Author's Note: I'm starting the beginning of this chapter today, Thursday night, but as you read it right now, know that it is over a week old, and I have already been on vacation. It was really great; I went to Washington D.C. to see the fireworks downtown and then up to New York to meet some of my dad's family, plus Niagara Falls to do the Maid of the Mist and Cave of the Winds tours, and then I crossed Rainbow Bridge over to Canada. They have the coolest shops there, not to mention that our money is worth more over there, so everything was uber cheap. Then back down to D.C. to have dinner with the family. And after that, further down to Virginia Beach for Busch Gardens and MORE cousins. Feh, as if I need more. And their children were annoying, too. But I still had a very good time. Oh, and I advise you to NEVER agree to sit in a car for thirteen hours straight.

Dedications: Hai, more.

Sierra Charm: Who got me interested in fanfiction with her wonderful stories!

Laura Rojas-Glad: For convincing me that my writing is good, even though I have trouble believing her sometimes.

Becca: She thinks my story is funny. I think she's insane. You gotta love her. : P

Chapter Four: A Girl, an Insult, and a Cellar

(An underground house. Surrey. August 14th 1996. 8:04a.m.)

A young girl stretched and sat up in bed. Her long, red, curly hair was slipping out of her hair tie and onto her freckled shoulders. She yawned, removed the hair tie, and put her hair up again in a neater ponytail. She hopped out of bed and skittered across the cold tiles to the window and pulled back the curtains. The bright, morning sun spilled into the room, lighting all of its contents. She squinted her eyes at the light.

Of course, it wasn't a real window. Just a charm. It was so life-like, though, that sometimes she had tried to open it and climb out into the open air to explore the forest surrounding the house she lived in with her grandmother. She shivered; it was always so chilly in her bedroom, even in the middle of summer. One more reason to dislike an underground house.

It was for their protection, though. Mostly hers, but somewhat for her grandmother. She needed a caretaker, after all. After the death of her parents, and after her older brother had been attacked and relocated from her parents' house, she didn't have any relatives left besides her grandmother. Well, she had her aunt and uncle, who were related to her mother, but they were Muggles. And she much preferred the company of her grandmother. Muggles were so close-minded when it came to Witches and Wizards.

"Alexa!" came the usual morning call, "Breakfast!"

Still shivering a bit in her spaghetti-strap pajama top and shorts, Alexa scurried out of her bedroom and down the winding staircase in hopes of a warm meal. When she entered the kitchen, which was still as cluttered as ever with counters stacked high with pots and pans, Alexa smiled at her grandmother, who was scooping eggs onto two plates. She was a short woman, about 5'4" tall, with graying chestnut hair, soft, blue, welcoming eyes, a round, happy face, and had a bit of extra weight on her, due to the lack of leaving the house for exercise. Alexa could smell the bacon, sausage, and hash browns (which her grandmother always added herbs and spices to) before she could see them and happily took her seat at the tiny kitchen table.

"You seem cheerful this morning," said Anna, her grandmother. She set the greasy egg pan into the sink and turned on the tap to let a small amount of water trickle into it before shutting it abruptly off again. She took her seat across from Alexa, who, by now, had a helping of everything.

"Hungry, too," she added with a grin, adding strips of bacon and sausage links to her own plate.

Alexa nodded. "I didn't eat much last night. I'm making up for it." Anna chuckled.

Anna was Alexa's paternal grandmother. She hadn't told Alexa much about her father, but had given her a few pictures of him and his wife, Alexa's mother. Alexa and her mother looked almost exactly the same: red hair, freckles all over her body, and body structure. Except for the eyes. They were like her fathers. Sort of a brownish color. Alexa thought they looked odd amongst the red hair and freckles, but Anna had just argued that they added to her charm. And while she'd given her granddaughter pictures of her parents to dwell on, Anna refused to answer almost any question Alexa asked about her parents, including as to what their names were. She had said that it pained her too much to speak of Alexa's father, who had been her only son.

Alexa understood this, of course, but it frustrated her a bit. She'd been left in the dark about her parents from the moment she learned to talk. Anna even stopped her from snooping for any other pictures or information about them by hiding all of their pictures and other belongings in a safe in her room. Anna was friendly enough, but didn't like too many questions about her son.

They'd lived in this underground house together since Alexa was one month old. That was when her parents had left her with Anna for safe keeping until they were safe from danger. What danger, Alexa had no idea. She just knew that they'd only left her here because she was too small and delicate at that age to be around the danger at her parents' house, and it would have been hard for them to protect both themselves and two babies. Alexa's older brother was a little bit over a year older than her, and big enough to stay with his parents. In a way, Alexa had envied him for this, and for a while, she'd even convinced herself that she hated him for being with them. But she got over it. She knew that all of those feelings would go away once she finally saw him. He was, after all, the only other living relative of hers besides her grandmother and Muggle aunt. Her aunt's husband didn't technically count as a relative, as he wasn't blood related.

Meeting her brother was something Alexa had dreamt of for as long as she'd known he existed. Anna had also given her pictures of him, but he was a little baby in one of them, and a boy of around five in the other. As far as Alexa knew, he was nearly sixteen now, one year older than herself. He had a lot of their father's features. Most of them, actually. His black, messy hair, bad vision, which resulted in his cute little silver-rimmed glasses in the older picture. He really did look like a mini version of their father. Except for his eyes. They were the same as their mother's: bright green. Like emeralds. They were very pretty, she thought, wishing she had inherited them as well. They'd be better than her brown ones any day. But her brother was unlucky in one aspect; he lived with the Muggle relatives. He had been taken there after his parents died. Not to Anna's. No one but Dumbledore knows that they're here, and he figured that it would be best for them to grow up away from each other until they're ready to meet each other and to learn the truth about their parents. That time, it seemed to Alexa, didn't appear to be coming very soon. Another drawback for Alexa is that she can't go to Hogwarts like her brother does, because strange questions might arise from other school children and she would be tempted to tell him--and any close friends she might make--the truth.

So she had been home schooled all her life, and only been allowed outside of the house a few times before. Luckily, the house was large enough, and full of interesting things, so it kept her busy.

And although she didn't go to Hogwarts or interact with many other people, she did get to read the Daily Prophet on occasion, and had read many things about her brother. (Clip outs of articles that her grandmother had permitted her.) For instance, the articles about the Triwizard Tournament two years ago. She'd read about how her brother (his name had been magic-markered out ) had become the champion for Hogwarts, though underage, along with another boy, and competed in the three tournament tasks. He'd won the cup and the 1,000 galleons when he reached the cup before the competitors from the other schools. Alexa had also read articles Rita Skeeter had written about him in Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet. She hadn't much liked them, and hoped that her brother had done something about the rumors Skeeter had spread.

She also got to hear stuff that the general public didn't. Like the events that took place after the third task. She'd heard it all from her grandmother, who heard it from Dumbledore. Her brother and another competitor (his name was also magic-markered out) had been transported to a graveyard by means of the trophy, which had been turned into a Portkey before the task took place. There they had met Voldemort, whom she knew had killed her parents, and was her family's worst enemy. Voldemort killed the other boy and then went after her brother. They had dueled and their wands formed some kind of bond that forced all of Voldemort's victims out of his wand in a ghost-like forms. Her brother had seen their parents and they had spoken to him. To Alexa, it just wasn't fair that she was cooped up inside all the time while he had the freedom to do anything he pleased.

Another thing she found not only unfair, but also quite odd, was the fact that her grandmother would tell her anything about her brother's school life that she wanted to hear, but she wouldn't answer a single one of her questions about her parents.

Alexa concocted a plan.

(Godric's Hollow. August 14th 1996. 8:55a.m.)

Harry ambled down the stairs at nearly nine in the morning. Perhaps the old saying wasn't such a wives' tale after all. Late to bed, late to rise. 'Twas true. He crossed the living room and entered the kitchen, which smelled of frying bacon and eggs. Harry inhaled their lovely scents and took a seat next to James at the table.

"Morning," said James, giving the Daily Prophet he was reading a good shake as he turned the page.

"M-m-m-morning," said Harry through a yawn. Lily looked at him from over her shoulder. She smiled at him. Harry noted that she seemed happier than she'd been yesterday. She was even humming a cheerful tune.

Harry looked at his dad and raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming that you two had fun last night."

James paled, embarrassed. "Wh-what gave you that idea, Harry?" He grabbed his orange juice from the table and sipped nervously on it, sinking low beneath the paper.

Harry pulled a "do you really want me to answer that" face. "And Mum would be cheerily humming, why?"

Lily, judging by her pink cheeks Harry spotted as she brought their food over to the table, had heard him, and set their plates down rather hastily in front of them and took a seat on the opposite side of James, as to avoid Harry's teasing stare.

He just laughed and started on his breakfast. He spent most of the time thinking about various things: the amazing events of the last few weeks, Lily's little slip-up at the Dursleys' (which he still needed to question her about sometime), and then less important things such as Quidditch and how well he did on his O.W.L.s, which he still hadn't gotten back, as a matter of fact….

Tap. Tap. Tap.

All three Potters turned to look behind them at the large, kitchen window next to the stove. Hedwig, who had miraculously found them, was hovering outside, looking quite strained under a heavy bag in her claws and a letter clamped in her beak. She looked most urgent to relieve herself of this burden.

Harry quickly crossed the room and unlocked the window to let his owl in. She landed on a section of counter and dropped the bag, relieved, which spilled over onto the floor. It was his laundry, now clean, from Privet Drive.

He bent down to pick the clothes up, simultaneously questioning the bird, "What were you doing there?" and received a look that very much said, "Looking for you."

"Ah," he said, slightly embarrassed, and set the clothes rather carelessly into the bag. "What's that you've got there?" he said, indicating the large, yellow envelope she was holding. Hedwig took a step towards him and lifted her beak higher into the air, as if asking him to take the letter. He did so and as he turned it over, he noticed the official looking Hogwarts seal on it and took a deep breath: his O.W.L. scores.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see his parents watching him avidly, as if they, too, knew what the letter contained. He slit it open.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Enclosed are the scores from your Ordinary Wizarding Levels (O.W.L.s) which you were tested for last June. You were graded on both your practical and physical exams and had a possibility of earning fourteen O.W.L.s. Your scores are printed below. (Harry took a deep breath).

Transfiguration: Practical--E, Physical--E

Potions: Practical--P, Physical--E (Harry was very surprised at this; he had been expecting to fail Potions entirely.)

Charms: Practical--E, Physical--A

Herbology: Practical--A

Astronomy: Practical--A, Physical--P

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Practical--E, Physical--O (Harry gaped at this, as he had not been expecting any Os at all, but then figured that it must have resulted from the Patronus Charm Professor Tofty had requested from him, not to mention all the training from the D.A.)

History of Magic: Practical--P

Divination: Practical--P, Physical--P

'Well, that was expected,' he thought after seeing his Divination scores. The chances of him passing that rubbish subject weren't very high at all.

But nine O.W.L.s! And no 'Ds'! Harry was quite pleased indeed, and also quite sure that he did better than Ron, whose Charms exam could have gone better.

At Harry's grin, Lily, tentatively, asked, "Are those your O.W.L.s?"

He nodded and brought the letter over to his parents, neglecting his bag of laundry, who seemed to be happy, not to mention hopeful, at their son's cheerful disposition.

Lily took it from him and read it, James looking over her shoulder. Their grins became wider as they read on, wavering only slightly at the five 'Ps' in subjects that Harry figured didn't matter. Except perhaps Potions, which he needed to become an Auror. Lily, when finished, set the letter gingerly on the table in front of her and turned to face her son.

"Well," she said slowly, trying to suppress her pride (as she liked to come off as a tough mum), "overall I'm pleased, but why are there five"--she put an emphasis on the word 'five' which lead Harry to suggest that she'd done much better in her day--"Ps amongst all those other grades?" She raised an eyebrow demandingly at him and folded her arms expectantly over her chest. "History of Magic is one of the easiest subjects in that school, not to mention Potions and Astronomy. The only grades I'm willing to excuse are the ones from Divination. Crap subject."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, it is. And the Astronomy grade wasn't entirely my fault."

Lily gave him an "oh, really?" look. "Really, now? So your test, the one that should have gotten at least an E, was scored under someone else's name, was it?"

Harry glared at her. "No," he said, sounding both indignant and annoyed, "things just…happened on that night."

"What kind of things?" she pressed.

"Oh, Lily," said James, exasperated, before Harry could answer, "Lay off of the boy. He passed in all of the subjects that matter!" She rounded on him with a glare.

"And Astronomy, Potions, and History of Magic don't matter?"

"Like you didn't goof off in that class just as much as a normal person," conceded James, referring to History of Magic.

Lily looked a mixture between indignantly enraged and sad, "A normal person? So now you're implying that I'm not normal? And I'll have you know, James Potter, that I, unlike you and your mates, paid attention in Binns's class."

"Right!" said James, sounding sarcastic and angry, but leaning towards the latter, "So what would you call writing notes to Alice Longbottom and…and…Amos Diggory." As James said the name "Amos Diggory," Harry realized that it was the first time he had ever heard his father use a bitter tone. And judging by the flush on Lily's face, he had a damn good reason to be angry.

But, just to be sure, Harry asked, "What were you doing writing letters to him?" James gave him an indulgent sort of grin, before resuming his glare upon his wife.

"Yes, Lily," said James, sounding bitterly delighted, "do tell Harry why."

"No reason," she said, suddenly admiring the kitchen tiles. James cleared his throat rather loudly and gave her chair leg a slight kick. She looked up at him, seeming rather embarrassed and wanting to change the subject, but mumbled something nonetheless.

"What was that, Lily?" asked James, cupping his hand around his ear, "I don't think we heard you correctly."

"He was my…." she whispered softly, trailing off.

"Your what?" pressed James, to annoy her.

"He was my boyfriend, all right?" she said, still softly, and in a tone which made James feel very guilty for his behavior, but still he pressed on in a determined attempt to get Lily back for her comment about him and his friends.

"Yes, yes he was," he said, "along with half the other guys from the fourth year!"

"You know that's a lie," she whispered, sounding tearful. Apparently her good mood had gone down enormously since the start of breakfast. Especially now at the suggestion of being a whore from her own husband….

She stood up, trying to hide her tears, "Good job on your tests, Harry," she managed to whisper before hurrying out of the room, which left James very little time to tell her that he was only teasing: she'd gone out of earshot before he could even open his mouth. Harry, despite his previous defense of his father, gave him a look of utter disgust before following Lily out of the room.

It didn't take him long to find her, as he could hear her sobs from even at the foot of the stairs, and he hurried up the staircase. She was sitting, curled up in a ball under a blanket, on a couch in a room, which was down the hall from Harry's, lined with bookshelves and pictures of moving people, and nice furniture, including the coffee table that flanked Lily's couch.

He stepped hesitantly into the room, unsure of whether she wanted him to be there or not, but walked quicker and took a seat at the couch at her beckon. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his pajama top, leaving him patting her rather awkwardly on the back.

"Shh," he soothed when her cries and shaky breathing didn't subside, "he didn't mean it. Don't cry, Mum."

"I--It w-w-wasn't t-true!" she wailed, her voice muffled by Harry's pajamas, "A-Amos was th-the only other boyfriend b-b-besides James. And we-we'd broken up long before J-James and I started d-dating." She cried louder and Harry continued to try and comfort her.

James stood nervously in the doorway, wringing his hands and trying to think of how, exactly, to word what he needed to say to Lily. Harry beckoned him over and he stood next to Harry, patiently waiting. Harry tapped his mother on the shoulder and she looked up for a moment at James, but quickly reburied her face into Harry's shirt. James knelt down and, not knowing what else to do, gently stroked Lily's hair with his hand and whispered, "Lily, please talk to me--or even look at me--I didn't mean it. I swear. I was just trying to get you back for your comment about me. I'm so sorry." And he really did sound it. After she continued to ignore him, James said, "Lily, I love you. I know you're not--not that way. Please forgive me."

These words, however, did seem to have somewhat of an affect on her, as she slid off of the couch and into his arms. He smiled down at her and cuddled her, wrapping her in his robes and planting a kiss on her forehead.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, looking her in the eyes. "Do you forgive me?"

Lily laid her head on his shoulder and he felt her nod. Harry smiled at his parents, who, despite moments like at breakfast, seemed like a very happy couple and no doubt now remained in his mind that they were in love.

Anna had gone off to Hogwarts for an evening with Dumbledore; she needed to catch up on what had happened to Alexa's brother during his school year. And of course, Alexa was stuck at home.

But surprisingly tonight, for the first time in her life, she was okay with this. It fit in perfectly with her plan. She needed Anna to be out of the house for it to succeed.

Alexa was quite nervous about the whole ordeal, to tell the truth. She was planning to sneak into her grandmother's room and break into her safe to take a look at all of the things pertaining to her parents which Anna kept hidden from her. Never in her life could she remember doing something like this. Something so dishonest and deceitful. It was very unlike her.

What kept her motivated was the reminder that she wouldn't have to be doing this if her grandmother was honest with her about her family. It was all her fault, really. Alexa pushed open the door silently, despite the fact that she was the only one home. Sneaking into her grandmother's bedroom gave her a sense of foreboding, not to mention that, when empty of her grandmother's music (or the television), and the marvelous aroma of food simmering in the kitchen, the house was rather spooky.

With the door now wide open, Alexa stepped timidly into the bedroom. It was much bigger than her own, at least twice the size. But, she thought as she looked around at the great amount of knick-knacks and furniture her grandmother possessed, she seemed to need all of the room. Though, among all of these possessions, the safe which held everything Alexa wanted was not there.

She slumped her shoulders and plopped down onto a beanbag chair in a corner by the closet, a lovely vintage rug laid out in front of it.

Where could that safe be? Anna had told her countless times that it was hidden in her room. Alexa mentally analyzed that thought: hidden. And as she looked around the cluttered bedroom, she detected many places in which it could be located. Glimpsing the rug at her feet, however, sparked something in her memory. In a great deal of the mystery stories she'd read in the past, the treasure, contained in a chest, a box, or various other objects for safe-keeping, were located under some sort of portrait or a rug. And there just happened to be a rug laying at her feet.

She dragged it aside letting it scrape softly on the ground as it did so, and sure enough, there was a square safe, wide enough for two people to sit on, lodged into the ground below it. The first difference she noticed that it had from a regular safe was its lock. It didn't stick out from the rest like a normal one did, but rather dented it by going lower. It was still circular, yes, but it resembled an old-fashioned telephone dial more than anything. Alexa guessed that it was built this way so that no one would step on it and realize its presence if they should venture into Anna's quarters.

The problem of the combination now irked her. There were nine numbers to choose from and any of them could be the right ones! And she didn't even know how many she needed.

So for the next twenty minutes she played around with the numbers a bit, trying to guess the right combination. When nothing worked, she became very frustrated and was near tears. She wished that she lived with Harry, who probably knew a lot more about their parents than she did.

'One more try,' she thought, reaching out for the numbers again. 'I'll try her birthday.'

At the soft click of the lock, Alexa gasped. She did not expect it to work. Surely Anna would have picked something a little more difficult than her birthday! But, then again, not many people knew her birthday, so it might have been a wise choice after all.

Alexa's hand trembled as she reached for the handle (which normally lay flat against the safe door, but had sprung to life when Alexa unlocked it, and was now sticking upright.

'I'm finally going to see everything she's been hiding,' she thought.

The hinges of the safe door gave a loud, eerie creak as she thrust the door open. Again, Alexa was surprised, because the safe did not, as she had previously thought, go down a mere couple of feet, but seemed to be a sort of cellar, as a dusty, ancient, stone staircase appeared at her feet.

'She must keep all sorts of things down here.' She pushed the door backwards so that it stood up by itself and set her foot on the staircase in preparation to descend.

She gave a yelp of shock and withdrew her foot; the floor was icy cold. It must have been because the cellar was ever further underground than the actual house and it had been sealed tightly, Alexa assumed from all the dust which had risen when the door opened, for quite some time.

Ignoring the cold of the steps and setting her heart on what she would discover below, Alexa put one foot in front of the other and was soon standing in a cold, dark, damp patch of dirt, illuminated only by a small lantern, looking as if it contained Gubraithian fire. She picked up the lantern and held it in front of her face. Light splashed all around her, brightening the shelves that surrounded her on three walls. They reached nearly to the ceiling and were layered with anything one could imagine.

Alexa peered around, lighting the boxes, knick-knacks, furniture, and books as she went. Anna kept everything down here; a trunk containing her childhood clothes and toys, photo albums from when she was younger, souvenirs from her vacations, bits of broken figurines she couldn't bear to part with, a box with the Christmas decorations, shoes, old letters, a couple of snapped wands, Chocolate Frog cards, tattered school books, and…on the shelf closest to a small, wooden door on the back wall, a knee-high cardboard box labeled 'Potters.'

She dropped to her knees and set the lantern down beside her. Could this be what she was looking for? The Potters? Was that her last name? She was never quite sure, as Anna had never told her this bit of information. Perhaps she feared that if she found it out, it would lead to more questions that she just didn't want to answer.

The box wasn't sealed, luckily, so if Anna looked at the box on her next trip down here, she wouldn't be able to tell that someone had been through it. Unless she knew where everything was positioned, although by the way she acted about her son's family, Alexa doubted that she went rummaging through here very often.

Alexa cringed at the cardboard's scraping when she undid the four top pieces of the box, which were stuck together. Finally, though, after about three minutes of struggle, she pulled them apart and gazed longingly into the box. There wasn't that much of anything in there, actually. Just a photo album, two pairs of robes, newspaper clippings, and a few sheets of spare paper.

Alexa picked up the photo album first, turned to lean against the box, simultaneously crossing her legs Indian-style, and set it in her lap. She opened it to the first page, which was labeled '1979-1980.' It showed five pictures of the same two people, a man and a woman. They were her parents. Alexa easily recognized them from the only picture she'd ever been given. In the first picture, her mother had her arm around her father's waist and they were standing in front of a large cabin next to a pumpkin patch. Alexa could also see the face of a heavily bearded, rather large, man in the window. The next one was a graduation picture of the two, reading "Lily Evans and James Potter--Head Boy and Girl," on a large gold and scarlet banner behind them. Were those their names? Lily Evans and James Potter? So that made her 'Alexa Potter,' and she quite liked the sound of that. The third picture was of their wedding day, followed by the fourth, in which Lily looked very pregnant. The last one Alexa liked best: her parents at the hospital with her brother as a baby in Lily's arms. She looked very happy to be a mum.

She turned the page and saw more pictures of her parents and brother as he got older. When he started looking around the age of six or seven months, Alexa noticed that Lily was pregnant again, presumably with her. She also noticed that her parents looked very young; they couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen.

After seeing only one picture of her infant self, Alexa heard footsteps overhead and dumped the album back into the box, but not before snatching up the newspaper articles and stuffing them in her robe pockets. She grabbed the lantern and stuck it back on its post, hurried up the stairs and shut the safe door.

Her luck seemed to run out as she was pulling the rug back over the door: Anna entered the room, handbag swinging on her wrist and humming a cheerful tune. But that soon ended. Her expression quickly changed from cheerful to surprised and angry, and those warm, welcoming eyes were now cold and beady. Anna was far from pleased.

"What are you doing in here?" she barked, her double chin wobbling in fury, "I told you to stay away from my room!"

Alexa rose to her feet and stared sheepishly at the floor, deciding it was best not to say anything.

Oh, someone's in trouble. ;;

A big ol' GRAZIE to my reviewers!

LJstagflower4e/JCtigerwolf4e--Do you have any idea how long your penname takes to type out? Anywho, Yay! I'm glad you liked it! I did the whole 'run down' description just for you. Now don't you feel special?

Jen--Ah, well. He deserved it. XD

Kelly--I know you didn't review this chapter, but you're a moron. XP. Just kidding. Glad you like my twisted humor.

Mei--Thank you! But I don't know how you could like that crappy old version. Oo

Megan