A/N: This story is going to have a lot of ocs. I have up through Chapter 5 written now and am working on chapter 6. First Saturday of the month (for my timezone) will be the update schedule.

Thank you to Kaelma and Bhavvvy my lovely betas.

I do not own JKR's world, I just like to play in the sandbox.

May 30th, 1967, Hart's Field manor, Berkshire, England

The aurors arrived in the early morning hours to find the stables and the kitchens ablaze, the panicked squeals of Roland Fawley's prized Aethonan horses filling the air, a dark mark looming overhead, and the manor torn apart. The Fawleys had fought well and bravely. Roland had been a curse-breaker in his youth before taking the family seat, and his wife was a renowned duelist from France. Still, Roland's body lay in the middle of the spell-damaged hall, nearly unrecognizable due to the curses that had mutilated his body. Melisende's body was further down. It appeared that she had been retreating to the floo room when Roland fell and had turned to cover the retreat of the final resident of the house.

A final resident who was not to be found.

It appeared that Isolde had not made it to the floo room, that she had been captured just outside it. Signs of a struggle and the lack of disturbance inside the room all pointed to an abduction just short of escape. There was not much hope that Isolde would be found alive.

A renowned potions mistress, Isolde was not without her uses to the dark wizard that appeared to be gaining support in the country, but those who knew her knew that there was little chance that she would cooperate.

So the fire was put out, the bodies of two respected purebloods taken to St. Mungos, Aurors Wood and Abbott dispatched to inform Roland's younger brother Randal and his family of the loss, and the news of the tragedy splashed across the front page of the morning Prophet.

And a little over a hundred and sixty kilometers away in the Wilkes' family manor, Isolde Fawley awoke from her spell induced coma to find that hell was a windowless room decorated with greens and grays, mahogany furniture, and a man with cold, cruel eyes sitting beside her bed...waiting.

Monday, July 12th, 1993, Hart's Place, Richmond Green, London, England

It had been a long, exhausting conversation with Albus Dumbledore two days before. He did not trust Cate, she did not trust him, and around and around they went. Turning and turning, neither letting the other catch them out.

The thing that kept Albus from shutting her out completely was that she already knew most of the things he did not wish to share. She had given him one of her mother's journals, filled with what those not in the know would assume to be the ravings of a mad-woman but what insightful readers would understand to be a recording of some of her mother's visions regarding the future and the possible destinies that lay before them.

Isolde Fawley had been known for her potions work, a brilliant and creative mind, but she was a Bonaccord through her mother's side and that line birthed seers. Isolde had always had an affinity for divination, even though she had not pursued it, but her third eye was truly opened within her when she became pregnant with Cateline, her visions giving her hope for escape and an understanding that the child she had been forced to carry would be a rebel for the Light and would aid in the destruction of a future evil. When Cate was born, she had just been placed in Isolde's arms when a vision of her child, grown up and strong standing defiantly before her father, a mutated dark lord glaring at her, blindsided her.

And the visions never stopped. Always changing, always branching off into thousands of possibilities. "Destiny is not firmly set in stone, it is a river that moves and changes with each choice made," Isolde had said to Cate on her 16th birthday, just two months before she died. Her mother's many journals documented things that had happened, things that might happen, and other paths that had already been bypassed.

Now, as she stood in her family's townhouse staring at a box of her mother's journals, Cate ran a hand over her face and then looked back down at the letter in her hand.

Dear Ms. Fawley,

It seems I find myself in need of a witch of your caliber. Our esteemed Professor Binns has finally decided to move on to his next adventure. As I mentioned at our first meeting, I have read your published work and I cannot imagine a more excellent magical historian for the post than yourself.

Your book, The Might of Magic and Übermensch: A History of Grindelwald and Hitler and the politics of genocide. was a fascinating read. I have loaned it to our muggle studies professor Ms. Burbage and she is very eager to meet you. I also read your article in the Journal of Magical Education in which you advocated for the integration of muggle history into the magical history curriculum, which was very well argued. I think you may be just what Hogwarts needs to revitalize its History of Magic course. It is always refreshing to have a new perspective when looking at curriculum. Professor Binns had been teaching here at Hogwarts for sometime, you see.

I am well aware that magical history is not your only mastery and I can assure you that we will not allow your other talents to go to waste. Professor Babbling has expressed a desire to participate in a runic research project with her friend, Master Krishnav Tamboli. Should you desire it, the position of Associate Runes Professor is being offered to you as well. You would of course have less time for lesson preparation, but you would only be taking on the 3rd and 4th year Ancient Runes classes, while Professor Babbling would continue to teach the 5th, 6th, and 7th years.

Please do let me know if you are willing to accept these positions. I will refrain from posting any vacancies until I have read your response.

Sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Obviously, Cate had every intention of accepting. This was part of the plan after all. Acquire Dumbledore as an ally, get a position at the school, be poised to protect the Potter kid and all other students from any attack from Riddle. Convince Dumbledore to help her hunt Riddle's horcruxes. Possibly get the Potter kid to trust her so he'd be open to her helping him when the time came?

That last one was still under review.

Regardless, working in the Ministry was Plan B because it would likely put Cate at odds with Dumbledore upon Riddle's return and because the Ministry would probably be more of a hindrance to what she was trying to accomplish here. Mum had always said that the Ministry of Magic had been useless during the first rise of Voldemort.

Also, she really did love teaching…

But she was going to make him wait for it, no need to respond right away. Besides, she had other concerns at the moment. Cate nervously eyed the other letter she'd received from Gringotts. Her meetings with the London Branch goblins on her arrival had been… interesting to say the least. The number of magical tests she'd gone through to prove both her identity and verify her mother's will giving her claim to her mother's inheritance was quite high. Then of course the blood test had placed her in the position of being slyly asked by the chief goblin if she wished to claim her father's vaults as well. It had been almost 9 years since Cate last had an episode of accidental magic, but she'd almost lost her cool in that office. Instead, she'd simply gone very pale, leveled the goblin with a hard stare, and stated clearly, "No."

Before she'd left the building, the account manager had informed her that as the manager for the Fawley family account, it was his duty to inform the remaining members of her mother's family of her existence and circumstances. She'd almost tripped over her own feet in shock. All of her careful planning, studying her mother's visions, training with John-Dad, studying the British pureblood society power dynamics, and not once did it occur to her that she might have to interact with her mother's uncle and his family.

In retrospect, that was quite stupid of her.

Cate tentatively picked the letter up, turning it in her hands. There was another letter enclosed inside, from Uncle Randal maybe? Or perhaps his wife, Aunt Mariane?

She'd never had a large family. It had been her and Mum, and then it had been her and Mum and John-Dad. She'd used to beg Mum and John-Dad for a sibling, a brother like her friend Kimi had, until John-Dad had sat her down at the age of 11 and quietly explained "miscarriage" and "side effects of certain potions" and the fact that she would be the only child Mum would ever have, and she'd hated her biological father even more for taking that from her, from John-Dad who would never have a child of his own with his beloved Izzy, from Mum… Mum who would never know what it was to carry a child she wanted, a child whose father she loved…

She was startled from her borderline self-loathing thoughts when the mirror on the wall started glowing and a deep voice called out, "Catey? You there, kiddo?"

Still holding the letter in her hand, Cate walked over to the mirror and tapped it, smiling as the white glow faded to show the weathered brown face and dark brown almond shaped eyes of her step-father.

"Hey, John-Dad."

The knowing look in his eyes warmed her in a way that made her feel like she was 5 years old again, sitting on his lap. "Did I interrupt some deep thoughts, Catey?"

Cate blew out a breath and rolled her eyes, giving her step-father a wry grin. "Just trying to psych myself up for this," she said, waving her letter in front of the mirror.

John Cloud's fathomless dark brown eyes appraised the parchment in her hand calmly. "That your job offer?"

Cate laughed, "No, that's over on the table. I'm impressed actually, he's offered me the Magical History position and an associate professor position in Ancient Runes. Wasn't expecting that."

John frowned a bit at that. "Don't take on too much, Cate. You know you can't afford to be stretched."

"I know."

"So, what's this letter then?"

"Mum's family has been told that I'm in England to claim Mum's inheritance." Cate said, watching John's face for his reaction. They'd never talked about Mum's family.

She shouldn't have expected a reaction, John Tahatan Cloud was the master of unruffled and unconcerned. "Randal is alive then?" he asked.
"Maybe." Cate looked down at the letter, "It could be from Mum's cousin, Marshall."

John hummed in response. "Read it then."

Cate opened the letter carefully, breaking the golden Gringotts seal. When the enclosed letter fell out, a beautiful seal of dark blue wax catching her eye, she caught it in her left hand and held it up for John to see. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. "Start with the Gringotts letter, Kid."

To Miss Cateline Morgaine Fawley,

Per our conversation on 7th of July this year, I have contacted the current head of the Fawley family to inform them of your arrival in England and your claim on your mother's inheritance upon the presentation of her legitimate last will and testament.

Your mother's uncle, Master Randall Nicholas Fawley, and his son and heir, Marshall Hadrian Fawley, have expressed their desire to speak with you. As such, I am enclosing your great-uncle's letter addressed to you.

Please send any response directly to your family, unless of course, you feel that my position as intermediary is still needed.

In your family's service,

Ranlast Bargrott

Account Manager

Gringotts Bank, London

"Sounds to me like that goblin is telling you not to be a wuss and stop bothering him." John said with a snort.

Cate smiled in spite of her rising anxiety. "Yeah, I could see the sarcasm in that last line."

She turned to set the Gringotts letter down then gave her attention to the other letter. Her name in beautiful calligraphy graced the front, and she turned the letter over to see the seal again. Fawley colors were dark blue and silver, the dark blue of the wax a reflection of that. The hart's head encircled by a laurel wreath completed the smaller version of the family crest.

"Better go on and rip off the bandaid, Catey," John said kindly. "No reason to drag it out."

She released the breath she hadn't realised she was holding and broke the seal. She felt like she was in a trance as her fingers unfolded the parchment slowly.

Monday, July 12th, 1993

Hart's Field Manor, Berkshire

To Ms. Cateline Fawley in care of Ranlast Bargrott,

As I write this letter, I find myself overwhelmed with thoughts of your mother. We knew of course that Isolde was still alive. The family tapestry did not register a death date for her until her passing in '84. So young, our beautiful Isolde.

When your birth registered along with the name of your father in '68, we understood why she had not returned to us. We thought her still in captivity of course, but once You-Know-Who fell and there was no longer an obvious reason for the two of you to be kept from us we began to wonder what had happened.

I would like to meet with you tomorrow for tea at the manor, should you be so inclined. My son Marshall and his wife and children will be joining us. I would like to get to know you and hear about Isolde's life before her death.

Please respond to let me know if you are coming. Tea is at 2pm.

Floo address is Hart's Field Manor.

Sincere regards,

Your Great-Uncle

Randal Fawley, Esq.

John let out a small sigh as Cate finished reading the letter. "You should go."

"I'm afraid to, Dad."

"Why is that, Catey?"

Cate tore her eyes away from the parchment in her hands, letting out a shaky breath. "He said the tapestry registered my name when I was born… and my father's." She paused to rub a hand across her forehead. "They know. They know who he is, they know what he did, they know…"

"Catey. Look at me."

She did.

"What happened to your mother was not your fault. It will never be your fault. Izzy loved you." John's face was calm but his eyes were earnest and burning with emotion. "She always loved you, you were her daughter. Would she have rather things had been different? Yes. But she chose to keep you, she chose to love you even though everyone said she had a right not to."

Cate inhaled deeply again.

"I know you've never understood why she made that choice," John continued, "and I know you've always doubted her love for you. But she did love you, and I think she would want you to know your family, kiddo."

Cate turned to put the letter on the table and took a moment to press her fingers to her eyes to prevent the moisture that had gathered there from spilling over. "Dammit, John-Dad!" She turned back to the mirror, arms crossed in front of her and eyes rimmed red. "You know I don't like crying in front of people!"

John barked out a laugh, "Cate, I'm not 'people.' You will always be able to cry with me," he said, smiling softly. "Now, I gotta go. I've got a meeting with the tribal elders today."

Cate raised an eyebrow. "NCAI business or NAWC business?"

The National Congress of American Indians (NCAI) had been started by non-magical tribal elders in 1944 to monitor federal policies. There were about five magical tribal leaders in the organization, and John Cloud was one of them. The Native American Wizarding Council (NAWC) had been formed in 1887 in response to the Dawes Act and the changes that the non-magical government and MACUSA were forcing upon both non-magical and magical indigenous people. John Cloud was active in both his tribal roles as both a Lakota man and a Lakota wizard.

"NAWC business. There's been talk about why MACUSA hasn't addressed the ban on indigenous language spells that is still on the books when the no-maj Federal government has just passed a law that protects native languages." John sighed. "They haven't been enforcing the law against us using our own spells, not since the 60's at least when it was agreed that we would have self-governance, but it's still there. Why not remove it?"

"Well, I'll let you go then."

They exchanged a few more words, Cate asking him to relay her contact details to her friends, and then the mirror returned to a reflection of Cate's own face.

After an hour and a half of writing and rewriting her response to her uncle, she finally had an acceptance note that she was at least somewhat satisfied with. She opened the window at the back of the house that overlooked the Richmond Green and silently sent out a pulse of magic to call her familiar. When the American kestrel landed on the windowsill and gave her a questioning call, she attached the letter to the special message carrier on his left foot. "Alright Killy, you need to make sure you leave a nice impression on these people. We're related to them."

Killy gave her an affronted look as if to say, "Have I ever not made a fabulous impression?"

"I know, I'm nervous and it's making me ridiculous. Cut me some slack here, Killy."

The bird took off and Cate was left watching him fly away, wondering what kind of Pandora's box she'd just opened.