Season 5: Episode 3: "The Secret Archives of Scrooge McDuck"

Webby went to the shelf and pulled out a book. "First steps first," she declared, opening it. "We're going to list everything we know about Hortense McDuck. Then we fill in the gaps." She tore a page out of the book, prompting a little cry from Huey, and returned to the tackboard, pinning it up and looping a line of string between them. It was a sketch of Fort Duckburg. "1902: Scrooge McDuck returns to America and settles down in Fort Duckburg, Calisota with his two sisters, Hortense and Mathilda. 1907–" Another page, this one a photo of a wedding. "–Hortense McDuck marries Quackmore Duck, descendant of Cornelius Coot and oldest son of the local Duck family, who's just inherited all the land around Duckburg. Scrooge McDuck buys the land from his brother-in-law and starts developing it."

She pinned up another picture, that of the Moneybin being built. "Two years later, Dad starts traveling the globe and makes Hortense the vice president of McDuck Industries." She turned back to the boys and pointed at Hortense's photograph. "In 1913, after the siblings take a trip to Africa and South America, they split up again. The sisters come back to America and don't see their brother again until 1930, running the company here in Calisota with Quackmore while Dad invests overseas. But when he finally comes home, they all have a huge fight."

"What about?" Dewey asks, but Webby shakes her head.

"That's the whole mystery. Nobody knows! Dad has never told anyone, not even Granny!" She picked up a pair of scissors and cut the string between Hortense and the Moneybin. "Dad fires Hortense, she moves to the Hebrides, and Mathilda goes back to Dismal Downs. She and Dad reconcile in the 1970s, but Hortense and Scrooge don't speak again for another sixty-seven years. That's when Della and Donald Duck start appearing on records of his adventures, in 1997."

"1997," Huey said, doing the math in his head. "So they would have been… what, eleven?"

Webby nodded, taking the pictures of Della and Donald from the original board and tacking them up below Hortense's photo. "At the age of twenty-four, Della Duck steals the Spear of Selene and gets stranded on the moon. Your Uncle Donald holds a memorial service for her, but neither Dad nor your grandma show up. Your uncle blames Dad for the accident, so that makes sense, but why doesn't he invite your grandmother?"

"Hey, you guys remember I told you about that Christmas I went back in time?" Dewey said, frowning; the other three nodded. "Well, Mom and Uncle Donald were here at the mansion, but I never saw Grandma. I mean, she could have just been inside the house, but…"

"No, you're right," Huey said, looking troubled. "Mom always says that she and Uncle Donald spent every Christmas as kids setting traps for Santa; they wouldn't have done that unless they were here, with Uncle Scrooge." He looked up at Webby, worried. "Now that I think about it, there's other stuff, too. When mom and I first played Legends of Legend Quest, she said something about how Scrooge and Uncle Donald would come home and sleep after adventures while she stayed up playing videogames. Just little things like that, but—I mean, they add up."

"McDuck family DNA recognized," a computerized female voice announced. "99.9% match for: DEWEY DUCK. Security clearance not met. Access denied."

"No, no, it's okay," she insisted. "I can do this. Really." She took another deep breath, reached out and put her hand into the template; a moment later she let out a little yelp as a needle jabbed her finger. "McDuck family DNA recognized," the computer recited. "97.8% match for: SCROOGE MCDUCK. Access granted. Welcome, Mr. McDuck."

The teenagers moved with anxious silence into the shelves, scanning the lines of folders, boxes and books. Some of them were large, impressive tomes, but a large number of them just seemed to be folders of papers or badly-bound reports, with names like Giereloose, R. – Patents 1910-1920, or, McDuck, Downy – Correspondence, 1880-1884. Huey paused for a moment as he came to set of thin hardcover tomes which had the awkward structure of books whose spines and covers are too big for their pages; the words, The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, were printed in faded gold on the spines, with the volume numbers ranging from one to twelve, though there was a gap where the eleventh volume had once been.

"Guys, I think I found something," Webby's voice called softly from the next shelf, and he hurried over. She was standing in front of a filing box, and as his brothers joined them Huey checked the call number.

"This is it," he confirmed nervously, and looked to the others, almost unwilling to do the job himself. Dewey, however, steeled his nerves and opened the cabinet. Inside were two leather folders, some manilla files and a videotape. He opened the first folder, stopped, and then let out a little breath.

"Adoption papers for mom." He handed it off to Louie and opened the next one. "And for Uncle Donald. You were right, Huey."

"Donald Fauntelroy Duck, from Toontown, Calizona," Huey read aloud. "This explains why they didn't show up in the Scottish adoption records; they were in the American system."

"Your grandma lived here for thirty years; her having citizenship makes sense," Webby acknowledged.

"...So that's it," a voice said numbly. They looked over to Louie, who was staring down at his mom's records. "We're not related to the McDucks. Like, at all." He looked at Webby and said: "You're not really our cousin. Uncle Scrooge isn't really our uncle."

"Louie–" Huey started, but his triplet snapped the folder shut, suddenly angry:

"They lied to us! Again! I mean, who were their parents! Why did they abandon Mom and Uncle Donald; where do we even come from?! What happened to our real family?!"

"Look, I know how you feel," Webby said anxiously. "But this is your real family, Louie, e-even if it's a little strange how it happened!" Louie didn't answer, running a frustrated hand through his hair and walking away, his back to the rest of them. "Huey, Dewey?"

"I just don't get why they wouldn't tell us," Huey said, peering down at the paper in confusion. "I mean, being adopted isn't that big of a deal–" Louie scoffed from the corner. "–Um, at least, I don't think it is. And I can't think of any reason they'd hide it."

Dewey didn't answer, instead reaching into the box, pulling out the tape. The peeling label on it read, Della Duck – Security Footage, 9/12/1997. "There's a T.V. over here," he said, walking away with the tape and leaving the others to follow behind. Webby went to turn off the light; when she returned, the video had already begun playing, the old screen letting off an eerie flood of blue light over the triplet's faces. Silently, they all sat down cross-legged on the floor to watch.

The video was of the office they had just left behind on the other side of the door. Scrooge, looking about the same as ever, was reading over a ledger of some sort, frowning and muttering to himself. The only signal that the video was from a bygone era was its quality and the fact that the duck was using a large gray calculator, straight out of the 90's.

For the moment, anyway. The elevator door dinged, and the duck looked up. "Ach, Della, come in," he called warmly. The boys sat up straighter. A young Della Duck, looking about eleven years old, walked on screen.

"Um, you wanted to see me, Uncle Scrooge?"

"Just wanted a little chat. Sit down, lass, go on."

Della did so, looking nervous. She waited as Scrooge returned to his calculations, only trying to speak up once; he held up a finger and she piped down, fidgeting in her chair.

"Now then," he said pleasantly once finished, setting the calculator down. "I was hopin' you could help me out with something, lass. I've been trying to contact your mother, only the people at the hotel said she wasn't there."

"Oh, uh, really?" the young Della said, giving a shrug. "That's weird."

"Aye, well, you can see how concerning this is; after all, I need to talk to her about when she intends to come pick up you and your brother." Della tensed. "How long did she say she expected your father to be in the hospital?"

"Um, like– two weeks?"

"Two weeks? My, that does sound like a serious injury," Scrooge said, frowning in concern. "She said you set a–"

"–Firecracker off under his chair!" Della said quickly. "Right, exactly!"

"Hm. And how old are you, lass?"

"Eleven?"

"A girl your age should really know better than to pull dangerous pranks that land people in the hospital for weeks on end," Scrooge said sternly.

"You're totally right," she agreed immediately. "And, um, I'll definitely remember that lesson from now on, Uncle Scrooge, so thank you!"

"Hm. Two weeks—I suppose that's why she flew you all the way here to America from Scotland, instead of hiring a nanny to look after you?"

"Uhh… yes?"

Scrooge took his spectacles off, folded them, and set them in a box. Then he looked at Della for a long, long minute. Della began to fidget again.

"Della, lass."

"Um, yes, Uncle Scrooge?"

"I know your mother didn't write that letter," he said bluntly.

"What?" Della stammered. "I mean, of course she did! It's her handwriting, isn't it? Besides, who else would have?"

"Well, for one matter—you."

"You think I forged a letter from my own mother?" the girl demanded, crossing her arms. "Where's the proof for that! If you ask me, I think you're being a little accusational right now!"

"You showed up at my door from the other side of the globe, with your mother nowhere in sight, who by the way is not on great terms with me, with nothing to show my butler but a single letter on a piece of scratch paper. You have to admit it looks a bit suspicious."

"So? Weirder stuff happens all the time! Why should that mean I'm lying?!"

"Because Quackmore Duck died in 1965."

There was a long pause. The young Della stared her uncle down, as if daring him to recant, and then abruptly collapsed back in the chair, throwing up her arms. "Well, phooey!"

"Language!"

"Aren't McDucks supposed to be immortal? I thought he and Mom were just on the splits or something!"

"Only the McDucks who lived at Dismal Downs while it was being rebuilt. Quackmore married into the family." He leaned forward. "Alright, lass, I think it's pretty clear what's going on here. I've been around the world enough to know a runaway when I see one." Della avoided his gaze "What were yeh thinkin'? Your mother must be worried sick!"

But the girl scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Please. She won't even know we're gone for another–" She counted off on her fingers, "–twelve days."

"I don't follow…?"

"Her business trip is supposed to last two weeks. We've been here today and yesterday, so that leaves twelve days."

"Wh– you don't mean you were left at home alone?"

"Well yeah. We're always alone whenever she leaves."

"And… eh, how often has this been happening?"

"I 'unno, like, every month?" She picked up the last ball on the Newton's Cradle and then dropped it again, fascinated by the little silver balls clacking back and forth. "Look, it's not a big deal, okay?" she said irritably. "We're fine on our own."

"You most certainly are not!" Scrooge said sternly. "You're still wains, the both of yeh! You can't survive on your own at this age!"

Della looked away, scowling, and muttered, "I got us all the way here, didn't I?"

Scrooge blinked at her, and then frowned, leaning closer. "Aye," he said, suspicious. "And jus' why did yeh come here, lass?"

Della eyed him, and then sat back. "Okay. You're like, an adventure-business guy or something, right?"

"Or something," Scrooge replied dryly.

"Right, okay, so I wanna make a deal," the girl declared brazenly. "You do like, all these crazy adventures and stuff. We want in! We wanna be part of your crew, full-time!"

"Full-time? As in, you'd live here with me in Duckburg?"

"Sure! I mean you saw us out there yesterday, we were kicking tail and taking names!" She punched the air. "You said yourself, you want to spend more time adventuring with us; that's what we want too!"

"And you came all the way to Duckburg to ask me that? I feel like that could have been a phone call."

"We wanted to meet you!"

"Because you wanted to be adventurers?"

"Yeah!"

"Well now, that's impressive! Seein' as I hadn't gone an adventure in thirty years until two days ago!" Scrooge retorted, and Della's face fell. "Yer lyin' to me, lass, for the second time today, and I don't like being lied to!"

"I'm not lying!" Della said, visibly panicking. "We just– we–"

"If the next word out of your mouth isn't the honest truth, then I don't want to hear it! Why are yeh here, and why did yeh lie to me, and where in the blazes is your mother!"

Della glared at him, her face pinking. Scrooge stared her down, demanding an answer, and Della looked away, muttering something unintelligible.

"What was that, lass?" her uncle said sharply.

"I said you don't know what it's like!" She leapt to her feet, throwing her hands into the air. "Having nothing, getting moved around from place to place, nobody caring about you– and then, right when you think your luck is changing, you end up with this crazy evil stepmother for a mom!"

"Evil stepmo–?"

"Adoptive mother! Whatever!" She threw herself back down in her chair, shoulders heaving, and scrubbed at her eyes. "Look, I can handle it," she said fiercely. "Send me back if you have to, it's fine. But take Donald with you!"

The room was dead silent. The kids felt frozen, watching the wavering blue lines on the screen.

"Lass, what are you talking about?"

"I'm the older sibling. I've got to protect him, that's my job!"

"Protect him from what?"

"He can't talk right. I mean, you've seen it. Nobody understands him but me, so h-he gets upset and– look, I know he loses his temper, but he's not a bad kid!" Della looked up at her uncle, angry tears rolling down her face. "You have to believe me! I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have lied, but I didn't know what else to do!"

Scrooge didn't say anything, looking flabbergasted, and Della pleaded: "When one of them gets angry it sets the other off. She hates him, I know she does! I've tried everything, but no matter what I do things just get worse; I promised him if I got us here that you'd take us in! Please, don't make me break my promise!"

"Hero's guilt trip with a sacrificial lamb bargain and a two-captain SOS," Louie mumbled under his breath. "She's good. He's going to do it."

"Lass– I– Lass," the on-screen Scrooge said weakly, but Della was now crying in earnest. "Och, I– ah– oh, alright," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll see what I can do–"

"Yes! Thank you, Uncle Scrooge!" The girl nearly launched herself around the desk at him, tackling him in a hug which the trillionaire received with all the stiffness and awkwardness of someone who's never been hugged by a child before.

"Ach– I– I canna make any promises–"

"Just try! All you gotta do is try!" she reassured him, leaping back and beaming up at him as she scrubbed her eyes. "Oh man, Donald's gonna lose his mind when he hears about this! You're the greatest uncle in the world!" She hugged him again, turned on her heels and raced out of the frame. A moment later they heard the elevator ding and shut.

The Scrooge in the frame sighed and stood up, but to their surprise, that wasn't the end of the video. "Quackfaster, you can come out now."

A portion of the wall slid aside, and the librarian herself, looking thirty years younger than they knew her, stepped out. "Well, that was certainly… explosive."

"Do you think the security cameras got all that?"

"They should have, if Fulton's guarantee is anything to go by."

"Good. Ach… I knew there was something rotten here, but I never imagined it was this bad." He shook his head. "File the tape away securely; I hope I never need it, but if worst comes to worst it could be useful."

"Useful, sir?"

"For a hearing—but I don't think it'll have to come to that. If you'll excuse me, I have a call to make to my sister which I am very much not looking forward to."

"Good luck, sir."

"Don't need luck, Quackfaster, just some business sense and a little gumption."

The two adults left the room; the office was motionless for a moment on the screen, and then the tape wound down and the screen went dark with a little click.

"…I guess that's the end of it," Huey said, sounding dazed.

"Oh, it had better be," a voice said, as the light clicked on again.

The four froze dead, and then, slowly, looked back over their shoulders. The adults were standing behind them, with a very angry Della Duck at the forefront.

"M-Mom," Dewey said weakley. "We were just–"

But Della was hearing none of it; she stalked forward to the VCR. "So, this is what kids these days get up to on Tuesday nights!" she snapped. "Snooping around!" She pounded the VCR's eject button with her finger. "Spying on their parents!"

"Hold up, you're mad at us?!" Louie objected loudly, getting to his feet.

"This is private! Everything in this room is private; that's my life you were spying on, and why– won't– this– thing– open!" She pressed all the buttons in succession and then threw her hands up in the air in a manner eerily similar to that of her younger self.

"You guys lied to us! Again!" Louie cried.

"Yeah, you know what, Louie's right!" Dewey said, standing up as well; the other two followed. "When were you gonna tell us that you and Uncle Donald are adopted! Like, never?!"

"That's none of your business!" Della shouted. "What happened between us and our mom is between us; I told you to stay out of it!"

"Della, dear," Scrooge said awkwardly, and she rounded on him.

"What?!"

"It is their business," Mrs. Beakley said uncomfortably from behind him, and gestured to her granddaughter. "I told you, kids have a right to know these– these sorts of things."

The VCR finally spit the tape out, and Della looked down at it for a long moment, before wrenching out of the player and looking back up at her brother. "Donald?"

The duck winced and shrugged. "They have a point, Della."

His sister glared at him with a look of pure anger and betrayal, and then squeezed her eyes shut and quickly dragged her wrist across her eyes. "Mom," Dewey tried, reaching out to her, but she pulled away.

"Fine," she snapped, voice low and cracking. "You're right. I'm sorry." She rubbed her fingers into her eyelids, sighed, and then opened her eyes again and turned to face her kids. "I'm sorry," she said again, this time with guilt instead of anger. "I shouldn't have shouted at you kids. You weren't the ones I was mad at."

Dewey immediately stepped forward and hugged her; Della froze up, and then relaxed and hugged him back, half-smiling, half-grimacing. "You've gotten so tall," she noticed with a little chuckle, pulling back and wiping her eyes again. "You all have." She sighed. "You're really not little kids anymore, are you? I'm sorry. I should have told you the truth sooner."

"Why didn't you?" Huey asked, as gently as he could. "I mean, so you and Uncle Donald are adopted. So what?" He looked up at his uncle. "Why didn't you tell us about this years ago?"

"For the same reason I didn't tell you about your Uncle Scrooge," Donald said with a shrug. "The past was in the past, and I didn't want you boys around people I thought were a danger to you." Scrooge shifted uncomfortably behind him but otherwise didn't object.

"But what happened to Grandpa Quackmore? And if you aren't his children, then why is your last name still Duck?" Huey said, frowning as the gears started turning. "And– hang on, I know I've heard Uncle Gladstone and Uncle Fethry talk about you guys growing up together."

"And what about Cornelius Coot?" Webby piped up, looking a bit unsure if it was her place to speak. "The official Fort Duckburg website says you and Donald are his descendants, but the Coots married into the Duck family ages ago. How can you be Ducks and adopted?"

Della sighed again and gestured back towards the door. "Let's sit down. This is going to be sort of a long story."

The whole group followed her back in the direction of the door, where they gathered around the glass coffee table. Della sat down in one of the chairs, and Scrooge in the other; Donald, Goldie and Beakley stood behind her as the kids sat down on the carpet.

"It's probably easiest to answer your questions in reverse," Scrooge began, since it seemed like Della was reluctant to do so. "Your grandfather, or rather my sister's husband, separated from my sister about the same time she left America and went back to Scotland, in 1930. They didn't officially divorce, as that sort of thing was less common in those days, but to my knowledge they did not speak again for the thirty-five years before his death."

"And to be clear, he's not our biological grandfather?" Huey repeated, frowning.

"Nope. Actually, he was sort of Donald's and my, uh, distant uncle? Cousin, maybe?" Della said, glancing at her brother.

"So who were your real parents?" Louie demanded. "Where did we really come from?"

"I'm not sure I'd call them their 'real parents,'" Scrooge said, giving his nephew a mild warning look. Louie scowled but piped down. "But your great-grandfather Humperdink Duck had two sons, Quackmore and Eider; I don't remember Eider that well, but I recall he had a temper like his brother–"

"Hang on, I thought Uncle– uh– grandpa Eider was a McDuck?" Dewey interjected. Scrooge waved his hand.

"You have an Eider on both sides, it was a much more common name back then. Anyhow, Eider had two children, Abner and Fethry; Fethry was the grandfather of your uncle, Fethry Jr., and Abner had Della and Donald through a, well, a bit of a fling with an actress out of Toontown, Abbigale Nightengale, back in the '80's."

"But they must have been really old," Webby pointed out. "How did they have kids at that age?" Her father actually blushed.

"Ah, well, Abner was getting on a bit, yes…" Webby opened her mouth, still confused, and Beakley interjected with an: "I'll explain later, Webbigail."

"So our biological grandparents are Abner and Abbigale, from Calizona," Huey repeated, moving on in the conversation. His mother nodded. "Who were they? What were they like?"

"Actually, we don't know much more about them than you do," Della said with a tired shrug. "Our birth mom didn't want ducklings, and Abner was gone before we even hatched. Some sort of lumberjack accident?" The boys all grimaced at the gruesome suggestions of that idea. "Anyway, we spent the next nine years getting bounced around from relative to relative. Never stayed anywhere for very long; we were, uh…" She glanced at her brother, "'troubled,' I guess is the word, so things just never…quite worked out."

"So… how'd you get adopted by Grandma then?" Dewey asked. "I mean, she pretty clearly didn't want kids if she was leaving you guys alone for weeks at a time."

"It's…a bit complicated," Scrooge spoke up again here, "and I don't entirely understand her reasoning myself, but to put it briefly, Hortense wanted heirs. It's a little-known downside of immortality that you can't have children of your own. I'd never shown interest in having a family myself, and Mathilda was under the same curse and, for the matter, still single, so when my sister found out there were two children on her husband's side of the family in need of parents, Hortense took matters into her own hands to make sure that Clan McDuck would live to see another generation."

"Except she didn't want kids," Della said shortly. "What she wanted were two perfectly respectable little angels."

"What she wanted were Victorian kids," Goldie said, speaking up for the first time. "You've gotta remember, people our age were raised that children were to be seen and not heard."

"Right, and what she got instead was a hyperactive tomboy and a kid with anger issues who– well," Della said awkwardly, glancing up at her brother, who huffed.

"Who didn't talk right," he said bluntly.

"So why'd she even adopt you?" Louie asked artlessly, making the adults in the room wince. "I mean, I'm pretty sure they list stuff like that on case files."

"Oh, uh, well," Della grimaced, rubbing the back of her neck, and a little light bulb went on in Louie's head.

"You conned her, didn't you?" he realized.

"I-I don't know if I would call it conning, but we were definitely on our best behavior," Della said sheepishly. "I really toned down my, uh, everything when she came to visit the Ganders—played up the whole 'misunderstood kids' angle and told her that Donald only got mad at people who deserved it. Looking back I think she actually sympathized with that. As for his voice, well, Mom was pretty old-school, and thought it could be fixed with practice." Donald scoffed again. "By the time she realized she was wrong, the papers were already signed."

"The original Sharpie," Goldie said approvingly.

"Look, I didn't want to fool anyone, but we were desperate!" Della objected. "We were running out of relatives to stay with, one more screwup and we were going into the system! And then I found out we had this rich immortal Scottish aunt with a beautiful house and more money than Rockerduck; tell me you wouldn't have done whatever it took to make that happen! And in our defense, we weren't the only ones on our best behavior. Trust me, we paid for it."

"My sister has… gotten better, over the years, at controlling her temper," Scrooge said with a wince, "But she's far from perfect."

"You mean she got better at not lashing out at people who can lash back," Goldie corrected.

"Alright, you're right. Well, you children all saw the video, you can all guess what happened next," Scrooge said tiredly. "Things didn't work out the way Hortense had hoped; she started leaving the children alone for weeks on end–"

"–Which was better than when she was around, by the way," Della grumbled.

"–And eventually they ran away here, to Calisota. Of course, once I heard what was going on, I knew I had to do something. As it happened, I had the upper hand. A custody battle would have been a nightmare for my sister—she likes to keep herself out of the papers—and I didn't want to risk losing contact with the kids forever," Scrooge explained. "So, we cut a deal that was to both of our likings: Della and Donald would go back to Scotland for the summer holidays to keep up appearances, and during the school year they would live here with me in Duckburg."

"Everyone got what they wanted," Della added. "Mom got her perfect children without having to do any actual parenting, Uncle Scrooge got to take us in, and Donald and I got to go on amazing adventures and have a real childhood. I mean, you'd better believe we were on our best behavior for those three months," she said with an uncomfortable chuckle, and then continued with a voice that still sounded awed, after all these years: "but every September, when we'd get on the Sun Chaser and fly away on some crazy quest or expedition into the unknown, it was all worth it." She smiled at her uncle, who smiled back.

"When we were eighteen, we stopped going back home," Donald said with a shrug. "I went to college and joined the navy, and Della went to flight school. Mom never forgave us; I think by that point she thought we actually liked living with her."

"Well sure she did; we were never stupid enough to tell her otherwise," Della snorted. "And… that's it, that's the whole story. Eventually I met your boys' father, and after that whole fiasco was over, I had you. And then, well, you know the rest. Twelve years later here we are."

"But why didn't you just tell us all this?" Huey asked again, confused. "I mean, if Grandma and Uncle Scrooge are the same age, and you and Uncle Donald aren't even forty—you must've known we'd start asking questions eventually. I was coming up with crazy theories because I didn't know why anyone would hide something as mundane as being adopted."

"We never told you because you were just kids, and we never wanted you to feel like you were less of a part of this family," Della sighed. "And because your uncle and I have tried so hard to leave those parts of our lives behind us."

She reached into her coat pocket and unfolded the old photograph of her, Donald and Scrooge, beaming around the trio of eggs. "After Uncle Scrooge took us in, we weren't just two screw-up kids no one wanted anymore," she explained wistfully. "Instead, we became this amazing duo who tagged along with their famous relative, seeing incredible sights, doing incredible things!" She painted her hands across the sky. "We were Della and Donald Duck, kid adventurers! For nine months out of the year, we got to live a life most kids could only dream of. That's who we became, that's where we found our family! The only family we'd ever known." She lowered her hands, rubbing her arm uncomfortably. "If we'd focused on the bad parts of our lives instead of the good, we couldn't have kept putting one foot in front of the other. It was easier to move on and just…forget the bad things ever happened."

"Mom…"

"We weren't trying to lie to you, or hide things from you," Donald added firmly, stepping forward and putting his hand on the back of Della's chair. "We just didn't want you getting mixed up with someone we thought might hurt you the way we were hurt… "

"…Or to make you doubt your place in this family," Della finished.

There was silence around the table for a long moment as everyone digested this. "So just to be clear, we're… not actually related to Uncle Scrooge or the McDucks?" Dewey said, glancing at his uncle, who shook his head.

"Not by blood, but then, blood's not what makes a family, lad."

"But you always said that adventure's in our blood…" Louie said awkwardly.

"Och, lad, it's a turn of phrase! I meant it's a family value for us." Seeing the anxious expressions of the trio, he scoffed: "Curse me kilts, enough with the long faces! Being a McDuck is about adventure! Pioneering spirit! Facing down the odds together, no matter how grand!" Huey and Dewey began to grin despite themselves, and he added: "Look at Webbigail; she was a McDuck long before we knew where she came from, wasn't she?" The girl blushed and tried to hide her smile. "And she's no less Mrs. Beakley's granddaughter because they're not technically related, is she?" The housekeeper smiled and set a hand on her granddaughter's shoulder. "Family isn't just about who shares your bloodline," Scrooge vowed, "it's about who you can count on to stand by you, in good times and bad. And as far as I'm concerned," he added firmly, "that makes you all my family."

"Oh man," Dewey sniffled. "That was beautiful." He got up and gave his uncle a hug. Huey was quick to follow, and even Louie, after a moment's hesitation, joined the hug.

"Aww," Webby beamed. "I've missed your moving speeches, Dad."

"Well I have gotten pretty good at them, if I do say so myself," he chuckled as his nephews stepped back.

The spindle-clock on the wall let out a faint chime. "Alright, you lot, it's nearly two in the morning," Beakley spoke up. "I think it's high time you were all in bed."

"Beakley's right," Donald said firmly. "You've got school tomorrow, you need your rest."

"I mean, I sort of expected this, so… yes," Huey said with a shrug, marking his page in the book and closing it. "It's strange to think that we're not actually related to the McDucks, but it's like mom said, this is our family, it's what we know."

Season 5: Episode 4: "Return to Mount Neverrest!"

"A letter?" Scrooge said warily, accepting the envelope. "Not from the Hebrides, is it?"

"No, sir. From the Billionaire's Club."

"The Billionaire's Club?" he repeated, surprised. "You're certain?"

"Yes, sir. I believe it has something to do with the Explorer of the Year Competition. Here you are, sir…"

As Duckworth drifted away (shooting Beakley a look which implied he thought it rather improper for a housekeeper to be listening in on family matters), Goldie spoke up, frowning: "I thought you were banned from the competition twenty years ago."

"I was," Scrooge said, just as confused.

"Wait, you were banned from a competition for rich people?" Louie demanded. "Why?"

"For becoming a trillionaire," Scrooge said dryly. Beakley loudly cleared her throat, and he added: "Ah, and, ehm, also beating them for the twenty-third year running."

"And for being a sore winner," Beakley added.

"I was not! I said 'good match' very graciously!"

"You also said your victory wasn't a surprise!"

Ignoring this, her employer broke the seal and opened it, scanning it for a moment before his exhaustion vanished and he jumped out of his chair with a "Ha-ha!"

The whole family jumped. "What? What is it?" Donald asked, standing and reaching for the letter, but his uncle had paced away, reading aloud:

"The Duckburg Billionaire's Club (International) is pleased to invite you, Scrooge McDuck, to participate in the forty-fourth annual Explorer of the Year contest! Looks like they're un-banning me after all! Should you choose to participate, you will be competing against ten of your fellow financial elites for a glorious prize: the legendary Lost Crown of Genghis Khan."

The businesswoman raised an eyebrow, and then turned away, a small smile on her beak. A moment later the chime of silverware on glass drew everyone's attention, startling the McDuck party and drawing everyone else's attention. Near the front of the room, a terrier dressed in an (antique) British formal naval uniform set down his glass of champagne and cleared his throat. "Welcome, everyone, welcome!" he declared in a huffing, pompous voice. "Welcome to the forty-fourth annual Explorer of the Year Contest, hosted—as always, ho-ho!—by the Duckburg Explorers' Society, sub-committee of the Duckburg International Billionaire's Club!"

"Of course!" Huey said, genuinely surprised. "You're one of the greatest mountaineers of our time! There's an entry on you in the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook." He pulled his handbook out from under his hat (much to the man's bewilderment) and showed it to the sherpa. "'Lapwing Norgay, 1983-present. Born in Tibet, raised in Nepal, famous for leading many teams up some of the most dangerous mountains in the world, including Mount Certain Doom and three of the most successful attempts to scale Mount Neverrest from the Tibetan side.' It says here you've never lost a passenger."

Season 4: Episode 5: "The Lost Crown of Genghis Khan!"

"Hm. Your uncle was lucky; most of the other prospectors had followed the goldrush west to Alaska without crossing the glacier, so his claim was still basically untouched. He followed me south to Gumption, and when that didn't pan out he went back north to his claim in Canada and pulled a piece of gold bigger than a goose egg out of the Klondike later that year; then he used the seed money from his mining success to set up a bank in Alaska and made his first million."

A/N: Thanks everyone for your help; I hope this addresses any major concerns. Sometimes you start out with an idea for a story and by the time you have it mostly plotted out the ideas have shifted a little. Again, much thanks!