When Harry woke up the next morning, to his relief, he found no indication of any purplish markings anywhere on his body. He and Othniel bolted out of the Horned Serpent tower as quickly as they could and made it to the proving grounds with several minutes to spare. Tallulah soon caught up to Harry and Othniel on the way to the field, and she couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as she had her special amulet back in her possession.

It was calisthenics day, and Missy directed her charges to alternate between short series of push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, and squats. Harry was used to these due to his ice hockey practices, but to his shock, Othniel hardly broke a sweat. "You've got some pep in your step today, dude," Harry told his friend. "You've got some pretty good form, to boot!"

"I'm s'pose I'm all right at push-ups and sit-ups and stuff," admitted Othniel. "But I've got nothing on my older brother Gabe. He set the record for number of consecutive sit-ups at his middle school last year… he's unreal!"

"How many did he do?" asked Harry.

"Sixteen hundred and something… I forget the exact number, but he did it in just under a half hour too," replied Othniel. Harry just whistled in amazement.

Othniel turned to Tallulah. "Hey, Tallulah," he said in a surprisingly kind and helpful tone. "D'you mind if I help you out with your pushups? They look a little weird."

"Okay," wheezed Tallulah, who was clearly out of her element. "If you say so."

"Your back is a little hunched," he observed. "D'you mind if I place my hand flat on your back? I promise I won't try anything funny."

Tallulah sighed. "Okay, Othniel," she agreed with some reluctance. "Do what you need to do."

Othniel gently placed one of his hands flat on Tallulah's back. "Okay, Tallulah," he said softly. "I want you to try again – try to pretend my hand's not even there."

She pushed herself off the ground… mmmph! "It's so much harder," she squeaked. "This is torture!"

"What's torture," Othniel replied glibly, "is watching you doing pushups wrong this whole time! They might seem a little harder now, but once you've found the proper form, they'll get easier. You're going to be a whole different girl by the end of term – I guarantee it. Now suck it up, buttercup!"

Tallulah grunted as she attempted another pushup. "'Atta girl," Othniel whispered. "Just be sure you keep that tummy up!" Tallulah's face turned almost purple; she was equally frustrated with herself for not being in better shape as she was with Othniel who wouldn't let her settle for a second-rate technique.

Missy the trustee blew her whistle just a few minutes before seven. "All right, everyone, good effort today! Heads-up – tomorrow we're doing lunges! There will be a box with weights on the sidelines! In the meantime, go get cleaned up and enjoy a nice, warm breakfast! Remember our motto - sound body, sound mind!" She then pointed at Othniel and Tallulah. "Beckett? Slater? I'd like a word with you two."

Othniel and Tallulah approached Missy, who had a bright smile on her face. "I'd like to award each of you a point for the Horned Serpents. You were attentive to detail, Beckett, and wanted to ensure your friend maintained a proper form. And I know you struggle with physical training, Slater, but once again you refused to quit. Keep up the good work, you two."

Tallulah offered Othniel a small smile as they made their way back toward the castle. "If I weren't so sore, I'd slug you… and then maybe I'd hug you," she squeaked. "Seriously, thank you for helping me today. You're showing me a side I haven't seen before… a side until today, I didn't think you had."

Othniel shrugged. "Calisthenics come pretty naturally to me, but my brother's the one with all the talent in the family. He's a freshman in high school this year, and I wouldn't be shocked if he made the varsity wrestling team."

Tallulah shook her head. "Not just that… I mean, you've shown actual leadership skills for once. You saw someone struggle, and you took the initiative to help out. Maybe Harry and Anastasia are rubbing off on you a smidge."

"You think?" replied Othniel.

"Maaaaaybe," Tallulah giggled. "I hope there's more of where that came from." She gave him a playful chuck on the elbow. "I'll see you at breakfast, aight?"

Othniel grinned. "See you at breakfast, 'Lu."

Potions was mostly uneventful, though a hapless Thunderbird with a carrot-top bowl cut named Wentworth Cutterbuck somehow managed to make his cauldron explode whilst attempting to concoct a Cure for Boils elixir. Many of poor Wentworth's classmates laughed at his expense, while an exasperated Madam L. went off in a tirade filled with colorful expletives unique to the wizarding world. She finally waved a wand to clean up what was left of the mess on his desk, then shooed the lad away to the infirmary as his face and hands turned pitch black.

Transfiguration picked up from where they left off from earlier in the week – as nobody had successfully transformed their matchstick into a needle, Professor Clemente gave the class ample time to perfect the spell. Barely ten minutes had passed, before an excited yelp escaped Tallulah's lips. "I got it!"

"Let me see, young lady," trilled Clemente as he strolled over to her desk to inspect the transfigured object. He held the former matchstick between his thumb and index finger. "Hmm… metallic throughout, eye on one end, and a sharp point on the other… well done, Miss Slater. Five points to the Horned Serpents!" Harry and Othniel each gave her hearty claps on the shoulder in appreciation; Tallulah's cheeks flushed a deep pink.

As Transfiguration was a double-blocked class, Harry and even Othniel successfully got their matchsticks to turn into needles with time to spare.

After lunch, Harry reminded his friends that he needed to meet with Professor Lupin in his office and that he'd join them later. He finished his cheese pizza and puckerberry juice and bolted for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, which Lupin's office was adjacent to. He knocked politely on the professor's door. "Ahh, come in, Harry," Lupin said warmly. He gestured toward a small plush seat across from his desk. "Have a seat, please." He then closed the door behind him. "Would you care for some tea? Puckerberry juice, perhaps? It's a bit different than standard pumpkin juice we had at Hogwarts, but truth be told, I find puckerberry juice far tastier."

"Some puckerberry juice would be great," replied Harry. "Thank you."

Lupin snapped his fingers, and a chalice with a chartreuse liquid appeared in Harry's hand. "How are you liking Ilvermorny so far? I know it's been less than a week, but it sounds like you've made at least one or two friends."

"I can't complain, I s'pose," replied Harry. He took a swig out of the chalice. "I do have a few friends, actually… my roommate Othniel, and a couple of female housemates in Anastasia and Tallulah."

Lupin grinned. "Yes, I remember you mentioning Miss Harrison earlier this week. I've only known her a few days, but in some ways she does remind me of your mother." He paused to reminisce. "They're both very talented witches despite being Muggle-born – or as they tend to say around here, no-maj born – and they have very sweet and selfless personalities. Your parents would definitely approve of your friendship… and perhaps more, if feelings beyond friendship develop one day."

"Slow down, Professor," chuckled Harry. "I just turned eleven this summer."

"I agree completely Harry," replied Lupin with a grin. "You're right… you should enjoy your youth while you can. You're only eleven once." He took a slow sip of his piping hot tea. "So, what's on your mind today? I can't promise I can give you an answer to all of your questions, but the only bad questions are the ones you don't ask."

"Well," Harry said, scratching the nape of his neck. "I guess I have a few things I'd like to ask, but it's okay if you can't tell me everything." He paused, thinking which of his questions he wanted to try first. "For starters, there's so much about my past that I don't know. I don't even know the name of the wizard who killed my parents! All I know is that his name is almost a swear word in the wizarding world – at least in the British Isles."

Lupin sighed, but offered a small smile to Harry. "I figured that one would come up at some point. And what you said is true – the sorcerer who claimed your parents' lives is quite possibly the most feared practitioner of dark magic in British wizarding history." He lowered his voice to a soft whisper. "This is between you and me, Harry. I know we're in North America, but there is still some interaction with Wizarding Britain even with three thousand miles of ocean separating the two realms."

He blinked slowly a few times before continuing. "The wizard's true name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was a Hogwarts student about fifty years ago. From what I gather, he was a very talented, charismatic, even likable boy – he exhibited very little of the darkness that he would now be associated with." He clasped his hands, and took a deep breath. "Truth be told, I do think that very darkness was instilled in him since birth… I believe with every fiber in my being he was always destined to be the force that he had become. He wasn't a true pureblood unlike some of his Slytherin housemates, but he bought into the blood supremacy ideals as though he was. He truly resented his Muggle heritage, and anyone else who openly took pride in theirs. He bought into his house founder's ideals that Muggle-born witches and wizards were not qualified to study magic along with the half-bloods and purebloods… Riddle was obsessed with Salazar Slytherin, and his quest to keep Slytherin's ideals alive and well. He eventually shed his birth name, and became… Lord Voldemort."

Harry could virtually feel the fear and tension in Lupin's voice, particularly in that last sentence. "Voldemort," he repeated in an equally soft voice. "That name sounds very scary."

Lupin nodded. "He single-handedly started a war in Wizarding Britain; if it weren't for your mother's immense love for you, the British Isles would almost certainly be under his control; possibly even other parts of the world as well."

"Neither Uncle Roger nor Sirius told me any of this," Harry murmured. "I mean I guess I understand why they didn't, but I still think I had the right to know who killed my parents."

"Of course you do," agreed Lupin. "What else is on your mind?"

"Do you know who Nova Woodward is? I mean, I guess you do… you're also her Defense teacher," asked Harry. "But what I meant was… is she, erm, related to Uncle Roger and Aunt Rhonda?"

Lupin's eyes widened. "I wasn't expecting that question."

Harry shrugged. "She keeps giving me these strange looks, like, she knows me even though she really doesn't. She doesn't seem to like me very much even though I've done nothing wrong to her."

"She's Roger and Rhonda's biological daughter," Lupin admitted. "They were still children themselves when they had her – he was eighteen and she was just seventeen – and Roger and his folks are all but estranged from each other these days because his magical parents disapproved of him impregnating a Muggle girl."

Harry hung his head. "I never meant to take her place as the Woodwards' child… I didn't ask for any of that."

"No, you didn't," agreed Lupin. "And because of the strained relationship between Roger and his parents, it's possible that her grandparents told her less-than-flattering stories about you and your parents… they might have even told lies about Roger and Rhonda, such as them not wanting her. She hasn't seen her parents since she was a baby, Harry."

"Why would they do something like that? Any child deserves to know the truth about their own past," Harry said with some hostility in his voice. "I haven't gotten all of the truth, but some truth is better than flat-out lies."

"Because Cotton and Giacintha Woodward were on the other side of the war," explained Lupin. "Cotton was a pureblood, and Giacintha was nearly a pureblood – she had a muggle-born grandparent I believe – and they both bought into the blood supremacy schtick. They were originally neutral, but the stronger Voldemort got, the more they felt that his was the winning side. Roger, on the other hand, was a staunch opponent of blood supremacy and as a way of sticking it to his bigoted parents, he dated a Muggle girl. Not Muggle-born – a straight-up non-magical girl."

"I'm surprised they took her in," Harry said. "And how in the world did she end up at Ilvermorny?"

"They didn't trust Rhonda and Roger to raise her, so they more or less demanded custody of Nova. Rhonda and Roger couldn't bear the pain, so they fled Magical Britain and vowed never to return," Lupin replied. He then chuckled. "Nova definitely has her dad's rebelliousness. She could get into Ilvermorny for free as Roger was a faculty member here at one point…"

"No way!" exclaimed Harry. "He never told me that! What did he teach?"

Lupin smirked. "Defense Against the Dark Arts, naturally."