Chapter Fifteen

"You were supposed to outlive me, you prat," a Witch, a bit over middle aged by now, whispered over what was still, thankfully, the second of only two graves on the property, her husband resting next to her own father, Chester Dagworth. One day, Merlin willing, her husband would be the first in a line of generations worth of Dagworth-Grangers, but here lay the Patriarchs of that line, just as she and her still living mother were the Matriarchs.

Constance Dagworth had been five years her husband's elder, and while they'd initially met at Hogwarts while they were both in school there, she hadn't really gotten to know the Gryffindor well until after she'd graduated. John Granger had been best friends with Aberforth Dumbledore, and while the pair of them were not in the same year, the connection between Constance and Aberforth was quite literally magical.

They had a Kinship bond.

While her parents had been magical, they'd kept more to the Muggle world than the Wizarding one and that had been where her early education had been, although true to her Ravenclaw nature, the moment Aberforth had first uttered the term to her a mere two weeks after he'd started his first year, the half-blood boy knowing full well what he was sensing in her, she'd researched until she knew all there really was to know on the subject. It hadn't been until after Christmas that year that she gave the young Slytherin the time of day, however. Once she did open herself up to Abe, she was radically changed forever.

Constance had been an only child herself. She had no idea what to expect from a sibling, but Aberforth had an elder brother and a younger sister, although she'd understood quickly that Ariana Dumbledore wasn't well. Albus was a Gryffindor a year below her, and honestly she thought he was a bit annoying, especially as he made his general dislike for Slytherin House known. It had been no wonder, really, that Aberforth had clung to her like a shield so quickly.

Constance had adapted to the role of elder sister with ease, and even after graduating she'd made sure to come back to Hogwarts to visit her little brother on Hogsmeade weekends, and to write him in between. The Dumbledores respected the Kinship bond she and Aberforth had enough that even over the holidays they were able to spend some time together. By then, Constance had her own flat, and she'd have Aberforth over for a few days during Christmas break, and for at least a week over the summer, at least until he graduated. After he graduated, he was nearly a fixture at her flat, as was his best friend John Granger.

This was especially true after Percival went to prison, and Kendra died. There was no getting rid of Aberforth after that happened, not that she wanted to.

John had frequently reminded her that he fell in love first. According to him, he'd decided he was going to grow up and marry her over Christmas break his sixth year when he'd been along with Abe for a visit to her flat. It would take her another three years to start to look at the Muggleborn as more than just her little brother's friend, but when she did, it was like nothing else. She'd been courted by a number of Wizards off and on over the years between graduating and then, but none of them had made her feel what John made her feel. She partly blamed Aberforth for making her see John as a man. When her sixteen year old brother got his girlfriend pregnant, it was difficult not to see his best friend as an equally sexual being, although Merlin knew she spent enough months in the land of denial as she focused on getting Abe through that pregnancy, the birth of Aurelius, and the baby's eventual disappearance.

Her parents approved of John as a prospective husband, especially her father, as he'd been Muggleborn himself. Her mother had come from a long line of Witches and Wizards, albeit one with a propensity to birth Squibs. That was why the family maintained wealth and property in both the Muggle and Magical world, so those born without magic weren't left without inheritance. In any case, after John Granger proposed, he and Constance were married a year later, with Aberforth's begrudging blessing.

In the summer of nineteen fifteen, they had their first child. James. He was healthy, magical, and they were pleased to announce the birth of the Dagworth-Granger line through him. Constance had been unwilling to surrender her surname in the course of their marriage, being close to her father and wanting to give his name a real shot at meaning something in Wizarding society, and being Muggleborn, John hadn't wanted to give up his name either, keen to make his mark on the Wizarding world too. So, they'd compromised.

A little over three years after James was born, they had a second son, John Daniel. He didn't have magic, but they didn't care. The Healers insisted that him being a Squib was just poor luck, and encouraged them to try again for a magical child if they wished. The Boleyns were well known for producing Squibs, after all, so it was all but expected. They'd already produced one magical child, and there was every chance they could produce another. In twenty one and twenty four, they had two more sons, Hector and Samuel, respectively. Constance had hoped for a daughter, but the pregnancy with Samuel was difficult, and the Healers told her that it would be risky to have another child. She might not be able to carry to term again, and if she did manage that, she could very well die from the strain of childbirth.

John was not prepared to lose her in that way, nor was she prepared to orphan four sons. So, they stopped, and life went on. Things were lovely, each of them balancing home and work and fighting to establish themselves among high society. John became a respected Auror, eventually promoted to Head of the Auror Department in nineteen forty, five years after the heartbreak of their son Johnny opting to leave the Wizarding World behind, and make his way in the Muggle one. As for Constance, she established herself as a Potions Mistress, proving herself as capable as any man if not moreso, and passing her talent down to their son Hector. To her and Hector's mutual annoyance, her mother, the Hogwarts' Healer, refused to do business with her daughter or grandson, deciding that it was unwise to mix family and business. Constance supposed she could respect the ethics in that, even if she thought it was silly since they all got on so well.

James followed his father into the Auror Corps, making a name for himself much as John had as a dedicated Wizard to the service of others; skilled, insightful, and kind. Samuel found his passion in Transfiguration, eventually settling into a Ministry position which utilized that talent, occasionally working with his brother in the Auror department helping young recruits brush up on Transfiguration related matters as it pertained to field work. The boys enjoyed the opportunity to work together when it happened, both respected in their lines of work and proud of each other, just as she was proud of them all.

"Nineteen forty three," Constance whispered as her gaze fell on the gravestone in front of her. The war against Grindelwald had taken her husband away from her. She didn't resent that he'd died in the line of duty. He'd been fighting for what they both believed was right, and wishing for him to be spared was wishing somebody's else's husband, brother, or son had been in John's place. The only real bitterness she still held onto in regard to John's death was that Johnny hadn't come home for the funeral. He'd been angry with her for even coming to tell him that his father was dead, insisting that he meant what he said about leaving them all behind. As far as he was concerned, they might as well all be dead and buried years ago. When his grandfather had died in nineteen fifty seven Constance had opted against reaching out to Johnny. It had been hard, but she'd chosen to respect his wishes.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, to think that her son thought of her that way. Of course, she second guessed just how much he'd left them all behind after she learned he'd named his own son John Daniel the third, indicating that not only was he passing on his own name, but that he was acknowledging that it was a name he'd gotten from his own father. JD, as his Mum liked to call the lad, would have been starting at Hogwarts this fall if he'd been born magical like his uncles and grandparents and great-grandparents.

She turned as she felt a swell of magic behind her, and quickly spotted her youngest son Samuel's beaver Patronus. "Mum," it said, "I just Floo'd into the Manor, but I can't find you anywhere. I need a word if you're around. Gran said she thought you were on the grounds somewhere."

The cemetery was a full three kilometers from the Manor, inherited from her own parents, so she turned on the spot, shifted the wards to allow it, and apparated directly to her front walk. From there, Constance quickly made her way up the cobble path and in the front door, finding Samuel sitting on the sofa in the den with ease. "Hello," she greeted. "What brings you by?"

"A bloke can't come by just because he misses his Mum?" he asked, standing to hug her.

"He can," she allowed. "However that's more Hector's style. You've been crawling away from me and insisting I give you space since you were old enough to manage it, young man. Out with it."

Samuel frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You remember last week when we all had dinner and James was yammering on about how the Aurors are tracking a bunch of attacks attributed to a group called the Death Eaters?"

Constance crossed her arms. "I do."

Her son looked uncomfortable. "I got approached by someone today. Bloke I know from work, at least in passing. Malfoy. I basically got a recruitment speech for the Death Eaters. He seemed to think that since Johnny buggered off that we'd cast him out, and that meant we were Pureblood supremacists, even if Dad was only first generation magical. He was going on about how Lord Voldemort was willing to overlook a questionable bloodline for advantageous talent and the correct mindset. I told him to piss off, of course."

"Of course you did," she sighed. "Ever the Gryffindor like your father. I don't suppose it crossed your mind that if he didn't see you as an ally he might see you as a potential enemy."

"Well, shite, no," Samuel exclaimed, looking worried. "Do I need to hide my family?"

She considered his potential options. "Rarely in political maneuvering does anyone get won over on the first recruitment speech. Malfoy will be aware of this. Do not be surprised if he approaches you again, and for the love of Merlin, if he does, this time please be more diplomatic in your response, suggesting to him that you are considering your options. Neither commit to his cause, nor tell him he can go hang. Meanwhile, I'll get James to help me improve the wards here, and I'm sure he can get authorization for emergency portkeys to the Manor for everyone in the family, to be worn as necklaces. I think for the time being that will be sufficient. Your grandmother is, of course, already here, so if there are any injuries from an attack, that will be handled. We'll reassess as things develop."

Samuel's shoulders slumped. "I miss Dad."

"So do I, son," she whispered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "So do I."

She'd been honest with her son; those precautions should be enough for the time being. However, she did expect Malfoy to make another move toward recruiting their family, if not through Samuel, then through either James, Hector, or even through her directly, given she was technically Head of their House by Pureblood traditions. There was no way their family was going to be siding with any sort of Dark Wizard in the course of the coming conflict, however. Constance had known there was another war coming. Aberforth had been hinting at it for several years now, even before the attacks were being made public by the Ministry. Of course, as a barkeep, he did tend to see and hear a little bit of everything.

In her mind, there really was only one viable solution to her problem. The rumor mill, from what she'd gathered, had indicated that there was already a Resistance brewing against this rising Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. Pounds converted to Galleons just fine and when her father had died two years ago, she made the choice to move the family assets completely into the Wizarding world and consolidate their wealth, contrary to what had been the traditional way of doing things in her mother's family for generations, given the high rate of Squib births. She had, in the years since, managed to plug herself into Wizarding high society, despite the fact that her father had been Muggleborn, many of them deigning to forget the fact given her affluence. The reality of the matter was that wars weren't cheap, and she had resources to offer. If the Death Eaters were coming for her family, then her family was just going to have to find the Resistance.

For all their sakes.

Aberforth looked up as the door chimed to his pub, smiling as he saw the first sister through Kinship he'd ever found walking through the door with an easy smile. He did seem to keep finding sisters, he thought ruefully. Constance had been a Ravenclaw, although she'd off and married a Gryffindor down the line. "Constance," he greeted. "What brings you by?"

"It's August third, Abe," she said ruefully. "Keep up."

He nodded. "Johnny's birthday. I take it you've just come from popping in on him? How's he seem?"

"By all appearances he and Abigail seem well," Constance reported. "If their son wasn't a Squib like his father, he'd be starting Hogwarts next month. It's a shame."

"Do you think it's likely," Aberforth inquired, getting down two tumblers and a bottle of the top shelf vodka she preferred, "that the magic will resurface through Johnny's line? If his son didn't get it, and it doesn't seem like he and Abigail are having more children, then I suppose the magic could surface in a grandchild."

"No," she admitted, "I don't think it's very likely, but that doesn't make them any less family. I keep a distance and watch over them without their knowledge because that's what Johnny asked of me and his father when he left the magical world. That doesn't make him any less my son. Did I tell you that he named his boy John Daniel as well?"

"You've mentioned, a few times," he said with a wry grin. "That boy of yours remembers where he came from, and even if he never does tell his son the family history, it's not like you won't be watching. Hector or one of the other boys will take over after you're gone. You know they will. The line won't be forgotten."

"I'm often told it's my folly to keep looking in on Johnny by Hector, James, and Samuel," Constance grumbled, sipping the vodka. "Especially since John died. I don't think they like the reminder that the brother who carried on their father's name was the one who was born without magic."

The door chimed again, and another familiar face appeared in his door. Unlike Constance and Svetlana, he didn't sense a Kinship bond with the Mage who'd barrelled into his life a few years ago, but he did care for her all the same. Aberforth smiled and waved Hermione over. "Get over here, woman. You two should meet. I have a hunch you'll get on."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she approached, and waved for him to get her a glass of her preferred Firewhiskey. "I do have a name, Aberforth."

He snorted. "Neither of you are children, ladies. Introduce yourselves."

"Hermione Black," the newest arrival said, offering her hand in greeting.

"Constance Dagworth," the older Witch replied, shaking Hermione's hand.

"Olivia Dagworth's daughter?" Hermione inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I am indeed," Constance confirmed. "How do you know my mother?"

"I brew Potions for the Hogwarts infirmary," Hermione explained, "I started doing it for her and have kept it up since Poppy took over, but I've maintained a good relationship with Olivia. She's mentioned you in passing, and your sons. She's quite proud. Regretting retiring a bit in the interest of being honest, but very proud of her family."

"Oh, I know she is," the older woman chuckled, "on both counts. I had wondered who she found to brew for her at the school. She could have used Hector or myself, but was adamant that she not mix business and family. Not that all of that matters anymore, with her being retired."

"Someone has to keep you out of trouble," the barkeep teased. "That's a full time job."

"How do you know Aberforth?" Hermione inquired next, rolling her eyes at her friend.

"Abe and I were at Hogwarts together, at least briefly. I've got a few years on him. I'm afraid his manners tend to go out the window if I'm in the vicinity. On the upside, were my husband still alive and here, it would be worse. Those two were yearmates and joined at the hip from the age of eleven."

Aberforth chuckled. "One of the few Gryffindors I ever did get on with. John Granger was a hell of a man."

Hermione choked on her drink. "Come again? John Granger?"

He frowned, wondering what had her so startled. "Constance Dagworth, plus John Granger. Two stubborn prats who wouldn't give up their names. Ergo the birth of the Dagworth-Granger line. That is, after I forgave my sister through Kinship and best friend for falling in love with each other."

"Sister?" The younger woman said weakly. She took a steadying breath and then turned to the other Witch. "Are you still in touch with your husband's family?"

"No family to speak of anymore," Constance said sadly. "He was an only child and his parents are both long gone by now. The only one in the bloodline still carrying his name is our son John the second, who was born a Squib and elected to return to the Muggle world when he came of age. He's married with a son of his own now."

Aberforth smirked. "John Daniel the third. She's very proud."

Hermione just stared back and forth between them for a minute, before pausing her glance on Aberforth. "How much can she be trusted, Aberforth?"

He crossed his arms. "I'd trust Constance with my life. How much would you trust Severus?"

"Fair point," his friend sighed. "I just want to make sure, though. I'm considering Alpha level trust, here."

"Color me intrigued," Constance said, looking amused at the exchange. "Do I get any input on being trusted, Lady Black?"

Hermione glanced back at the other woman. "Trust me when I say that if Aberforth is willing to vouch for you, this is something you want to know."

He shrugged. "Consider her vouched for, Hermione. She's who I practiced Occlumency with growing up, and she's been a confidant of mine since I was a child. I'm deeply curious as to why you're thinking of adding to the circle of trust on a bloody whim though, especially without talking to Sirius or Melok about it."

"They'd both approve," she mused, "as they both know what name I was born with."

Aberforth frowned. "It wasn't Baker?"

She looked exasperated. "Aberforth! Everyone lies! I am not bloody exempt from that!"

"So if not Baker, what was it?" he asked, irritated. Just about the time he thought he was getting a handle on Hermione Black, she threw him another rogue Niffler.

Hermione allowed her gaze to shift back to Constance. "Granger," she said softly. "I was born, or rather will be born, Hermione Granger. John Daniel Granger the third, when he grows up, will be my father."

Aberforth and Constance spoke in tandem. "You're shitting me."

The youngest among them snorted in amusement. "Really not. Let's back this up a bit. Hello Constance. I'm a time traveler. Obviously, that's a bit of a secret. I'm also a Mage, and the leader of the Resistance against the rising Dark Lord, who calls himself Voldemort. My younger counterpart will be born on September the nineteenth, nineteen seventy-nine. You, evidently, are my great-grandmother, although in my time, despite the fact I was born a Witch, we've never met. I was asked once if I was related to the Dagworth-Grangers and I said I didn't think so, since I was Muggleborn. I suppose that's not really correct, is it?"

Aberforth scratched his beard. "Technically speaking, Hermione, if you're from a Squib line on the Dagworth-Granger side and a Goblin line on the Konig side, you'd probably qualify as Half-Blood as far as the Ministry was concerned. You can prove magical lineage from both directions."

"My younger counterpart may be able to do that," Hermione corrected. "I'll never be able to. You know that, Aberforth. The Ministry can never know I began life as Hermione Granger."

Constance tapped her fingers on the bartop. "Time traveler?" she asked.

Hermione turned back to her newfound grandmother. "Ah. Yes."

"Mage?" came the next question.

"Affirmative."

The older Witch looked exasperated. "Leader of the bleeding Resistance?"

Hermione's eyes softened. "It's a bit to take in. Sorry. Our circle of trust is small, but frankly I've spent years without any family of my own. I mean, I have a massive family with the Blacks and I love them dearly, but I don't share blood with any of them. The idea of connecting with someone who is actually my blood… it was too much to consider passing up, and I couldn't have ingratiated myself to you on pretense."

Constance went back to tapping her fingers on the bartop for a moment before she spoke again. "I trust, being a Mage, you know all about Kinship bonds. After all, you didn't seem too surprised when Abe mentioned I was his sister through Kinship."

"Of course I do," came an easy reply. "It's a sacred bond."

"Here's what I'm thinking," Aberforth's former schoolmate said calmly. "We clearly just met. There's no evidence to the contrary, and my own magic is sensing you as Kin just as I imagine you've already reached out and sensed mine. I propose we purport to my sons and their families that you and I have discovered a natural Kinship bond between us, not unlike what I have with Aberforth. That would allow me to bring you into the family in a socially acceptable manner, while allowing you to keep your secrets from the others. It would even help explain why you and Aberforth are friendly. It would be expected that two people who are both my siblings through Kinship would be. I don't expect you particularly want to go shouting out about being a time traveling Mage to everybody."

"Not particularly," Hermione admitted, "and that sounds brilliant. That said, I have to inform you that it is not always the case that two people who share a sibling through Kinship get on."

"Someone from your past?" Constance asked, raising an eyebrow. "Or rather, from our future?"

"My two brothers through Kinship," she said with a soft smile. "In the reality I was born to, the pair of them were water and oil at the best of times. In another reality, the elder of the pair was a father to the other. It can go either way."

Constance nodded. "I have to admit, I had already been putting feelers out in an effort to locate the Resistance. It would behoove you to make it a bit easier to locate you for those seeking to ally themselves to your cause."

"If I did that, then those who would like to derail my cause could find me just as easily," Hermione countered.

"Surely, there's a middle ground," the older woman frowned.

"Of course there is," the Mage smiled. "You just hadn't located it yet. I'm certain you'd have gotten there eventually, if for no other reason than because you're close to Aberforth and he is one of the main points of contact for bringing new people in."

"Hey Hermione," Aberforth said, leaning forward and nudging her a bit. "I think I've figured out where your Slytherin tendencies come from."

He laughed as both women shoved him with identical looks of bemusement. "I wasn't a Slytherin, Abe," Constance reminded him.

"Neither was Hermione," he remarked, "but you both could have fooled me. Must be a family trait."

Constance sighed. "I'd already been keeping an eye on Johnny and his family, but if John Daniel the third is meant to be your father, then clearly his survival is even more paramount. He must survive, grow up, and ultimately be there to marry your mother and produce you. Who did you say your mother was?"

Hermione smiled softly. "Her name is Jean Konig."

The older woman raised an eyebrow. "Konig is a Goblin line. In fact, if memory serves, that's among the royal lines."

"As I understand things, yes," the Mage agreed. "I can hear the harmonic in wards, just like Goblins can, and hope to eventually master the Goblin Arts as part of my Mage training. Especially if my Master, Melok, has anything to say about it."

Constance shook her head. "No, my dear, even setting aside the Mage issue, which obviously is of note enough, do you not realize the political capital that offers you? Well, I suppose it would be a double edged sword if you did claim the mantle…"

"What are you on about, Constance?" Aberforth asked.

"She's a Goblin Princess, by their laws," the older Witch said, looking exasperated. "She need only claim the bloodline. They wouldn't dare turn her over to the Ministry, so far as the time traveling was concerned. She's a royal in the Goblin Nation, and they would protect her. If Hermione stepped up and claimed the title, that would all but assure that the Goblins remained, at worst, neutral in the war, and at best, firmly on the side of the Resistance. It would likely involve some additional responsibility for her, however, and it would alert them to her younger counterpart's existence, assuring her a place as a Goblin Princess essentially from the day she first set foot in the Wizarding world."

Hermione just stared for a minute. "Goblin Princess?"

"Yes!" Constance said.

"I may actually kill Melok," she said coolly. "There's no way he didn't know, which means he deliberately opted against telling me."

Aberforth put his hand on her arm. "Hermione, knowing Melok he was considering the responsibility involved in claiming the title, and knows you well enough to know that you'd see the advantage to the Resistance and be willing to put more on your plate to have it, and not wanting to put you in the position to have to make that choice. He would know better than anyone what those responsibilities would entail, and I'd bet good Galleons he's protecting you from something he feels you shouldn't have to go through."

"That's not his decision, Aberforth," she hissed.

"He loves you, Hermione," he reminded her.

Constance leaned against the bar. "Love?"

Hermione sighed. "Melok is more than my Master. He's the father of my Godsons, and my best friend. He's a widower, so I'm the only mother his boys have ever really known. We spend a great deal of time together, and care for each other deeply."

Aberforth knew he'd get hell for it later, but it was about time Hermione had a woman in her life she could confide in who didn't live an ocean away. "There was also that one time they shagged," he shrugged.

"Aberforth Dumbledore!" Hermione hissed.

He just poured her another drink. "The husband doesn't know about that, though, so keep a lid on it."

"You were meant to keep a lid on it, you prat," Hermione grumbled. She looked up at the clock. "Merlin, I've got to get back. The boys are with Melok this week and I've got more than a few things to get done before Monday."

Aberforth smiled. "How are they adjusting to the new routine?"

"Routine?" Constance inquired.

Hermione sighed. "Filius and Caelum, my Godsons, spent five months living with me while Melok was gone doing research in the Goblin Libraries. When he came home, they went back to him, but the boys weren't happy to suddenly not have me around all the time."

"They missed their mother," the older woman concluded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed. "So, Melok and I talked about it and agreed to go forward by essentially sharing custody of the boys. I get them a week, he gets them a week. We started out a few days on, a few days off, but once the boys got more settled we realized it was easier to do it weekly, for us and them. Even on the weeks I have them, he'll pop by to visit, or on weeks he has them, I pop by to visit, so it's not like there's no contact, but as for who has primary responsibility, it's a week on and a week off. Filius and Caelum are adjusting well at this point."

"You ever think about the Professor?" Aberforth wanted to know, "you know, when Filius is being extra grumpy?"

Hermione laughed. "Professor Flitwick…"

Constance interjected, "Professor Flitwick?"

"In Alpha - my original timeline, that is - Filius Flitwick was my Charms Professor and Head of Ravenclaw House," she explained. "Later, I got my Charms Mastery under him in Beta, which is the second reality I visited before coming here. Aberforth finds it deeply funny that I ended up being Godmother to my own mentor."

"That is wild," the other Witch admitted.

The Mage nodded. "In any case, the Professor I knew in Alpha was genetically half-Goblin, so it's not hard to keep him and my Godson separate in my mind, since Melok and Genia used surrogacy here for him. In Beta, they used surrogacy so I have a very clear picture of what Filius will grow up to look like, but I only spent six months with that Filius, and that was a relationship of two adults. I didn't necessarily feel like he was in a position of authority over me. In some ways, it was the opposite, really, as I was the General and he was one of many soldiers I was directing in that conflict. All of that said, I think at this point I've spent more time with this Filius than I ever spent with either of them, so the feelings about him are fairly focused on what I feel for my Godson. What feelings I may have had toward the other two is more a vague memory than anything else, honestly."

"Is that across the board?" Constance asked. "I imagine Filius isn't the only one you know who you knew their counterpart of."

Hermione nodded. "The longer I'm in the past, the less and less the future I once knew really matters anymore. We're changing the timeline, so people I know and remember… they won't ever be who I recall. They won't. They may be close, but even if they were nearly exactly the same, I won't be at that point, nor will my counterpart, so it doesn't matter. The only real reason to remember is that the past can inform my decisions going forward as I pave the better future I hope to create. That's all. The stone, as it were, has been tossed, and now it comes down to watching the ripples."

Bellatrix Black, age eight, snagged two cookies off the table before weaving her way through the crowd of family members at the Midsummer Bash at Black Manor. She popped one in her mouth, and offered the other to Arthur, who grinned and took it. "Thanks," he whispered as he trailed along behind her.

She was Arthur's second cousin, once removed, Bella knew. Understanding the family tree was an important part of being a Black, and while Arthur was a Weasley by name, his mother was a Black by birth, which made him a Black by blood. However distantly, she mused, Arthur was her favorite cousin, even if he was a year older than her. Their cousin Molly Prewett was a bit closer to Bella's age, and they got on as well, but she was late today. Bella was pretty sure that Arthur and Molly would probably be betrothed when they got older. She'd heard Aunt Hermione, Aunt Cedrella, and Aunt Lucretia talking about it last year.

Bella loved Aunt Hermione. She was, by far, Bella's favorite relative. She could do anything, and always had sweets on her, and unlike most girls, she didn't just stay at home like a proper lady. She went out and did important things to help people, even if she didn't work at the Ministry like Uncle Sirius. Bella's mother had confided that Aunt Hermione would likely get less done if she did work at the Ministry. In any case, she was Uncle Sirius' equal in every way, it seemed, and Bella only hoped that one day when she married, she found a husband who treated her like that, and didn't make her feel inferior. Bella wanted to be with someone who let her be a strong Witch, and thought her opinion was important.

Besides, she was only eight and already an Occlumens. Didn't that mean she had proven how capable she was, just like Aunt Hermione? Why should she marry a prat who thought she was some dumb git? There was no way Aunt Hermione would let that happen, Bella thought smugly.

"Walburga looks like she's about to blow," Arthur whispered, pointing. "Wonder what's that about."

Bella's eavesdropping at home provided that answer easily. She pointed to the other side of the room where Walburga's gaze was fixed on Aunt Minerva and Svetlana Lestrange talking with Orion. "Okay, so Walburga went to Hogwarts with Aunt Minerva and with Miss Lestrange, right? She shared dorms with Lestrange and they didn't get on. So Walburga is not happy to see her at all. That's one part of it. Then, you have Aunt Minerva, who Walburga also doesn't get on with…"

"Yeah, we knew that," Arthur said, "but she doesn't usually look like she wants to hex the woman."

"Aunt Minerva is pregnant, Arthur," Bella explained calmly. "Mother says that it's Orion's baby."

Arthur's eyes widened in understanding. "Bugger. Yeah, well, that does explain Walburga's mood, alright. Should we be worried about a duel breaking out?"

Bella looked around the room, and spotted Aunt Hermione near the drink table. "No, Aunt Hermione's in here. Walburga won't try anything if she's around."

He chuckled. "True."

"ARTHUR!" a voice called across the room.

The redhead's face lit up. "Duty calls," he grinned. "Molly's here."

She rolled her eyes. "You're going to marry her, you know that, right?"

He nodded. "Probably. See you later, Bella."

With that, Arthur was off, and Bella opted to move stealthily toward the drink table to see what Aunt Hermione was up to. On the way she passed where Walburga was standing and dropped a bit of Alveus Beetle extract in her glass of butterbeer, and then she was waylaid as she passed the Longbottoms and baby Frank caught sight of her, which of course meant she had to hold the little guy for a few minutes. The kid had lots of closer cousins, Arthur and his brothers among them, but Frank loved her most of all out of everyone else he'd ever come across. To Bella's bemusement and her parents' irritation, Andrew and Augusta had even Floo'd their house a few times when they couldn't get Frank to settle for bedtime, knowing it would only take Bella a few minutes and Frank would be out like a bloody light.

Augusta liked to tell Bella that she'd be a great Mum someday. Bella wasn't sure she even wanted to have children, or if she wanted to focus on a career. After all, what were the odds of finding a husband who wouldn't be a prat?

Finally, she made it over to where Aunt Hermione was talking to some of the other grownups, and hid behind a large floor vase to stay out of view while listening. She easily identified the adults in the conversation by their voices.

"Do we know how she died?" Cedrella asked.

"I'd be more concerned about whether the death was malicious or accidental," the barkeep, Aberforth Dumbledore, said. He came to the family gatherings a lot these days, although Bella wasn't sure why. "Times like these, that matters."

"Allergic reaction," a woman's voice replied. Bella peeked out from her hiding place to see an older Witch with white hair, slender, and sharp features. She was about Aunt Hermione's height, and Bella had never seen her before. "Something in the fudge she was eating."

Bella swallowed. "Poisoned with fudge?" she whispered to herself, sitting back down.

"Death by fudge?" Aberforth barked, laughing. "That's just inhumane. Tuft deserved better than that."

"She was Minister," Aunt Hermione said. "She deserved not to die at all, but what's done is done. At this juncture I'm more concerned about who will replace her. Wilhelmina had her issues, certainly, but she was generally competent. I'm more inclined to think her removal was intentional than I am to believe it was an accident. Who would have had access?"

Bella drowned out the rest of the conversation, too busy focusing on the idea that fudge, one of her very favorite things to eat in the whole world, had killed someone. What if it killed her, too? She didn't want to die! Should she swear off fudge? Should she swear off sweets altogether? The little girl groaned, not certain she'd survive without any sweets. Death might actually be preferable in that case.

It was several hours later, and she was still mulling over what to do about the question of the deadly sweets, swinging her legs back and forth as she sat in a chair on the side porch, all alone. "There you are!" Aunt Hermione said. " I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Bella eyed her skeptically. "You might have just used a Point Me charm, Aunt Hermione."

Her aunt laughed. "Right, of course. Silly me."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a brownie, no doubt snagged from the dessert table in the ballroom, offering it to Bella. Normally, a brownie would automatically cheer her up, but presently the very idea made her stomach turn. "I'm good, thanks," she said, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Aunt Hermione's eyes narrowed, and she kneeled down in front of her niece. "Bella, sweetheart, what's wrong? I don't know that you've ever in your life turned down a sweet. Even when you were down with Dragon Pox you were scarfing ice cream like your life depended on it."

Bella glowered. "I had a fever, Aunt Hermione. My life did depend on it. Just like my life depends on never eating sweets again!"

Brown eyes narrowed, and her aunt said nothing for a moment. Then, she sighed. "Darling, what have I told you about eavesdropping?"

"That it was unladylike and would get me in trouble," she replied, jutting out her chin defiantly.

"I believe my exact words were don't do it, Bella," Aunt Hermione replied sternly. "Is this about Minister Tuft? That she died from eating fudge?"

Bella crossed her arms tightly against her body. "Yes," she admitted, petulant.

Aunt Hermione sighed. "Sweetheart, we're not sure why that happened. It could have been an allergy, or it could have been poison. In either case, you have no need to worry. You are not allergic to anything, so far as we are aware, and the Minister was documented to be allergic to alihotsy and yet she consumed fudge that was flavored by it. If it was purposefully poisoned, again, you need not worry. Who do you suppose would want to poison you, darling?"

The eight year old looked thoughtful for a second and then considered her impulsive actions earlier. "Maybe Walburga."

Her aunt groaned. "What did you do to Walburga?"

"Dropped a bit of Alveus Beetle extract in her butterbeer," the eight year old shrugged. "Undiluted. She'll have the runs for days."

"Bellatrix Black!" Aunt Hermione snapped. "I… oh, I can't even with you sometimes!"

Bella grinned. "Sorry?"

"No more eavesdropping," the older Witch said firmly. "No more spiking your cousins' drinks."

The girl shrugged. "We'll see."

Aunt Hermione groaned, and got up off the floor and sat beside her. She offered the brownie again, and this time Bella accepted it with a smile. "Eat your brownie," her aunt muttered, leaning her head back against the wall.

"Yes, Aunt Hermione," Bella said obediently.

"See, was that too hard?" the older Witch asked.

"Meh," the younger one shrugged.

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