Chapter 6

A tiny baby opened her mouth in a yawn, and closed her bright blue eyes. Beside her, an equally small baby boy lay on the bed, looking at the world wide-eyed. Victoria sat staring at the newborns in amazement. None of the books she read while pregnant prepared her for the emotions running through her mind. She leaned her head on Stephen's shoulder.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" she whispered in awe.

"Especially considering that they're half mine," he joked.

She roughly elbowed him in the ribs. "Stephen! What an awful thing to say. Especially since you're plenty cute. I wouldn't marry an ugly man. I'm an artist; I have standards."

"Do you now?" He asked teasingly, kissing her lightly on the top of the head. "Married with children all in one day. I can honestly say that this is the best day of my life."

"Mine too."

Victoria gazed into his eyes, which were the same exactly the same shade of blue as the both of the twins. She loved his eyes; otherwise, she would be upset that neither of her children was brown-eyed like herself. They did have her jet-black hair, though, even if it was multidirectional like Stephen's.

"What do we name these babies, anyway? You're the Seer, so I'm sure you know already." He put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder playfully. She swatted at him.

"Don't you dare try to get fresh with me. After twelve hours of labor, you better keep your distance, buddy," she warned.

Stephen grimaced at the memory. "Was it really that bad?"

"Let's put it this way. I now know why I only have two children. After Regina was born, I didn't think I had a bit of energy left. Luckily James came quickly," she said thankfully, turning her attention back to the twins. "Except for being different genders, they could almost pass for identical twins. And they're so little! Sirius weighed more than both of them combined when he was born."

"Wasn't he eleven pounds or something?"

"Ten and a half. The two of you better grow fast, or you'll get bullied around for sure," Victoria laughed.

"Nah, from what you tell me, they'll all be best mates," Stephen said, playing with James' hand.

She gave him a look and leaned down to talk to her son. "I'm counting on you, little one, to keep Don Juan from debauching your sister. Yes, I know it's a losing battle, but you can at least punch his lights out or something."

The baby stared at her solemnly, as if he knew exactly what she was asking him to do. His proud mother beamed down at him, while Stephen just shook his head.

"I feel sorry for that boy. Sirius'll probably spend his whole childhood existence pining away for our little girl. Regina, is that what her name is?" He paused while Victoria nodded her head. "Fitting. If she's anything like her mummy, she won't give my man Sirius the time of day. He'll chase her around, and she'll be an ice queen. Yes, James, that's right. Your big sister will be frosty like her mummy."

Victoria huffed loudly. "I'm not an ice queen!"

"That's right. You're now the dowager empress, and have passed down your title to the next generation. Just you watch. You Gates women should be lucky there are men who like their women nice and chilly. We like the challenge of thawing you out." He grinned charmingly. "And you, James, will be perfect like your daddy."

"You have such an ego! And we're Potter women, if you please," she glowered.

"I love you so much, Victoria."

"And I love you," she said for the first time, shocked at how natural the words felt.

Stephen poked at Regina to wake her up. She looked at him grumpily and went back to sleep. "See? Grouch. James, on the other hand, is cheerful. Us men have to stick together, right?"

"Ha. He'll be a mummy's boy, won't you?" she cooed, tickling the newborn's feet. He smiled, which caused his father to frown.

"Traitor," Stephen accused him. "Say, what do you want to do now?"

Victoria thought for a minute. "Eat. Then maybe take a nap. By then it'll probably be time to nurse the hungry masses. Why?"

"No, I meant what direction do you want our lives to go in? Stay here; go back to London, that sort of thing. Because I had an idea, and I want to know what you think," he explained, looking at her from the corner of his eye. She leaned back on the pillows and crossed her arms.

"Shoot."

"Well, the twins are far too small to travel back to London for a while. So, I thought that maybe we could stay here for a while. This is our honeymoon, after all. Hey, lots of couples start families on their honeymoons," he winked.

Victoria was in the middle of taking a sip of water and laughed at his comment, shooting water everywhere. "But how many couples bring back the babies with them?"

"This is true. We do things our own way, that's all. Seriously, what do you think?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea. What do we do after that?"

"Who knows? Let's take it one day at a time and see what happens. In the meantime, let's be a young married couple on holiday with their newborn twins. If such a thing exists, and if it doesn't, we just made it up."

"Sounds good to me."

~~~~~

So, the Potters did stay in San Sebastian. For nearly two years, as a matter of fact. Mummy P loved the culture and the beach; Daddy P loved making her happy. Shortly after the twins were born, Abuela took Papa back with her. He learned Spanish from her and English from the Potters, who he visited regularly.

However, my Grandfather Black woke up one day and suddenly realized that he had a son that he hadn't seen in two years. He owled Abuela, demanding that Papa come home and live with him. She didn't want to comply, but had little choice. If she refused to hand my father over, my grandfather could've taken him and Abuela would've never seen Papa again.

Mummy P was heartbroken at the idea of Papa being raised as she was – a vicious cycle of endless nannies and rarely seeing your actual parents. Parent, in his case. Anyway, she ranted and raved until Daddy P came up with the simple solution of moving back to London. They packed their things and moved to their house in Chelsea.

Daddy P took another job at the Ministry, and worked his way up the ranks. Eventually, he became the Minister of Magic, as you'll read later. The best Minister that's ever been, in my opinion. Mummy P continued to draw and do her art. Mostly, she focused on the children, which thankfully included my father.

Unfortunately, Mummy P's fears came true, and my grandfather severely neglected Papa. Even though the Potters did everything they could to include them in their family and make him feel welcome, it wasn't the same. No matter what, a person still wants to be loved and accepted by his parents. Which never happened in my father's case. Maybe that's why he goes out of his way to be there for us kids…

Enough psychoanalyzing. Papa's childhood breaks my heart, so I'd really rather not write about it. Suffice it to say that he survived because the Potters were wonderful surrogate parents. I consider them my true grandparents, even though I'm not blood related to them.

The Potters were Mom's surrogate parents, too. I suppose that I should talk about Mom's side of the family. Although Harry agrees with me that there's not much to say about the Evans side. I have a grandfather. No, cross that. I have an evil, vicious monster that messed up Mom's life nearly beyond repair, which I happen to share DNA with. Enough said about the Evans side.

On to the MacConnell side, my maternal grandmother's side. My Grandma Catherine was born in County Galway, Ireland, to an ancient and powerful wizarding family. Her small community generally kept to themselves, and didn't mingle much with the outside world except for commerce and sometimes to marry. Sort of like the Amish in America, only without the weird outfits.

However, Grandma Catherine was a squib, born without any magical powers whatsoever. While she grew up steeped in the magical traditions, she always felt like an outsider. So, when my Muggle grandfather's family came to the area on holiday, she fell in love with and married him. They moved back to his estate in Dover, England, which is where I'm writing this prologue, as a matter of fact.

When she moved, Grandma decided to put the magical world behind her. A few years later, my aunts Petunia and Lily were born. They never learned Gaelic, Grandma's family's language, nor did they even know about their heritage. Grandma didn't want them to be shunned like she was, and I completely understand that. She was only looking out for her children. And for all she knew, they were both Muggles.

My mother, Isabelle, was born about three months shy of Aunt Lily's tenth birthday. From her first breath, she turned her world upside down. Mom is one of those people who walks into a room, and everyone stops to stare. No lie – I've seen it happen many times. Even as a baby, she possessed this energy that drew everyone and everything to her.

Especially Aunt Lily, who adored my mother. Before Mom was born, my aunt and Aunt Petunia were very close, and did everything together. But, then she preferred to spend her time looking after Mom, which made Aunt Petunia insanely jealous. Then one day, a Hogwarts school owl flew into the kitchen window, and the Evans family changed forever.

When my maternal great-grandmother, who I know as Grandma Rose, found out that Aunt Lily was a witch, she immediately Apparated from Galway for a prolonged visit. Grandma Catherine couldn't have been more thrilled that one of her daughters had the gifts that she didn't. Obviously Aunt Petunia was a squib or a Muggle, whichever way you want to look at it.

So, that left my mother, who was just a little over a year old. Upset that Aunt Lily knew nothing about the wizarding world, Grandma Catherine swore to make up for that with Mom. Just in case she turned out to be magical, Grandma taught her Gaelic, which is still Mom's preferred language. She says that she can't think properly in English.

Grandma Catherine, along with Grandma Rose, spent Mom's early years telling her all of the old Irish folklore and customs. As a result, Mom grew up as a little Irish girl, completely ignorant of anything English. Because of all the attention she received, Aunt Petunia hated her. But, she went to boarding school like Aunt Lily, so my mother was usually the only child in the house.

Not a good thing, especially after Grandma Rose died and Grandma Catherine became ill with cancer. Like Papa, Mom was mostly neglected, left to a nanny. But unlike him, Mom's father did notice that she existed. My poor mother really has been to hell and back. And that's all I want to say about that, at least right now.

Anyway, on a much cheerier note, I'd like to tell the story of how my parents really met. If you ask either of them, they'll always start talking about when Mom was eight and Aunt Petunia deserted her. She ran off when Aunt Lily and crew showed up at the house, and Papa found her. Very cute story, but it's not historically accurate. Since I'm all about giving a truthful family history, here goes…

Victoria Potter anxiously rushed through King's Cross Station, hurrying towards Platform 9 ¾. Since her twin children left for Hogwarts that fall, the house suddenly felt huge and empty. For the past month and a half, she'd been counting down the days until they returned for the Christmas holidays.

So, the fact that she was running extremely late irritated her to no undying end. She had an art exhibit set to open on the evening of the Winter Solstice, and spent the morning arguing with the caterer about the menu and pricing. By the time she finished yelling at the caterer's face in the fireplace, she had a pounding headache.

She rubbed her temples tiredly and ran through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, not caring if any Muggles saw her do so. All that mattered was seeing her children again. Victoria frantically scanned the platform, sighing with relief when she spied both twins and Sirius.

"Mum!" James Potter shouted, waving her over. She grinned and crossed the platform, giving both kids a hug. And didn't really care if hugging your mum in public wasn't cool. Sirius frowned, and his shoulders slumped slightly.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Victoria said quietly.

The young man met her gaze and set his jaw determinedly. "Nothing to be sorry for. Dad said that he probably wouldn't be back from Buenos Aires until Christmas Eve, anyway. And where's my hug, Mummy P?"

Victoria hugged him a little tighter than her own children, truly feeling what he was going through. She didn't know how many times she stepped off the platform, hoping against reason that her parents would meet her. Just to be disappointed when they didn't.

When she looked up, a pair of green eyes was staring at her curiously. The eyes belonged to a toddler being held by a stately looking redheaded woman. Who looked at Victoria oddly, probably because at thirty-one, she looked more like the Potter twins' older sister than their mother. She smiled and extended her hand.

"Please excuse my rudeness. I was so excited to see my children that I must've misplaced my manners. I'm Victoria Potter," she introduced herself. The other woman smiled back and adjusted the toddler so that she could shake Victoria's hand.

"Catherine Evans," she said with a thick Irish accent.

"Lily's mother. Oh, it's so nice to meet you. Regina writes such lovely things about her." As does James, but that's not the point, Victoria thought, wrinkling her nose slightly. She turned to a pretty redhead standing beside Mrs. Evans. "And you must be Lily."

"Yes, ma'am," she answered politely.

Victoria noticed another teenager behind Lily, who was staring sullenly at everything. Mrs. Evans turned around and gave her a warning stare. The girl huffed and faked a cheerful expression.

"This is my oldest daughter, Petunia. She attends St. Ann's school in the north," her mother said.

"Nice to meet you," Victoria said kindly. Petunia smiled briefly, but didn't say anything. She was clearly uncomfortable.

Mrs. Evans smiled at the squirming toddler in her arms. "And this is my youngest, Isabelle."

A chill ran down Victoria's spine. She gaped at the girl as her mother placed her on the floor. Little Isabelle immediately ran over to Sirius and tugged on his robes. He looked down at the toddler, puzzled, especially as her pulling grew more insistent. After a minute, he shrugged and picked her up.

Isabelle looked him dead in the eyes – an eerie stare, causing Sirius to swallow nervously. It was if she could read his very thoughts. She smiled and wound her small arms around his neck. James snickered, and Isabelle shot him a look that could melt steel.

"Seems that my sister fancies you," Lily laughed, as Isabelle laid her head on Sirius' shoulder.

"She has good taste, don't you?" Sirius directed the last few words to the toddler, who batted her eyelashes and cooed in response. Encouraged, he continued talking. Although Isabelle didn't appear to understand a word he said, she clearly enjoyed the attention.

Victoria fought hard to maintain her composure. "How old is your little one?"

"Eighteen months," Mrs. Evans replied. "She's unusually tall for her age, so she looks much older. Acts it, too."

She continued chatting, but Victoria's mind whirled. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Sirius entertain Isabelle. Everything about this little girl – her flaxen blonde hair, deep green eyes, porcelain complexion, name – told her that this toddler would grow into the woman from her vision from all those years ago. But that was impossible, right? Sirius was two months shy of twelve; Isabelle only a year and a half.

But, as Victoria watched the two interact, she realized that it was indeed possible. More than possible, it was inevitable. She had Seen it. Already Isabelle looked at Sirius with the undying loyalty and devotion evident in the vision. Yes, Victoria became increasingly certain that Juliana's little boy would become a cradle robber.

Which means that Lily will grow up to marry James, she thought. She looked at the petite redhead again, critically analyzing her. It struck Victoria as bizarre to know who her children would marry, particularly since she had no clue about her own future. Shrugging, she turned to her daughter.

"Regina, would you like to come to the studio with me? Unfortunately, I need to work all afternoon. But, since most of the art's already at the gallery, I have plenty of space if you want to set up shop," she offered, watching her daughter's eyes light up.

"Would I?" she gasped. "Oh, Mum, that would be wonderful! Can Lily come, too?"

"I'm sure her family wants to spend time with her," Victoria said.

Mrs. Evans overheard the conversation, and saw the disappointed looks on the young girls' faces. "The other girls and I were planning on going shopping this afternoon, Lily. But, if you'd rather go to the studio, I don't mind."

As the adults worked out the details, Petunia stomped over to Sirius. She glared at him angrily, mostly because her baby sister preferred him, a virtual stranger, to her. Isabelle never looked at her with half the affection she so willingly heaped on this freak wizard boy.

"Come on, Isabelle. We're going shopping with Mum now," Petunia said sharply, trying to pry her out of Sirius arms. The toddler wrapped her arms around him, held on for dear life and screamed the one word she knew in English.

"No!" Isabelle screeched over and over, until her mother rushed over.

"What is going on?" Mrs. Evans asked anxiously.

Petunia pointed a bony finger at her sister. "I tried to get her so that we could leave to go shopping, but she won't let go of him." Mrs. Evans began to retrieve her youngest child, but hesitated at the wild look in Isabelle's eyes. She'd never seen her daughter so attached to anyone. Victoria glanced at the situation and shook her head with a slight smile.

If I close my eyes, I can picture the scene of my toddler mother shamelessly staking out her claim. Make no mistake, I'm sure Mom knew exactly what she was doing that day. She certainly got her way, because Grandma Catherine and Petunia went shopping while Papa and Uncle James showed Mom around Diagon Alley.

Aunt Lily wanted to go along, but Uncle James said not to worry, they could take care of Mom just fine. I think he was trying to impress my aunt. Something worked, because she married the man. Anyway, imagine two eleven-year olds with a toddler. An incredibly hyperactive, curious toddler.

Who was a captive audience for all of Papa's and Uncle James' crazy antics. I'd love to get a hold of a time turner to see what they were like back then. But, I can't, so I settle for snooping around for old stories.

So, Mom spent the day attached to my father, giving every girl who looked his way evil death stares, especially Regina Potter. I've never quite figured out what relationship she is to me, so I usually call her Hermione's mum. Anyway, she and Aunt Lily met Mom and the boys for ice cream. Mom proceeded to glare at Hermione's mum the entire time. Am I alone in thinking that's weird? My parents' whole relationship is a little bizarre to me.

~~~~~

Breathe, Meggie. Breathe.

That's my internal monologue, but it's not entirely working. I'm about two seconds away from hyperventilating. Maybe one. Okay, I admit it. I'm a nervous wreck, a basket case. However, I must overcome the waves of panic and clear my mind enough to finish this prologue. Why? Because the absolute worst thing that could've happened just did.

Mom busted me in the attic. She didn't just bust me; she discovered my little project, which is this family history. I have twenty-five minutes now to finish the prologue and deliver it for her to read.

If I'm late or don't give her everything, she'll tell Papa what I've been up to. Honestly, I'm tempted to call her bluff. At least he'd be more understanding and calm Mom down. Until he reads that I know his deepest, darkest secrets. Oh, Lord in heaven, I'm dead.

Beyond dead. They'll send me to Catholic boarding school or worse. No one is more fearsome than Isabelle Evans Black when she's angry. Beyond angry, I hurt her by digging up the past, even though I didn't mean to. The look on her face when she leafed through my notebook nearly broke my heart.

Mom ordered me to write down our conversation like I would for any other part of my project to see what kind of spin I put on past events. I'll do my best, but writing oneself in the third person is quite strange. Since I'm pressed for time, it'll probably be an odd hybrid of the first person and the third person limited points of view.

I'm babbling about writing styles when I really should be focusing on the content of the scene. Focus, Meggie. Breathe. Think, and write. Then pray that you live to see tomorrow. Although I did write about one of Hermione's visions during her sixth year of Hogwarts where Mom says very nice things about me.

However, part of me would rather die a painful death than have that vision come to fruition because that means that I'll never get what I want worse than anything. Or rather, that I get it and consequently lose it, meaning him, to someone else. What does this have to do with the present situation? Absolutely nothing, just as I thought. Well, here goes…

As usual, I was sitting on Aunt Lily's old trunk, leaning my head against the wall, writing away. I'd been there for about an hour when I heard the door open and my parents walk upstairs. Luckily, I had the Invisibility Cloak with me, so I wrapped it around both my journal and me.

Apparently, my parents were looking for one of Mom's old dancing costumes for Rachel. She's Harry's oldest daughter, and a real prat. I definitely prefer Amy's company, and she should be grateful for that. If it wasn't for me, Harry would always be yelling at her, and she'd definitely be a pariah. Amy and I have this Black Sheep club going. Poor girl, following in perfect Rachel's footsteps.

My parents found Mom's old costumes, and started sifting through them. They stared laughing and joking about when Mom was a little girl, and her dreams of being a famous dancer. Not one to pass up a golden opportunity to gain more insight on my parents' oddball relationship, I took out my quill and began quietly scribbling away. Much as they puzzle me, my parents truly love each other, which I do find comforting.

After they found the costume, Mom asked Papa to take it downstairs to Harry, with the excuse that she wanted to look for something or other. Whatever it was, my father shrugged and headed downstairs. Then, Mom turned around and looked me dead in the eyes. I was paralyzed in her gaze, and could not move, even if I wanted to.

"Reveal yourself," she said in an even, calm voice. There was no use pretending that I wasn't there because she Discerned my presence. I took a deep breath and took off the cloak with trembling fingers.

"Hi, Mom," I said meekly.

She stood to her full height – nearly six feet tall – and glared at me. "What are you doing up here, Megan?"

Megan. My full name. It was at that moment that I realized how much trouble I was in. Mom always calls me Meggie; I think it's the first time I've ever heard her address me that way. My face paled. I could feel the color literally draining from my hairline down through my toes into the floor.

"Well, um, I'm, that is, I'm," I began.

"Stop babbling, child, and please tell me why you're in the one area of this estate your father and I have forbidden you from going to," Mom said sharply, green eyes ablaze.

I gulped, frightened beyond belief. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry is not an answer." She crossed her arms. "How long have you been coming up here?"

"Five years."

"For what purpose?" Mom's formal questioning unnerved me.

"I've been writing a story," I said neutrally, hoping to placate my mother. Unfortunately, she saw straight through my carefully hedged answer. I, of all people, should know how shrewd she could be.

"What sort of story?"

"About us, Mom. The whole family. I got really tired of reading things that were untrue, so I decided to write an honest family history. That's what this is." I held out my journal. She summoned it to her and read the first few lines of the prologue. I distinctly heard a small gasp.

"So you know about everything." It was a statement, not a question. I nodded my head almost imperceptibly. Mom looked at me, shattered. "Meggie, how could you?"

I hung my head, ashamed that I upset my mother. "I didn't know what I'd find when I started looking around."

"Why? I don't understand. What did I ever do to deserve this – betrayal by my own flesh and blood?" Mom cried out, looking heavenward. "Oh, haven't I paid enough for my sins? Couldn't I maintain my dignity before my own children? No, I suppose that some things aren't forgivable, or easily forgotten. Now you know my true character, Megan."

She turned around slightly so that I couldn't see her cry. Her mind must've been racing with a million thoughts and old memories. I jumped up and wrapped my arms around my mother, hugging her tightly.

"Yes, Mom. I know what you've done, and I still love you. Please, come sit down. Let me read something to you," I pleaded. Despite her anger, she did as I asked, and sat on Aunt Lily's trunk beside me.

I opened the thick journal to the far back, which contained my Author's Notes. Clasping Mom's hand in my own, I began reading. "Author's Note #127: On my mother. If my mother were an Animagus, which to my knowledge she is not, I bet she'd take the form of a phoenix. First of all, she's incredibly beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman alive. I certainly think so, but I may be a bit prejudiced. And like a phoenix, just when you think Mom's out for the count, she rises from the ashes of her life, stronger than before.

Oh, and she has amazing healing powers, like a phoenix. When you're upset, she cries with you, and somehow that makes things better. One smile from her makes the worst day better. And her hugs give you courage beyond belief. The first time I entered a fencing competition, Mom found me crying underneath the bleachers. She made me feel so good about myself that I destroyed the competition. If I win gold next year at the Olympics, it's all because of her. So, that's why I think she'd make a great phoenix."

Mom blew her nose in a handkerchief and smiled weakly. "That's very sweet, Meggie."

"Thank you. I know it was wrong to read your journals and go through everyone else's stuff. I only wanted to know the truth about things. My history's well rounded, I think. Before you destroy it and send me to St. Gertrude's, will you read it first? It has everyone's visions, lots of input from Harry--"

"Harry knew of this? The bloody traitor," Mom seethed, gritting her teeth. "Fine, hand it to me."

She flipped through the pages, surprised when some loose pages fell into her lap. "What are these?"

"Oh," I blushed. "Those are the racy versions of some of the scenes I wrote. Nothing too terribly bad, but certainly not appropriate for children to read."

Mom raised an eyebrow. "I see."

She turned to the back of the book, and her eyes flew open. "Megan, are you daft? Author's Note #64: On Uncle James. I truly believe that Uncle James is the perfect man. He's handsome, charming, and nearly perfect. Unlike Harry, Uncle James appears not to be as uptight, which I like. And, he doesn't have Papa's issues or flaws. I definitely agree with Aunt Lily, who picked my uncle over my father."

"What?" I asked defensively.

"In your own words, you're 'desperately in love' with none other than Stephen Parker. We need to have a talk about that too, but let me stay on point. Don't you realize that Stephen's practically your father's clone in personality and temperament? Say you like the good guys all you want, but you're your mother's daughter." She tapped the journal. "Pulling a stunt like this proves it."

"Ok, fine. I like bad boys, too. After writing my history, I really believe you now when you say that there's nothing Nick or I can do that you and Papa haven't done."

Mom rolled her eyes. "Do you think we're proud of that? There are reasons why we haven't told y'all about our mistakes. We've done things to protect y'all, and ourselves, that we both deeply regret. And there are times in our lives that we'd rather forget."

"I know." I laid my head on her shoulder, and we sat in silence for several minutes. "Speaking of dark times, I also wanted to show how important Professor Snape is to our family. Without him, we wouldn't have survived, although Papa will never admit it. I rather like Professor Snape."

"Well, he spoils you and Amy absolutely rotten," Mom said with a definite tone of amusement.

Then, Mom gave me a half hour to wrap up my prologue and deliver the manuscript to her, like I wrote earlier. If she approves of my version of events, she'll hand it back to me. Mom wondered why I'd write my prologue last, and actually laughed when I told her that every good writer writes the introduction after the story's finished. Laughter is always a good sign.

So, please forgive me if there's a rocky transition between this hurried conclusion and the continuation of my family's tale. Well, my time's nearly up, so I'm laying down my quill. Wish me luck...Meggie

~~~~

Well, that's the end of the Prologue! If you like the story so far, check out the next part in the saga, Part I: A New Family. It can be found either here at ff.net, my website, or the HP boards. Pick your poison, lol! Hope y'all enjoyed my story...

–Pamela