Author's Note: Well, this is where my fave plot twist happens! Ah, the tangled web I weave...I pretty much thing everyone's related at some point or other by the time i finish...

Also, there seems to be a couple inconsistencies w/the rest of the plot here. (ex. Isabelle not knowing that Sirius didn't get along w/his dad, when if you've read the Prequels, she v. much knew.) That's b/c when I originally wrote this, my entire plot wasn't fully formed in my head. Instead of re-editing, I've decided that Isabelle was playing dumb. She's a sneaky one & that certainly fits in her character. So, when you read random plot inconsistency, think sneaky. Instead of lazy author. -grin-

Chapter 4

Hedwig quietly flew through Ron's open window, landing beside Harry's pillow. She nipped at his ear, until he opened his eyes, yawned, and removed the letter tied to her leg. Harry sat up and put on his glasses. He couldn't believe how quickly the past three weeks had gone. He opened the envelope, took out the letter, and began to read.

"Dear Harry," the letter began in a handwriting that he didn't recognize, "Sirius was in a great hurry this morning, and asked me to send you a quick note. He didn't realize that where we are living is not connected to a regular Floo network. So, he is taking the train to London, and renting a car from there to the Burrow. He left extremely early, so I guess that he should arrive there around noon. I have heard much about you, and look forward to seeing you, Ron, and Hermione tonight. Until then, Isabelle. P.S. Because it is a full moon tonight, Remus will not be at dinner. Also, he says that the fudge in the refrigerator is completely off limits."

Harry stood up, and walked over to Ron's bed. "What?" Ron groaned.

"Look at this."

"What is it," he yawned, "a letter from Sirius?"

"Yes. Well, no."

"Which is it?"

"Here. Read for yourself."

Ron took the letter from Harry's hand, and read it quickly. "Well...it looks like she's still there, doesn't it?"

"Yup," Harry sighed. "And will be at dinner tonight."

Hermione knocked on the door, and let herself in. "What's going on?" she asked. "I heard talking, so I decided to see what you were up to."

"Here," Ron said. "Read this." He passed her the letter.

She scanned the page, wrinkling her nose. "Well, it seems like she's sure made herself at home, doesn't it?"

"Uh-huh," Ron said. "At least Harry doesn't have to put up with her by himself, right? That's what friends are for."

"Well, according to this letter, Sirius should be here in an hour and a half. I don't know about you, but not even half of my stuff is packed," Hermione said, rushing out of the door.

"Girls. Why do they have so much stuff?" Ron asked.

Harry didn't have a reply, so he decided to get out a deck of Exploding Snap cards. He and Ron played cards for about an hour, until Hermione came in and yelled at them to start packing. They rolled their eyes at her, but did put the cards away and started getting their stuff together. Fifteen minutes later, Ron and Harry dragged their trunks downstairs, huffing.

"See? We had fifteen minutes to spare. I don't know what she was yelling about," Harry said, getting the Exploding Snap cards back out. They became so involved in their game that they didn't realize that Sirius had arrived until they overheard him talking to Mrs. Weasley in the foyer.

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I can assure you that nothing inappropriate is going on in my home," they heard Sirius say.

Ron turned red. "Why is Mom so nosy?" he hissed, as Sirius walked into the room.

"Hi, Harry, Ron," he said. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yep," Harry replied. They began loading their trunks into the rental car, which Harry was certain that Sirius had enhanced, to make all of the luggage fit. Ron and Sirius had just lifted Harry's trunk, when Hermione came running down the stairs.

"Sorry it took me so long, but I couldn't find my Transfiguration book because I was working on my homework last night," she explained. Sirius turned white and dropped the trunk on Harry's foot.

"Ouch!" Harry screamed, lifting the trunk off his throbbing foot.

"Oh, sorry, Harry. I must've lost my grip on the trunk," Sirius apologized. She looked just like Regina at fifteen, he thought. Even that bushy, unruly Potter hair. He mentally shook himself, picked up the trunk, and carried it to the car.

Fifteen minutes later, they set off for London, with Hermione chatting away about the upcoming school year, and the O.W.L. tests. Ron and Harry rolled their eyes, because they had not even started their homework yet. Luckily, they arrived at King's Cross station right when Hermione had just started lecturing them about the importance of the fifth year of school. Sirius turned in the rental car, and they headed to Platform 9 3/4. All four of them managed to walk onto the platform without drawing too much attention to themselves, and settled into an empty compartment on the train.

"Are you living in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, wondering why they would need to take the Hogwarts Express to go to Sirius' home.

"Not exactly." Sirius said, with a small smile.

"So," Hermione mused, "We're going somewhere without a regular Floo network, that's near Hogsmeade. But, Hogsmeade uses the Floo system, as does everywhere, actually, except Hogwarts. Are we going to Hogwarts? But why? And how?"

"Whoa! One question at a time. Yes, we are going to Hogwarts. We are getting there through the faculty entrance outside of Hogsmeade. And, we are going to the faculty grounds because Remus and I were asked to teach at Hogwarts next year," Sirius explained.

Harry couldn't believe his ears. "Really?"

"Really. I'm going to be teaching Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, and Remus is going to be helping out with the Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

"So, I should've waited to do my homework, then," Hermione said with a sigh.

"But, the faculty grounds are only for teachers, right? Then how can that Countess lady live with you?" Ron asked.

"Because she has been asked to teach three different subject next year. And, speaking of Isabelle, please treat her with respect when you meet her later. Remember that what the news says about someone is not always the whole truth," Sirius said sharply. "Ok?"

"Ok," Ron, Harry, and Hermione groaned, while going to buy candy and drinks from the cart. They walked back in, talking about Quiddich.

"I really think that we'll take the cup this year," Ron was saying.

"But, how can we, since Oliver Wood graduated, and we didn't train a keeper all last year?" Hermione asked.

"Look, you're not the world's biggest expert on Quiddich just because you're dating some Quiddich superstar," Ron spat.

Hermione turned red. "And what's that to you? And maybe he taught me a thing or two about Quiddich over the summer. What do you have to say about that?"

"Plenty. First, I've never seen you ride a broomstick properly in your life. Second, I'm sure you went to Bulgaria just to learn about Quiddich."

"It's none of your business where I go or what I do!" she screamed, walking out of the compartment and slamming the door.

"What?" Ron said.

"Nothing," Harry replied, shaking his head.

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason."

"Why are girls so impossible to talk to?"

"I don't have a problem talking to Hermione."

Ron turned red, and looked out the window. "Ok, so maybe I'm a little jealous of Krum."

"A little?"

"Ok, a lot. He's famous, good at Quiddich..." His voice trailed off.

"And, he's dating Hermione."

"That too. Just don't tell her, ok?" Ron asked urgently. Sirius raised an eyebrow, but managed to keep his mouth shut by stuffing a chocolate frog into it.

"Fine."

Ron kept staring out of the window, lost in thought, while Harry and Sirius talked about the upcoming Quiddich season, and different strategies. Ten minutes later, Hermione walked back into the compartment, and buried herself in a book. Sirius was amazed at how he could have known her for two years, and never realized that she was his daughter–his and Gina's. She would be so incredibly proud of her, he thought.

"Sirius? You didn't answer my question," Harry said.

"Sorry," he said, focusing on his nephew. "I didn't hear the question. Can you repeat it?"

Two hours later, the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. They stepped onto the platform, where Sirius arranged for their belongings to be delivered later that evening. People stared as Sirius, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked through town, finally stopping at the Hogwarts faculty gate. Sirius tapped the gate twice, and they walked onto the faculty grounds. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared in awe at the different houses and the fountain.

"Why does the fountain change shape?" Ron asked.

"Haven't you read Hogwarts, A History, yet?" Hermione puffed. "The fountain changes shape to the animals of each of the four houses." Ron and Harry rolled their eyes.

They followed Sirius through the grounds, and up the stairs of the house. Sirius put his hand on the door handle, paused, and turned to the children. "Remember what I told you earlier about Isabelle?" he reminded them.

"Yes," they said, and walked into the living room. The room was a warm beige, decorated with deep chocolate leather furniture, accented by various houseplants and art. Sirius asked them to stay in the living room for a minute, so that he could go find Isabelle to introduce them to her.

"Oh, yes, she's here to stay," Hermione whispered.

"How can you know that?" Harry whispered back.

"Because there's no way a man could have decorated this house. And no woman would go through this much effort, unless she was going to stay to enjoy it," she replied.

"I'll have to take your word on that," Harry said, interrupted by voices coming down the hallway.

"You didn't have to cook dinner, you know. Ordering meals from the house elves is one of the benefits of living here," they heard.

"You know how I feel about house elves," came the angry reply. "Sergei barely treated his house elves better than a dog. Oh, no offense. Anyway, house elves are not slave labor. They deserve better than that, and I refuse to condone the treatment that they get."

"Not another one," Ron moaned. "I thought Hermione was bad enough. Now there's two of them." Harry secretly agreed, as Sirius and Isabelle walked into the room.

"Isabelle, this is Harry, Ron, and..." his voice cracked.

"Hermione," Isabelle finished. "Nice to meet all of you." She smiled, and Harry couldn't help but like her, in spite of himself. She bit her lip, thinking. "So, Ron, what are the Cannons' chances this season?"

"You like the Chudley Cannons?" Ron said, in mild amazement.

"Of course! I grew up doing nothing but watching and playing Quiddich. My family used to make fun of me for liking the Cannons because they never win, but I always liked the underdog."

Ron grinned. Maybe this Countess wasn't so bad, after all. "Well," he began, explaining in great detail the roster, new strategies, and the competition in the league this year. Out of the corner of her eye, Isabelle noticed Hermione sighing and rolling her eyes at Ron.

"You don't like Quiddich?" she asked her.

"No, Hermione just thinks she's a Quiddich expert because she's dating one," Ron replied witheringly.

"Well, maybe she is an expert. You never know," Isabelle replied, raising an eyebrow. Hermione sat up, surprised. "Anyway, dinner will be ready in about half an hour. I see that you've got Exploding Snap cards in your pocket, Harry. I haven't played Exploding Snap in ages. Want to play say, girls against guys?"

"Sure!" they all replied. Sirius smiled to himself. In about five minutes, Isabelle had all three children eating out of her hand. She is definitely a charmer, he thought.

"Hey! Are you in, or out?" Isabelle asked him.

"Um, I think I'll go check on dinner, and set the table," he said, hoping that she would take the hint that he needed to be alone for a minute.

She gave him a knowing look. "Sure, I'd appreciate the help."

A half hour later, everyone's eyebrows were singed. The girls were beating the guys two to one, when the oven timer went off. "I'll be right back," Isabelle told them, walking into the kitchen. Sirius was sitting at the bar, with his head in his hands, eyes closed. She walked past him to the oven, took out the roast, and set it on the counter.

"Your girl is beautiful," she told him, cutting the meat and putting it on a platter.

"Thank her mother for that," came the muffled reply.

"She does favor Gina, just like Harry favors James. It's almost like seeing the twins again."

"I know."

"She has a lot of you in her, though. Temperamental, but very loyal," she said, conversationally.

Sirius looked up, swallowing back tears. "On the train ride here, I couldn't stop thinking about how proud Regina would be of her. You don't know how much I wish she was here now. She would know exactly what to say to Grace, to make her understand what happened. Instead, she has me. I couldn't even say her name–how can I tell her that I'm her father? How can I be a father to her?"

"You will, when the time comes. And, you were a great to me, so I know that you'll be a wonderful father to her," Isabelle said reassuringly, as she began to walk to the dining room carrying dishes in both hands.

"Belle?"

She smiled at her nickname. He was the only person who ever got away with calling her that. "Yes?"

"I'm glad you're here. I know I couldn't do this without you."

"Anytime." She poked her head in the living room. "Hey, dinner's ready."

Three pairs of hungry feet rushed into the dining room. Dinner was a festive affair, thanks mostly to Isabelle. Harry marveled at her energy, wit, and sense of humor. No wonder Sirius and Remus liked her so much, Harry thought. He had never enjoyed a dinner so much, and was a little sad when everyone finished their pudding.

Sirius stood up from the table. "Um, if everyone's finished, I would like you to come into the living room for a minute. All of you."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other with apprehensively, and walked into the living room, sitting on the sofa. Sirius moved a large rectangular ottoman across from the sofa, and he and Isabelle sat on it, looking at each other nervously.

"What's going on?" Harry asked. Was this about what he thought it was?

"Well," Sirius began, "it's about us."

"Yes," Isabelle continued, "we, uh..."

"Are you getting married?" Harry blurted out. "Is that what you want to talk about?"

Sirius and Isabelle looked at each other in shock. "What?" Isabelle said.

"Well, I know that you just got a divorce, and that Sirius is single, and that you're old friends, and--"

"Whoa," Sirius said. "Wait a minute. Where on earth would you get that idea from?"

"The Daily Prophet," Harry said, in a small voice.

"Ohhh," Sirius and Isabelle said together, laughing.

"No, we are not getting married," Sirius said.

"Definitely not," Isabelle added. "Were all of you thinking that?" Three embarrassed heads nodded, as the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Harry jumped up to answer the door. It was the delivery man, with all of the luggage from the Hogwarts Express. Sirius directed him upstairs, and came back into the living room five minutes later.

"Well, now that your things are here, and you know that we are not getting married," he said with a grin, "we do want to talk to you about some things." His face grew very serious. "About what you heard about our family at the trial. Do you remember everything that was said?" They nodded their heads.

"As you know now," Isabelle continued, "I was married to a Death Eater once. When I was married to him, I heard all kinds of stories about your family, just like I'm sure you've heard rumors, too. But, what I am about to tell you is the truth, and I can prove it." She told the story of the night Harry's parents died, and how everyone thought that Isabelle Evans and Grace Black died. The only detail she left out was the name of the Death Eater who saved them. When she finished, three pairs of eyes were spellbound, listening to her.

"But, how do you know for sure?" Hermione asked.

"Like father, like daughter," she muttered under her breath. "I know, because I was there that night."

Ron looked from Isabelle, to Harry, and back again. "Um, Harry, what was your aunt's name?"

"Petunia."

"No! The other one."

"Isabelle, I think." Harry looked up, and suddenly understood. "Are you--"

"I am." Isabelle jumped up, and gave Harry a huge hug. "And you, sir, are my very favorite nephew. We won't talk about the rest of the family, huh?"

"Fine by me." He looked at Sirius with a sheepish grin. "That's why you've been spending time with her? Boy, is the Daily Prophet wrong."

"Tell me about it," Isabelle muttered.

"Wait a minute," Hermione said. "If you're alive, that means that your daughter is alive too, doesn't it?"

Sirius and Isabelle looked at each other, and sat back down. "That's right," Sirius said, in a choked voice. He took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. "That's what we need to talk to you about."

"Why?" asked Harry. "If this secret keeper told you who she is, then why can't you just go out and find her?"

"It's not that easy," Isabelle said. "Well, the finding part is. We've even talked to her foster parents, and they are okay with telling her the truth. But, we want to know if you think it's the right thing to do. Unfortunately, our family is notorious throughout the wizarding world. No matter what we do, or where we go, we make news." She pulled out a stack of articles. "See? Here are Sirius and I leaving Richmond with all of my belongings. And, here's an article about our trip to Diagon Alley. Oh, and a lovely photo spread of us jogging. I don't think that's my best side, do you, Sirius?"

"Didn't know there was a best side," he replied. She dumped the articles over his head, scattering them all over the living room floor.

"The point is that all of us–you, Sirius, and I–live in a glass house. All of our dirty laundry is discussed in detail all over the world, believe it or not. I remember how difficult it was to deal with our family falling apart when I was your age, and I was in hiding. The three of you are Grace Black's age. How do you think she would deal with this? What do you think we should do–continue to shelter her from all of the unwanted attention our family brings, or find her and tell her the truth?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other, thinking. Ron spoke up first. "Well, I could imagine that it would be hard to have one family your whole life, and then try to adjust to another one. Not that you aren't cool or anything."

"That's just because you have a family," Hermione replied.

"What's that supposed to mean? You have a family, too!" Harry replied. "I'm the only orphan here. Sorry, Aunt Isabelle and Sirius. We're the only orphans here."

"Actually, Ron's the only person in this room who is not an orphan," Hermione said, in a very small voice.

"What?" Harry and Ron said together.

"It's true. My parents adopted me when I was very young. I guess they didn't know I was a witch, because they were very surprised when I got my letter from Hogwarts."

Sirius and Isabelle exchanged uneasy looks, not knowing where this conversation was going to go, but neither one of them wanted to interrupt the children.

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Ron said.

"Because I had parents, sort of, and Harry didn't. I felt bad, because my parents love me. All I have to say is that every day, I wonder who my real parents were, and why they left me. If I was you, Sirius, I would find your daughter, and tell her the truth. Even if she doesn't want to get to know you, and I couldn't imagine why not, at least she would know. This Grace would find out eventually, anyway, and would probably feel abandoned."

Ron walked over to Hermione, and put his arm around her shoulder. Despite the situation, Sirius raised an eyebrow at Ron's display of affection. Luckily, neither Ron nor Hermione saw Sirius' reaction, but Harry did. Harry looked at Hermione, sniffling, with her head on Ron's shoulder, and back at Sirius, who was now trying to hide the fact that he was clenching his teeth.

The conversation continued around Harry, who was desperately trying to remember what Isabelle had said at the trial in her letter about Grace Black. He managed to remember that her birthday was May 13, and that she had Potter hair, whatever that meant, but that was about all. He turned to Hermione.

"Hermione, when is your birthday?" he asked, looking into Sirius' grey-brown eyes for some sort of reaction.

"Harry Potter, you have known me for four years! You know that my birthday is May 13. You gave me a nice book, remember? Well, the Tri-Wizard Tournament probably fried your brain, anyway. Why do you ask?" she replied, narrowing her grey-brown eyes at him.

"Just to make sure that I didn't forget, that's all," he said, faking a relieved laugh. Was this just a coincidence? He didn't want to say anything, in case he wasn't right. "I'll be right back, ok? I just have to use the restroom."

"Sure. Your room is at the end of the hallway, and there is a restroom off of it," Isabelle said.

Harry ran up the stairs, down the hallway, and into his room. He threw open his trunk, and rummaged around for the photo album, turning it to Sirius' wedding picture. Sure enough, Hermione was a spitting image of his Aunt Gina, but with Sirius' eyes. Harry closed the book, and went back down the stairs, carrying the book with him.

Sirius saw the look on Harry's face when he walked back in the living room, and he realized that Harry had figured out the truth. Isabelle noticed, too, but her attention was quickly diverted to the photo album that Harry was carrying.

"My photo album!" Isabelle cried.

"This is yours?" Harry said.

"Yes, I took it when Grace and I left, but I lost it somewhere. How did you find it?"

"I didn't. Mrs. Figg did, and kept it all of these years."

"Can I look at it?" Harry gave her the album, and she flipped immediately to the picture in the back of the family at Christmas. Everyone crowed around Isabelle to see the picture.

"Is that your daughter?" Ron asked.

"Yes, that's Grace," Sirius said, gathering up his self-confidence, which was strangely failing him. "Do you have a picture of Regina when she was younger, around Grace's age?" he asked Isabelle quietly.

"No, I didn't know you back then. All I have is your wedding picture."

"I guess that will have to do." He gave Isabelle a lopsided, nervous smile. "Hermione, have you ever seen a picture of your real parents?"

"No, why? Did you know them? Is there a picture of them in there?" she asked eagerly. Harry rolled his eyes in utter disgust. For such a smart girl, Hermione was incredibly dense sometimes.

"Yes, and yes," he responded, flipping through the pages. Isabelle got off the ottoman, so Hermione could sit down beside Sirius. "Here they are," he said.

Hermione stared at the page for a minute, tilting her head. Sirius knew that he looked a little different than he did at twenty-two, but he figured that he was at least recognizable. I guess not, he thought, as Hermione puzzled. He decided to try a different tact.

"Do you know how you got your name?" he asked her.

"No, how?"

He smiled. "Your mother was a bookworm, and she especially loved Shakespeare. Hermione is a name from a Shakespeare play, but I'm not exactly sure which one. The Winter's Tale, I think. Anyway, after you were born, she knew that she was going to die." His voice choked a bit. "So, she named you Hermione, which, in Greek mythology, means good luck. She said that she always wanted her daughter to know that she thought you were the best thing that ever happened to her, even if you costed her her life."

"Really? My mother really said that?" Hermione said, tears coming down her face.

"Yes, she really said that. But, she also said that we should call you by your middle name, Grace, so that you would learn to deal with whatever life brings you with grace and dignity. You see, your parents were opposites. Your mother was patient and compassionate, but your father was–is quite impulsive and temperamental at times. Regina must've thought that if we called you Grace, then maybe you wouldn't develop your father's faults." He put his head in his hands. "I miss your mother so much. She would be so proud of you and how grown up you've become."

"Regina?" Hermione said, a little dazed, and not fully understanding. "The only Regina I've heard you mention is Regina Potter, who married--" she stopped suddenly and looked at Sirius. "you. If Regina Potter Black is my mother, then you..." her voice trailed off.

"Then you are Hermione Grace Black. My daughter." Sirius swallowed. How would she react?

Hermione laughed. She just laughed, almost hysterically.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked, concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking that if Regina Potter is my mother, then James Potter is my uncle, making Harry my first cousin. Too bad we didn't know that last year, because that would've kept Rita Skeeter from writing all those articles about us dating. Imagine what people will say when they find out that we are cousins," she laughed. Her laughter turned into sobs, and she threw herself into Sirius' arms.

"I'm so sorry, Grace. Everyone told me you were dead," he said, crying.

"Everyone told me you were dead, too," she sobbed. They held each other, crying for a few minutes. Isabelle went to the bathroom, and brought back a box of tissues, which was used up quickly.

Hermione blew her nose, and looked up at Sirius. "Si–um, what am I supposed to call you? What did I call you when I was a baby?"

Isabelle and Sirius cracked up laughing. "What's so funny?" Hermione asked.

"Well, a long time ago, all of us lived in the same house. Lily's house, technically. I guess it's yours, now, Isabelle. Anyway, after you and Harry were born, Lily started working at home, so that she could take care of the two of you during the day. Well, Lily was the only mother figure either of you had. But, when James and I came home, I took charge of you, while he took care of Harry, so that Lily could have a break and get work done. Usually, we played with the two of you together, which meant that you got very jealous whenever I would pay attention to Harry. When both of you were first learning to talk, James and I made the mistake of trying to get you both to call us 'Daddy'. So, Harry called James 'Daddy', and he heard you call me 'Daddy', and I guess he assumed that all men are just named 'Daddy'. One day, we were all playing in the living room, and Harry called me 'Daddy'. And before anyone could say a word, you screamed, 'No!' and hit Harry on the head with your baby rattle. I think you still have the scar, Harry. Anyway, from then on, we taught you to call me 'Papa', so there wouldn't be any confusion," Sirius explained.

Harry and Hermione stared at each other, and burst out laughing. "Some cousin you are. You tried to kill me! And to think, I saved you from that troll first year," Harry said.

"Well, it's not like I haven't helped you out any, Potter," she replied in a mock huff. She turned to Sirius. "So, is it okay if I call you Papa, then?"

"Yes, I'd like that." They smiled shyly at each other. "If you would like," Sirius continued, hesitantly, "you could use my last name, too. But, you don't have to–I won't be offended if you don't."

"Of course I will," she said softly. "You are my family. Not that my other parents aren't, but it's just not the same." Hermione hugged her father again.

Ron sat on the corner of the sofa, pale. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. Not that he wasn't happy for Hermione, but this news came as quite a shock to him. Earlier that day, he had admitted for the first time that he had a huge crush on Hermione. In front of her father. What was it that I overheard in The Three Broomsticks third year? he thought. Oh, yes–nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black. Ron thought that he was going to be sick, and desperately wished to become invisible before Sirius pounded him for wanting to date his daughter.

"Ron? Are you ok?" Sirius asked him with a slight grin. He knew full well what Ron was thinking, because he felt the exact same way when James first realized how he felt about Regina. Not that he would go out of his way to put Ron at ease. After all, Hermione was his daughter.

"Yes, sir, just fine, thank you," Ron gulped. Harry snickered at the humor of the situation. Ron gave him an evil look and muttered, "Shut up, Harry, if you know what's good for you."

Harry just grinned. "Hmmm?" he said, innocently. He looked around the living room at his family. All his life, Harry had wanted a family, and thought he had no one but the Dursleys. But, here he was, with another aunt on his mother's side of the family, and an uncle and cousin on his father's side. This is definitely the happiest day of my life, Harry thought, yawning.

Isabelle looked up from the photo album, where she was showing Hermione baby pictures, and glanced over at the clock. It only read ten thirty, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were starting to look droopy. She looked over at Sirius, and pointed upstairs. He nodded, knowing that they must be exhausted.

"Hey, y'all have to be tired from traveling. Why don't I show you your rooms?" Isabelle began up the stairs, with three sets of tired feet behind her. She paused at the landing. "Harry, your room is at the end of the hallway, but you already know that. You're going to share a bathroom with Remus, which isn't that great. But, I have to share one with Sirius. He takes super long showers, and he sings. Loudly. So, I think you got the better end of that deal." Harry and Ron laughed on their way down the hallway, into Harry's room.

Isabelle turned, and walked to the bedroom on the far left. She turned to Hermione. "I know you go by Hermione now, but I'm afraid that your father and I are a little old-fashioned. Is it alright if we call you Grace every now and then?" She nodded. "Thanks. You're the lucky one, because you get your own bathroom. I know your room's not decorated. Well, neither is Harry's. We don't know your taste, so we wanted to wait until you got here to buy anything. If you need anything, your father's bedroom is across the hall, and mine is next to his. I'm sure he picked that bedroom because he is a notoriously light sleeper, so he would hear if any of you tried to sneak in or out of the house. Anyway, I'll see you in the morning."

"Um, Isabelle?"

"Yes?" She paused on the landing.

"Could you tell me about my mother sometime? About what kind of person, and mother she was? I know she helped raise you." Hermione's lower lip trembled. "How can you miss someone you've never even met?"

Isabelle hugged Hermione. "Easily. I used to get Lily to tell me about our mother all of the time, because I didn't remember my mother before she got sick. You just have an empty place in your heart, a kind of dull ache, that never really goes away."

"Do you miss my mother?"

"Constantly. Your father and I talk about her often. Any time you want to talk about her, or anything else, we're here to talk, ok?"

Hermione smiled. "Ok," she said, walking into her room, and closing the door.

Isabelle walked back downstairs, and into the kitchen, where Sirius was cleaning up after dinner. He flashed her an evil grin. "Just being a good little house elf," he said. They both laughed. She walked to the refrigerator and took out two bottles of butterbeer, passing one to Sirius.

"So, Ron has a crush on Grace, huh?" she asked him.

"You don't miss anything, do you?"

"Never have, never will. I don't recall you complaining about my amazing eavesdropping tendencies and powers of deductive reasoning when it benefits you."

"You know, most people call it nosiness. Yeah, he fancies her. I kind of feel bad for him, though, because he said something about it today on the train. Right in front of me."

"And he's alive?"

"I've gone soft in my old age. Honestly, I prefer him to Krum. He's much too old for her."

"Good luck telling her that. She has your temper, for sure. That sort of talk wouldn't go over well."

He sighed. "I know."

-----

Hermione opened her bedroom door, and tiptoed to Harry's door. She had a funny feeling that Isabelle knew, somehow, that she planned to sneak over to Harry's room, and was warning her to be very quiet, or she would get caught. And that getting caught sneaking around in the middle of the night was not exactly a good thing in this household, for some reason. But, right now, she didn't want to be alone, so she lightly tapped on Harry's door, hoping that they were awake. A minute later, Harry quietly cracked open the door, so Hermione could slip into the room.

"You couldn't sleep, either?" Harry whispered.

"No," Hermione replied. "It's not every day that you discover that your best friend is your cousin."

"And that my godfather is your father."

"And your uncle. This is just too weird." They laughed.

"Lumos," Ron whispered, lighting up the room.

"How come your room is bigger than mine?" Hermione hissed indignantly.

"Well, you have your own bathroom. So there," Harry shot back.

Ron rolled his eyes at both of them. "Are you hot?" he asked, fanning his face with a Divination chart. Harry and Hermione nodded, so Ron tiptoed to the windows and opened them quietly.

"I know it's soon, but I have no idea what to do about it," came a voice outside the door.

"Well, we have to figure out something." The voices trailed away. Harry was about to speak, when he heard a rustling outside of his window.

"Ouch!"

"Shhh! You'll wake the children."

"Fine. You hold my drink, while I make sure my foot is still attached to my body."

"Drama queen."

"I'm not even going to say what you are right now." Isabelle looked at her swollen foot. Her big toe was twice its normal size, and her other toes were turning purple and blue.

Harry opened his trunk, and put on his Invisibility Cloak. He snuck to the open window, and looked out. Sirius and Isabelle were sitting right beside the window, on the roof of the patio, Isabelle nursing her foot. He snuck back to Ron and Hermione.

"They're sitting on the roof," he whispered.

"Let's put on the Invisibility Cloak, and sneak back over to the window."

"Hermione! I can't believe you just said that." Ron was shocked. Since when was Hermione actually suggesting that they sneak around?

"Maybe we'll learn something about our family. Anyway, if you don't want to listen in, just give me the cloak, and I'll go over there by myself." She crossed her arms.

"Alright, let's go," Harry said. They struggled to fit under the cloak, crawling over to the window, hoping that no one heard them.

"What do you mean, we have to do something about the money? Harry's got the keys, right?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly? How could Harry buy schoolbooks, or anything, without those keys?"

"Well, it's sort of a long story."

"I've got all night, Belle."

"Fine. As I was saying, we really should do something about our money. As you know, the Ministry of Magic impounded the Black vaults when you were taken to Azkaban. And, if you died in prison, without a legal heir, the Ministry gets all of the money. Like I would have let that happen, anyway, with Grace alive. I seriously doubt the Ministry would have ever given you a proper trial if you hadn't escaped. From what I heard, the Ministry was quite upset that you lived all of those years. I wish I could've been there when Fudge had to release the vaults."

"Wait a minute. I know I'm not poor, but why would my vaults be important to the Ministry?"

"Not poor? Talk about the understatement of the century. Might I remind you that you control the entire Black fortune, and Regina's half of the Potter fortune? At last estimate, those vaults alone were about thirty-seven percent of the money in Gringotts' bank. Which makes you the richest man in the world, wizard or Muggle. Harry comes in a close second, with thirteen percent of Gringotts' assets. And, you're the trustee of Harry's vaults until he turns eighteen. I've made some inquiries, and the Ministry is desperately trying to come up with a way to deal with all of that money being put back into circulation."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other, mouths open. They scooted as close to the window as possible, straining to hear the conversation.

"I don't understand. I know my money's been in impound for fifteen years, but Harry's always been able to access the Potter vaults."

"That's where the not exactly comes in. When the Ministry put you in Azkaban, Dumbledore became very concerned that Harry not learn about the particulars of his parents' deaths, and about you, specifically, until he was old enough to handle it."

"And that going to a special branch of Gringotts' bank devoted to the Potter and Black families would have somehow magically tipped him off?"

"That was the rationale. I'm not saying I agree, Sirius. I didn't exactly have much say in the entire matter."

"Back to my earlier question. How could Harry buy anything without accessing the Potter vaults?"

"Well, when I first went to America, I didn't have any money, because I couldn't access my family vault because I was supposedly dead. But, Harry was technically my legal heir. So, Dumbledore changed one of my other vault titles from me to Harry. He kept the key in trust for Harry, and would remove money from time to time, as I needed it. When I started at the ballet, I invested my salary in the Muggle stock market. I was pretty good at it, too, and made a fair amount of money. I put all of the earnings in that vault, to make sure that Harry would have enough money to live off of until someone told him that he's the richest wizard at Hogwarts. He was really quite sensible with spending the money, too. I was impressed that he didn't squander money on anything."

"Just curiously, how much money is in that vault?" Isabelle named the figure. "Good grief! Since when is being a ballerina that profitable?"

"Since I took finance classes in college, and learned how to maximize my investments with as little effort as possible."

"You're starting to sound like my father."

"Oooh, the ultimate insult."

"You know what? The Ministry doesn't have to bother with economic forecasts, or any of that mess. I don't plan on ever touching that money. It can rot in Gringotts' bank for eternity."

"Honestly, and you called me a drama queen."

"I don't need my father's money. I don't want anything to do with him, or the companies, the houses around the world, or whatever kept him away from home my entire childhood. I can raise my family just fine without it. When I went to the Weasleys' house today to pick up the children, all of those kids were laughing and joking. They may not have money, but they have what counts–love, and attention. That makes them the richest family in the world. All I had growing up was a huge, empty house and a large allowance. Poor little rich kid, I know."

"I never knew that you and your father didn't get along."

"How could we get along? He was never around. I always felt abandoned growing up. Do you remember when I found you in your fort all of those years ago? When you said that no one wanted you?"

"How could I forget?"

"The look on your face broke my heart, because I knew exactly how you felt. I guess that's why I took such an interest in raising you–to make sure that you knew that someone cared about you. It nearly killed me to know that Petunia was raising Harry, since she did such a fine job making you feel wanted and loved."

"At least Grace had good parents."

"Thank goodness. Anyway, I don't see what good it would do to access the family vaults now. Harry's spent his whole life without knowing about the money, so why change things now?"

"You're just afraid he'll become obsessed with the money."

"Of course I am! Money corrupts people. Can't you see my point of view?"

"Can't you see my point of view? People have been keeping things from Harry his whole life. I'm sick of it. It's dishonest, no matter how good people's intentions are."

Sirius sighed. "Fine. So, what are we going to do for Harry's birthday?"

"You're driving me crazy! You want to make plans, so I try to tell you about how much money we have to spend, so then you go off about how you don't want the money. And somehow your father comes into the conversation. Focus, Sirius."

"Sorry. Must be the drink talking. What is this, anyway?"

"Southern Comfort."

"Bloody American crap, making me all sentimental. Fill me up again, will you?"

"I think you've had too much already. You're making no sense, and this conversation is going absolutely nowhere."

"All right, you win. I'll go to the bank, and spend the bloody money. But, I'm not going to overboard buying Harry some overly expensive gift just because I haven't been around all his life. That would be a page out of my dear father's book."

"Waxing poetic?"

"Just pour me another drink, Belle."

"Wasn't it you who bought Harry a Firebolt? Nastily expensive little thing, considering it was financed from my vault."

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "Hoped you wouldn't notice that. I couldn't help it. He was playing Quiddich, and his broomstick was attacked by the Whomping Willow. I saw him looking at one in Diagon Alley, so I just sort of ordered one. I wondered why Gringotts had no problem taking the money from your old vault. I didn't realize that it was actually being used. Sorry." He flashed her his most charming smile.

"Stop that!" she laughed. "You're forgiven, as long as you don't mind all of the things that I just can't help buying Grace. I was hoping that maybe she'd like to go shopping with me before school starts."

"Oh, no. Of all the family traditions to bring back, you want to revive the girls' day out."

"Well, Gina and I used to have so much fun shopping, that's all."

"Uh, huh. Why wouldn't you? She bought you anything and everything you wanted. I swear, you must've been the best dressed witch at Hogwarts. Probably England." He sighed. "Fine, take her out and have a good time. Can anybody tell you no?"

"Sergei, but that's another story entirely."

"Why'd you leave him, anyway?"

"I had my reasons."

"That's not fair, and you know it. You've never kept a secret from me. I don't keep secrets from you. I've spent the past month telling you everything that I've been through in the past fourteen years, in painful detail, and you're not going to answer a simple question?"

"That's not true, Sirius. You never told me what Gina said right before she died."

"Because some things are too painful to repeat."

"Exactly."

He put his arm around her shoulder. "He was that bad to you?"

"Worse." They sat in silence, with Isabelle's head on Sirius' shoulder. "We really should come up with some sort of plan for Harry's birthday."

"I know. Maybe we should sleep on it."

"Good thinking. How in the world am I going to get back through that window without waking up the children?" After much effort, Isabelle and Sirius managed to get back into the house.

"I thought they would never leave. This cloak is smothering," Harry said.

"Well, apparently you can afford to buy about a million of them," Ron replied.

"So?" Hermione said. "Money isn't everything."

"You can say that because your father's the richest man in the world," Ron shot back.

Hermione burst into tears. "Sure, so our family has money. You heard Papa. That's all we have."

Ron felt terrible. Why is it that I never say the right thing to Hermione? he thought. Although he was jealous of Harry and Hermione's wealth, he did feel lucky to have such a good family life. He turned to Hermione, who was crying harder, and reached out to give her a hug. She buried her head in his chest. He shot Harry a panicked look, but Harry shrugged his shoulders at him. Neither of them had any clue of what to say to her, so Ron just patted her hair awkwardly as she cried.

"Hermione, I'm sorry about what I said. I shouldn't have said it. Hey, listen to me." Hermione lifted her head. "You do have more than money. You have foster parents, who love you, and your real family, too. Didn't you hear them out there? All they were really talking about was doing the right thing by you and Harry. Don't you get it? That's why, earlier, they asked our opinion of whether or not Sirius should tell you that you are his daughter. If you had said no, they would have spent the rest of their lives keeping that secret from you. That's how much they love you, Hermione."

She smiled at Ron. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess I am pretty lucky, huh?"

"You have me for a cousin. What more luck do you need?"

She threw a pillow at Harry. "How much do Firebolts cost, anyway?"

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"So that I know how much I can spend when Isabelle and I go shopping. I really need some new stuff, since Viktor's coming to Hogwarts and everything."

"What?" Ron said, a little louder than he meant to.

"Shhhh! He's coming to help teach Potions class. I don't know how he's going to put up with Snape, though. Anyway, I really should send him an owl to tell him about what happened today." She yawned. "Let me try to sneak back to my room, so that I can send off a letter before the Daily Prophet finds out about our family, and publishes it all over the world." She tiptoed to the door, closing it quietly behind her.

Ron punched his pillow. "Why won't Krum go away?"

"You could always tell her how you feel."

"Oh, sure. The last thing she needs right now is for one of her best friends to tell her that he fancies her. She's going through enough already. I just wish it was me, not him, that she turns to, that's all. Anyway, good night."

"Night."