Chapter 4

Regina tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Tomorrow, Isabelle came home for the Christmas holidays, and for some reason, that bothered her. She had been on edge around the girl ever since her parents' funeral. She looked at the ceiling for a minute, and then closed her eyes, eventually falling into a fitful slumber.

She found herself in the backyard, at what appeared to be a party of sorts. Figuring that she was in the middle of a dream, she walked towards the music. A large group of people were talking, eating and dancing – people she didn't know. Puzzled, she walked around the perimeter of the party.

She stopped suddenly in front of two young girls. The dark-haired one looked strangely familiar, so she walked up to them to get a closer look.

"He is so hot, Liz," the dark-haired girl gushed. "He looks just like Ryan Philippe, don't you think?"

"Whatever," Liz replied, rolling her eyes as if she'd heard this tirade a million times.

"Oh, please. Name one guy here that's even half as hot as Stephen Parker."

As the titian-haired girl blushed and looked at the ground, Regina remembered where she'd seen the dark-haired girl before – in that bizarre vision she had after her parents' funeral. What was her name again? she puzzled.

"Meggie, you know I fancy Nicholas. He's so--"

"Boring."

"He is not," Liz protested. "I think he's cute."

"You would. Besides, he looks like a clone of Papa."

"Well, he's good looking, too."

"Liz, you're missing the point. Everyone loves Saint Nick, even you." Meggie's eyes clouded over. "Papa loves him more because he's the younger, perfect version of himself, and so does Mom. Do you have any idea how tough it is to have a perfect twin?"

Sure do, Regina thought sympathetically, despite her sinking feeling about who "Mom" and "Papa" are.

"At least you have a brother. And a mother. I just have Daddy," she replied sadly.

"You have me and Saint Nick," Meggie said, wrapping her arm around the other girl. "Hey, I just realized something!"

"What's that?"

"Well, my sister just married your uncle, so that makes me your aunt-in-law."

"Yeah, and your uncle married my aunt, so that makes us cousins-in-law," Liz pointed out, laughing.

"We're getting way too inbred. And you want to be with Nicholas?" Meggie said, rolling her eyes.

"Then you'd really be my sister," she replied earnestly. "It's not like Daddy's getting over Mum anytime soon, so that I'd get some other brothers or sisters. She only died ten years ago."

"Well, it took Papa something like sixteen years to get over Hermione's mom."

"Because he was in prison, you prat! If you subtract the time he was in prison, and therefore off the dating scene, you have a grand total of four years. One of which was right after Hermione was born, and two were spent on the run from the law. Like anyone's going to hook up with a fugitive. Daddy's way behind. I think he's just stuck in the past."

"You do have a point," Meggie agreed.

"Thank you. I just want him to be happy," Liz said, smiling broadly as a tall, dark-haired boy walked up to them.

Regina gasped. Any doubts she had about the father of these twins immediately vanished. He was the clone of Sirius Black. There was no denying it, especially when he grinned at his sister – that incredibly irritating I-know-something-you-don't-know smirk.

"What do you want?" Meggie narrowed her eyes.

"You're in so much trouble," he taunted her.

"What for? All I've done all night is sit here," she replied.

"Exactly. Sit there and stare at Stephen."

"So what?"

"So, I heard Mom talking to Uncle Phillip about it. She says that you're the punishment for the sins of her youth."

"Whatever."

"Isn't he a little old for you, Meg? Mom certainly thinks so," he asked. His smirk got even larger, knowing that would set her off.

"Mom's such a hypocrite, I swear." She crossed her arms angrily.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Liz asked, confused.

"It means that Meggie's going off about stupid stuff."

"You are so naïve, Nicholas Black. If you only knew half the stuff I did…" her voice dropped off, and she bit her lip guiltily.

"Like what?" he challenged her.

She wouldn't meet his eyes. "Never mind, Nick. Forget that I said anything."

"Suit yourself. Hey Liz, how about a dance?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied, smiling shyly.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Meggie muttered under her breath as they walked away.

Me, too, Regina thought, sitting down limply beside the girl. But, this is just a dream, just a really horrible nightmare, she kept repeating to herself. An overreaction to worrying about the future. After all, isn't it just an amazing coincidence that I was worried about Isabelle coming home, and then I have this "dream"? Definitely, she decided.

"Why are you sitting over here all by yourself?" came an incredibly familiar voice. Regina and Meggie looked up at Sirius at the exact same moment.

"No reason," she pouted.

"I see."

He crossed his arms and leaned against the short stone fence that encircled the enormous outdoor patio. Regina couldn't believe her eyes – time really hadn't changed his looks much. A liberal amount of grey peppered his hair, and he wore glasses now. That made her smile, considering how much teasing he always gave James growing up about his glasses. Other than that, he looked pretty much the same.

"Why does everyone in this family have to be so damn perfect?" she burst out, frustrated.

Sirius fought back a small smile. "Like whom?"

"Like everybody. Look at Hermione over there. So damn pretty in her wedding dress, which is, of course, a perfect replica of her mother's dress. And, to top it all off, she gets married underneath the same tree where you married her mom. Blech," she made a face. "Isn't that just so sweet? Saccharin-sweet, if you ask me."

"Megan, see these grey hairs here?" he pointed. "I didn't have any of them before you came along. Well, maybe one, but that's it."

"Yes, and I'm the punishment for the sins of Mom's youth."

"Nah, you're the punishment for the sins of my youth, trust me." He winked.

A little redheaded girl toddled by them, clutching a full glass of punch. Regina watched James pick her up, narrowly avoiding spilling the entire glass on them both. Wait a minute here, she thought wildly. That man is too young to be James. Then who is he? she wondered shaking her head. This dream was getting more bizarre by the minute.

"Oh, there goes another perfect one," Meggie complained. "Harry Perfect Potter, and his equally perfect daughter, Rachel."

Harry? Is he James' son, then? Regina thought, staring at the man. And if that's James' son, then that girl is his granddaughter. My great-niece, she thought with an amazed smile. Rachel Potter – that's kind of pretty. She turned to Sirius, who was laughing at the look on Meggie's face.

"Alright, I'll give you that one. I think all Potters are genetically programmed to be perfect, though. They can't help it – it's in their blood."

"Are you saying I'm genetically doomed?"

"I'm saying you're overly dramatic, and if you say the word 'perfect' one more time, I'm going to toss you into the punch bowl. After I enlarge it to the size of a small swimming pool, of course."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me. I think it would be great entertainment."

Meggie stood up, put her hands on her hips, and looked Sirius dead in the eye. "Perfect."

"Alright, I warned you. I hope that spiked fruit punch goes well with your outfit," he laughed, picking her up in the fireman's carry.

"Put me down!" she squealed.

"Nope," he replied, carrying her kicking and screaming to the food area.

"What's going on?" a tall, handsome blonde-haired boy asked.

"Stephen, would you please put the punch bowl on the ground? Meggie here wants to go swimming," Sirius answered. The boy laughed and complied quickly.

"No, I don't," she said through clenched teeth.

"Sure you do. Don't make a liar out of your own father, at your sister's wedding, no less." He enlarged the punch bowl and plopped her down to the cheers of the guests.

"What in the world is going on here?" a voice drawled in an accent that Regina didn't recognize. American, perhaps?

"Uh, Isabelle--" Sirius began.

"Yes?" She tapped her foot impatiently on the ground.

"Meggie was just toasting our marriage, that's all," a man piped up, walking up to her. Another redhead? Regina thought. How many redheaded people are at this wedding reception, anyway?

"Right," Isabelle said slowly.

"Right. Now it's your turn." He picked her up and threw her in the bowl. She stood up, sputtering, brushing her short blonde hair out of her face.

"Ron Weasley, I swear--" she fumed.

"You swear what?" he taunted her.

"That punch matches you hair perfectly." Before he knew it, she flipped him into the bowl.

"Welcome to the family, Ron," Meggie laughed, splashing him gleefully.

"What on earth?" an astonished voice breathed.

Regina didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was the same woman as in her other vision, and she looked so beautiful. She looked from her to her new husband, and could certainly see where little Olivia got her red hair and freckles. But, she reminded herself as she looked at Ron's brown eyes, my granddaughter's eyes are mine. She brushed away a tear, feeling silly. Even if this were a vision, Olivia wouldn't even be born for at least a year or two.

"Can't forget your bride, Ron. Sorry, daughter dear," Sirius apologized. Regina watched in horror as he tossed their daughter into the punch bowl. "Isn't this precious? Quick – get the camera. It's a priceless family moment."

"No, this is a priceless family moment," Isabelle replied, splashing him in the face with punch.

"And this," Meggie and Hermione added together, pulling him in the bowl.

They and Ron jumped out quickly before Sirius surfaced, leaving Isabelle by herself. She jumped on his back and dunked him. The rowdy crowd laughed hysterically as an all-out war broke out.

"Regina? Regina, wake up."

She woke up with a start. "Don't you even think about throwing me into that punch bowl, Sirius Black."

"What are you talking about?" Even in the dark, she could see his skeptical, concerned look. She burst into tears and hugged him tightly. "Hey, what's the matter? Nightmare?"

"I hope so."

He could feel her shudder. "What was it about?"

"The future, Sirius. A horrible future where you go to prison, and then run from the law. And-and--" her voice cracked.

"No one's going to prison," he said reassuringly, resting his chin on top of her head. "Did you dream anything else?"

"It was our daughter's wedding, and Isabelle was there. At least I think it was Isabelle. She had a really funny accent." Regina wrinkled her nose.

"The nightmare was that Isabelle had a funny accent? Don't worry about that – she's always trying out funny accents. Don't you remember when she was taking Scottish dance and talked in brogue for weeks?"

"No, it was that she was – nothing, it's just a dream."

Sirius changed the subject slightly. "So, we have a daughter, huh? Now, that's the nightmare. Me, raising a girl after all the mess I've pulled?"

"From what I saw, you'll do just fine."

"I hope so." He paused for a minute. "I know what not to be, anyway. Could you go for some chocolate chess pie? Because I happen to know that Lily picked one up earlier today, and hid it in the back of the fridge."

She smiled. It was her favorite. "Sure."

"Good. May as well finish it off, then."

"Sirius!"

"What?" He smiled innocently. "I only had one piece. Ok, two."

"You're bad."

"Thank you."

They looked at each other, and quietly raced downstairs to the fridge. Gina pushed all thoughts of her dream out of her head, and chose to concentrate on chocolate pie instead.

~~~~~


Regina woke up and stretched, looking at the alarm clock. It read one o'clock in the afternoon. Groaning, she got up and threw on her robe to search out some food. Even after a huge piece of chocolate pie, she had a difficult time going back to sleep, and kept tossing and turning. Voices floated upstairs as the reached the landing of the staircase.

"No, James, you don't turn me like that," a frustrated voice huffed.

"How would you know? Didn't you just say you've never done this dance with a partner before?" he answered indignantly.

"I haven't, but I did spend the past two months learning this stupid dance. Bloody Spanish dancing."

"Isabelle!"

"What, Lily? It's boring and 'poetic'."

"It's pretty," she replied.

"How would I know when the little I do know I can't do because my partner's making up his own steps?" she joked.

"I am not," James said.

"I'd have to agree with her on this one," another voice piped up.

"Ok, Don Juan, let's see what you can do," James challenged.

"Alright. Ready to show him how it's done, Isabelle?"

"Sure."

Regina frowned, crept halfway down the stairs, and peered into the kitchen. What she saw instantly put her in the worst humor imaginable, especially considering her dream from the night before.

Isabelle and Sirius were dancing around the kitchen floor, like they've done a million times in the past. Nothing sinister about that at all, she reminded herself. But, there was something about the look in her eyes and the way she clung to him that looked – well, not platonic, anyway.

But, she's a thirteen-year-old child, Regina chided herself. A skinny, knobby-kneed one at that. However, she completely transformed when she danced into this dangerous seductive viper. And it was clear, at least to Regina, who the target of all her affections was.

She shook her head violently. Get a hold of yourself, she told herself firmly. One dream, and all of a sudden a teenager's in love with your husband and – she couldn't even think the rest, shuddering. Taking a deep, calming breath, she walked downstairs.

"Hey," Sirius said, without missing a beat. "Sleep ok?"

"Sure did." She pasted a carefree smile on her face, and sat down at the table with a massive mug of tea.

"I'm sure my chocolate pie helped matters," Lily grumbled. Regina flashed her an innocent smile.

"Isabelle?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Yes?"

"I was at the Ministry last week, and saw Mr. Weasley. How many children do they have in their family? I wanted to ask how they were doing, but I felt bad not knowing their names, ages, or anything." That much was the truth, but even she admitted that she definitely had a hidden agenda with that question.

"Five," she answered, laughing as Sirius spun her around. "Bill's fourteen, Charlie's eleven and Percy's three. The twins, Fred and George, are newborns. They're the only ones I've never met. Well, and Bill's mum."

"Quite an age gap," Regina mused. And no Ron, she thought, relieved. See? she told herself. I'm getting upset over nothing. It didn't even occur to her that none of the children in her dream had been born yet. A crash interrupted her thoughts.

"Sorry about that," Isabelle apologized. A river of blank ink raced all over a neatly arranged stack of papers. Regina jumped up, irate.

"Do you know what you just ruined, you clumsy prat? These are the only copies I have of my entire summer and fall line," she screamed.

"Don't you ever call me clumsy, you frigid bitch!"

"Isabelle! That's completely uncalled for." Sirius turned to his wife. "And, it's my fault she knocked the inkwell over. Besides, it was an accident."

Regina and Isabelle stared at each other for a minute, looking like they could tear each other's eyes out any second. Isabelle took a small vial out of her pocket and dumped the contents on the papers.

"What are you doing?" Regina screeched.

"It's the counterpotion to ink," the teenager replied in a quiet tone, through clenched teeth. "Ali's always knocking her inkwell over, so I always carry a vial of the stuff with me. Look for yourself."

Sure enough, the ink stains had disappeared, and the papers were perfectly dry. With a triumphant, yet hurt and angry look, Isabelle turned, stomped upstairs, and slammed the door. Christmas holidays were going to be awfully long, she decided ruefully, as she flopped on the bed.

~~~~~


Well-hidden by the Invisibility Cloak, Isabelle slipped out of Gryffindor Tower and crept through the castle. The halls were eerily silent as she snuck through the Entrance Hall. She opened the door as silently as possible, wincing as the door made a loud creak when she closed it. Not wanting to be caught, she ran through the grounds and climbed over the fence.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she quickly walked through Hogsmeade and stopped at the edge of town. She gathered up her courage, and pushed open the front door of the Shrieking Shack. A completely exhausted Remus Lupin lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. She pushed back the hood of the cloak, and sat down beside him. He stirred, and jumped up with a start.

"Isabelle, what are you doing here?" he asked sharply.

"Checking on you," she answered. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," he replied slowly, wondering what she was really doing there. More importantly, he wanted to know if she knew the truth about him.

"You don't look so fine. Here, this should take the edge off that migraine." She passed him an orange potion.

How did she know that his head was killing him? he thought in amazement. He downed the liquid, and was pleasantly surprised that his headache disappeared. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Before taking off the cloak, she pulled out a flask of pumpkin juice, a small loaf of bread, and a large container of soup.

"It was the best I could do," she apologized.

"No, it looks great. How did you know that I was here?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Isabelle looked down at the floor guiltily. "I saw you come here last Halloween, and I snuck out to see why you were here. For the past few months, I've been watching you, and figuring out a lot of stuff."

"Like what?" Remus inquired through a mouthful of soup.

"Like that you're a werewolf. Don't worry, if I was afraid of you, I wouldn't be here. It's not your fault you got bitten. Sometimes bad things just happen to you when you're little, and you have to deal with it for the rest of your life. Even though it's not your fault – seems unfair, but life's not fair, is it?" Her eyes were suddenly far away.

"No, it's not," he agreed.

"Where did your visitors go?" she asked somewhat cattily.

"What visitors?" He frowned.

She waved her hand dismissively. "It's ok. I know they're unregistered because I looked them up. And, the last thing I want is for my own family to go to prison, so their secret's safe with me."

Remus laughed. Isabelle would make a great spy one day, he decided.

"I really don't like Peter Pettigrew, though. Anyone who transforms into a rat is up to no good," she mused.

"He's a loyal friend," he said defensively.

"For now," Isabelle muttered underneath her breath. "Just call it a premonition, but I think he's going to be more trouble than he's worth. Anyway, do you come here every month?"

"Sure do."

"Well, good. I don't get visitors very often." She smiled.

"What do you mean?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I mean that since your visitors don't stay for very long, you probably get lonely. So, when they leave, I'll keep you company," she replied cheerfully.

"Isabelle, unless you're an unregistered animagus, too, it's dangerous to be around me when I transform. I'll bite you if you're in human form," he said sensibly.

"Me, an animagus? Heck, no. I've adapted the polyjuice potion to allow me to temporarily become an animal. So far, I can get the effects to last for twelve hours at a time." Isabelle beamed proudly.

"H-how? I've never even heard of such a potion."

"Because I constructed it myself. I adapt a lot of potions in my spare time – it's kind of a hobby. Bill calls me Dungeon Girl."

"Dungeon Girl? I'll have to remember that one," Remus laughed. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm also working on a way to reduce the effects of your transformation," she continued.

"Sirius tried that when we were students, and it didn't work," he said gently, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

Isabelle pulled a notebook out of a large handbag, and opened it. She pulled out a dog-eared set of notes.

"Yeah, I saw these a couple of years ago, and nicked them. Great minds, huh? Sirius' idea is a good one, but his method is flawed," she said seriously.

"Could you imagine the look on his face if you told him that?"

Remus couldn't stop laughing. He had spent so much time on field assignment for the past few years that he hadn't been around Isabelle much since she was a little girl. And anyone who spent time with her could see that she was growing up quickly into a funny, brilliant, caring young woman. No wonder Sirius was so protective of her, he thought.

"He'd have a few choice words for me, I'm sure," she replied with a wicked grin. "He tried to completely stop your transformations from happening, which I think is much too ambitious. No potion can change who you are, and you're a werewolf. Maybe there's something psychological about that. I don't think Sirius has ever been comfortable in his own skin, so to speak."

"You really know him well," Remus marveled.

"Not as well as I used to," she said archly. "Anyway, I've done some research, and I don't think you'll ever get around transforming every full moon. That's just what werewolves do, unfortunately. But, I think I can develop a potion to alter your transformation into something harmless, like a wolf."

Isabelle removed a couple of sheets completely covered in minute handwriting and spread them on the floor.

"This is what I have so far. I'm trying to counteract the effects of your transformation one by one, so that I know the formula works up to that point before moving on. Otherwise, I could be chasing my tail forever."

"Just curiously, does the formula have a name?"

"Wolfbane Potion. It's just a working name, though. I might change it later."

"Sounds like a good name to me. I was pretty good at Potions, very good actually, and this is already much too advanced for me. How do you come up with this stuff?" Remus wondered.

"Honestly, I don't know. I've always liked to mix stuff up, and see what happens. If you're game, I can mix up a trial potion for Step One: Staying in Your Right Mind. Basically, taking away the urge to bite people and destroy stuff. That way, I could improve the décor a little bit," she joked.

"What, shabby sheik isn't your style?"

"Remus, this is just plain shabby." She wrinkled her nose. "So, what do you say?"

"Sure, Dungeon Girl."

Isabelle grinned. "Great. Then I'll meet you here the night before the next full moon?"

"It's a date. Say, how did you get here, anyway?"

"I climbed the wall and snuck through Hogsmeade. Why, is there an easier way?"

He snorted. "Do you know where the Whomping Willow is?"

"Yeah," she said slowly.

"If you press a knot on the tree, it opens into a passageway that ends up here."

"You're kidding. At least I'll know for next time," she sighed.

"Ok, since you're trying to significantly improve my standard of living and all, I have something for you." He pulled out a worn piece of parchment, and tapped it. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

"Wow, how did you do that?" Isabelle breathed.

"Oh, it's just a charmed piece of parchment. Nothing too fancy."

"No, you did magic without a wand. I've never seen that before."

"It's a little talent I learned for my work with the Ministry. Comes in handy with both Muggles and Death Eaters. You didn't see me do that, right?"

"See you do what?" she replied innocently.

"Exactly. Now, this is the product of many years of hard work by yours truly, James, Sirius and your favorite person Peter."

"The Marauder's Map," she read. "Is this a map of Hogwarts?"

"Sure is. We found all these passageways when they kept me company during full moons."

"This is amazing," Isabelle said reverently, wide-eyed. "Imagine what we can do to Slytherin with this. And it shows where people are, too! Awesome."

"Thank you. I kept it because I still come near the grounds every month, but you'll get much more use out of it, so here you go." He passed her the map.

"Uh, how do I make it a plain piece of parchment again?" Remus tapped the map. "Mischief managed'." "Neat. It's getting really late, so I had better go. I'll see you in a few weeks," she said, putting on the Invisibility Cloak.

"See you then," he answered.

Remus heard her footsteps disappear down the hallway towards the Whomping Willow. For the first time in many years, he almost looked forward to the next full moon. Not only was the teenager fun company, she just might be able to help him, which would be nothing short of a miracle.

~~~~~

Well, finally, an update! Sorry for being such a slacker, peeps...