Disclaimer: I only own Hex, Maeve, Maeve's mother and the Tectonica Spell. JK Rowling owns Mr. Lestrange (I just gave him a name) and all the Unforgivable Curses.

Technical Notes: I named Maeve's mother Leda after the mother of Helen of Troy. Zeus courted her in the guise of a swan. It just hit me how both the mythological Leda and the Leda in my story both got conned.

Author's Notes: Finally, Chapter 18! I'm sorry I kept everyone waiting so long — computer problems at home and all that rot :-( Everyone was so nice in their reviews that I was just itching to post this next chapter! So, anyway, here it is. I hope you find it worth the wait!

Thanks to Tasia for noting my mathematical mistakes in Chapter 16. The thing about standings really confused me, so I really wasn't sure if it was correct when I posted it. I'm afraid math was never one of my strong points. It also just occurred to me that I asked people to "bear with me" when I was talking about Peter being an Animagus. Get it? Animagus…bear…bear with me :D Anyway, on with the show!

Moon Daughter

Norman led him into a clearing. Hex could see Maeve standing by herself in the moonlight. "Maeve!" he called, running up to her and taking the girl in his arms. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Here?" Her voice had the same alarmingly faraway quality as Filch's did.

"Yes, here." Hex shook her slightly. "What are you doing here? You were supposed to be in the library! What am I talking about? You're supposed to be in bed!"

"What am I doing here?" Maeve repeated softly. To his great relief, her eyes started to focus. "Hex?"

"Yes! It's Hex! What are you doing here?"

"I…" Her brow furrowed. "I was in the library, and then I suddenly decided to take a walk. I don't know why I—"

"She's come to meet her daddy," said a disembodied male voice, smooth as a radio announcer's.

Hex started and thrust Maeve behind him, holding his wand at the ready. Norman stood hissing at their feet. "Who's there?"

"I am here." A trim little man emerged from the shadows. Like the first person Hex had met in the Forbidden Forest, he was very thin and unkempt, with ragged gray robes. "You're Selenius Lestrange, aren't you?" he asked the man.

"At your service," Lestrange replied, sweeping an elaborate bow. "And you are…?"

"I'm…Hex." Don't tell this guy your name, he reminded himself even as he felt a strange probing in his mind. If he's anything like his wife, you don't want to be in his power.

"No, you aren't." The thin man looked at him closely.

"Sure I am. People call me Hex all the time."

"That isn't your real name."

"Well, it suits us all just fine, right, Maeve? So deal with it."

Lestrange shook his head reproachfully at Maeve. "Is this boy correct, my dear? You never bothered to find out his real name?"

"Hex is his real name," she replied.

"No, it is not, and this you should have sensed ages ago. Tsk, tsk. I am ashamed of you, girl. I expected more of my daughter."

Maeve frowned. "I'm not your daughter."

He flinched slightly, but managed a winning smile. "Ah, but you are. Look at yourself…and then look at me." Lestrange waved his wand, conjuring up a mirror out of thin air. Maeve felt in her pocket and gasped. The wand in his hand was hers.

Hex and Maeve looked into the mirror. Lestrange's reflection was alongside theirs although he stood a few feet away. He was pallid and gaunt from many years in Azkaban, but there was no mistaking the languidness of movement, the dark hair and golden-green eyes. "The resemblance is striking, is it not?"

But Maeve still shook her head. "You can't be my father."

The thin man flinched again. Hex noted that her denials seemed to be hurting him. When he recovered, his eyes began to glitter dangerously, just like Maeve's did when she was about to argue. "But I am, my dear," he told her. "Why else did the Malfoys provide for you all these years? When I was taken to Azkaban, they took you and your poor mother in as a special favor to me. Why else is your name Moondaughter? Being bastard-born, you can never be recognized as a true Lestrange; and so your mother took the next best choice and named you herself. Selenius…Moon…Moon-daughter…Selenius' daughter." Lestrange smiled, showing small, sharp teeth. "Apparently, Leda had a bit more imagination than I thought. Of course, it was her purse, not her imagination, that interested me."

Hex supposed Maeve's mother's name had been Leda, because he heard her gasp. Slowly, she moved out from behind Hex to get a better look at the man claiming to be her father. Hex grabbed her hand in his free one, ready to drag her with him in case they had to run away.

"Have I passed the test, my daughter?" Lestrange asked silkily. "The evidence I have presented is irrefutable: my knowledge of you and your past, your poor dead mother's name, your very face and form, and your beautiful gold-green eyes. I was so proud when Lucius told me that you had my eyes." Then he toned down his grin as if it had a built-in dimmer. "It is time you learned to use them properly."

"Whatever do you mean?" Maeve quavered.

"What do you think?" Apparently, the guy was really fond of dramatic questions. "Why else did my Eris try and take you to me? Why else did I myself come for you?"

"Will you just get to the point already?" Hex snapped.

Every line in Lestrange's face grew rigid. "The time has come for you to take your rightful place as my daughter," he told her, his voice cracking like a whip, "and join us in the service the of the Dark Lord."

"You have got to be kidding."

Hex found himself on the receiving end of a golden-green death glare. "You, boy, are too talkative for your own good."

"And you're too dumb for your own good. She knows Voldemort's bad news. She's not going to sell her soul to the devil just because you told her to. Tell him, Maeve."

Maeve gulped and looked nervously at Hex. She was shaken, never having met a blood relative before, but she squeezed his hand and raised her small chin resolutely. "No."

"No?" Lestrange thundered. "You dare say no to your own father?" He glared at their linked hands. "You would spurn your own flesh and blood in favor of this—this Mudblood?"

"That Mudblood thing is really getting old, dude," Hex said.

"You are not my father," Maeve said. Her voice wasn't quavering as much as it had earlier.

"I am your father, Maeve," the thin man cajoled. The radio-announcer voice was back. "Look at yourself, and then look at me."

"No, you are not. I have no father."

"Look at yourself, and then look at me!"

"Can't you think of anything else to say?" Hex asked him.

"You may have sired me," Maeve told him flatly, "but that does not make you my father. I have no attachments to you."

"You spurn your own father?" Lestrange asked. Hex's wand arm tensed. The honeyed tone of his voice was still there, but it was dangerously close to slipping. "My dear, what would your poor grandmere say? All your uncles, your cousins? You would break all their hearts by turning your back on your family?"

"If they're anything like you or the Malfoys, I don't need them," she said coldly.

"That's telling him, Maeve," Hex encouraged her.

Maeve smiled up at him, but her grip on Hex's hand was so tight it hurt. "I have Hex, I have Peter, I have enough family here at Hogwarts," she told Lestrange. "I am nothing like you."

"NO!" Lestrange screamed, all control gone, wildly waving Maeve's wand. "Tectonica!"

There was a loud rumbling and the earth shook, almost knocking them off-balance, and a fissure appeared beneath Hex's feet. He swore and managed to take himself and Maeve out of the way before the crack widened into a gaping ravine, the bottom of which was lost in the darkness.

"Expelliarmus!"

Hex bit off another choice expletive as his wand flew out of his hand and into Lestrange's.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Maeve screamed and he felt her hand wrenched out of his. Using the girl's own wand, Lestrange raised her high up in the air and held her right above the ravine. She looked so small and pale, hovering in mid-air, staring down into the emptiness with wide eyes.

"She's not going to be of any use to you if she's dead, Lestrange," Hex managed to say.

"You've corrupted her, boy," the thin man snarled. There was an feral glitter in his golden eyes. "She has closed her will to me and refuses to help me."

"Why do you need help? You're doing fine causing trouble all by yourself."

Lestrange's face grew cold. "Finite—"

"No!" Hex yelled before the spell that would send Maeve to the bottom of the ravine was completed. "What do you want her for, anyway?"

"Is it not obvious?" Now that he had Hex's undivided attention, Lestrange was back with the dramatic questions. "I am the Vanguard of the Dark Lord. It is my task to prepare the minds and hearts of his followers for his will. My dearest Maeve will assist me in my work, using her abilities to bend the young people of Hogwarts to Lord Voldemort's will. And he will see to it that we are richly rewarded when he returns to power."

"No!" Maeve cried. "I am nothing like you and I have no wish to be!"

"Shut up, Maeve!" Hex yelled. If she made Lestrange mad enough, he was going to drop her into the ditch.

"You may just change your mind," Lestrange replied coldly. To Hex's great relief, the thin man set her down safely on the ground. Maeve drew a shaky sigh of relief and tried to run to Hex, but Lestrange waved her wand again. "Impedimenta!" he said, imprisoning her behind an impenetrable, invisible wall. "Now, my dear girl, let us see how cooperative you will be after I've done with your beau over here."

"No! Leave him out of this!" Her voice was slightly muffled by the Shield Charm. "Hex, run!"

"I'm not leaving you here," Hex said, keeping one eye on them while looking around for a possible weapon with the other.

"How gallant," Lestrange drawled. "Accio! Accio! Accio!" There was a terrible grin on his face as he perversely moved the mirror, large rocks, tree branches, and even small twigs beyond Hex's reach. "Are you still feeling gallant now, my unarmed young pup?"

"I'm just fine, thanks," he replied flippantly, but kept a wary eye on Lestrange.

The thin man, however, put up his wand. "You have strength," he observed grudgingly. "I can see how Maeve was able to resist me."

"I didn't have anything to do with that. Maeve has a mind of her own."

"Au contraire, my dear boy. She drew her strength from you." The glitter in Lestrange's eyes grew speculative. "What would she do if that strength was gone?"

"No!" Maeve screamed, pounding on her unseen prison. "Leave him alone!"

"Relax, my daughter," he told her, his voice growing honeyed again, "I will not hurt him — if he cooperates."

"What do you want?" Hex asked him tersely.

"Your name." Lestrange arched a fine eyebrow at the boy. "I see getting it out of you won't be easy."

"It's going to be impossible."

The thin man laughed. "Never say impossible to the one holding the wand." He waved the wand in his hand. "Imperio!"

Maeve's alarmed cry rang only faintly in Hex's ears as he felt a lassitude take him over. Everything, even his own body, faded away pleasantly and he became nothing more than a crystalline egg, suspended in the liquid depths within the outer shell of his body.

He floated there for a few moments, until a soft voice disturbed the peace. Say your name, was its most irresistible whisper, say your name…"My name," Hex heard his voice say, "my name…"

No! The girl pounding on nothing was shaking her head wildly. Who was she?

Say your name… "My name…"

The girl shook her head again. No! Hex felt himself smile at her. For some reason it was a lot easier to listen to her than to the little voice in his head.

Say your name! The voice was becoming more insistent. Hex's face crumpled as he winced. It was like that voice had grabbed hold of him and pulled.

No!

His face was wet and his teeth were clenched as the battle raged in his head. He felt his breath rush out of his body. "My n-name," he gasped, staring at Maeve, "is Hex."

"It is, is it?" Lestrange demanded, his expression wild at his defeat. He leveled his wand at the boy. "Crucio!"

Both Hex and Maeve screamed and he sank to the ground, once again in the throes of the Torturing Curse. Lestrange stood over him and laughed. "How do you feel now, boy?" he taunted.

Hex rolled onto his back, his hands clamped to his head in an attempt to keep it on. Despite the white-hot pain that drilled to his very bones, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus. "Just fine, thanks," he ground out.

"Lovely. Are you feeling any more cooperative?"

"N-not really." Lestrange kicked him in the ribs and Hex yelled again as the pain was magnified a thousand-fold. He stared unseeingly at Maeve and willed himself to breathe.

"You are not ready to tell me your name?"

His face twisted as he glared up at his torturer. "N-never."

Lestrange kicked him again. "I am tiring of this, boy. What is your name?"

"It's Hex, dammit!"

"Indeed?" Those golden eyes were toxic as he leveled the wand at Hex. "Let us see what your name is when you are—aaaaaahhhhhh!"

There was a feline snarl and Norman made a spectacular leap onto Lestrange's head, spitting and clawing. He screamed and flailed about, trying to dislodge the cat without hurting himself.

Hex picked himself up as the Cruciatus Curse was broken. Breathing hard, he watched the thin man pry one paw off his face, and another. Then, ignoring the protests coming from every fiber of his body, Hex launched himself at Lestrange as he wrenched Norman off and flung the cat away, leaving bloody furrows raking down his face. The wands in Lestrange's hand bounced off Hex's head as they fell to the ground in a tangle of robes and limbs.

Hex backhanded his opponent across the face. When one of Lestrange's hands grabbed at his face, he bit down into it and locked his own hands around his throat, trying to bang Lestrange's head on the ground.

Lestrange boxed Hex's ears with his free hand and the boy was forced to loosen his hold. The world spun and he found himself on his back, Lestrange's ropy hands around his throat. The thin man, fresh from Azkaban, was not in peak physical condition, but Hex was still weak from the Cruciatus Curse and had difficulty fighting back.

The boy coughed and tried futilely to pry off the fingers from around his neck. Then he tried to smack Lestrange's ear, but all he could manage was a pitiful slap. Lestrange laughed and squeezed harder. He was Hank Ulster all over again. Hex fought the rising tide of unconsciousness and searched his memory for ways to break the hold.

Resisting his instincts, Hex let go of Lestrange's hands and thrust his arms up. The thin man swore and twisted away to avoid the stabbing fingers reaching for his eyes, releasing the boy's neck as he did so. Hex grabbed Lestrange's hair with one hand and imprisoned his wrists with the other, shoving Lestrange onto his back again.

Both combatants were tired, but Hex was younger, bigger, and he was pissed. This man was not Hank Ulster, the boy told himself as he introduced Lestrange to his fist and felt the satisfying give of breaking bone. He wasn't going to lose his home if he fought back this time. Hex had a savage grin of his own as he concentrated on inflicting as much pain as he knew how.

Grunting in pain from his broken nose, Lestrange tried to regain the upper hand, but Hex used the man's own momentum to keep his opponent on his back. He and Lestrange rolled over again and again, their hands locked around each other's throats.

The Impedimenta Curse wore off a moment too late. "Hex!" Maeve cried as she ran to them. "You're too close to the ravine!"

Her white face, mouth open in a silent scream, was the last thing Hex saw before he and Lestrange went over the edge. He felt his arms wrench before the pain exploded throughout his entire body and everything went black.

Concluding Remarks: Sorry. Got a bit bloodthirsty back there. Stay tuned for the next chapter!