window, the plants in pots' leaves swaying in the breeze as if performing a slow dance. Remus watched them in agony.

He could hardly believe his ears when his cousin Mary (whom he had not seen in twenty years) told him about his Father's passing a few weeks back. She came round to express anger that he had not been present, but had become overwhelmed with immense guilt when Remus revealed that he had not heard of his father's death.

The werewolf couldn't believe that he had not heard of Lyall Lupin's death. It seemed just yesterday – and not two months ago – that Lyall was telling Callie incredible stories about Hogwarts. After a few glasses of whisky he had promised to buy Callie her first wand, which she would have been going to buy with him next Wednesday.

Somehow, he would have to break the news to Callie that her Grandpa was dead.

She was still asleep, no doubt, and Remus hoped she had not overheard Cousin Mary telling him the grievous news. Remus glanced upstairs, and so did Cousin Mary.

"Uncle spoke about Callie a lot," Mary whispered, her voice husky. "How old is she?"

"Eleven."

"He made her sound a lot older."

Mary Hewson was twenty-eight years old, and she reminded Remus a lot of his mother. She had shoulder-length, honey hair and big blue eyes. Remus remembered his anger whilst at Hogwarts to find Sirius and Mary in the bath together. Mary did not know Remus was a werewolf.

"I'm so sorry for shouting, Remus," she said when Remus didn't answer at first, "it can't be easy for you."

"When you lose your parents, you'll understand."

Mary looked down at her lap, and played with the fabric of her pretty blue dress. "I regret not staying in contact with you; you were always my favourite cousin."

"I was your only cousin."

Mary smiled, and she went to stand beside Remus. She blocked the sunlight, so she made the room look slightly dimmer. Cousin Mary took his hand in her soft one, and squeezed it. "They read his will out yesterday. He left you nearly everything."

At that, Remus looked up, astonished. "Everything?"

"He gave his house to Uncle Patrick and his collections and books to Dad. He left you and Callie all his money."

His Father was rich. He had been a world famous expert on Non-Human Spirituous Apparitions so that had caused his wealth. It wasn't until Remus left home he became deprived of money, refusing charity from his parents, so he wasn't always short for money. When Callie was born, Lyall gave her twenty galleons every birthday and every Christmas – which was more than what Remus earned in five months. So Remus knew, that by inheriting Lyall's money would change his and Callie's life.

Mary removed her hand from Remus' and opened her brown satchel. She pulled out a brown envelope where Remus' name was scribbled in his late father's familiar hand. Mary gave it to a shaking Remus.

"This is the key to his Gringotts Vault where you'll find the money and earthly belongings he left for you. I think he wrote you a letter, too; he wrote everybody else one."

"Thank you," said Remus, holding the letter in his hands like he had held Callie in his arms as a baby. "Won't you give your family love?"

"You can do when you and Callie come for Dinner next Friday."

That was Full Moon, Remus shook his head. "I have plans – important plans for Callie. Thank you, Mary. Thank you."

She nodded. "Can I use your floo? I don't like apparating much."

Remus told her that she could. In farewell, Mary flung her arms around her cousin's neck, and tentatively, Remus patted her on the back. She smiled at him, wished him well and walked to his fireplace. After a few minutes silence was restored to the house, and Remus opened the envelope.

Sure enough, the envelope contained a key, and he set that aside and took the parchment in his hand. It was all written by his father: the scruffy writing Remus had seen many times, and just reading the first word made tears sting in his eyes.

Remus,

If you're reading this then I have surely died. Surrounding you, I hope, are your Uncle's and Aunt's and Cousin's and Callie, who I hope, you will put a brave face on for.

When your Mother died and when the war began, we discussed what would happen when the last of us died. Our home, money and possessions are in no use for Muggles, so it's the Lupin family who shall get our belongings. Your Uncle Patrick will get the house, and my least-favourite brother, your Uncle Tom and his children will get all the useless crap in my house.

So you will get all my money, and when Callie turns seventeen, she too will have access to the vault. You've never been good with money: as a child you wanted to invest every knut you got, but I'm telling you, Remus: if that money is still there by the time Callie has children then I'll haunt the pair of you.

Buy Callie anything she wants. Get Lily Potter to take her round Diagon Alley or wherever they get their clothes from nowadays, and buy some pretty dress robes. This money is for spending Remus, so let your daughter spend it.

You should buy yourself some new robes too; you haven't changed them since you were twenty.

You've worked so hard in your job your entire life so you deserve a break. With the money I shall give you it should be plenty enough for you to leave your job and spend more time with your family. If that doesn't appeal to you, then go out there and get a job you enjoy Remus; not one you're obliged into.

You always wanted to become a Professor, so do that. Go to Hogwarts and teach – fulfil your dream job. It will make you happy, Remus, you can't deny that, and if you're happy, then I'll be one content ghost.

Tell Callie that I love her, tell her that I'll be watching over her. She's the best thing to happen to you, so do not let her leave. Protect her; you don't want her to go through what you have.

So this is it. The end of my letter. Don't ruin your life, fulfil it with careless spending and a job you enjoy.

I want you to lead the life you deserve.

Loving Regards,

Dad.

By the end of the letter, tears were pouring from Remus' eyes, and as he reached the end, he wiped them with the end of his tattered robes. His father's dying request had been for him to be happy. But how could he be happy with Lyall gone?

A few minutes after reading and he heard noise from in the hallway. He rubbed his eyes to hide his tears, but when Callie walked through the Kitchen door, she realised Remus was upset, which made her upset.

"Dad, have you been crying?" Remus – unconvincingly – shook his head. "What's happened?"

He sniffed, and then gave her a soft smile. "Your Grandpa's died."

She was saddened, and she went to sit next to Remus. "When?"

"A few weeks ago."

Her mouth formed an 'o'. "And you didn't know?" Again, Remus shook his head. "How did he die?"

His head shook again, and he felt fresh tears form in his eyes. Callie saw that, and she stood up, and like Cousin Mary, flung her arms around his neck. But Remus preferred his daughter hugging her, and he held her tightly against him. He tried his hardest not to cry, taking his father's advice to stay strong for her, but it was near impossible.

Callie noticed the letter on the table, and took it. Remus allowed her to look at it, and she read it, her face blank and emotionless. When she got to the part about inheriting money, the eleven-year-old gasped and looked at her dad.

"He gave us his money?" Remus nodded slowly. "How much?"

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "You know your Grandpa is – was, rich. It could be up to five hundred galleons."

She gasped again. "Are you going to quit your job?"

"No," he replied automatically and she looked disheartened, so Remus quickly added: "If you would still be here next year, of course I would."

"But you hate your job."

"I'd hate being lonely more."

She bit her lip, and then she put the half-read letter down. "Get a new job."

"It's not that easy to get a job that would employ a Werewolf, Callie."

"Why not look in the Newspaper? You could work in Gringotts or for the Daily Prophet or get a better job in the Ministry of Magic."

"I've always wanted to be a Professor, and there are no jobs for Hogwarts. Hagrid's filled in the position for Care of Magical Creatures – and I never even took that as an O.W.L."

Being a Professor at Hogwarts wasn't Callie's ideal job for her father, when she would be joining the school in just less than two months, she didn't want her father to be there, watching her every move all the time. It was bad enough he did it at home. Hogwarts was her chance for freedom.

"Grandpa wanted you to be happy."

"I am happy," Remus lied. He then stood up, roughly rubbed his eye and took the key from the table. "I'm going to go to Gringotts and see how much Grandpa has left us. Will you be alright on your own? I'll be no longer than an hour."

She said that she would be and Remus kissed her on the top of the head.

Grabbing his wand, Remus put on his shoes and disapparated to Diagon Alley. He landed in the middle of the busy street, and an old and obese man walked into him, causing Remus to stumble a few paces. Perhaps Remus would have stopped to apologise if he wasn't in such a sour mood, but he wasn't in any state to talk to a man who had just called him an 'inconsiderate bastard' and with quick pace, strode to the large building that was Gringotts.

He had been there hundreds of times, but he had only ever really been to put money in Callie's vault. It was quite empty for a Saturday morning, so Remus got to speak to a Goblin instantly about opening his Dad's account.

Remus placed the key on the desk. "I'm here to open my Dad's account. Lyall Lupin, Vault twenty-six."

The Goblin inspected the bronze key, and without a word, pushed it back over to Remus and walked round the side so that he faced Remus. "Come with me," the Goblin ordered.

Remus followed the little beast into the familiar alcove where he would take a cart to go to the vault, but the Goblin walked him to a staircase that Remus had never seen before in all the time he had been to Gringotts.

"Up the stairs, use the key and help yourself," and left without another word.

The climb up the stairs was literally breath taking, and Remus was gasping for air once he had climbed. It must have been over three hundred stairs he had scaled, and Remus promised himself that next time, he would insist on taking a cart up to his vault.

Still heavily breathing, Remus walked past six vaults until he came across his father's. He scanned the door to look where he would put the key, and found it, about six foot high and to the left of the door. Remus reached up, put the key in the lock, turned it, and with a great push, opened the grand and iron door. What was inside the vault was memorising.

Piles and piles of gold coins were in front of him. There were more than five hundred galleons, Remus knew at once, and he walked further into the outsized vault. He was gawking at all the money, and Remus reached for his own small sack of money that were in his robe pockets. The brown sack was filled with five knuts, three sickles and one galleon, and Remus tipped the contents onto the floor, dropped to his knees and picked up a handful of galleons.

He was being greedy and it made him laugh.

He took almost twenty-five galleons from the vault and it looked no different than had it done before. He tightened it with the string and returned it in his pocket as well as the key. Remus stood back and admired the gold and shook his head.

Oh Dad, he thought with a smile.

Though his father may have died many weeks before news got to Remus, he never would have thought anything good would come from it. Of course, he was distraught at the news of his father passing, but all this money would make a better life for Callie, and this was what he was concerned about for the minute.

He wouldn't tell anybody how much money he had been given – not even Callie. It wasn't neither James nor Sirius' business how much money he had inherited. He'll just say a 'small' fortune that would be 'easily' spent. He would take Callie shopping for nice clothes. He wouldn't have to worry about her Hogwarts tuition or the shame she would bear by wearing second-hand robes. She would have the finest school and dress robes, books and cauldrons Remus would buy. He would be able to leave his job and pursue his dream career.

But for now, he'd go and take Callie out for a nice dinner, and maybe later, he'd go and buy himself some new robes.


Remus' fortune did not go amiss by James and Sirius.

One week after Remus learned of his father's death and opened his vault at Gringotts, James, Sirius and Remus were taking their children round Diagon Alley to get their Hogwarts equipment ready for next year.

All the children whom were going to Hogwarts were present. Even Sybil, who had begged her Mama to let her go with her friends, just as Harry had done with his own mother. Both were reluctantly dragged along by their father's and with their younger siblings. Both could think of one hundred other things they would rather be doing with their day instead of shopping for their school items. Harry's was playing Quidditch. Sybil's was poking her eyes out.

To begin with, Sirius and James were cautious (like always) about spending money in front of Remus. They had gone to Flourish and Blotts first, and had headed towards the second-hand books for Remus' sake, but when Remus took Callie to the books that she needed, all brand new, leather-bound covers, took them to the till and paid for them, Sirius was astonished to see just how much gold Remus had in his sack. He had more than Sirius did himself, and he shared this news with James as they stood in the back of Ollivander's Shop.

"We knew his Dad was rich," James whispered once they got into the little shop. "He just spent fifteen galleons on Callie's books! That's more than he's ever spent on anything."

"His Dad must have left him more than he's told us," Sirius mused.

The three youngest children were getting their wands. Remus watched proudly as Callie's arm was measured and questions asked about her. Sybil had informed her father that the robes she wore cost fifteen galleons from Madam Malkin's because she herself had liked them. That had started Sirius' speculation on how much money Remus had acquired.

It took Callie only two wands to decide which one she would have. It was Nine Inches, Unicorn Mane and made of Sycamore. She held it proudly in her hands, and was comparing it to Sybil's by the window (Ten Inches, Dragon Heartstring and made of Acacia) while Castor was having his chosen. It took Castor nineteen attempts and had blast a wall through Ollivander's shelf. Anxiously, Ollivander passed Castor a Twelve Inch, Phoenix Talon and Elder Wand (hoping that it would not succeed and Castor having to buy his wand elsewhere) and much to Ollivander's belief, it suited Castor, and he walked away with a twenty galleon wand. Jacob took only five tries, which resulted in a wand very much like his brother's: 11 inches, Hawthorn and Phoenix Feather.

Proudly walking away with their wands, they went into Madam Malkin's robe shop. A young boy was being fitted for robes, and Madam Malkin jumped up when she saw the newcomers enter her shop.

"Right, William, you stay there. Sybil, we'll do you first: jump onto the stool next to William – my have you grown – and we'll get your robes fitted. Will you need all new uniform, my dear?"

"Yes please," Sybil said, and she stood on the stool next to William.

"Size small and Slytherin?" Madam Malkin knew this, and she grabbed new shirts, jumpers, cardigans, skirts and ties and thrust them into Sirius' arms. "Alright, we'll get your robes measured. William, you can get down – Harry, take his place."

Harry did so, and she fetched the same items for Harry as she did for Sybil, only in medium and Gryffindor.

"There have been a lot of your age coming in today," Madam Malkin informed as she pinned Harry's robes. "Not many first years though – William's our first one." William was sat on a chair by Madam Malkin's counter, reading a book. "When's your brother coming to fetch you, my dear?"

William looked up, checked the clock and said: "Now."

"Right – Sybil, yours are done... Can one of the little ones come up now – yes, you'll do."

Callie took her place, and Sybil went and propped herself next to her Dad on the window sil. She rubbed her arm and whispered to him.

"She stabbed me with a pin," she complained.

"You probably didn't stay still," Sirius returned.

She frowned, and began swinging her legs on the ledge. "I'm bored. Can I go to the Apothecary and get my ingredients?"

"Stay with us," Sirius advised to his daughter. "Don't you want to experience this with your brother?"

She shook her head.

Two weeks into the summer holidays without communication from her friends had been terrible. She was eager to know how Katie Bell and Blaise's relationship had turned out over the first two weeks of the holiday, but no one had told her. Daphne was in Norway, Draco was – she didn't know where Draco was, actually – and she didn't bother writing to anybody else. She hoped on seeing Blaise or Katie or Draco today, but she saw no one she knew, which made her trip to Diagon Alley tiresome.

"What about the clothes – have you looked at the clothes here in this shop?"

Sybil shook her head. "I looked yesterday and there was nothing I wanted."

That was a lie; Sybil had returned from shopping with her Mother and Isabelle yesterday with ten new outfits. She was wearing one of them now: a red dress and black, bulky shoes which made an irritating noise when she walked.

The vain girl sighed, and she tapped her thigh with her wand as she witnessed her little brother being measured for his robes. She was disinterested in him starting Hogwarts. All she cared about was him not embarrassing her. Sybil didn't love her brother. She hated to admit it, but she didn't. She loved Isabelle – she knew that just by holding her the first time.

It was a relief to be reunited with her baby sister after a long day of shopping. Sybil, as soon as she stepped through the front door, went to find Isabelle, and she was asleep in her temporary bed in the Living Room, with Helena only in the next room and cooking Dinner.

Sybil knew from past experience not to wake Isabelle when she was sleeping. It was on the fourth day of the summer holidays, and like yesterday and the day before, she was bored. Her Mama and Dad were at work and Castor was out with his friends. Her parents had trusted her to look after a four month old baby (which she was bewildered at) and at first, Sybil thought it might be fun, but by lunchtime, Isabelle had not woken up, and Sybil ended up staring at a sleeping baby. She was very cute, Sybil decided, but very boring. So Sybil held Isabelle and she woke her up. For a few seconds she was quiet, but after that, her baby sister began to make horrible screeching noises like a Banshee. She didn't stop crying for four hours, which made Sybil cry and scream with anger. Luckily for Sybil, Sirius came home early and put Isabelle back to sleep. Sybil now dared not go anywhere near Isabelle when she was crying.

When Sybil crouched over Isabelle's bed, she was awake and chewing on a toy, so Sybil lifted her sister's small and fragile body, brought her to the sofa and sat her on her lap.

She was much nicer than Castor had been as a baby – Sybil could actually recall that. Castor would scream through the night and had tried to bite Sybil three or four times a day, pull on her hair and throw up on her. Her sister did none of those things. Isabelle was lovely to Sybil, so Sybil was lovely to Isabelle.

Something was odd about Isabelle though. She had a very different appearance than any of the other children in their small family. Even though she and Castor shared the same mother and father, they did not look at all alike. The most obvious of it was the hair; Isabelle had blonde hair, both Castor and Sybil had brown hair. Like Sybil though, Isabelle had blue eyes, but Helena did not. Sybil's father – apparently – had blue eyes, which was where she inherited it from. Isabelle's father did not, and neither did her mother.

"You're a weird little girl, did you know that?" Sybil questioned, to which she received a spit bubble. "You probably don't. But you are, strange. I'm strange too. I'm not very clever; I had to be tutored in one of my lessons, but that stopped when I told the tutor that I fancied him. If you do badly at school, I'll tutor you; we won't have the problem Cedric and I did," Sybil glanced at her mother who was in the Kitchen cooking. She had the radio on and she was singing along, and Sybil rolled her eyes. "I hope you're closer to our Mama than I am. I hope you can tell her if you meet someone like Cedric or Blaise and you like them like I do. I don't think you'll have much trouble when it comes to boys, Izzy; you're going to be really very beautiful when you get older – and you're going to be smart and make Dad and Mama proud. I never could – tell me what it feels like, yeah, to make them proud. I want to know. I've never known. Not really." She bent down and kissed her sister on her little nose. "I hope I'll make you proud, because I like you Izzy, and there are not many people who I can say that too."

A few hours later, they were joined for dinner by James, Lily, Harry and Jacob. It was common that they came round for dinner most nights and vice versa, but with Isabelle, it had been more difficult to dine together. Sybil had been unaware, and their dining company had been a shock to her. If she had known, she would have made plans to have dinner with somebody else like Daphne – which was probably the reason why her parents did it: so she wouldn't have time to switch plans.

She was sat next to Harry over dinner, which neither of them were pleased about. It was an observable tactic of making them friends again, but both of them knew it wasn't going to work.

Sybil stabbed at her meat over dinner. She'd never been fond of pork, really, but she ate it because she liked how it would fall off the bone in her mouth. Now, she had lost her appetite after being stuck with the Potter's for dinner.

"Where are Remus and Callie?" Sybil desperately wanted to know when she was called to the Dining Room. "They normally eat with us."

"They had plans," Lily answered.

When Harry got to the dinner table, the only place vacant was next to Sybil. With a desperate look to his father to switch places, James gave him a stern and commanding look to sit next to Sybil, which he reluctantly had to do.

They began dinner, and that was when Sybil began stabbing her food. Helena gave her daughter a stern look to stop her, but she made more of a scene to do it.

"Sybil, enough," commanded Sirius.

She scowled at her father and put down her knife. "I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten all day-"

"-I'm not hungry."

"You have to eat something," Lily cut across gently. "Or you'll be ill."

"I'd rather be ill than have dinner with you."

Helena slammed her fork down. "Sybil!"

She shrugged, raised her fork and put a carrot in her mouth. "Only joking."

"It's alright," Lily said with a shy laugh.

Sometimes Sybil hated how kind Lily could be, and it made her feel bad, sometimes, how little she thought of her. She knew she would be shouted at later because of her comment, but she didn't care much to think about it.

"So who do you two reckon the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor will be?" James asked, looking at Sybil and Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Both tried to attack me, so the new teacher can't get much worse unless it's Voldemort himself."

"We were kinda taught by Voldemort in First Year," Sybil reasoned before realising she had spoken to Harry. "He was growing on the back of his head."

There was a shocked silence at the two's communication, and desperately trying to keep it flowing, Sirius asked: "Who are your favourite teachers then? Have you got any tips for Castor and Jacob for starting next year?"

"Try not and draw attention to the fact you're my brother," Harry advised to Jacob. "Because Snape will hate you."

Even a snarky remark proved a new milestone for Harry and Sybil. "Only because you're rubbish at potions and don't pay attention."

"Says the one who had a Tutor."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "You never told me you were being tutored in Potions."

She smiled meekly. "Professor Snape suggested it."

"He would," commented James. "Who was it?"

"Cedric Diggory."

Sirius laughed. "You must have learned about as much from him as a troll."

"I don't think it was the teaching she was interested in," Harry claimed in a mocking, melodious voice.

"You think I was interested in Cedric?"

"Why else would you let him Tutor you? If it was anyone else you wouldn't have bothered going."

"What if learning about Potions was important to me? What if I actually was concerned with my education and not snogging him?"

"Then I'd be amazed."

She stabbed her fork down on her plate, and she dragged it along the china making a horrible, screeching noise. "Sybil!" cried Helena. "Stop that!"

"Why can't I see my friends?"

"What?"

The table fell silent. Even Jacob and Castor – who had been quietly plotting a way to get rid of the peas on their plate undetected – stopped talking to stare at Sybil who, once again, was ruining a lovely time.

"Why aren't you letting me see my friends?"

"Sybil, this isn't the time-"

"-No," Sirius put up his hand. "James and Lily are family. If Sybil wants to embarrass herself, she can do it in front of them as well. So come on then: what's so desperately important it can't wait until after dinner?"

A lot less bolder: "Why don't you like my friends?"

"Because they're the children of Death Eaters!"

"No they're not!" Sybil cried. "Callie's Daphne's cousin! Blaise Zabini's Mum has never been a Death Eater! I'm the daughter of a Death Eater for crying out loud-"

"-Who told you that?" Helena asked, worried.

Sybil formed an 'o' with her mouth. "You, just then."

Helena and Sirius exchanged looks, and Sybil fed herself another carrot, and then she looked at Harry. "Please tell them Daphne and Blaise are nice."

Harry rolled his eyes. "They're not the worst of her friends."

"We've had Daphne round our house before," Sirius reasoned. "And she's a very sweet girl."

"If she wasn't Remus' niece you wouldn't let her."

"She's not Remus' niece; Lydia and Remus never actually married," James informed.

"I don't care."

"Sybil, stop being rude!"

"Stop trying to control my life!" She cried, hysterically. "You can't stop me from being friends with Draco Malfoy, no matter how hard you try. You have no control over me at Hogwarts, and I haven't killed anybody, nor have I tortured anyone – I haven't even lifted my own wand to anybody in my class because I think fighting is stupid and pointless. Okay, I may have hexed one or two people when they annoy me – but you two mercilessly bullied Professor Snape at Hogwarts, how does that make you any better than someone like Draco, who is nothing like his father, and who by, say, having one coffee with me isn't going to convert me to be a Death Eater, because he hasn't done it so far in two years. There's no difference than being with my friends at Hogwarts than there is now. What are you so scared about? That when I come home I'll have a Dark Mark on my left arm?"

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe we have been too harsh on you-"

"-Sirius! She is not having anything to do with Draco Malfoy when I can control it."

"Not even Draco then! Why can't I go to Hogsmede with Daphne and Blaise and some of the others?" She looked at James and Lily. "You let Harry!"

"That's... Different," Lily reasoned.

"How?" Neither Lily nor James said anything, and then Sybil looked desperately at her father. "I'm sorry for ruining dinner and being a spoilt brat, but you never listen to me unless you're trying to act like good parents in front of people. Please let me see my friends Dad."

"Fine," Sirius relented, and he placed his knife and fork together on the plate. "Do what you want. If I had it my way you could spend as much time with them as you want. If I had it my way you'd know who your father is. It's just your mother who's determined to dictate you."

"How is this my fault? Is it so wrong that I don't want my daughter befriending Death Eaters?"

"They're children, Helena," Sirius reminded. "And Voldemort's gone." Helena fell silent, and she left the room. "None of this is your fault; I've been meaning to say that to your Mama for many years. Go and floo to your friends – any of them and say you'll see them tomorrow. You can go and have tea with Draco if you'd wish to, I couldn't give a shit."

And with that, Sirius left the table. Sybil crossed her arms and sat back against the chair. "You ruin everything!" Castor cried.

"Shut up, Castor," Sybil advised grumpily.

"I hate you!" He screamed, much louder than anybody had raised their voice over dinner, and he ran from the room, storming up the stairs.

"Sorry," Sybil grumbled. "This is my fault."

"No it's not," James said, "don't apologise. None of this is your fault."

"It is, though," she disagreed.

"No it's not," Lily promised, and she took Sybil's hand. "It's a trouble that your parents have been struggling with for a long time. They're not angry at you."

"They should be," Harry muttered.

Sybil sighed. "Sorry this has been a crappy dinner. I promise next time I'll be a little bit better behaved."

"A little bit?"

"I don't want you to get your hopes up."

James laughed, and he put his cutlery down. "Come on, we should go."

"Leave the dysfunctional family to murder each other. Good idea."

James only smiled at her, and lead Jacob and Harry from the room. Lily lingered back, and looked at Sybil. "Your Mama only worries about you."

"Why?"

"Because she doesn't want you to get hurt."

Sybil prodded the floor with the tips of her toes. "Why doesn't Dad mind if I speak to my friends?"

"Because he went through the exact same thing when he was your age; his parents would let him see or speak to his friends whilst he was at home. I don't think he can bare for you to go through the same thing that he did, and I just don't think Helena understands how terrible it was for the both of you."

"It is pretty terrible."

Lily pulled Sybil into a hug, and she kissed her on the top of the head. "I don't think you're a spoilt brat, Sybbie; I think you're a lovely girl."

Sybil hugged Lily back. "I think you're the first person to ever say that about me."

"I doubt that," and Lily pulled away. "If you ever want to speak to someone, come to me. I'll be more than happy to listen to you while you vent your feelings to me."

"I will," Sybil promised, and she took Lily's hand. "You're much lovelier than my Mama. Would you adopt me?"

She laughed. "And have you and Harry at each other's throats every night, as lovely as the idea of having a daughter is, I'll have to say 'no'. It's bad enough with Harry and Jacob arguing without adding more fuel to the fire – and you'll miss home. You'll miss your Dad."

"Yeah..."

"And Castor."

"I wouldn't miss him."

"You'd miss Isabelle."

Sybil smiled at the thought of her little sister. "She's going to be so much better than me."

"Impossible; you're the best girl I have ever known."

"Harry and Jacob are lucky to have you as a Mum."

"And you're lucky to have yours."

Lily didn't know just how far away from the truth that was.


It was an eerie morning down Diagon Alley on one specific morning. Barnabus Cuffe held today's edition in his hand and let out a deep sigh. In his hands, he held the newspaper that would change people's lives. He closed his eyes and took careful note of the sounds around him. He would soon miss the silence of the birds singing and reporters tapping away on their typewriters, for when the Newspaper was released, the Wizarding World would go into hysteria.

Martin Carneirus stood beside Barnabus Cuffe, and took a long intake of breath. "I don't believe for a second that he just 'escaped' from Azkaban. What about all those ruddy demen'ors? Shouldn't they be keepin' people out?"

Barnabus put the Newspaper on the pile, and turned to face Martin Carneirus: a tall, red-haired man with a quick temper and vile mouth. "This is going to add fuel to the fire where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is concerned."

"Wha' about the Potters?"

Barnabus shook his head. "If Pettigrew hasn't already slaughtered them in their beds, then they're lucky."

Martin pulled out a cigar from within his robe. He put it to his lips and lit it. He breathed out the smoke, creating ringlets as he did. "'Arry Potter won't last the week."

The Editor-In-Chief of the Daily Prophet hated to admit it, but Martin was correct.