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Chapter Text

August 1993 - Unspecified Location

Remus John Lupin was a pragmatic man. He wasn't born that way, but life had made him a man rarely caught off guard. He could count on the fingers of one hand the times something unexpected had happened to him. First, in his childhood, with Greyback. Lupin liked to think that if he had been older than five, he would have been able to predict his fate. After all, in retrospect, it wasn't exactly surprising that the man who called himself the King of Wolves would seek revenge after feeling insulted. Then there was that moment with Black during a war. But if Remus were fair, he would have seen Sirius's feelings coming a mile away, if he hadn't been too busy with his own head stuck up his arse with his insecurities. But then there was what the wolf came to call "the Potter incident." No, he wouldn't refer to it by what it truly was. He wouldn't call it "the time the love of my life betrayed me" or "when I lost my three best (and only) friends and my soulmate" or "the time I was a shitty friend and an even worse boyfriend for not seeing the signs." So, about 12 years later, Remus Lupin still called the night of October 31, 1981, "the Potter incident," and he was quite alright, thank you very much.

The fact was, Remus Lupin couldn't be easily approached. Not after the Potter incident. He made sure it wouldn't happen again. He isolated himself and protected himself. He kept his distance from his best friends' little orphaned baby and let Dumbledore take the lead. And despite not a single day passing without him wondering how the one who, by extension, would also be his godson, was doing, he didn't let it bother him.

So, given his history, it wasn't surprising when the Hogwarts Headmaster sent him an owl asking to meet as soon as possible. Remus wasn't surprised when the old wizard entered his carefully hidden cabin and offered him the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship at the school of witchcraft and wizardry. In fact, the wolf had expected it ever since he received a Patronus demanding his presence at the Ministry of Magic less than two weeks prior.

He had been questioned gently, then interrogated, and soon after threatened about information regarding Sirius Black's escape. He wasn't surprised to be the first person interrogated after Black's escape from Azkaban. After all, both were part of the infamous Marauders group. Where else would Sirius go but to an isolated cabin of one of his best friends? Thus, it wasn't surprising at all when the gentle Headmaster looked deeply into Lupin's tired eyes and asked if Sirius had contacted him. Anticlimactic even, the wolf would say.

And when Dumbledore offered him a DADA professorship, Remus had already foreseen that this would be the path the wizard would take even before he left the corridors of his precious school. Still, the wolf felt obliged to deliver a rehearsed speech about how it wouldn't be safe for the children and to feign shock at Albus's generosity in offering him a job.

~~*~~

September 1993 - Hogwarts Express

Remus was pondering how Dumbledore overly believed in his own abilities to manipulate the environment to make things happen in a way that seemed natural when he heard the sound of his compartment door opening on the Hogwarts Express. He thanked Merlin that his eyes were closed, because he definitely wasn't wondering.

"Who do you think he is?" the professor heard a voice hiss.

"Professor R. J. Lupin." A female voice was heard responding to the suggestions.

"How do you know?" The first voice said impatiently.

"It's on the briefcase." The girl replied in a tone that almost made the wolf smile.

"What do you think he teaches?" The first boy's voice said again, and Remus was ready to jinx them out of the compartment for some peace.

"It's obvious," the girl whispered. "There's only one vacancy, isn't there? Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Well, I hope he's up to it." The boy said doubtfully. "He looks like a good hex would finish him off for good, don't you think? Anyway..." there was a hesitant pause. "What were you going to say, Harry?"

Remus's heart skipped a beat. Harry was a relatively common name, and it wouldn't be surprising if he chose his compartment to spend the journey. Of course, this would be a great coincidence, but still, a coincidence Lupin had already calculated the possibility of. However, any doubt the wolf had about this being his almost-godson dissipated the moment he caught the boy telling a very interesting story about how he overheard behind doors about the person responsible for his parents' murder hunting him.

"Sirius Black escaped to come after you?" the girl said exasperated. "Oh, Harry... you're going to have to be very, very careful. Don't go looking for trouble, Harry..."

"I don't go looking for trouble," Harry retorted, annoyed. "Trouble usually finds me."

And this time, Lupin needed immense facial control not to let the smile trapped on his lips escape, because by Merlin! This truly was James Potter's son.

"Harry would have to be a bit thick to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him, don't you think?" The first boy said, his voice trembling.

Remus stifled a defeated sigh. Any expectation of mentally preparing for Hogwarts, or even the appealing idea of a much-needed nap, was utterly frustrated by three students who didn't understand the concept of rudeness involved in talking in a compartment where a tired, trained adult was sleeping. The wolf was weighing the pros and cons of getting up and spending the rest of the journey stuck in the bathroom compartment when the door opened again. He rolled his eyes internally when he caught a fourth person arriving.

"May I have a word with you, Harry Potter?" A voice said that made Remus's heart pound. "In private." A strangely familiar voice completed.

"Whatever you want to talk about with Harry, you can say it in front of us." The first boy said, overflowing with jealousy and irritation.

"I know you don't understand much about this, since your whole family shares the same room, but there's something called privacy, Weasley." The voice said in a superb and irritated tone that made Lupin's insides squirm.

"What do you want, Torres?" Harry asked suspiciously.

There was a pause where Remus could feel a crackling tension in the air, as he tried to piece together the puzzle. Lupin definitely didn't know any Torres family. Now that he thought about it, he didn't believe this hypothesis was an English surname. Could it be an exchange student?

"It's important." The fourth student spoke again, and it seemed they wanted everything they had to make this last request. "Harry won't fall for a dirty snake's tricks." The Weasley boy spat. "Why do you want him to go alone?"

Remus heard the supposed exchange student's heart quicken, followed by an irritated huff.

"Hermione." Lupin heard the student say in a farewell tone, and he was curious about the disposition of this small confrontation. Everyone addressed each other by surname, except for the girl. Undoubtedly, the three children left in his compartment were all Gryffindors. At least he knew Harry and the Weasley would be. The girl could be a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. The student who stomped out was a Slytherin, if the Weasley's comment gave him any clue. That would explain the animosity between the students. But it wouldn't explain why the girl wasn't an active part of it. It was likely that, in fact, she wasn't a Gryffindor, given the lack of fanaticism.

"Hermione?" The Weasley boy said with a hint of betrayal in his voice.

"Just because you hate all Slytherins doesn't mean I should hate them too, Ron." The girl Hermione retorted.

"Oh, right, so you don't think it's strange that she comes here wanting to talk to Harry in private, only now that there's a psycho killer after him?" The Weasley boy countered, and Remus could swear he was jealous of Harry, and not worried about his friend.

"What was that noise?" Harry said, and the professor believed this was a tactic for the boy to withdraw from this pissing contest between Ron and the student who was no longer even present. But a kind of faint whistling sound came from a spot in the compartment for a few minutes, and Lupin was pleased that someone finally did something about it.

"It's coming from your trunk, Harry," Ron said helpfully, as Remus heard him open and rummage through the said trunk.

"Is that a Sneakoscope?" Hermione asked, interested.

"It's... and look, it's a cheap one." Ron said. "It went mad when I tied it to Errol's leg to send to Harry."

"Were you doing anything suspicious at the time?" Hermione asked shrewdly.

"No! Well... I shouldn't really be using Errol. You know, he can't really do long journeys... but how else was I supposed to send Harry's present?"

"Put it back in the trunk." Harry advised as the Sneakoscope continued to whistle softly. "Otherwise we'll wake the man."

'Great timing, Harry. If only it had been at least 40 minutes ago,' Lupin thought, somewhat annoyed by the lack of privacy. Perhaps the Torres student was right and this was a concept unknown to Harry and his friends.

Remus allowed himself to zone out and focus on the sound of the train tracks as the students chattered about Hogsmeade and Harry whined about how he couldn't join them. The man was indeed almost asleep when he heard the children scream as if in silence, for a reason Lupin didn't understand in his drowsy state, but which annoyed him enough that he moved to get up and leave. However, when the children fell silent in a way the professor thought they wouldn't be capable of, he decided to stay a little longer, and then, he finally fell asleep.

Lupin heard before he felt the train slow down. The train was running slower and slower. When the rumble of the pistons stopped, the sound of wind and rain against the windows seemed louder than ever. The child closest to the door hurried to peek into the corridor. Lupin could hear curious heads emerging at the compartment doors throughout the carriage. The train stopped completely with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs signalled that luggage had tumbled from the racks. Then, without warning, all the lights went out and they plunged into total darkness. Lupin took the cue to open his eyes and sit upright, completely alert to his surroundings.

"What's going on?" Ron's voice was heard.

"Ow!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Ron, that's my foot!"

The wolf could hear the confused murmurs of the children in the corridors.

"Do you think the train broke down?"

"I don't know..."

There was a sound of cloth rubbing glass.

"There's something moving around out there." Harry said.

"I think people are getting on the train..." The compartment door suddenly opened and someone fell over Harry's legs, hurting him.

"Sorry... do you know what's happening?... Ow... sorry..."

"Hi, Neville." Harry said, groping in the dark and pulling his classmate up by his cloak.

"Harry? Is that you? What's going on?"

"No idea... sent..." There was a loud hiss and a yelp of pain; Neville tried to sit on something Remus judged to be half-squashed.

"I'll ask the conductor what's happening." Hermione's voice was heard. And Lupin saw a girl pass Harry, saw the door slide, and then a thud and two yelps of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Mione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron..."

"Get in here and sit..."

"Not here!" Harry said quickly.

"I'm here!"

"Ow!" said Neville.

"Silence!" Lupin ordered, as annoyed as he was worried. A crack followed, and the flickering light of a flame flooded the compartment. They illuminated Remus's tired, grey face, but his eyes held an alert, cautious expression. "Stay where you are." He said in the same hoarse voice, and began to stand up slowly as flames appeared before him. But the door opened before Lupin could reach it. Standing at the door, illuminated by the flickering flames in the professor's hand, was a cloaked figure that reached the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden by a hood. A hand was emerging from the cloak and it glowed, a shimmering, viscous-looking, scabbed hand, like something dead that had decayed in water... And then the damned Dementor advanced long and slowly, a noisy inhale. An intense cold hit everyone present. Remus grudgingly thought he could add another finger to his tally of surprising things. It was curious how they always revolved around Potter. "None of us is hiding Sirius Black under the cloak. Go away." Remus said, feeling all the happiness in the carriage drain away.

When that didn't work, he took a deep breath, forced himself to conjure a happy thought, along with the little magic he had left, the professor closed his eyes and cast "Expecto Patronum," letting his wolf handle the rest.

Waiting for the children to wake up Harry while sharing a bar of chocolate to divide among those present, he found it curious how the Dementor invaded the compartment. He hoped it was only his that had been visited, because he was sure there weren't any other professors napping with the students.

On his way to speak with the conductor, after making sure Harry, the most affected by the Dementor, was alright, Remus's gaze met a pair of deep black eyes for just an instant, sending a shiver down his spine. This reminded him of the voice of the student who interrupted Harry Potter and his friends' journey.

~~*~~

September 1993 - Hogwarts

In the Great Hall, the atmosphere wasn't the best. All the children seemed tense and the air was colder than usual. Fortunately, he hadn't added any more fingers to his list of life's surprises. Remus had seen enough of human nature to know that desperate men make desperate decisions. It was irresponsible, illogical, and unproductive to fill Hogwarts with Dementors, but it wasn't surprising.

Lupin was quite pleased with himself and very annoyed with Dumbledore for his tendency to place difficult decisions on others' shoulders, when he felt something. Like a vibration. A tingling in his spine. Unconsciously, his eyes found the source of the discomfort. His jaw dropped a good six feet when he found a pair of black eyes entering the Hall.

The wolf didn't know what disturbed him more. If it was the pair of eyes disturbingly similar to those of his old love — that is, if Sirius had eyes as dark as his surname — or if it was their owner. A tall child in Slytherin robes. Their shaved head left serious doubts regarding their gender. Their haughty expression bitterly reminded him of Sirius Black.

Remus decided to scrap the count on his fingers. The tally simply didn't matter anymore when he was looking — no, staring — at Sirius Black at 13 in the Great Hall. That is, if Sirius Black were a tanned Slytherin and looked like a girl.

The professor engaged in a strange staring contest while the rest of the Hall ate, ignoring that his entire world had stopped and then started spinning the wrong way. Lupin brazenly faced the Slytherin boy, who, in turn, faced Harry Potter as if they could transmit their thoughts to the boy if they tried hard enough. Harry Potter glanced at him occasionally, very confused, while Severus Snape stared at Lupin with a mixture of resentment and caution.

Everything about that child screamed Sirius Black. Remus tried to do the math. Nothing made sense anymore. If they were a third-year, they would have been born around the same time as Harry. This opened a window of time when Remus was in denial about Sirius's feelings, and the latter would escape to Muggle pubs whenever possible.

Bile rose in the wolf's throat. He forced himself to focus all his senses solely on the student who, giving up on trying telepathy with The Boy Who Lived, ate nonchalantly while ignoring their surroundings. The professor was so focused on the student that he missed whatever comment another Slytherin made, causing the child to stand up angrily and leave. But not before responding in an acidic tone, a comment Remus imagined was fitting, but which he paid no attention to, as he was too busy trying to regain his own mind.

Because that child was Sirius Black's. Now everything made more sense. The child's attempt to speak with Harry Potter. How it had to be in private. How the Dementor entered the compartment shortly after the child left. And he wanted to curse himself upon realizing this was, without a doubt, the most surprising day of his life.

Chapter Text

December 1992 - Tonks Residence

With a war on her resume and a newly graduated daughter well on her way, Andromeda Tonks was ready to retire. The witch had been fighting all her life, and a rest would be more than welcome. First against the principles instilled in her since birth. Then, against her heart, when she fell in love with the Muggle-born Ted Tonks. Then, against her family, when she lost the war against her heart. And then a more significant and literal war, the one against Voldemort.

When her daughter Nymphadora was born, Andromeda thought her heart couldn't bear such happiness, and she thought, wrongly, that this would be her moment of peace. This was a somewhat foolish thought on her part. A small Metamorphmagus proved more tiring to deal with than all the wars Andromeda had fought. And after 19 years of pure chaos in her life, the witch was content to hand over the guardianship of her dear daughter to more competent hands: Auror training.

Between trips to the Muggle world with her husband and attending events — specifically chosen not to cross paths with her sister — Andromeda Tonks finally felt at peace. Well, perhaps peace wasn't the right word. She was content, but she felt something was missing in her life. Like an impossible itch to scratch. But she supposed living by fighting and fleeing had that general effect on one's personality.

Therefore, when the witch received her daughter's Patronus, wishing her to immediately attend the office of the Department of Magical Education, she wasn't startled. It was as if that itch was finally slowly and painfully reached.

~~*~~

December 1992 - Ministry of Magic

"Madam Tonks, I appreciate you and your husband attending this extraordinary meeting on such short notice." Albus Dumbledore said after putting on a show of serving tea in an office that wasn't his.

"It's no problem, Headmaster." Andromeda said, cautiously. "Something with Nymphadora?" The witch raised an eyebrow, still very accustomed to being called to the Headmaster's office for her now-adult daughter's many transgressions.

"Oh, don't worry, our dear pupil was merely the messenger of somewhat unexpected news." The old wizard said, stroking his beard.

"I apologize if we are somewhat apprehensive." Now it was Ted's turn to shift uncomfortably in his chair. "This was merely an unexpected meeting."

"Yes, I regret that I don't bring good news," Andromeda felt she could jinx the old wizard if he kept beating around the bush. "However, it has come to my attention that a last heir of the Blacks has just become orphaned, and... Given their blood status, I thought I'd ask you, Andromeda, before your sister, Narcissa."

There was a deafening silence, like the one that follows an explosion. What irritated the Black-born witch most was the Headmaster's smug look sitting opposite her. It didn't seem like the look of someone who had just said a child was tragically orphaned; it was the smug look of someone who knew something you weren't aware of and was very happy to revel in it.

"An heir Black?" Ted repeated, astonished.

"You see," the wizard uttered, and Andromeda's brain began to spin through the possibilities. Dumbledore had mentioned the child's blood status as an impediment for Narcissa. This meant the child was likely a half-blood. Bellatrix would rather take an Avada than willingly get involved with a Muggle, so it couldn't be her cousin's. Narcissa would never abandon any child of hers, so the idea didn't even cross Andromeda's mind. If the child was still of school age — which they probably were, given the department where this meeting was taking place — that led her to her cousins. The child could only be Regulus's or Sirius's. Both seemed equally unlikely.

"First of all, I would like you to know that should you choose not to take the child, their guardianship will be offered to the Malfoys. If they cannot receive them either, they will continue to live with their Muggle relatives in Brazil."

"And is there any reason why the child's change of continent is the first thought, Albus?" Andromeda inquired, inquisitively.

"The Statute of Secrecy is stricter in Brazil than here in Great Britain. The child's mother was entirely Muggle, and was only informed of her child's status last year, when a letter from Hogwarts and one from Castelobruxo arrived simultaneously. She chose for her child to continue their education in Brazil, and so it was, until her passing a few weeks ago." The wizard paused somewhat dramatically before continuing. "If the child remains in Brazil, it will be necessary to find some Muggle relative who is not only willing to raise them, but who is also open to the wizarding world and who is not a risk to the Statute of Secrecy."

"I understand." Andromeda said cautiously. "And may I ask which of the Blacks the child is heir to?"

"Sirius Black." The man replied in a sombre tone.

~~*~~

The decision had been made even before there was any decision to make. Andromeda would never abandon a child to their fate. Since this child was her family, she was slightly offended that Dumbledore would even suggest Narcissa as an option. There was a brief discussion with Ted regarding the custody of this child, but not for the expected reasons. Her husband wasn't concerned about taking in an unknown 12-year-old child. He was concerned about removing a 12-year-old orphaned and possibly traumatized child from their school, their country, their language, their friends, and throwing them into Hogwarts.

In the end, they decided to talk to the child. If they chose to stay with their Muggle relatives, they would let them, but support them above all else. If they chose to let them adopt them, but wanted to remain at Castelobruxo, they would find a way to accompany them. And if they allowed them to take the child from their country and bring them to Hogwarts, they would treat them with as much love as they treated Nymphadora, and ensure that any need was met.

~~*~~

December 1992 - Brazilian Ministry of Magic

The intercontinental journey by Portkey was far from pleasant. Andromeda needed several minutes to reorient herself, while her husband Ted was emptying the contents of his stomach into someone's bin in the office of the Brazilian Department of International Magical Cooperation. She looked around and watched Dumbledore greet a tall, tanned man with a Latin appearance, as if he hadn't just crossed about seven thousand kilometres in a matter of seconds.

She noticed about five Brazilian Aurors inside the room, and instinctively looked for Alastor Moody — the Auror who accompanied them with whom she had the most contact. Andromeda could also note the proximity between Barty Crouch Sr. and the head of the Brazilian department, as everyone was searched before sitting around the long wooden table in the centre of the room.

A flurry of information followed regarding the child, their family, their deceased mother. Their school grades (excellent), their psychological evaluation after the incident (possible post-traumatic stress, anxiety, depressive symptoms, and the possibility of identity confusion), and the laws covering the entire case of the child in question.

Andromeda listened diligently and responded assertively that she was more than willing to fight for her rights as the child's closest living magical relative.

It was decided that the meeting would be arranged in the Muggle part of the Brazilian Ministry of Magic, along with the Muggle relative who had temporary guardianship of the child. Andromeda was impressed by the organization of the Brazilian government, and the care they took with both the child and in maintaining a Muggle route that would not violate the Statute of Secrecy, yet still allow the Muggle guardians to be aware of what was strictly necessary.

~~*~~

December 1992 - Brazilian Ministry of Magic

A shy girl — wearing a pair of baggy Muggle jeans, with a white tank top — entered the room, almost behind her tired-looking guardian. Andromeda's first thought was to remember Harry Potter, the thin, small-for-his-age boy in ill-fitting clothes. Here was a girl tall for her age, and in ill-fitting clothes. The witch wondered if this was what her evaluation referred to when it said "identity confusion," and what that meant, but she tried to keep an open mind to a new culture.

Andromeda's second thought was that if Sirius Black were a girl, he would be exactly like that. And as if the child being a miniature of her cousin wasn't enough, upon having the opportunity to get a good look at the child, an unusual feature caught the witch's attention: the child had a pair of eyes with distinct colours. The left eye, presumably inherited from her mother, was honey-brown, while the right was grey, as was characteristic of the Blacks.

Introductions were made, and the child murmured her own name so softly that if Andromeda hadn't known beforehand, she wouldn't have been able to understand.

The temporary guardian was very interested in receiving the child's rightful pension and inheritance, but her eagerness considerably diminished when she discovered that she wouldn't receive a single Galleon — or in her case, cent — of that money for most of the years until the child finished her studies, and that she would continue to attend her classes at the boarding school.

The child remained silent, looking at her shoelaces throughout the meeting. The only exception was a pause to curiously stare at Moody, since even with his most striking features transfigured, the wizard was still somewhat distinct. And with each passing minute, the witch felt her hopes of adopting the child crumble more and more.

It was somewhat confusing to maintain the dialogue, as they depended on a translator for any understanding between the Muggle and wizarding guardians, and although the former was willing to relinquish guardianship of the child with whom she had barely lived for twelve years, Andromeda didn't feel confident that the child would think the same way.

After it was clear to all parties that the Muggle guardian would relinquish her rights, provided the child maintained contact and was not forced to leave the country initially, or prevented from returning to Brazil if desired, the decision was left to the child.

Albus suggested, not so subtly, that it would be interesting to let Andromeda and the Black heiress have a few minutes of conversation alone. Which was just an excuse for them to speak freely about the magical parameters involved in the whole situation. To the witch's surprise and some relief, the Muggle guardian did not immediately agree, fearing that the child would feel vulnerable and intimidated. Thus, one of the child's teachers — who had volunteered to be present throughout the meeting, given the delicacy of the situation — offered to observe the entire exchange. Along with Albus Dumbledore, of course.

Andromeda sat in a chair directly in front of the child, and tried to look her in the eyes:

"I hear you understand and speak English, would that be true?" The witch tried.

The child raised her eyes from where she was studying a small groove in the table's wood and looked curiously at Andromeda, before nodding.

"May we address each other by our first names, dear?" The girl immediately lowered her gaze again, looking uncomfortable. Andromeda decided to change tactics.

At this moment, the child's teacher approached her and knelt down to her eye level, speaking in Portuguese, in a low, calm tone:

"I understand you're stressed, I understand you wouldn't want to deal with this right now, but come on, Torres, you need to be part of this conversation, even if it's just to say you're not interested in making any decisions right now." The girl looked intently into the teacher's eyes, and Andromeda felt foolish for even considering taking her from a place where she felt safe.

Torres leaned in and whispered something in her teacher's ear, who looked at Andromeda and asked in perfect English:

"Do you mind?" Referring to sitting next to the child, to which the witch promptly replied that she didn't mind at all.

"I know this is a difficult time for you." Andromeda tried again. "And I'd like to start by saying I'm so sorry for your loss. I also truly regret that we haven't met before. You see, until a few days ago, I didn't even know Sirius had a child. I suppose he doesn't even know." Andromeda quickly completed this last sentence upon noticing she had captured the girl's interest. "You see, your father was imprisoned shortly after your birth. Today you know that the reason your mother couldn't contact him was the fact that he lived in wizarding London. What I imagine they didn't tell you, during the visit for the delivery of your Hogwarts letter, is that at the time you were conceived, there was a war. I don't believe your father purposely neglected you, my child."

The girl looked curiously at Andromeda, still in silence, and the witch felt she had made some kind of progress.

"Would you like to see a photo, dear?"

The child shyly nodded, and Andromeda took out a photo of Sirius from his Hogwarts days and handed it into her small hands.

"You know, your father and I used to be close during childhood. There was a period at Hogwarts when he was the only person I could count on. We came from a very traditional family." The witch began, a little uncertain. "And my marriage to Ted wasn't looked upon favourably. It was your father who suggested I run away with Ted so we could love each other without restrictions."

Torres finally stopped looking at the photo hungrily, and looked into Tonks's eyes for her to continue.

"Both of us were considered traitors. We came from a family that considered blood purity the most precious asset of a wizard. Your father and I didn't agree with them. We both ran away. I'm afraid your father was braver than I during the war. But I imagine that took its toll..."

At that moment, Dumbledore, as the master of seeing an opportunity and seizing it, interrupted the witch.

"I'm afraid we have a limited amount of time for this conversation, my dears. And at the risk of being insensitive, I would like to say a few words about our current situation."

The child looked at the old wizard somewhat dismayed, but nodded seriously.

"It so happens that your cousin Andromeda is your closest available magical relative. The Statute of Secrecy requires that this option be evaluated before exposing the magical world to a new Muggle family. I understand that many changes are happening in your life, very abruptly, but I'm afraid we need to make some kind of decision today." Then the old man approached the child with that grandfatherly look of his, with which Andromeda had seen him convince many less experienced wizards to die in war. "Would you like a Chocolate Frog, my dear?"

The child looked between the frog and the wizard in front of her, before looking at the teacher for help. Andromeda watched intently as the teacher nodded minimally before she accepted the chocolate.

"We have a somewhat unusual situation here, however." Dumbledore continued, victorious. "The cases of orphaned wizards and witches we generally have are concentrated in Great Britain. Yours is the first case where we have an international issue at hand." He gave a small complicit smile to the child, and Andromeda watched in shock as the girl's lips minimally twitched. "As I see it, we have a few possible solutions. First, you can send these old wizards back to their rainy country and continue your life in Brazil, as if today had never happened."

The child looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and doubt, then Albus smiled openly.

"Oh yes, my child. I suppose perhaps old Andromeda here would be restless for a few days, but you know how old people's minds are, right?" The girl's frown lessened to the point where a small, shy smile appeared at the corners of her lips. "Or, you could continue to study at Castelobruxo, and spend your holidays and breaks in England, with Andromeda as your guardian. This wouldn't immediately change your life; we would be able to transport you by international Floo or Portkey, and your Muggle family wouldn't need to be bothered with magical matters." The old man stroked his beard distractedly as the child seemed more and more comfortable.

"You could also move to Hogwarts." And seeing the girl shiver slightly, Dumbledore offered her another Chocolate Frog. "I know there's a substantial difference between the school year dates here and in Great Britain, so I imagine if the idea of moving is too big, it would be possible for us to do a kind of trial exchange." The wizard reassured her. "We could start slowly."

The child seemed to think while smoothing the corners of her collectible card. After a few moments, she leaned towards her teacher and whispered something. The teacher looked at her for a few seconds before saying, kindly and in Portuguese:

"Why don't you try asking yourself?"

"What happens if I ask you to leave?" the child asked in perfect English, staring fixedly at the card in her hands.

Andromeda then swallowed her heart as much as she could as she replied:

"We would." She tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the emotion in her voice. "I would send you letters if you allowed it, I would tell your father if that's what you'd like me to do. I would be in your life in whatever way you allowed me to be." Andromeda was sincere in every word, and the child seemed to realize it.

"Will you hand me over to my father?" The child asked, looking directly into the witch's eyes, as if challenging her.

"It is not my will, and also, I'm afraid it's not possible. You see, your father is perpetually imprisoned. But we will send letters if that is your wish. I would personally plead before the Wizengamot for them to make an exception if you wish to meet him."

The child seemed thoughtful. But Dumbledore didn't seem willing to let her decide anything less than Hogwarts.

"Sometimes, all we need is a change." The old man said, and Andromeda considered the risks of jinxing him right there. "At Hogwarts, we have a wizard in your year, also an orphan. Also a half-blood, and also raised by Muggles." The witch physically stopped herself from rolling her eyes, seeing Dumbledore use the 'Harry Potter' card even from across the ocean. "Curiously, this boy is your father's godson." The child seemed immediately interested, and Andromeda didn't know if she loved or hated the older wizard more. "He didn't know either parent, nor did he live with his godfather. I imagine when his Hogwarts letter arrived, he also felt scared, but a fresh start ended up being all the boy needed."

Andromeda noted that the wizard left out the child's encounter with a professor who tried to kill him. Just as he also forgot to mention that strangely there was a child and a cat mysteriously petrified at his school.

"And if I decide to go, and then change my mind?" The child asked Andromeda again.

Andromeda smiled sincerely as she replied.

"Then we will decide what to do when and if we cross that bridge. If you wish to return to Castelobruxo, I will enroll you in Brazil again. If you no longer want to live in Europe, we can choose a house in Brazil, and I will come spend your holidays here with you. If you decide you don't like my presence, I will immediately transfer your guardianship."

Andromeda noticed the child become restless. She saw the girl shift uncomfortably in her chair. She saw her look at the ceiling and blink a few times, and instantly recognized the tool for warding off tears.

"Do you have children?" The child asked after a few moments.

"I have a daughter, Nymphadora." Andromeda said, holding out a photo of her daughter on her first day of Auror training.

"She's not at Hogwarts anymore?"

"She graduated last year." Andromeda said without hiding her pride.

The child looked at the photo for a long moment, absorbing all the details.

"She doesn't look very feminine." Torres observed after a while.

"She really isn't." Andromeda offered with a smile. "This photo is from her first day of Auror training. She's strong and gets into a lot of trouble. But I know she would be an excellent cousin for you."

The child looked at her suspiciously.

"Are you close to my father's godson?"

"Unfortunately, I haven't had the opportunity to meet him." Andromeda said with regret. "But that can be arranged, if you wish."

The girl spent so long in silence that the witch felt the anxiety that something was wrong.

"Could I spend the holidays with you?" The child said somewhat shyly. "For Christmas and everything. Then we think about visiting Hogwarts and seeing if we adapt? And then if you decide you don't want to stay with me, I can go back to Brazil."

She uttered the last sentence in a single, breathless rush, her face burning scarlet. As if expecting to be reprimanded for daring to ask.

But her teacher looked proudly at her.

Chapter Text

March 31, 1991 – Hogwarts.

Minerva McGonagall waltzed into her office with a worrying cheerfulness – the same cheerfulness Severus Snape had witnessed weeks earlier, when the witch realized it was Harry Potter's year to enter Hogwarts.

Snape patiently waited for his oldest friend to close the door behind her and almost jump in exasperation into an armchair, positioned in front of where the professor himself was sitting, drinking his tea.

"Minerva," the man said somewhat sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "Should I be concerned?"

"Oh, Severus! Wonderful news." The wizard quickly swallowed his tea, certain that he would not share his friend's opinion. "The parchments indicate the existence of an heiress of Sirius Black, who recently turned 11."

Snape would have choked on his tea, or even his own saliva, or the air, if he were a less prepared man.

"I suppose, Minerva," he said, now utterly ironic, "that we have different perspectives on good news."

The witch had the audacity to laugh.

"Don't be silly, Severus. It will be great for Potter not to be alone."

The wizard raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"He would hardly find himself alone in a school that houses eight hundred to a thousand students every year."

Minerva spoke again, and Snape had to remind himself that Gryffindors were not known for the art of subtlety.

"I wonder which house she will be sorted into." The witch continued dreamily. "Harry, of course, will be in Gryffindor. But Sirius was the exception among the Blacks. On the other hand, I also heard that the child doesn't live on the continent."

"And why don't we let any other school house her?" The Potions Master inquired, now irritated.

"It is her birthright to study where her father grew up. Besides, her mother is Muggle."

"Muggle-born?" Snape questioned with reluctant curiosity.

"No. Not Muggle-born, completely non-magical." Minerva said with a triumphant smile that the professor didn't fully understand.

He processed this information for a few moments and decided that whether the child was a half-blood or not, he didn't need the profile of another of his aggressors under his tutelage.

"I believe, Minerva, that we have divergent feelings about 'The Marauders Kids' under our pupilage."

The witch's expression instantly closed, as if she had just remembered something unsettling. Which was probably the case.

"They are just children, Severus." She replied, looking into his eyes. "They are not their parents."

~~*~~

April 10, 1991 – Hogwarts.

Severus Snape considered himself a just man. Probably not the most just man who ever walked the Earth, but he had become, lately, at least more just than his former master. And certainly more sincere than the latter.

And caught in a dilemma between his justice and his sincerity, he found himself drinking his third uninterrupted cup of tea, just a few weeks after Minerva McGonagall had entered his office with that worrying happiness. Now, the man was found again in his office, with a dismayed Minerva and a completely enraged Albus Dumbledore. That is, if you knew how to read the signs.

To anyone else, the old wizard in front of him would appear nothing less than content. Resigned perhaps, but absolutely not angry. But Snape would know how to read the signs. Old Dumbledore had already adjusted his spectacles about half a dozen times in the time it took Severus to swallow his three cups of tea. He didn't bother to count the number of lemon drops consumed by the same. Not to mention his hands hidden in his robes, where Snape would bet his wand that the wizard was caressing his precious Deluminator. This, coupled with the fact that the man was now four cups of tea into complete silence, were strong indicators of his wrath.

Snape desperately tried not to smile. He would hate to draw the Headmaster's wrath upon himself. But the professor was extremely pleased. Perhaps he should consider sending a thank-you letter to the mother of Black's progeny for the gift she had given him without even knowing it.

By all accounts, the child, like her progenitor, resided in Brazil. And like Severus, the woman harbored immense resentment towards Sirius Black. The Muggle woman was completely fine with magic, as "it" had nothing to do with her daughter's father. Snape found it delightful.

So, when Albus arrived with his grandfatherly smile, alongside a very happy Minerva to meet Sirius Black's heiress, the child's mother was even happier to send her – to Castelobruxo school, so that her precious daughter would grow up as far as possible from any influence of her father. Severus approved of the Muggle's discernment in question.

"Severus, say something." Minerva said in a state of irritation much more pronounced than that of her Headmaster.

Snape paused his hand holding the teapot in mid-air, to pour his fifth cup of tea. So far, his plan to keep his mouth busy so as not to be asked to participate in the Gryffindors' saddest day was working, and nothing his bladder could say would prove otherwise.

"Perhaps..." He began calmly. "It would be good for the child to grow up far from her father's influence."

"Don't be obtuse, Severus," the witch retorted, irritated. "What influence could a man imprisoned in Azkaban exert over a child?"

The moment Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with something, Snape knew he had won the battle, but that he would inevitably lose the war.

"I'm afraid my dear friend is right, Professor Minerva." The Headmaster said in a tone that the Potions Master interpreted as that of a chess player sacrificing a pawn. "A child would receive a very great stigma for being the daughter of who she is. This could bring conflict among the students, especially those who feel directly connected to their parents' war."

Snape watched the old wizard stroke his beard as he searched for another lemon drop in his robes. He wondered if what made him leave his state of comfort was the realization that it would be very difficult to keep an eye on the big picture when they were too busy trying to keep Potter and Black from killing each other in their parents' names. Severus concluded that the Headmaster preferred to lose a Black than to lose a Potter.

~~*~~

June 17, 1992 – Hogwarts.

To say Snape was irritated would be the understatement of the century. The Potions Master had no words to describe his current state of mind. Nor could he remember when he had felt this way in the last 10 years.

The bloody Dark Lord, in the bloody Professor Quirrell's head, inside bloody Hogwarts. Right under his bloody nose. He couldn't tell if he felt more anger at Dumbledore watching everything unfold like a bloody maestro, or if he felt more anger at himself for not noticing.

That bloody senile old man let the most dangerous wizard in history live freely inside a castle with hundreds of children.

Along with his godson. Along with his snakes, with his students. Along with Lily's son. By Merlin! Dumbledore let three 11-year-olds face one of the greatest dark wizards alone. A wizard who was responsible for the murder of one of those children's parents. For the murder of several members of another of those children's families. And who would have killed, at best, the entire family and friends of the third child. For all that is sacred, old Voldemort tried to assassinate Harry himself.

Snape found himself, not for the first time, contemplating the merits of having let himself die during the first war.

If only Narcissa hadn't given him, in Draco, a reason to continue. If he didn't feel so responsible for Potter.

If he hadn't seen the opportunity to help so many neglected children in his house.

He supposed he would need to keep a closer eye from now on. And if he could get the old Headmaster to retire halfway through, that would be an extra victory.

~~*~~

November 01, 1992 – Hogwarts.

Severus Snape never wished so much that Harry Potter had Sirius Black's profile. Safe. With an ocean and a continent separating him from the dangers of Hogwarts.

With the exception of the tiresome and pathetic Lockhart, the year 1992 was relatively peaceful for the Potions Master. Of course, there was that escapade of Potter and Weasley, who, encouraged by the Headmaster the previous year, faithfully believed that asking an adult for help was never the ideal option. Merlin forbid calling the red-haired boy's parents when they missed the Hogwarts Express. But starting the school year seeing Gryffindor lose points did wonders for Snape's generally sour mood.

In short, the 1992-1993 school year was very good for Severus Snape. That is, until he discovered that Lucius Abraxas Malfoy decided it was a good idea to unleash a bloody Basilisk in the school where his only son studied.

It is a fact that the Malfoys were never known for thinking more than two steps ahead, especially when blood purity was involved. But this was too much even for Lucius.

Of course, the Basilisk would not attack Slytherins, and would avoid the rest of the pure-bloods, but that would not prevent Draco from looking into its eyes by accident. At least not when the blonde boy seemed to have a fixation on Harry Potter.

~~*~~

December 04, 1992 – Hogwarts.

And as absolutely nothing in Severus Snape's life goes wrong by halves, once again he finds himself participating in a conversation he would rather not have with a Minerva whose expression was somewhat amusing.

The Potions Master supposed he would have enjoyed his friend's appearance more if the reason for her oscillating between joy and melancholy in such short periods of time didn't mean another orphan of one of his old bullies at Hogwarts.

"Poor thing, Severus." The witch whined. "Her father imprisoned and now her mother is dead. I heard that if Andromeda doesn't accept, guardianship will be offered to Malfoy. Can you imagine what this child will suffer under Lucius Malfoy's care?"

Given his recent decisions, Snape found himself immediately disinclined to defend his friend's honor.

"Dumbledore is meeting with the Tonks at this very moment. I can only imagine what the poor thing is going through."

"I questioned whether it's the most sensible idea to remove her from her country at this time." Snape pointed out the obvious distractedly.

"Don't be obtuse, Severus, what better place for a magical child to be than near her ancestors?"

Snape thought of a dozen places in just thirty seconds, but decided it would be counterproductive to express such an opinion. He continued to ignore the tea in favor of the flask in his robes.

"I'm glad this won't be my problem." The man said after a generous gulp.

"How can you be so sure that Sirius Black's daughter won't end up in Slytherin?" The witch asked curiously.

"Just a hunch." He said with finality.

~~*~~

January 04, 1993 – Hogwarts.

Severus Snape would remember never to trust his intuition again.

Not when he was looking at a copy of Sirius Black at his house table. Under his care. As if Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy weren't troublesome enough. Not only was the child's physical appearance uncomfortably similar to Black's. But her spirit definitely belonged to the oldest and noblest family. The appearance was Sirius's, but her personality was Regulus's.

Severus found himself grudgingly impressed, seeing the child cast a spell at Albus Dumbledore not three, but four times, while the Headmaster tried to pronounce her name. He decided he would give her 5 points for cunning even before the Sorting Hat decreed her house.

On the other hand, this should have been warning enough that she would be with his snakes. When the old wizard gave up pronouncing the child's name, he called her only by her surname, she smiled and sat in the chair before the entire school with an angelic look.

Snape prayed to all the gods he knew that the child would be in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. In retrospect, he had been somewhat foolish.

Chapter Text

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently at her favorite library table. Harry and Ron were late. Again.

She couldn't understand how anyone could be so careless about their studies. She knew most people didn't care as much as she did, but honestly! Her two best friends seemed to have a special talent for avoiding academic responsibilities.

Tired of waiting, the young witch decided to start her Potions essay alone. As she opened her book, however, she noticed a small origami spider emerge slightly flattened from between the pages. Intrigued, she watched as the paper creature stood on its delicate legs, shook itself, and began wandering across her textbook.

Fascinated yet again by magic, Hermione gently ran her finger along the paper spider's body, causing it to immediately unfold into a mysterious note.

'Dear Hermione Granger,

I apologize if this note invades your privacy, but please understand my need for discretion outweighs my need for answers.

I've heard you passionately discussing your fondness for 'Hogwarts: A History' with your friends, and I have a problem I believe you could help with.

You see, as you know, school rules aren't entirely clear, and some seem designed primarily for pure-blood students. I imagine you might relate. I have specific questions about the school dress code and dormitory arrangements. Could you inform me of the specific rules? If not, might you know of any relevant books?

I'd greatly appreciate if you didn't involve any adults in this exchange. And I hope you understand my anonymity.

If you're willing to help, please leave your response in the unique edition of 'Coastal Herbology: Magical Flora of Sea Rocks' in the Herbology section.

M.K.'

Hermione looked around curiously. No one was nearby. She wondered who would enchant such a sneaky note, and why they'd chosen her.

Perhaps another Muggle-born student. Perhaps someone was playing a trick on her.

However, the young witch didn't have much time to ponder this, as Harry and Ron soon arrived at her table, breathless and muttering apologies for their lateness.

Later in her dormitory, Hermione questioned her roommates about the school dress code, only to receive confused looks and murmurs of "why wouldn't a girl want to wear skirts?" Hermione swallowed her response for the sake of peace.

Curious, later that week Granger wrote a brief note and left it in the specified book, wondering how and when her reply might arrive.

'Dear M.K.,

We could join forces in this matter, but I'm uncomfortable working with someone I don't know. Please send more information about yourself or your motivations.

P.S. Have you checked the History of Magic section? There might be books about Hogwarts' history that mention this.

Hermione Granger'

Later, during Potions class shared with Slytherin, Hermione noticed another origami spider sneaking into her bag. She quickly scanned the room for suspicious individuals, but no one stood out.

'Dear Hermione Granger,

I understand your concern and hope my motivations help you understand my need for anonymity.

I'm uncomfortable with the uniform. I'm uncomfortable wearing skirts. Lately I've been wondering if I might actually be a boy disguised and mistaken for a girl. I don't feel safe or comfortable in my dormitory. I hope you can help.

Sincerely,
M.K.'

After reading the note, Hermione wrote to her parents asking if it was possible for a boy to be raised as a girl without realizing it. She also decided to ask Professor McGonagall whether Hogwarts could be mistaken about such things regarding dormitories.

Her parents' reply came the next day. They expressed concern and support if Hermione were questioning her gender, along with several articles about sexuality and transgender issues.

Hermione quickly explained she'd received a note from someone unknown asking for help, and that she was perfectly happy being a girl, thank you very much. But she devoured all the printed articles her parents had sent.

Hermione included a clipping from one article with the word "transgender" circled, adding a question mark to her next message.

'Dear M.K.,

I wrote to my parents to better understand your situation. I hope you don't mind. They're dentists (a sort of Muggle healer for teeth) and always stay informed about various subjects. They sent me several Muggle articles I'd love to share.

I've also researched Hogwarts dormitories and found no recorded cases where the school was mistaken about a student's gender. But we should consider wizards aren't widely known for being progressive.

Of course I understand your reluctance to reveal yourself. Let me know how I can get these papers to you if you're interested.

Hermione Granger'

~~*~~

By mid-May, Hermione was beginning to lose patience. All her plans to solve the Chamber of Secrets mystery had failed. There was still a monster loose. Ron's sister grew more distant and apathetic each day. And the witch couldn't stop thinking about the student who'd secretly reached out to her. Not to mention Draco Malfoy becoming increasingly unbearable.

The witch felt time running out. She absently wondered what the school's adults were doing besides restricting students more each day.

Distracted while twirling a lock of hair, Hermione didn't notice someone approaching her library table until a book thudded onto it, startling her.

"I noticed you've been researching magical creatures," said an unfamiliar voice.

Hermione jumped and looked at the student before her. She'd seen this girl before. Everyone had. After all, it wasn't common for Hogwarts to accept transfer students. This was the mysterious international student placed in Slytherin.

"Torres, right?" Hermione tried.

"Actually, M.K.," the girl smiled, sitting across from Hermione and gesturing to the magizoology book she'd just dropped on the table.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, glancing between the book and the student. On closer inspection, the girl didn't seem as confident as she'd sounded moments before.

"So it's you," Hermione said, then winced internally at how accusatory she sounded.

"Regretting talking to a Slytherin?" the student asked with a raised eyebrow. Hermione wondered distantly if Severus Snape taught that expression to all his snakes in their common room.

"Oh no. I just didn't expect it," the witch replied with a smile. "But in retrospect, it makes sense you wouldn't know Hogwarts' rules."

"Well, you promised me articles, and I thought I'd return the favor with a book you might find interesting," the student paused, weighing her next words. "Though you owe me an apology. I asked you not to involve adults, and the first thing you do is write to your parents."

Hermione at least had the decency to blush.

"I'm sorry," she murmured before quickly recovering, "but my parents aren't connected to Hogwarts in any way except through me. I thought it would be good to get information without exposure."

M.K. simply nodded in acknowledgment.

"I thought your surname was Torres," Granger asked before she could stop herself.

"And it is," the Slytherin replied simply.

"So what's the point of M.K.? If that's not too intrusive, of course."

"Oh, well," the girl pressed her tongue against her cheek in thought. "I've been talking with a Ravenclaw I'm quite fond of about my birth name. She agreed it didn't seem right. Then she said my name should start with M or K." M.K. smiled genuinely at the memory. "This Ravenclaw is rarely wrong, so I decided to adopt M.K. until I figure things out."

Hermione studied the student, completely intrigued.

"So you're a boy?" The witch mentally cursed herself for speaking without thinking again.

"Something like that," the Slytherin shrugged, standing up. She then pulled a small piece of parchment from her pocket. "Now that you know who I am, you can use this to communicate. If you're still interested, send me a note with a time and place where I can collect the papers." With that, she walked casually out of the library.

~~*~~

Hermione looked curiously at the piece of parchment on her table. It contained a new spell with detailed instructions. She smiled at the carefully drawn, enchanted illustration showing the wand movement and precise pronunciation. The young witch was impressed that the Slytherin had created a new spell in her second year.

However, she decided to test the spell's effectiveness later, her attention captured by the book M.K. had left on her table. 'A Thousand and One Creatures: Tome of Living Legends.' Granger huffed in frustration as she picked up the heavy volume. A thousand and one creatures - it would take forever to find anything useful.

She began thinking, scanning the index titles. She cross-referenced what she already knew about the monster. Did Torres know which animal it was? If so, why hadn't the student told her openly? Did Snape teach all his snakes to be so mysterious and slippery?

Then her eyes widened. Hermione had realized something. Grabbing her worn parchment, she read her notes:

• Only Harry can hear it
• No victims have died
• All victims were petrified
• Founded by Salazar Slytherin
• Houses a monster only Slytherin's heir can control
• The monster was left to "purge" the school of Muggle-borns
• Moves through pipes

She circled "only Harry can hear it" twice. Then she opened the massive book on her table, flipping rapidly until she found what she needed. Her heart pounded in her ears, her mouth went dry, her hands shook so badly she feared damaging the book.

There was a flash in her vision and her ears went deaf for seconds when she found the page she sought: Basilisks.

**"BASILISK
Also known as the King of Serpents. The basilisk is a giant serpent that can grow up to fifty feet in length. Born from a chicken's egg hatched by a toad, the basilisk is one of the most dangerous magical creatures in existence.

The basilisk possesses extremely lethal venomous fangs, but its most feared weapon is its gaze: anyone who looks directly into its eyes will die instantly.

The only way to survive the basilisk's gaze is by seeing it indirectly. In this case, the victim will merely be petrified—and can be revived with Mandrake Draught.

The basilisk can live for hundreds of years. Hearing hisses signals its approach. While naturally aggressive, it can only be controlled by a wizard who speaks Parseltongue, the language of snakes."**

Hermione tried a quick duplication spell on the page. Her parchment immediately caught fire. She then grabbed a quill and fresh parchment to transcribe the information, but before she could start, a shrill scream came from the library entrance. The girl quickly abandoned her plan, writing the word "pipes" and underlining it repeatedly, hoping Harry would understand. Then she transfigured M.K.'s parchment into a mirror and ran from the library, leaving her belongings behind.

Chapter Text

December 8, 1992 - Tonks' Residence

Torres stepped out of the fireplace directly into the most Christmassy house the child had ever witnessed in her 12 years of life. She was trying to hide her excitement about the possibility of having snow for Christmas, like she saw in so many movies, but now, she felt completely inside 'Richie Rich's Christmas'.

“Hello, cousin.” Said a girl with short pink hair and a pair of reindeer antlers poking out of her head.

Torres merely looked at that strange figure, trying not to smile. “Nymphadora, you didn't have to do all this.” Said Mrs. Black-Tonks, brushing soot from her robes

“Mum, what have I told you about calling me that?” The girl asked with a frown.

“I'm sorry, yes, Dora?” Mrs. Black-Tonks replied placatingly.

“It’s my cousin’s first Christmas with us, I want it to be memorable.” She spoke in an excited tone, completely forgetting her brief bad mood from moments before.

A glimmer of hope grew in Torres' heart without asking permission. “Come, dear.” Said Mrs. Black-Tonks. “I’ll show you where your room will be.” “Brymsy!” She called in an authoritative tone, and a house-elf appeared wearing a yellow and black Quidditch sweater and a Christmas hat. Torres thought the little elf looked like a Christmas bee. “Yes, Mrs. Tonks?” Asked the elf in a tone almost as aristocratic as the lady herself.

“Take M’s bags…” Seeing the child tense up beside her, the witch corrected herself before pronouncing the name, opting to address her by her surname for now. “Take Torres’ bags to the room we’ve prepared for her, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The elf said and vanished with a bow, taking most of Torres’ luggage with her.

Nymphadora, who had been observing the exchange with curiosity, winked at the child: “Not a big fan of your name either?”

The child merely shrugged and tried to smile, but only managed a grimace.

Mr. and Mrs. Tonks showed Torres around the entire house. The child was surprised by how much her cousin had committed to the Christmas spirit, leaving no room untouched.

“You don’t live here?” The little witch asked the girl who now had green hair and sported a pig nose.

“Oh no. I’m in my own flat, near the Ministry.” She replied, pointing to herself proudly. “Being all independent and everything.”

And with that, Mrs. Black-Tonks opened the door to the last room to be seen. The room that would now be Torres’. The child's eyes lit up at every detail. There was a large double bed, with a soft-looking blue quilt. There was also a small wardrobe and a desk with some writing materials on it. On the beige walls, there was a Brazilian flag, as well as a magical Castelobruxo painting, which enchanted Torres. In a corner of the room, near the bathroom door, was the icing on the cake. A full drum kit.

Torres knew Mr. Tonks was Muggle-born, but she also knew how English wizards, especially pure-bloods, were extremely old-fashioned and not open to Muggle culture.

“Is this for me?” The child couldn't contain the excitement in her voice, running to the instrument and gently stroking the cymbals.

“Your teacher told me you liked to practice at Castelobruxo. I thought it would make the house more pleasant if you could do something you enjoy.” Mrs. Black-Tonks replied in a kind tone.

This was the tipping point. The child ran back to the bedroom door with tears in her eyes, and with all the strength in her arms, clung to the lady of the house. Some tears gave way to great sobs. And before she knew it, they were alone in the room, just Mrs. Black-Tonks and the Brazilian child. The witch sat gently on the soft bed with the child and stroked her hair as she cried, seemingly unwilling to stop anytime soon. It’s unknown how long they stayed like that, but when Torres calmed down enough to drink a glass of water, the older witch said, still gently stroking her hair:

“It’s okay to have a lot of feelings. It’s a time of big feelings.”

Wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand, Torres looked at a knot in the wooden floor and said so softly it could have been a whisper: “Am I a bad person for not being sad?”

Andromeda Black-Tonks gently lifted the girl's face so their eyes met. “There’s no right way to grieve, my child. Today you’re not sad, tomorrow you might be, and then the day after tomorrow you might be happy.”

“N-no, it’s not that.” The child stammered, looking away. “I’m happy she’s not here anymore.” And with that, she returned to long, painful sobs of guilt and despair.

~~*~~

December 9, 1992 - Tonks' Residence

Torres woke up at sunrise. She got up silently and made her bed perfectly, trying her best not to think about how she had spent hours crying under Mrs. Black-Tonks’ robes, and how she had only fallen asleep after a Calming Draught. She decided today would be a new day. This was her chance for a fresh start. It was her opportunity to be someone new, and she wouldn't ruin it by being weepy. The child practiced her apology speech while showering and after brushing her teeth, in front of the mirror.

Upon descending the stairs, she came across the same elf from the previous day. “Good morning, Miss Brymsy.” She said cordially.

“Good morning, Miss Torres.” The elf replied with a bow. “How would the young lady like her breakfast?”

The child blushed and mumbled. “You don’t need to trouble yourself, just point me in the direction and I’ll make it myself.”

The little elf clutched her ears, dismayed. “No, young lady. Mrs. Black-Tonks gave orders for Brymsy to attend to the young lady’s needs.”

“Is… is she awake?” Torres stammered.

“The mistress is having tea. Would the young lady like to have tea with the mistress?” The elf asked hopefully.

“Yes.” Torres said, uncertainly.

~~*~~

“Miss Torres.” Said the lady of the house with a warm smile. “I’m glad you could join me. Have a seat.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Black-Tonks,” the child said, her voice slightly trembling as she sat down. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I’m so sorry if I ruined your dinner plans with your family.”

If Torres had looked up at the woman sitting in front of her, she would have witnessed a look of shock followed by pity. But since the child didn’t, she continued, oblivious. “I’m not always like that. I think I was just overwhelmed by the journey. I was very happy about the room and the drum kit. I’ll play whenever possible, as long as it doesn’t bother you.”

“Don’t worry, my dear.” Mrs. Black-Tonks was quick to reassure her. “It was no trouble at all being with you yesterday. And as for the drum kit, we can put a Silencing Charm on your room whenever you want to play.”

“Thank you very much.” The child replied, blushing and finally looking up.

“May I ask you a favor?” The witch asked, and the child was quick to reply anxiously.

“Yes.”

“Would you mind calling me by my first name? Andromeda. Mrs. Black-Tonks is too distant and formal. And I haven't been Mrs. Black for a long time, dear.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She nodded enthusiastically.

“And would you mind if I called you by yours?” Andromeda immediately regretted saying that, seeing the child visibly close off.

“M-my friends call me Torres too.” She stammered, looking back down at her shoes.

Andromeda carefully weighed her next words. “You know, it’s interesting how magic works.” When she noticed she had captured the attention of the little witch in front of her, she continued. “I imagine your mother wasn’t aware of this when she named you, but it’s a very old Black custom to name their children after stars. You, your name, is part of the Pleiades cluster. Subtle, but still connected to the heavens.”

“I didn’t know that,” the child murmured incredulously, on the edge of her chair, visibly interested.

“In a world different from what we know today, the Titan condemned to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, became enchanted by a beautiful nymph named Pleione. From their love, seven nymphs were born, known as the Pleiades. These nymphs were known for their beauty, purity, and kindness. Especially the eldest, known for being the most beautiful, but also the most reserved and quiet, just like you, dear.”

There was a pause, during which Torres looked at the older witch in front of her with skepticism. “A nymph isn’t a star.”

“I was getting there.” Andromeda smiled warmly. “Why don’t you have a cup of tea while I tell you the rest of the story?”

And so the child did, obediently. Partly because obedience was practically written in her DNA, and partly because she was curious about the rest of the story.

“But the beauty of the nymphs didn’t just bring admirers. It brought Orion, a covetous hunter, who only wanted to possess the nymphs, caring for nothing else.” Andromeda gave another smile. “Not coincidentally enough, your grandfather, Sirius’ father, was named Orion.”

Torres genuinely smiled despite herself.

“The nymphs fled through rivers, mountains, valleys, villages. They hid in caves. They spent ages in fear of Orion. Exhausted, the nymphs begged the heavens for help, until Zeus, pitying them, transformed them into stars. Thus, the seven sisters ascended to the heavens, forming a beautiful cluster of stars, which we know today as the Pleiades, or the seven sisters. They say that even today, they flee from the constellation of Orion, who follows them across the night sky. But without ever finding them, as they are sheltered, forming the tail of the Taurus constellation.”

They both finished their teas in comfortable silence, as the child absorbed what she had been told. At some point, Ted Tonks and Nymphadora also joined the small gathering.

“Andromeda told me you’re an Auror, Nymphadora.” Torres ventured, trying to break the silence.

The girl, who now had mint green hair, grimaced. “Please, don’t call me that. My mother had no idea what was appropriate when she named me.”

Ted hid a smile behind his cup. “I’m sorry.” The child said, blushing.

“It’s alright, you can call me Dora. My friends call me that.” The girl smiled and winked at Torres. “I heard you’re not a big fan of your name either.” She added casually.

The child tried to shrug as if it were no big deal, but stammered as she replied. “I don’t know, it’s strange. Almost like it’s not mine.” She said, playing with a biscuit in her hands. “Andromeda told me the story behind it, and it’s very beautiful. But it’s still beautiful for someone else’s name, you know? My friends and teachers in Brazil call me Torres.”

“I see.” Replied Dora, shoving two whole biscuits into her mouth at once. Then she finished after swallowing everything with a thoughtful expression. “Maybe I should give you a nickname. I don’t like reusing other people’s nicknames.”

This brought a genuine smile to Torres’ face, and encouraged by it, the Auror continued. “I like your eyes, but something tells me you won’t want to draw attention to them.” And oblivious to the child’s curiosity, she went on. “I could call you Tori. It’s like a shortened version of Torres. I think it could work.”

“Tori.” She repeated, enchanted, with a smile that none of those present had ever seen before.

“Perhaps something more Brazilian.” Ted ventured, joining the conversation.

“True.” Dora replied, with an almost manic enthusiasm. “You come from the country of beaches. Sand, sea… SUN!” She yelled, her hair turning a fiery orange. “A tropical, sunny country. Something like that smile you have now. Like a little sun. I’ll call you Sun from now on.”

She smiled, very proud of herself. But then she added, “But not in public. You have too mysterious a vibe for a nickname like Sun. Let the rest of the mortals just call you Tori.” She made a dismissive gesture, sweeping the air with her hands.

~~*~~

Later that day, Tori sought out Andromeda to relieve her curiosity. You see, the child had held back as long as she could, but she couldn’t contain herself any longer.

“Andromeda?” She asked after two shy knocks against the wood of the small library door.

“Yes, Sun?” The witch replied warmly, and she couldn't help but smile at the affectionate nickname.

“I was thinking about what Dora said earlier, about my eyes.”

“Truly observant, like a true Pleiad.” Andromeda teased affectionately. “Come here, I’ll tell you a story about the Blacks.” Said the witch, conjuring a tea set.

“Many generations ago, there was a Black who was especially known for his indiscretions outside of marriage. You see, arranged marriages among pure-bloods were always very common. It’s still relatively common today, but generations ago, it was the rule.” She paused, serving the tea. “Milk and sugar, dear?”

“Yes, please.” The child replied, a little uncomfortable.

“You don’t like milk and sugar in your tea? You don’t have to say yes just to please me, dear. Don’t spend your life drinking tea you don’t like just to avoid annoying me.” She smiled affectionately.

“N-no, it’s not that.”

“Come on, dear, tell me how you like your tea. I’ll be happier if you don’t hide it from me.” And as if a button had been pressed on the child, she spoke obediently.

“I just prefer my tea sweeter, and with powdered milk.”

“Powdered milk, yes,” she said thoughtfully. “I’d never considered it that way, but if that’s how you like it, that’s how we’ll have it.” She added, kindly. “Brymsy!” The witch called. “Check if we have powdered milk in our pantry. If we don’t, let me know and procure some.”

“N-no need to trouble yourself, Mrs. Black-Tonks.” And with the look she received in return, she quickly corrected herself. “I mean, Andromeda. I can get used to it. It’s not so bad.”

“How much sugar, Sun?” The witch smiled.

“Three spoonfuls.” The child murmured so softly it was almost unheard.

“Sweet things are good, aren’t they? My dear Dora also prefers her tea very sweet. Although she usually drinks coffee.”

The elf returned with a jar containing powdered milk, with the promise that she would replenish the stocks.

“As I was saying. Arranged marriage was the norm not many years ago. But the trend was always to be very respectful. Spouses tended to maintain, at the very least, an amicable coexistence. If there was love outside of marriage, it was common for all parties to seek understanding sooner or later. But it wasn’t like that with this Arturo Black.” She paused, watching the child sip her tea, content with the taste. “He was a tremendous womanizer. With no respect whatsoever for his wife, or for any other witch who crossed his path.”

Tori looked at the witch curiously, and nodded for her to continue.

“One day, in one of his many indiscretions, he got a witch pregnant. Hurt by him denying the child and dismissing her, this witch cast a curse on the entire Black lineage. Not just any curse. This curse would not be harmful in any way. But every Black child conceived outside of marriage would have uniquely colored eyes as identification. One eye from the father. One eye from the mother. Always one grey eye for the Blacks. Thus, no other Black could refuse to take responsibility for another child.”

“M-my father was married?” The child asked, horrified.

“Oh no, my dear. He just wasn’t married to your mother.”

“And that’s why Dora said I’d want to be discreet about it?”

“Yes and no. As you know, there was a war. And your father fought bravely for the light. And then. At the end of the war, they say the Black madness caught up to him, and he abruptly switched sides. I tried to send him letters for a long time to understand his motivations, but he never replied. People can be cruel sometimes, my dear. Both Dora and I would hate for you to be condemned for your father’s crimes.”

The child looked around uncomfortably, and then seemed to realize for the first time that she was in a library. “Do you have any books about this? About the war?”

~~*~~

December 12, 1992 - Tonks' Residence

As if to balance her first day, in which she was open and receptive, Tori spent the rest of the week in her room. Mostly reading, with occasional breaks for a bit of drumming. She came out for meals and was extremely polite and courteous to everyone in the house, but she was distant. Silent again. She only answered if asked. Andromeda wondered if she had made a mistake telling her about her father and the war. Worried, she even Floo-called Paulo, the girl's attentive teacher, who assured her that this was normal for the child. Silent, solitary, and observant. And that pushing her would only make her feel cornered.

Tired of receiving worried letters from her mother, on her day off, Dora went to the Tonks' residence to solve the problem herself. Embracing her role as an older sister, she only knocked once before opening the door, grinning from ear to ear.

“So, the other day Mum commented that she was worried about a four-wheeled board you have in your cupboard.” The child jumped at the intrusion, and the Auror noticed there were several books on the history of magic on her table, along with a handful of notes. When it became clear that she wouldn't get any answer, but that Tori didn't seem to have an aversion to the intrusion, she continued. “How about we go to Muggle London and I show you where to get good music, and in return, you show me how to give my old mum a handful of grey hairs?”

“Are you talking about the skateboard?” Tori raised a suggestive eyebrow, discreetly hiding her notes.

“So that’s what the supposed killing machine is called?” Dora was still smiling when she saw Tori pull a citrine pendant from the collar of her shirt. The Auror didn’t hide her shock when she saw the child murmur something like “taruba” while seemingly playing with the pendant, which made the aforementioned skateboard open her cupboard doors and gently land at her feet.

“You just did wandless magic?” She asked, not hiding the excitement in her voice.

“Wand?” Tori seemed genuinely confused for a moment. “Oh yes. You prefer wands here in England.”

“Are you telling me your natural state is to do wandless magic?” She was still incredulous. Her hair reflecting her surprise, changing colors frantically.

“Well, yes. I haven’t been practicing much, so I need to concentrate. But I can do some things just by concentrating and touching the pendant. Or just by pronouncing the spell, or a mix of both.”

“They TEACH wandless magic at your school?!” Nymphadora was now completely scandalized.

“Well, yes.” Tori said somewhat shyly, but a little amused. “Generally, in the first semester, we learn spells with the aid of a wand, but the goal is, at the very least, to finish the year, in the second semester, using only our hands. You get an outstanding mark if you can do non-verbal spells.”

“Merlin’s left ball.” She said, dumbfounded. “You’re going to be absolutely terrifying at Hogwarts.”

After unsuccessfully trying to cast several "Notice-Me-Not" or Transfiguration spells on Tori's eyes, the child opted for a pair of simple sunglasses for their walk to the exit of wizarding London.

Once in Muggle London, Tori and Dora walked the streets, amused by the striking cultural differences. They entered several bookstores and music shops, especially international ones. Dora introduced Tori to Bowie, Queen, and The Rolling Stones, while Tori, in turn, introduced Djavan, Gal Costa, and Gilberto Gil to the Auror.

After gorging themselves on fries and soda from a fast-food joint, Dora dragged Tori to a skate park — which she found the location of after randomly stopping about half a dozen teenagers around the city. On the way, they passed an optician's shop with a huge advertisement about contact lenses being the future. Both agreed to return to the shop for tests, along with Andromeda and more money. Nymphadora discovered she was a big fan of roller skates, saying skateboarding was too deadly even for her.

“Can I ask you a question?” The girl with bright pink hair inquired as they both ate chocolate ice cream, walking towards wizarding London.

“Shoot.” Tori replied without thinking.

“Why don’t you like your name? I mean, it’s not an atrocity like Nymphadora. Maybe lacking personality, but it seems okay to me.”

“It’s a girl’s name.” Tori sighed. “You know, when people hear my name, they expect me to wear dresses and bows and pink. My mom used to say that.” The girl said between licks. “‘You have a girl’s name, a girl’s body, girl’s hair. You need to act like a young lady.’” She paused. “It makes me feel… inadequate.”

The child took a deep breath, and then seemed to panic momentarily. “You won’t tell your mum about this, will you? I don’t want to disappoint her.”

Dora shrugged before smiling. “You’ll find my mum and dad are different from most wizards. They don’t really care much about what’s expected of someone. But I won’t tell if you don’t want me to.” She raised her hand to her chest and added seriously. “Hufflepuff’s honour.”

“What’s a Hufflepuff?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Then she suddenly stopped and turned to Tori with manic excitement. “Which reminds me of something. I know a charming spell in case you don’t want anyone to say your name.”