A/N: Well, I got so many nice, reassuring reviews that I wrote a little tiny story for my mum. And she liked it. So I wrote another little tiny story for my dad. And he liked it. So I went through most of my relatives, writing little tiny stories all the past two days and emailing them around to each of them. Finally Nana suggested I publish the lot of them, with forwards to each story by the relatives that I wrote each of them for. She's already found me a person who does these things, some kind of agent, think it's literary, and it looks like I might get a book out soon. (Soon being within the next couple years.) So I'm not a tripemonger after all. (content little smile.) I'm going to work on this story LOTS more, now, because it's possible you nice reviewers kept me from something bad. Not saying I was suicidal, but just really sad. This next chapter gets a little scary, but I think you understand it needs to be done. 'The Show Must Go On,' to quote Harry Zidler there. Here you go. And thanks. I really needed that.

Chapter Eighteen: Allhallows Disaster

"My hair is straight," Julie observed in awe. "I look completely unnatural."

"Wow, Julie, you look so great!" Chloe complimented as her older friend came back in her red bathrobe. "What did you do to your hair?"

"It was one of Mum's potions, I don't know what. Do I really look myself? I feel like I just turned into my dad."

"Naw, his hair's not that soft and your's is much longer. What color dress robes have you picked out?"

"Er, that's the thing, Mum got me two sets, one for Christmas and one for this."

"C'est magnifique! I get to help you pick out what to wear!"

Before Julie could protest or even take another breath, her half-French friend was pulling robes from her closet.

"Red and green. Does not 'zat figure?" Chloe held up first the red, then the green to her friend's face and mumbled something incoherent and in French Julie didn't grasp. "Well, you'll look like a temptress in either set, are you sure your mother picked these out for you?"

"I wouldn't be shocked to find out that your Mum had helped her, Chlo'."

The younger girl laughed.

"You should really see mine, they're in Hufflepuff gold. Everyone was so sure I'd wind up in my father's House, and yellow is one of my good colors."

"Good colors? I've been wearing blue and green all my life, Chloe. What's all this stuff about 'good colors'?"

"Certain colors look better with certain skin, certain hair, certain eyes. You know. What looks beautiful on you might look bad on me. Do you honestly know so little about fashion?"

"Well, I guess I've got you to teach me now, don't I, then?"

"Better me than your father. He just wears black."

"I've noticed that. I think he's terribly afraid to mess the laundry up."

"That or he's afraid of stains from his first class showing up all day. We do seem to do a lot of potions in his class."

"He used to teach Potions, it's his forté."

"I like your mother's class better, she doesn't yell."

"She can, though, I've seen her get ticked at Dad. One time I fell off my broom, you'd think he had let me have my own dragon."

"Professor 'Agrid would like that."

"I'm sure he would. I've been thinking of finding him a little dwarf manticore, the kind that doesn't get much bigger than my arm. That'd be a pretty good Christmas gift."

"So would a set of adjustable leashes, Jule. Don't let's encourage his dangerous beasts hobby."

"Mum says he's always liked them, it's a bit late now."

"What are you thinking your dad would like?"

"I still haven't figured out what Dad wants yet, except the Quidditch Cup and a hundred percent on all of my finals."

"That's what my father wants, too, except for the Quidditch Cup. Do you think I might have a chance to play on next year's team?"

"I think you would be really great at it. And I wouldn't have to face all the guys alone." An idea hit Julie like a brick. "Tell you what, Chloe, you teach me what to wear and all this girly stuff, and I'll teach you to fly better than I can now."

"But the 'girly stuff' takes less than two hours, Julie."

"Chloe, look at my face." Obediently, Chloe did as she was told. "Notice anything odd? I've no makeup on."

"You've just gotten out of the shower, Julie."

"I know, but I never wear makeup. I don't own any. Isn't that odd?"

Chloe couldn't quite believe what Julie was telling her. "The fact is, Chloe, I want to look really good at the dance tonight. There's a guy I sort of fancy and he will be there."

"Is it Donaghan?"

"No, it's a Slytherin."

"Julia Snape! That's heresy! …Is he dishy?"

"Very much so."

"What color hair?"

Julie knew there was only one blond guy at Hogwarts who could be considered a dateable Slytherin.

"Well, I kinda can't tell you, you'd figure it out really easily."

"It's Alexei Malgryevic, isn't?"

"No! Good lord, that'd be like dating a red cabbage. Tastes very nice but can't think that well. You know the type, all body below and no brains upstairs."

Chloe laughed and burst into song just then.

"'Through all levels you've been changing. Elevator in the brain hotel,'"

"'A-broken down but just as well.'"

" 'Looking through crystal spectacles, I can see you've had your fun.' It isn't Professor Malfoy, now, is it, Jules?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I knew it! You are so your mother's daughter!"

"I do not like Malfoy, you crazy mindless git!"

"Then why don't you call him 'Professor,' then?"

"I never have! He's my dad's friend…"

"Boy, are you in for it, Julie! Your dad's gonna turn him into a roach if he finds this out."

"I…do…not…like…Draco," Julie enunciated slowly and clearly, too angry to realize her royal slip.

Chloe's eyes lit up like green beacons.

"You so do, you just called him by his first name!"

"Well, what if I do, you won't tell anyone."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"I… I'll tell Tom or Tim that you fancy them."

"Fancy them, I can't tell them apart quite yet!"

"Well…I could tell Professor McGonagall you've been going into Hogsmeade three years early."

"You helped me sneak in, you'd be nailed as well."

"Are you going to blackmail me?"

"I don't know. I think it's cute you've got a crush on a teacher, Jules… it is just a crush, right?"

"I'd hope it was."

"Tell me the truth, Julie."

"Alright, we might've hugged once or twice in the past few weeks. But only when I was crying and he was being really nice."

"Awww! You aren't shagging him down in the dungeons, then?"

"Chloe! Of course not!"

"I didn't think so. You'd be redder if you'd banged him, then, wouldn't you?"

"What part of France did you grow up in? You're eleven, for crying out loud, Chloe!"

"I'm also literate. Mamá tends to leave smutty books about."

"Spare me from France in its entirety."

"Alright, you've told me about your crush. Would you like to hear about mine?"

"Okay!" Julie brightened, happy to be off the tender subject of her Draco.

"Well, I know he's closer to your age than to mine, but the Chaser who sits by himself a lot, the really sweet, quiet one-"

"Aldous? That's so cute!"

"Isn't he? I mean, black hair, straight nose, dark eyes like coal, rrrrr!"

Julie didn't look nearly as gone as Chloe was.

"You realized you just described Dad as well?"

"Your mother's not the only one with good taste, you know."

Julie had to pause a moment to recover her wits. Yes, her father was nice-looking, but did everybody have to notice it in her presence? Especially a smutty eleven-year-old.

"Am I going completely against type to like a blonde?"

"Sort of. But that's okay. You're allowed."

"I am so happy to have your permission, Chlo'," Julie observed quite sarcastically.

"Think nothing of it, lowly mortal. And my silence on the matter can be bought… I think you know what I'd fancy if you can help." Julie nodded and Chloe smiled brightly. "And the green ones for tonight, he's a Slytherin."

"Merci beaucoup."

"Julie, your accent, c'est magnifique!"

"Hail, my tutor."

"You're going to sound like a Parisian soon."

"I hope to. Now we'd both better get ready for the dance."

"Mais oui, mon ami. Voulez-vous addresseé Aldous pour moi?"

"Oui, mon ami."

"Merci beaucoup."

***************************

"Mmmm… I'm so glad you're not ticked at me anymore," a very contented and somewhat less clothed Severus observed to his wife, kissing her so that she couldn't answer him. "Cute though you are when you're angry, dear."

"Since when do you say 'ticked'?"

"Since 'mad' means crazy."

"It's somewhat unnerving when you spit out words like that."

"How so?" Severus asked, sticking his tongue out outrageously. "I don't shpit."

"I mean when you spit out that Muggle slang, it's so unusual for you that I don't know who I'm kissing here."

"There are some very easy ways to tell, d'you want to see?"

"Like that! You are not supposed to be cute and funny now!"

"Would you prefer me to be strict and nasty now?"

"Well…not really. Actually, I'd like you to be dripping wet with me in the shower, but that's just my dirty mind going out of line."

"If it's that dirty I'd best be cleaning it." Without further ado, Hermione found herself being carried yet again to the shower in Severus's dungeon bathroom.

"You know Julie was eavesdropping on us upstairs?"

"Figures. Did she have a conniption?"

"A small one. That's punishment."

"Well, what completely implausible lie did you tell our girl?"

"I was going to make you do the laundry in the Muggle way."

"Perfect."

"What are you planning, Professor Snape?"

"Something unfriendly but humorous to do to her."

"Must you always be such a total Slytherin?"

"Yes."

"Dammit."

"I thought so."

"How come there's five kinds of shampoo in the shower, here?"

"I rotate them. Don't you notice I smell different all the time?"

"When did that start?"

"Last week. Draco suggested it."

"Why would you take his advice? His hair's grown down past his shoulders in just two days!"

"The Weasleys gave him some of that potion they made the mistake on, that's why his hair and beard got so long. He gave them two detentions, I thought that was fair."

"Did they use overripe Symphon spores or something, Sev?"

"Even worse. You should know it was Tryphon spores."

"No wonder Donaghan's got hair past his shoulders now."

"I shudder to think what it might have done to Julie, too."

"She would look like a pinup from the nineties, ecch!"

"I don't think she'd be able to walk upright. The hormones commonly increased are estrogen, testosterone and cortisone, which explains their nails and hair growing at such a rate. In males of their age the other two were balanced so as to cause little if any harm, but Julie's not done growing. She'd be a wreck."

"I'm kind of glad the Weasleys played that trick as a gift for her."

"Making Draco and McPhersen start bursting into song a lot? They felt that would amuse her?"

"They're Weasleys, they did mean well."

"At least they haven't tried giving anything to me. Draco's playing Mad-Eye Moody's game, only drinking from his own cup, scared he'll wind up with hair long as Dumbledore's."

"Speaking of, did you hear he'll be at the feast? He's also staying for the dance, that seems nice of him."

"I wonder what he'll wear."

"You're wearing black?"

"Of course."

"Seriously, dear, color would not kill you."

"It'd kill Minerva to see me walking around in it."

"You've got a point. Better save it for April Fool's."

"Ah, yes, the Weasley Christmas. What have you got planned?"

"Nothing so far, just turning into a squirrel in class."

"That might spawn a lot of very mean jokes, dear. I was planning to come in and act like you, see how many kids I send to Madam Pomfrey's then."

"Okay, by acting like me do you mean-?"

"Full charade, kindness and understanding flowing from the pores. Better get a shot before I attempt it dear."

"Should I be you, then? That could be quite interesting."

"I don't think you could do it."

"Oh, could I, Snape?"

There was a lot of very odd noise that nobody heard. The Silencing Charm on the whole dungeon saw to that.

***********************************

"Ah, little Chloe. How are you?"

"Er- -uh, fine, sir." Chloe looked as if she might explode any second from being addressed by Minister Dumbledore. Fortunately, ingrained manners caused her to respond. "And you?"

"Oh, I'm quite well, I've just got some nice new socks." Dumbledore pulled up his robe and unzipped his shiny boot to show a bright red sock with little gold brooms on it. "The left ones are green, Dobby mixes them. One can never have too many socks, you know."

"Oui, monsieur."

"Or too many languages. Voulez-vous doncè avec moi, mademoiselle Davies?"

And with that, Chloe was spun about by Minister Dumbledore, who was easily three feet taller and much older, but no less swift on his feet than the students there. It was the way Chloe danced with her grandfather, a spry old man married to a half-veela, and she found herself being less and less nervous fast. As the song ended, Dumbledore bowed and kissed her hand gently.

"Thank you for the dance, ma petit cherie. I believe there is someone else next in line."

There, a little behind her, was Aldous. Julie had suggested he dance with her younger friend, and the quiet boy complied with a 'why not' air. He was a writer of poetry, Chloe found, and the two at least got to know each other if not precisely sprouting love. She was having a wonderful time with him, and barely noticed as the music suddenly slowed to a needed halt. The Great Hall went dark but for one spotlight.

Strings began to play a classical baroque song, except Chloe knew for sure that wasn't what it was. The spotlight was centered on Malfoy now, and he strode across the floor to where Julie stood. This was evidently something he was used to, however Julie looked a little scared of his presence there. He bowed and she curtseyed in an antique way, and they began to move through the paces of a court quadrille. It was elegant, intricate, and somehow just a little bit frightening in a way. It was clear to Chloe that her friend was terrified.

Suddenly an electric bass punctured the mood of things, and the English court quadrille became a fast Spanish tango with lots of turns. Where Julie learned to dance like that Chloe had no idea, but it was obvious she wasn't scared anymore. In fact, she seemed to be liking this a great deal. Her parents were a little bit startled, especially as Malfoy had a red Gryffindor sash that perfectly contrasted to Julie's green and his black robes quite festively. His hair was longer, of course, but his face was smooth, excepting a very European moustache and goatee beard, secretly reminding Chloe of one of the Three Musketeers. The way Julie had fixed her hair was incredible, straight and pulled back with a braid that controlled its length. It was as if her typical ponytail had merely gained elegance, so that she didn't look like anyone but herself. She looked older, though, and noone thought to comment that Malfoy was a teacher there.

The song finally ended and the two dancers stopped politely, Malfoy kissing Julie's hand and she curtseying. Chloe was amused very suddenly. Julie liked him! This was just so cute, she had to go talk to her.

Julie's dad, Professor Snape, beat her to the punch.

"Well!" He looked down the entire length of his nose at the miscreant. "Strange terpsichorean powers one acquires in orphanages."

"Oh, no, Dad, Malfoy taught me. It was something to do when weren't flying. I kinda wanted to see what you and Mum would think."

"I think Malfoy needs to- -oh, there you are, Draco. What's up with this?"

"Malfoy family tradition, Sev, stop the show. Julie was the only girl who'd hold still and learn the steps."

"I believe that was a Muggle song." Severus was decidedly less than amused by this.

"Right on, Dad! 'The Ace Of Swords' from Turn Of A Friendly Card. Alan Parsons Project."

"Come on, Severus, it was lots of fun to make people stare like that."

"There's nothing going on between us but friendly stuff. Malfoy's too blond to be good for anything but dancing with."

"And helping you practice and study, girl!"

"Don't call me 'girl,' ferret."

"Alright, Julia."

"Arrgh! Can't you see how annoying your Slytherins are?"

Julie's eyes narrowed into dangerous triangles, and Severus believed their relationship was really just friends –so far. His daughter would have to be watched very carefully.

"Why don't you dance with me awhile, Starcatcher?"

"Okay."

Snape was just as strong a leader as Malfoy was, probably because he'd taught him as a boy her age years ago. After a comforting dance with her father, Julie found herself spun into the arms of Uncle Harry as well, and then to Uncle Ron, whose smile looked permanent.

"Have you met Judy yet?" he asked her. Julie shook her head 'no.' "Well, then, come along. She'll be thrilled to meet you, you know Muggle stuff."

Ron and Julie left the dance floor for a table where Ginny and Hermione were chatting with a nice-looking dark-haired lady. The effect on Julie Snape was galvanic.

"Miss Parkington?"

"Julie Starcatcher?"

"What are you doing here?" they asked in unison.

"I- I'm… this is my mum, Judy."

"Then I'm dating your Uncle Ron!"

The two females embraced like the old friends they really were. Judy was a little younger than Uncle Ron, but not too old that she didn't treat Julie as an adult. In fact, Hermione was surprised at how friendly the thirty-some-year-old was with her fifteen-year-old. It was a little bit painful to think that this person had seen Julie grow up from about the same age she was when her daughter was born, but then Hermione noticed a slight tension. This teacher did not think of Julie as her own child, rather, she seemed friendly but almost afraid of her. And Julie had an accusing sort of look in her eyes, the kind of sidelong, almost-angry look Harry sometimes gave people who had known his parents when he didn't have the chance. Yes, Julie and Judy got along quite well, but there was something between them that wasn't good.

"So, how long have you known Julie?" Severus had to find out how this person knew his child.

"Since the night she came in with her hand cut up. Julie used to be one of the kids that I tutored."

"She taught me how to read when I was four or so."

"Three, Julie, you were three."

"Was I? I don't remember everything." This time, Julie had a harshness in her voice that only Hermione, Judy and Ginny seemed to notice.

"She was very precocious for her age, you know."

"Still is," Severus observed. "You should see her fly."

"You mean she's a- Julie, you're a-"

"A witch? Oh, yeah. For awhile now."

Judy went white and looked somewhat frightened then. This time Ron was paying enough attention to notice this.

"Judy, you alright?"

"Yeah, just I… I finally know how she did that trick."

"Which of many have you figured out?" Julie asked with an innocently exasperated smile.

"You made a pencil levitate above my head!"

And instantly something was revealed: this was the 'ornery old baggage' Julie'd spoke of once. Severus began to notice the way they seemed to be holding a standoff there, the teacher a little afraid of his daughter and Julie wanting something to be brought up soon. There was definitely something Slytherinish going on.

"It seemed a good place to put it at the time."

"Well, it was very funny, now I think of it. So tell me, how were you adopted by the wizards here?"

"I wasn't."

"She's our daughter," Severus asserted. "It's a long story, but she's ours each way possible."

"So you're her father? I see the resemblance."

The Snapes grinned identically, pleased that she had noticed this.

"And you've got your mother's eyes, Julie, I bet that they noticed on looks alone. Do wizards adopt children, anyways?"

"Quite often. We were planning to adopt her before we found out she was really ours."

Julie had not realized that little tidbit of information, but it was clear from the look of shock and then sudden contentment that she was very pleased to know it. Before she had kind of considered herself an unfortunate accident –a reasonably wanted accident afterwards, but an accident, no question about that point. The idea that her parents had liked her enough in the few hours they knew her before finding out the truth of things was something Julie needed to know very badly. Hermione saw the look on her face and wondered why she hadn't told her before.

Judy felt the need to explain her unusual question, then:

"Because I work at the orphanage where I grew up, and some of the children in there may be wizards, too. I mean, if Julie was, it must not be an uncommon occurrence there."

"Actually, Miss Parkington," Dumbledore explained, coming from behind her like a bearded ghost in Hamlet, "the Ministry of Magic is currently initiating a project all over England to diagnose young wizards in orphanages earlier. I trust Ron here has told you about Voldemort?"

"Er…sort of. I know he was evil and he grew up in a Muggle orphanage."

"Well, there are many more unpleasant details, but you know the most relevant two at least. Were you aware that young Voldemort lived at the same orphanage you and Julie did?"

******************************

The spell was almost complete. Wormtail dusted the pentacle's sides with ground bone dust some more, and chanted in Latin as he pierced his own hand with a long shard of bone, dripping blood into the center of the five-point star. Smoke or mist began to rise up from where the red drops had fallen, and before poor Wormtail knew it, he was knocked down by the shock of his old master standing there.

"Pathetic," hissed the voice of Lord Voldemort. "You use sorcery to return me to earth once more, even as I flourish in hell below? You failed me one time too many, Peter Pettigrew!"

"Please, Master! I did not fail! The- -the backup, the backup in case you were killed, alive, of course, but not at the orphanage."

"Of course not! And yet you failed to reincarnate me in the child. What good does it do a dead wizard to have an heir?"

For a moment Wormtail cowered and Voldemort realized what he had said. An heir…

"Get up, you coward. I shall spare you. You chose my heir well, child of the traitor and the Muggle-born. How did you cause them to mate back then?"

"I didn't, my Lord," Wormtail said with relish. "They had been having an affair in the dungeon for almost two years before you were- -well, you know."

"Really?" The salacious grin on the snakelike face was so hideous that even Wormtail cringed. "And you kidnapped the Mudblood, a Memory Charm… they know nothing about my heir at all, I trust?"

Wormtail cowered and Voldemort glared at him. "Do they?"

"Well, the child's magical gifts were somewhat evident, and-"

"Do they know about the child or not, Wormtail?"

He couldn't stand the glare and the story poured out.

"She came to Hogwarts and they found out she's theirs, m'Lord. She's been one of their family ever since."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"Three months, give or take. I'm sorry, sir!"

"Sorry? My only chance at an heir is a blood-and-bone Snape!" Voldemort's eyes blazed red at Wormtail as the latter cowered and wished it was all over. "Wait. Do you mean to say that Severus married the Muggle-born?"

"Years ago, m'Lord. She's a professor now."

"Hmm. Whatever happened to Potter then?"

"He played Quidditch and now teaches Flying at Hogwarts, sir."

"As would his father. Any family?"

"Married Arthur Weasley's youngest, they have twin girls."

"You're good at keeping track of my enemies. Are you sure you don't still have a soft spot for the Weasleys from your rodent years?" It was a harsh thing to say and Wormtail cringed from it. "What of Dumbledore?"

"He's Minister of Magic now."

"Figures," Voldemort hissed. "Well, what night is this?"

"Halloween, sir, the only night the spell can work."

"Curses! You are aware, then, that I cannot leave the pentacle?"

"I- I had no idea, sir."

"Learn what you attempt next time, ignorant!"

For a few moments Voldemort considered the night's possibilities. He would begin to shine once the night reached it's darkest point, then slowly fade and be gone by firstlight. The spell would not work again for an entire year, and if the heir became too close to her blood parents, it would be useless to attempt to convince her then. An idea came to him -he'd use an old trick over again.

"Wormtail. where did your wand's failure scar the child?"

"On the hand, the left palm."

"Oh, that's very good. I bet Potter and his little 'nephew' get along quite well."

"Er- 'niece,' m'Lord, the child is a female one."

"Really?" Voldemort's face contorted into a smile that expelled a laugh. "Imagine Severus with a daughter, that's really rich! I bet he's despondent she isn't a boy," he hissed.

"She plays Quidditch very well, he taught her to fly."

"So he likes the girl?"

"Very much, I think, m'Lord."

"What about the mother? Too young to have a ten-year-old daughter at twenty-eight?"

"Uhh…it's been nearly sixteen years, m'Lord, the girl is fifteen now."

"Fifteen!"

The plan he had been plotting would not work that way. Voldemort had only done it once on an eleven-year-old. And yet, fifteen…

"Wormtail, what goes on to celebrate Halloween now? Could you Apparate to Hogwarts and snatch the girl?"

"Sir, we're in Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest now as you speak. There's a dance for all the students and faculty, plus Dumbledore should be in attendance."

"Excellent," the Dark Lord hissed evilly. "Listen here, I want you to go to the dance right now and pick out a student who's close to her. A friend. Lure the friend out with the Confundus Charm, then make sure my heir is the only one who knows it's you. She'll follow… the Gryffindor blood should do that much. You will be rewarded well if you can do this right."

"My life is yours to command, Lord."

"Enough groveling! Are you certain of who the girl's friendly with? She is in Slytherin, of course,"

"No, it's Gryffindor."

"Ah." Voldemort frowned for a moment, then smiled like a reptile with glowing eyes. "That should serve the traitor father perfectly. Have you been watching her closely?"

"Since she was born, from a distance, sir."

"You know her memories, what she's grieved about, a few great fears?"

"She fears little, m'Lord, after all she's your heir."

"Not yet she isn't. Or should I say, not quite?"

Voldemort knew that the conversion would take a lot of work. And he only had about eight hours left to finish it. But he wasn't called the Dark Lord for nothing.

"Fetch the heir with the bait… what's her name?"

"The bait, m'Lord?"

"My heir! What's the child's name?"

"Oh… Julia Starcatcher Snape, because of her scar."

"Named for a mark, I remember that. The orphanage was never a place to give out real names." It was as if Tom Riddle was remembering his nasty past. "I, fortunately, showed up with my own name. Get on with it, Wormtail!"

He scampered off. Meanwhile, Voldemort scratched a few letters in the air, then switched them around to make a new name.

The Dark Lady could not be called 'Julie Snape.'

****************************

A/N: Alright, is anybody scared yet? I'm not sure the newly-very-flawed Julie has the character to stand up to Voldemort… but Draco might. Will somebody save somebody else next time, and will Ron get up his nerve to propose to Miss Parkington before Julie gets her into an argument? Will Tim and Tom spike the punch bowl with absinthe or just potion? Why am I asking nobody these questions, just typing them?

Because I'm not sure I have all the answers yet. It might be awhile.

T, B, F,

-J. McN.