A/N: Ya'll have to check out the Gilded Lily.. I pointed out two spots that should be familiar to the Gilded Lily readers, and if you read it, you will understand better.
Neither did they realize that Libby was there too. Her eyes filled with tears and she was ready to rip anything and everything to shreds. But who was she going to confide in? Taura? Whatever. Orion? He would be pissed and demand she come home. Devon would easily spill. And what about Jake or Jen? Right.. They were Muggles.
Finally, it hit her. "Dad." She whispered.
Flocks of Hogwarts students exited the grounds to descend upon Hogsmeade, and Liberty Black was no exception. Excepting the fact that instead of going to Zonko's or Rosmerta's or Honeydukes, she went to the edge of the town to be able to use her laptop (A/N: They did have laptops in 1995, just not very advanced ones).
Tapping away at the keys, she logged onto the Internet via the phone booth nearby. (A/N: Any of you who are Gilded Lily fans will remember that Sirius used this booth in Chapter 37.) Locating www.bmomphonebook.com, Libby typed in several aliases.
SIRIUS BLACK NO MATCHES
S. BLACK NO MATCHES
P. S. BLACK NO MATCHES
Remembering a story that Arabella had told her, she typed in 'William Sidworth'. (A/N: Chapter 40, Gilded Lily fans.)
William Sidworth is a single bachelor uncle of three- Harold, Libby and Reggie. Home: 3201 Via Ventura Drive, PH, British Ministry of Magic Province 42: Muggle alias: San Donte. William Sidworth is currently working as a: Waiter at Tim's, Records File Assistant at BMOM Province 42 office and Special Advisor to Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Scrolling down, Libby typed in her address: 8974 Oakwood Way, British Ministry of Magic Province 16: Muggle alias: Hogsmeade, and requested broom directions. Next Friday, there would be a trip to Ministry of Magic Province 42.
Dear Dad,
No, it's not what you think- Snape hasn't given me any trouble, and, on the whole, I've been a good girl. I have a couple of new friends here at Hogwarts.. Dean, Parvati- The whole fifth year crew minus Ron and Harry.. They're merely acquaintances. However, Harry's cousin is also a close friend of mine.....
"How do Ministry of Magic Provinces work, Ms. Ravenclaw?" Professor Binns asked as Ron continued to sleep with his eyes open.
"The Ministry buys abandoned sites and places Muggle-Repelling Charms on them, as well as boundaries for magical activity, controlling how far magic will go. They then fix up these abandoned sites and make them into small villages for Squibs and other magical people, even though creatures can only inhabit Hogsmeade, creatures such as hags. They place a number and a Muggle alias on these sites and sell homes to the wizarding public." Reggie answered automatically. "This is how much of the pureblooded community can easily avoid Muggles."
"Excellent, Ms. Ravenclaw. Twenty points to your house." Professor Binns declared. "Ms. Black, please proceed to tell us how big these sites can be."
"Yes, Professor. Sites can be as big as a small city and as small as a platform or a pub, for example, the Leaky Cauldron and Platform 9 ¾ . Some houses, like that belonging to my friend Ron Weasley, is set on a site that is pretty much out of sight of Muggles. Some other houses, like manors belonging to rich pureblooded families, as Reggie said, allow pureblooded families to keep to themselves. However, my godmother lives in the Muggle world, so it isn't a requirement, just a safe option." Libby replied.
"Well put, Ms. Black! Ten points to Gryffindor!" Professor Binns raved. "Now, returning to the subject of magical inhabitation.."
Hermione shoved her elbow into Ron's stomach. "Doesn't Sirius live in one of those?"
Harry nodded. "Number 42. He says we're going to visit him soon, as well as a cousin of mine."
"If you had a cousin, then why didn't you live with family other than the Dursleys?" Hermione hissed.
"Because, he says she's an orphan." Harry replied. "Plus, she doesn't know we're related."
Hermione nodded. Ron suddenly burst out, without the least care (reminder, he has just woken up): "Percy.. Don't wanna go to Pen' lope's house! It gives off the nastiest stench!"
Libby sniggered. "Mr. Weasley, do you have something you want to share with the class?" Professor Binns asked sternly.
"No, sir." Ron said, turning green.
"Well, then, let's continue." He requested. "If that's alright with you."
"Of course, sir." Ron muttered, sinking into his seat.
"Shut up, Weasley." Libby snapped at Ron, who had just sworn at her.
"Why do you have to be so god damn annoying?" He demanded.
"Because I'm American. Don't I fit the profile?" She retorted, walking off.
"That girl!" Ron muttered, shaking his fist in her direction.
An owl flew into the corridors on their way to Charms and dropped a letter at Harry's feet.
"Dear Mister Potter, We regret to inform you that it is your civil duty is to come to the Ministry's courthouse in Diagon Alley as both a witness and a suspect in the murder case of Cedric Diggory, as well as prosecution for possible criminal activity with Sirius Black and/or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You will be called up for cross-examination in MOM Province 42 on your next Hogsmeade weekend. Thank you for your time, you have until December 17th to find a lawyer. Sincerely..."
Seamus Finnigan was the only one who spoke. "You? A suspect in the murder of Cedric Diggory? Maybe Malfoy, but you?"
Nobody else could speak. They were all huddled around Harry, their jaws gracing the floor.
Libby sighed heavily as she walked into Hogsmeade that Thursday night. She had already set up a Transfigured teddy bear that was Charmed to say three things she would say if she was sick and delirious. Hermione had just left her with Ron and Reggie. They said Harry was talking to Dumbledore.
Not that she cared, of course. Harry Potter was.. A bug. A bug. That was it. He didn't know the truth, but he certainly thought he did. He was just so.. Annoying..
Harry returned to the Three Broomsticks very late. Ron and Hermione had given up on being polite and left Harry a message that they had gone back to the castle with Reggie. Harry pulled his jacket tighter as he sat down on the back steps of Madam Rosmerta's connecting inn. There wasn't much to think about, McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick had been very easy on them, considering Voldemort's rising. Beyond Harry's upcoming prosecution, there was little on his mind but whether Sirius would take him in or not, or whether Libby's mysterious past was connected at all with his. The thoughts wandered around in his head and he took a swig of his butterbeer.
Meanwhile, Libby stood ten feet away in a dark alley, her mind and her heart wrestling over the subject that had been haunting her for a while. She made her decision and pulled her backpack closer to her back. She stepped out of the darkness and caught Harry by surprise.
"Fudge not yet off your case?" She asked in a friendly, cheery tone as she sat down next to Harry, not at all expressing her mad desire to interrogate him immediately. "Same with me. Something about 'as if we didn't have enough trouble with both you and the magical French/British friendship! And with your American accent you're not helping the Americans either!'"
Harry stared at her blankly.
"The whole Madame Maxime thing? And the whole France-is-too-snooty-to-admit-when-they-needed-your-help thing is kind of stupid, but I can't say much, my mother was French. However, they didn't get too much in the way during the Triwizard Tournament problems." She reminded him. He nodded. "Lucky Fudge is having to go through elections in November. He won't get my vote."
"How do you know about my problems last year with the Mini.. Oh, did Fleur tell you?" Harry asked, unaware that his assumption was incorrect.
"Something like that." Libby said with a smile. Light poured out onto the back steps. Both Gryffindors were unaware Madam Rosmerta was cleaning out a glass in the doorway, listening to their conversation. "I'm staying at Magnolia Crescent while I'm living in England, at least for Easter and Christmas holidays. Isn't that close to where you live?"
Harry nodded with obvious amazement. "Who near Privet Drive is anywhere as 'abnormal' as me?"
"Old Mrs. Figg. She's an old friend of my godmother, godfather and my dad."
"Mrs. Figg is a witch?" Harry sputtered. Libby nodded enthusiastically.
"She gave up the practice years ago, after she made herself look really old. She's a half-Veela like me. Both she and her husband were on the Quidditch team together back when my dad was in school here. Her husband was murdered by Death Eaters the night before Halloween in 1981." Libby said, very Hermione-like.
"My parents were murdered on Halloween in 1981." Harry whispered. There was a moment of silence and then he quickly changed the subject. "I heard you have a huge family. My godfather does too."
"Yeah, I live with my cousins (all nineteen of them) my nine aunts and uncles, we survived the era of You-Know-Who, the whole lot of us on my father's side, and my grandmother is really strict and my grandfather still runs his Potions Engr-E-Dients farm as smoothly as ever." Libby said as if she had explained this a million times.
"What about your mum's side?" Harry asked, again unaware that his assumption was incorrect.
"Dead."
There was a pause. "Sorry."
"You didn't kill her, did you?" Libby said, choking back a short sob, but when Harry tried to check, there was not so much as a tear in her eyes.
"Wish my mum's side was dead." Harry said with a chuckle. Libby echoed in his laugh.
"Yeah, Mrs. Figg said they're all a bunch of conservative nutters. Personally, anybody who is wider than they are tall is a little suspicious-sounding to me." Libby said, making Harry laugh again. She changed the subject smoothly. "I just wrote to my dad about Hogwarts."
As Libby unwrapped a Chocolate Frog, Harry's thoughts landed on her mysterious past. He responded quickly. "What did you tell him?"
"I told him about Seamus, Dean, Parvati, Lavender, Hermione and Reggie." She said with a mouthful of chocolate. "You collect the cards, don't you?"
He nodded and she handed him the card. (A/N: Harry's brain in bold: Agrippa! Ron's going to love this!) "Why them?"
Libby gave him a clearly sarcastic, questioning look. "Because some certain redhead Gryffindor fifth year won't let me hang around with you. I don't know, because maybe they're some of the first people I met and I'm rather attached to them?"
"Sorry." Harry said, rolling his eyes. "How exactly do you know everybody? I see you very little, but never romping around with Hermione or Dean or Parvati for that matter."
"Just because you're wrapped up in beating Ron at chess (which, dear, will never happen), doesn't mean you're completely paying attention to the world. The world isn't all chess, you know. I meet Hermione and Reggie at the library when everyone else has Divination, as well as three times a week; Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. On Wednesdays, Seamus, Dean and I go out to the Lake, or, depending on the weather, chose a spot in the Common Room to discuss Quidditch. It's not like I'm on the team or anything, but I still like Quidditch. I am, of course, junior champion of the Quintuplet Schools of Magic Quidditch Tournament, MVP of the Academy's team. Then, while Hermione and Reggie have Arithmancy, Parvati and Lavender meet me in the Entrance Hall and we discuss the latest Muggle/Magic fashion merges, as well as a few more interesting topics, like where Parvati vacationed this past summer, or how Lavender's lambs are doing."
Libby had been counting off her fingers, and Harry had hardly expected a speech. "What else did you tell him?"
"Well, Dad's familiar with Hermione and Reggie, so I told him about the rest. Seamus is very passionate and fiercely loyal to anyone who gains his trust, Dean wants to draw and paint portraits like the Fat Lady, portraits that move, Parvati travels all over, and Lavender lives on a farm with her grandparents and cousins like I do, except her family isn't magical and the farm isn't for some magic corporation."
Harry had known these people for nearly five years and Libby had known them for nearly two months, yet Libby knew more about those four people than he did. Madam Rosmerta chuckled very quietly, and went away so the two could have what she called 'puppy love privacy'. How wrong adults can be.
"They might send you to the M.R.C.F.J.D.B. Otherwise known as the Magical Rehabilitation Center for Juvenile Delinquents, Britain. They'll send you there in the summer if you're found guilty. As long as you get your own bathroom/bedroom suite, you'll be fine. The kids there know if you're being sent there for a reason, or if you're being sent there for being on Fudge's bad girl/boy list. They don't mess with you much if it's the second reason, but they'll screw you over three times before you get out if you're really guilty. It's like a sort of mini-Azkaban where the Dementors are your fellow human beings."
"Do you know who my godfather is?" Harry asked slyly, choppily changing the subject.
"Er, uh, no.." Libby lied, hoping he hadn't figured her out.
"Well, he's getting this two-story apartment in some MOM Province with these Muggle-Repelling Charms, and that's where I might stay during my trial."
Libby discovered there was a way to trap Harry in his own game. "Don't you need a permit for living in MOM Provinces? Why would your godfather need to?"
Harry half-lied, happy that Libby didn't know that Remus Lupin was a friend of Sirius Black, or so he assumed. "He just can't afford to pay the rent in Muggle spaces, but it's a really nice place. Plus, his friend, a werewolf, is submitting the application."
"Oh." Libby replied quietly, the idea first hitting her that maybe, just maybe, she'd have a home, a family home not overrun with cousins and screaming grandmothers.
"My godfather had twins, one of them a girl named Liberty Isabella Black. At first I thought you were her, but remembered your name was Liberty Nadia Gemini Jacqueline Bella Black. Not only that, but Black is a common last name. But more and more, you are like her. She had blue eyes like yours. She was a half-Veela like you. Her mother and her mother's side are all dead. And you know what, Libby? You say you live on a farm in California? Well, until a correction was made at the Durmstrang Institute four years ago, Liberty Isabella Black was living in the same part of California. Since then, Liberty Isabella Black was no more. And, what's even crazier, you two were even born within two weeks of each other at the same hospital. There are a whole lot of coincidences right there, isn't there?" Harry asked, realizing as he went along that this girl was practically his godfather's daughter, his voice dripping with accusations and suspicion more and more as he continued.
"What you stupidly imply, Mister Potter, is that I am the same L.I. Black that disappeared four years ago, and you imply incorrectly. L.I. Black is dead, let's face that. I am Liberty Nadia Gemini Jacqueline Bella Black, named after what my father stood for, my mother, my aunt, my father's best friend, my godmother's best friend and here comes my surname. Beyond that, I am nothing but the truth. Here's a tip, Mister Potter, before you start to go all Nancy Drew and try to solve a mystery, have a mystery to solve." She snapped huffily. "Excuse me, I have to go.. Somewhere.."
Harry watched her leave and had a very horrible feeling that he was right about Libby Black, and he knew there was only one way to prove it.
Libby stomped off, making her grand exit out into the cold, and taking off. For 3201 Via Ventura Drive.
Harry shook his head as he slowly dragged his feet toward the Common Room. He expected to see Libby there, sulking in her usual spot by the fire. Sitting down in his new usual spot, near Libby, between Ron and Hermione, he realized that she wasn't there.
"She didn't come in.. Said she was a little sick and might take a walk.." Ron muttered. "Thank God."
Harry groaned and went to go owl Sirius that he would need a place to stay.
The next morning, Hermione came down to breakfast to announce that Libby wasn't feeling well. A magnificent phoenix flew in, dropped a letter in front of Harry and then burst into flames.
"I suppose Hedwig might have gotten ill." Hermione concluded, picking up the letter. She gasped. The four symbols on the Marauders' Map were ALL over this sheet of paper. Harry snatched it from her.
"Dear Harry, I suppose you could stay at my place, there's a Floo connection near the Potions machine. Just say into the fireplace: Sparkling Waters Apartments. You'll be there.. Oh, and a young female friend of mine, about your age, is taking care of my apartment this weekend, I have business to handle. So, if you don't mind, be good to her. She's a bit, high-maintenance. She'll greet you, she's in my penthouse. Love, Uncle William." Harry whispered, covering up the letter as a Slytherin third year passed.
"Uncle William?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.
"He probably knew that I would read it to you at breakfast." Harry explained.
"Have you told Dumbledore yet?" Hermione asked.
Before Harry could answer, a little fourth year Ravenclaw squeaked. "Mister Potter? Dumbledore requests your presence in his office. The password is 'Bertie's Botts.' "
Libby looked around the apartment. It was bright, it was colorful, it was Jackie. Whoever the hell Jackie was. There was a picture of her, Lily, Arabella, James, Remus, Munguldus, Rafe, Helen, Ronan, Jenny, and Missy in the living room, and a picture of her dancing with Libby's dad in a red dress in Paris. Trouble was, all these pictures were when she was young. Libby found her room instantly.
Personally, Libby liked Jackie's taste. There were two white, sleek futon couches in Libby's room, one with shiny orange covering, and one with sparkly zebra covering. Between the two was a coffee table with a cute orange telephone and there were a couple of bright throw pillows on the floor. There were hanging plants, and vases, and this four-painting set of square color/black images of a kitty. There was a furry dresser and an inflatable chair and a beaded curtain over the window, funky lamps and a ceiling light, a mirror and two rugs- A fluffy mint green one, and a foot rug. Literally, it was a magenta, foot-shaped rug. There were books and high heels and purses all scattered about, and her umbrella was sitting somewhere.
It looked like it belonged to her.
There was a note attached to the throw pillow sitting at her feet.
"Dear Libby, Harry's being prosecuted this weekend in this province, so he's coming to stay. Don't scare him, he doesn't know about you yet. If anyone asks, you two are the niece and nephew of William Sidworth, and he has taken your cousin Regina out to another province for some better temporary medical care. Be a dear, darling.. Love, Dad."
Libby rolled her eyes and headed for the living room. It's walls were bronze-colored, and there were different cushions of shiny, mismatched leather on skinny metal frames, as well as a whole bunch of animal-print pillows and rugs. Under the television (custom-fitted with an animal-print frame, were books of all kinds, and the flower-shaped end tables held lamps, vases and weird parts of the pretty bottle collection her mother had had. There were two small frames of funky pictures and one large one with a landscape that were made up of bright blue plastic and faux fur. Closing the windows, Libby felt at home already.