…so yeah how was your day…?

Listening to Smash Mouth. I'm pretty sure you can guess which song. If you can't, you're very young and/or haven't seen Shrek.

"Sister is probably the most competitive relationship within the family, but once the sisters are grown, it becomes the strongest relationship,"

–Margaret Mead

Chapter Thirty-Three:

I would've bought a bus ticket if I'd had any Muggle money on me, but I didn't, so I was stuck. It was around five minutes before I was going to begin walking home that my Uncle Simon pulled up outside the train station.

My father's younger brother was not a tall man, or a short man or any kind of man at all. He was plain in almost every aspect of physical appearance and personality, save the stress lines etched into his face by his job as air landing control officer.

Uncle Simon wasn't a very talkative man, and I wasn't exactly in a talkative mood, so very few words out side of 'hello' and 'merry Christmas' were passed in the drive home through snowy London streets in his dirty cream coloured 1964 Pontiac GTO Coupe.

As he parked down the road from our house, I saw recognised the cars of other family members parked around too.

It was growing darker as I stepped inside my home after Uncle Simon for the first time in months. It was loud inside, my family's annual meet-up Christmas party in full swing.

"I was the only one sober enough to drive and get you who also knew where the train station was," Simon said plainly as we looked at the rest of my family socialising in the living room.

"Thank you," I said to him and we both dispersed into the crowd.

Nobody had seen our arrival, so quietly I snuck upstairs to my attic bedroom. A layer of dust covered everything, which was a good sign that nobody had been up here while I was at school. The thought of people going through my things always brought sickness to my stomach.

Quickly, I changed my near-soaked clothes for something warm and grudgingly headed back down stairs.

"Hey, darlin'!" My mother grinned at me and stumbled into an awkward one-sided hug at the bottom of the staircase, squeezing me tight and locking my arms against my sides.

"Hello mother," I spoke plainly in an attempt to keep acid from leaking into my voice. She was drunk and she'd forgotten me and left me at a train station to freeze. They were the facts and I couldn't do anything about them, so there was no point in complaining or making a fool of myself over-reacting in front on the family who only see's my once a year and base their opinion of my entirely of my on that experience.

But I'm me, I'm Riley O'Conner and I am fucking pissed off, so the normal rules didn't apply and even if they did, I'd snap them in half like a dry twig.

"Let go of me!" I pushed her away and she gave me a shocked impression, "You left me to freeze at train station! You forgot me! Your own daughter! What is wrong with you!"

She gave me unusual expression, squinting her eyes while examining me, "What wrong with your face, Wiley?" Elizabeth asked with a laugh, no, not mother.

"It's a scar. Never seen one?" I hissed bitingly, attempting to keep my cool.

She reached out her fingers to touch it, but I recoiled violently away, hitting her hand out of the way, "No, Elizabeth," I said firmly and my mother burst into tears.

"My little Wiley has carvings on her face!" She sobbed, "Fix it! Fix it now!"

That was it – I felt my rage burst from me, "I fucking can't! You think if I could, I would have?"

By this time, we'd attracted the attention of most of the room and everything suddenly fell silent aside from my Elizabeth's pathetic drunken sobbing. Miranda came and hugged my mother, pulling her to the side while sending me a greasy glare.

I stormed upstairs in fury and felt somebody follow me. Not a good idea.

"Riley, what is wrong with you!" my father finally appeared from the crowd.

"What wrong with me?" I scoffed, "What's wrong with you? You left me to freeze at a train station!"

He scowled condescendingly, "It was an innocent mistake."

"Well you're obviously not totally pissed Darren, why didn't you come and get me?" I asked, acid dripping from every word.

"Don't be rude, I am hosting a party, I cannot leave the house unattended," he said hotly.

I barked out a bitter laugh, "What about Elizabeth? She could've looked after the guests…. oh wait… she's fucking off her head!"

"Language, missy!" he barked, holding out a stern pointer finger.

"Fuck that, she just ridiculed me in front of everybody. You think I like my scar? You think I what it there, staring back at me every time I look in the mirror?" I asked him.

He rolled his eyes as if I were an, "You're a witch, you're a shapeshifter – just get rid of it,"

I threw my hands up in the air, "Magic doesn't work like that! This scar is cursed! It will never leave me! You know nothing!"

He lowered his voice and spoke slowly, "Magic is magic and no matter what, we're all still family. You had no right to do that to your mother, she was intoxicated and she didn't know what she was doing. Now go to your room and stay there. This is final."

We stared into each other's eyes for a short period of time which felt more like an eternity until I muttered, "We may be family, but everybody down there is muggle while I am magic. We don't belong in the same world, yet alone the same family,"

Then I swiftly turned form him, stormed up to my attic and slammed the door.

When I woke Sarah was sitting at the end of my bed head slightly hung, gently shaking me with one hand while cradling young Elric in the other.

"Hey, kiddo," she smiled warmly at me.

"Sup sis, any reason for waking me at 7 in the morning?" I yawned and sat up. She turned and crossed her legs, facing me a placed Elric in-between us, "No seriously, what's going on?"

Sarah took in a deep breath and then spoke quite fast, "His eyes keep changing colour and today he's shorter than yesterday and paler while yesterday he was pale and I think he's… well… like you and I have no idea what to do…"

My eyes were wide as I stared down at the baby boy, "Oh…" was the only thing I could muster.

She stared down at her son, "I just… don't know what to do. How do I raise a… a…"

"Wizard? Easy – don't screw up like mum and dad did," I spoke with spite.

She rolled her eyes and said plainly, "Seriously, Ri, what the hell do I do?"

"I am being serious. Do not do what they did. Take baby pictures even though in every one he looks different, raise him knowing of his heritage, don't avoid it – raise him a wizard and a metamorphmagus and defiantly make sure you never ever make him feel like a freak because of it," I said strongly.

"Is that how you felt?" she ventured.

"Pretty much… just don't put him through not knowing,"

She nodded in understanding, "Okay… but I know nothing about magic and your world,"

Shrugging, I answered simply, "Learn,"

"Will you help?" Sarah asked hopefully.

I nodded, "I'll answer any questions,"

She bit her lip, "Actually, I was kinda hoping… well… that you'd be his Godmother…"

"What?" I choked out in shock. This, out of all unexpected things that I'd learnt this morning, I was not definitely not expecting.

"Well, I want him to have somebody like him to be raised with and it's not like I'm going to go and knock of Mr and Mrs Black's door over at Grimmauld Place…"

I winced at the mention of Sirius's parents, "Okay, I'll think about it," I answered, "Now, how are you planning on telling your husband? I suspect he knows nothing of our Bonechild heritage…"

"Bonechild?" she stared at me quizzically.

I waved off the question, "We'll get to that later,"

My elder sister sighed heavily, "As for telling Daniel, I'm trying not to think about it. It'd probably help if you were there as an example of magic to prove it…"

Shaking my head, I corrected her, "I can't do magic in front of a Muggle who doesn't know. I could morph though, would that be enough?"

"That would be fine," Sarah grinned happily; the worry lines had seemingly faded away since the beginning of our conversation, "Would you like to hold him? Even if he's not your Godson, he is still your nephew,"

I smiled slightly, "Fine, but then we shall begin your training…"

Sarah handed over the small squishy metamorphmagus and I held him op to my face for inspection. The boy smiled and placed his tinny palm on my cheek… and I saw him morph his own face.

Usually I this would have made me happy, if not for the fact the baby was now wearing my scar.

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