I finished this about six months ago... I think I'd rather have it see the light of...well...the internet, rather than just sit on my hard drive. Unfortunately, I havn't written much else. I think I'll try to get another chapter or two out before christmas. Can't make any promises though. Thank you to everyone who's been bugging me to update. You all made me sufficiently guilty :laughs: I really appreciate you all!

Chapter 28

"BLOODY HELL! DAMN THAT WOMAN TO THE DEPTHS OF HADES AND LET HER ROT! " Harry's outraged voice echoed through the house. Genevieve shot upright, her chest heaving. Glancing around her bedroom, she saw that it was only 6:30am and hints of grayish dawn sunlight glowed around the edges of the curtains. The voice that had assaulted her unconsciousness was loud and seethed with fury.

Sliding out of bed, she donned her robe and tiptoed out of her room and down two flights of stairs. When she had reached the landing above the foyer, she saw that Jenny had poked her head out of her bedroom, looking tired and confused.

"What was that all about?" she mumbled as her mother swept passed.

"I'm going to go find out dear," said Genevieve as she lightly descended the last flight of steps to the main floor. She could hear Harry pacing and swearing in the kitchen and when she rounded the corner, she saw that he was bright red, his cheeks flushed with anger and his dark eyebrows knit together.

"Harry?" said Genevieve tentatively, touching his shoulder.

Harry jumped, his face contorting into almost a snarl before he realized who it was. He reigned in his pacing, but his body still shook from barely contained fury. "Oh... it's you..."

"What is it?" asked Genevieve quietly. Wordlessly, Harry shoved a newspaper into her hands. The Daily Prophet.

The featured article jumped out at her immediately in the form of a large, coloured picture of Harry and her jaw dropped open as she read the title below it.

Harry Potter's big surprise.

Dec 19 - When Harry Potter began his second year in the post of Hogwarts Defense against the dark arts teacher, he never expected to be teaching his long-lost daughter, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Potter, 35, only recently discovered that he was the father of Jenny Potter, a talented first-year who already shown signs of following in the footsteps of her father's greatness in her position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and testing at the top of several of her classes.

The mother of this remarkable girl, identified only as "Genevieve" by Potter, is a muggle teacher who Potter dated during his years as an auror. According to Potter, they separated before they were aware of Genevieve's pregnancy and lost contact, only to reunited several weeks ago. Whether she was aware he was a wizard while they were dating remains unclear.

Genevieve read the article with raised eyebrows, her mouth twisting as though she had just swallowed a lemon. "...Dated?" she managed at last. "I don't recall dating you."

Harry smiled grimly. "That's Rita Skeeter for you, but this is one of her milder articles. She decided to portray you in a positive light - which is quite odd for her - but after what happened with Ginny, I suppose she learned her lesson. That, or she knew what Ron and I would do to her if she started spreading more of her crap."

"Ginny?"

"Ron's sister. She was a good friend of mine while we were at Hogwarts. Dated for awhile even…."

"Ah…"

---

"I'm going for a walk Topty," said Salina as she breezed through the Malfoy manor's large kitchen towards the back door.

"Topty hopes Miss Salina has bundled up well! Outside be cold when Topty go to clean windows!" called the small, energetic house-elf, who was a relatively new addition to the Malfoy household. Her mother had brought Topty home the summer before to help their other house-elf, Sela with some of the more strenuous work around the manor.

This rare gesture of kindness from their normally indifferent mother had startled both herself and Derek and they had spent days testing the limits of young Topty's patience, which seemed to be boundless, unlike fussy, old Sela, who had been their mother's companion and caretaker since Pansy had been a baby and had lost most of the cringing servility that most house-elves possessed.

"I've got my mitts and a jumper," replied Salina as she put on a pair of boots and her Hogwart's cloak. Pulling open the back door, she climbed up the steps out onto the manor grounds.

Built on the one of the high dales around Yorkshire, near the muggle village of Darrowby, the wind paid no attention to the thick stonewalls surrounding the manor grounds and seemed almost to blow through them. Salina grit her teeth the moment she stepped into the wind's path, for it bit all of her exposed skin and made her cloak billow.

Setting off, she made her way across one of the lawns to a small side gate that she and Derek had discovered when they were seven. It was hidden behind a twisting morass of ivy that climbed the north and east walls and the manor itself. Pushing it open, she was nearly swept off her feet by the winds that blasted their way into the small tunnel.

Once she was clear of the tunnel, she realized that she had no idea where she wanted to go. All that had really driven her outside had been the intense, restless desire to do something besides read in the library. Books were pale companions compared to her friends. It was difficult to find a book that told jokes like Eddie did, or one that tried to give good advice, like Jenny. It was even harder to find one that was like Jon, who really, she felt like she didn't know at all or Thomas, who, unlike books, told her things she needed to hear instead of things she thought she should hear.

She wondered what they were doing right now. Thomas had said he was going to spend Christmas with his mother's family in Austria, so she had yet to receive any owls from him. Jenny had seemed wholly preoccupied about something on the train, so Salina wondered if that was why she had yet to receive any letters from her friend. Jon didn't have an owl, so she doubted he'd ever send anything either.

It took Salina awhile to realize that her feet were taking her along the not-so-well-beaten path down into Darrowby, which was just over two miles away. She had only once been in the small village, when she and Derek had gone exploring there the year before last. They had managed to get as far as the pub before an old muggle woman had asked them if they were new in the area. Rather than explain, they had fled, giggling, back to the manor.

Now she found herself going towards the village again, with new eyes for it. Before, she and Derek had been fearful, whether it be because their father would have punished them or their actual fear of muggles, whom they had never really seen up close. Now, Salina didn't feel quite so nervous about exploring the village. She still didn't really know how muggles got on without magic, but listening to Thomas, Jenny, Jon and Charlotte, she had been learning. Thomas and Jenny had once explained to her how a telephone worked and she knew what an MP3 player was.

An idea struck her. Perhaps she could try calling her friends with a telephone in the village. She could sort of remember what her friends 'telephone numbers' were and she surmised those numbers were something like the house titles used in the Floo network - If you said the wrong thing, you'd end up in the wrong place. If you used the wrong numbers on a telephone, you would end up talking to the wrong house.

With her new purpose in mind, Salina increased her pace until the village came into sight. Soon, she found herself on the road that led into the town. Not many people were out and about, due to the bitter weather and only a few cars were being driven about and Salina narrowly missed being hit by one. Once she was in the village proper, she wondered where on earth would she find a telephone. As though someone had heard her wish, she spotted a small, enclosed kiosk with the word "Telephone" on it on the far side of the village green.

Walking over to it, she had to go around it twice before she figured out where the door to the stall was. Pulling it open, she stepped inside and shut it behind her. Grateful to be out of the cutting wind, she leaned forward to examine the telephone.

She recognized the odd part with two bells and a metallic cord coming out the bottom. Jenny had tried to draw a diagram of a telephone for her and while Jenny's drawing skills left nothing to be desired, she had been able to sort of understand the rough drawing.

After fiddling with the contraption for several minutes and being told by a mechanical sounding voice that she would need to insert 10 pence into the phone, she gave it up as a lost cause and went off in search of something else to occupy her time.

When she returned to the manor over an hour later, she could hear loud voices upstairs. At first, she wondered if her parents were arguing, but then realized that most of the noise was laughter. Mostly her father's, which piqued her curiosity. It had been awhile since she had seen Draco Malfoy genuinely laugh about something. The last time that she could remember him legitimately laughing about something that had actually been funny had been ages ago, when Derek had accidentally been clotheslined on his broom by a low hanging tree branch that he had failed to see while performing some more tricky speed maneuvers.

She quickly stripped off her cloak and gloves and ran upstairs. Creeping along the hallway towards the drawing room, she encountered Derek coming in the opposite direction, the expression on his face telling her he was also curious as to the source of their father's laughter.

"What d'you think happened?" he whispered. Salina shrugged by way of reply as they both peeked into the drawing room.

Draco Malfoy was sitting in one of the plush green armchairs that graced the room, pink faced and hysterical. Their mother sat across him, tittering to herself as Sela refilled both their teacups. She soon spotted them at the door and beckoned them over.

"Come in dears," she said with an amused smile. "You must hear about what your father read in the Daily Prophet!"

"What is it Father?" asked Derek curiously. Salina remained silent and craned her head sideways in hope to catch a glimpse of the article on the front page.

It took Draco almost a full minute to compose himself before he could read the story out loud.

"When Harry Potter began his second year in the post of Hogwarts Defense against the dark arts teacher, he never expected to be teaching his long-lost daughter – Potter, 35, only recently discovered that he was the father of Jenny Potter, a talented first-year who already shown signs of following in the footsteps of her father's greatness in her position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and testing at the top of several of her classes – Pfft! Greatness. Potter's gone and made himself a scandal that I didn't even have to start!"

He turned to his children, only to realize both their jaws were hanging open.

"Hansen is Harry Potter's daughter?" gasped Derek disbelievingly. Salina remained similarly rooted to the spot, too surprised to even speak. She had noticed some resemblances between Professor Potter and her friend, but she had never in a million years would have thought….

"You know this girl?" asked Draco sharply.

Derek's disbelieving expression melted into a sneer and Salina felt her blood run cold. He was going to trap her where she couldn't escape.

"Salina does. They're like best mates. Always hanging out with Weasley and those two other mudbloods - Ouch!"

"Be quiet," snapped Salina, but it was too late. Draco Malfoy's good mood had vanished. He had gone very pale and his grey eyes were cold.

"Do you mean to tell me that you are still associating with that filth?" he snapped, rising to his feet and drawing his wand out of his pocket and ignoring his wife's protests.

"They're not filth," said Salina, hoping to sound defiant, but her voice failing miserably in mid word. She found herself staring at her shoes, unable to look up at her father's angry grey eyes.

There was a crack and Salina found herself on the floor at Derek's feet, the side of her face feeling white-hot. She could see Derek's smug expression out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't look up until her father stepped over her and thrust his wand into her brother's hand.

"You let her do this. You let her disgrace our Malfoy name. Punish her."

"….What?" Salina wasn't sure whether she had spoken or Derek. Other than the occasional childhood tussles over toys and the rivalry they had begun at school, Derek had never laid a hand on her. Even at school when she spared him no pity, his ire, however influenced by cowardice, was mostly directed at Jenny, who was the one who routinely humiliated him.

Still… Salina shot her brother a cautious glance. Derek looked shocked beyond words. He made no move towards the wand thrust up his nose.

"Father…" he said helplessly, his voice holding a pleading note.

"Draco…" said their mother softly. "The law…"

The white-hot anger in Draco's gaze, seemed to sizzle and fade as instantly as it had ignited. "Ah yes… The law," He sneered, snatching his wand out of Derek's hand. "Can't forget the all-mighty Ministry of Magic."

With that, he swept out of the room and their mother hurried after him, leaving Salina to pick herself up off the floor and quietly retreat to her room. She left Derek shivering where he stood.

---

Jon pressed his face against the glass of his bedroom window, reveling in the numbness that began to overtake his face, and in someway, his soul. He had never felt so torn. So at odds with himself. Home had been a welcome haven, its familiar sounds and scents as comforting as Hogwarts had been foreign, yet the moment he had stepped in the door, the yawning chasm that had spread between himself and his family had been almost too much to bear.

While they all had greeted him warmly, there was a stiffness that hadn't been there before. He couldn't place it, but it was palpable anyways. The way his sister Ruth had sent him nervous glances across the table when they had said grace at supper and when his mother had made a point of wiping the cover of the family bible after he had found himself absently tracing the cross on its leather cover with his finger while watching television. The way his father watched him when he thought Jon wouldn't notice, the disappointment in his gaze plain for all to see.

They had been little things. Things that he had told himself that he could ignore.

Then Sunday had rolled around and it was as though his entire family had been walking on glass as they entered the wooden doors of St Margaret's Church. He had instantly been converged upon, his friends demanding to know what he thought of boarding school, what the food had been like and whether the teachers were monsters, while his parent politely conversed with other adults in the congregation, including Uncle Ethan, his mother's brother, who was the head pastor.

He managed to answer his friend's questions sparingly, telling them of how the food was always excellent and how Professor Snape, the chemistry teacher, was a malicious and greasy sleaze ball. They had listened eagerly, before being dragged off to sit in the pews by various parents and guardians and Jon discovered that following his mother down the aisle to their normal pew was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

St. Margaret's was an older church and the architects had lavishly decorated the altar and ceiling with images of the crucifixion, the resurrection and countless angels that wore long white robes while golden hair flowed around their wings. Yet even Jon's favourite angel, the sole one who had been painted with brown hair and always seemed to look down upon him kindly from the ceiling, now had an icy chill in his blue eyes.

Jon couldn't even bring himself to look at the large cross that hung on the farthest wall, over the altar and the preacher's stand.

The sermon had been agonizing. Not the topic, which had been the usual charity-inducing Christmas fare, but the completely unclean feeling that he had barely managed to scrub off at Hogwarts had returned with vengeance. Since when did a wizard belong in a devout family, let alone in a place of worship?

Before, he had never given much thought to the religious rhythms of his family. Grace was said before supper, Sunday services were attended his father read the Bible before retiring to bed at night while he and Ruth, who was thirteen, were still required to say their prayers - (A practice he had quickly given up on at Hogwarts after Mortimer Day had asked him what in Merlin's name was he doing, kneeling by his bed and muttering to the ceiling) and both he and Ruth had attended a Anglican primary school.

Yet he had never really given serious thought much about God or sin until now, however much the two subjects were drummed into his head throughout his childhood. He had never really comprehended how much such things meant to his parents, until the day a stout, dark-haired man in long, strange looking blue robes had come knocking on their door.

He had never gotten to read his letter, for his mother had spirited it away from him, the moment he had opened the envelope. He had been kept separate from the meetings, from the discussions that had kept his parents up late into the night. More than once, he had heard his mother crying. In the end, it had been decided. He would attend Hogwarts and his parents would try to support him in the ways they could. After the school had been such a loaded topic at home, he had been shocked to encounter the likes of Eddie, Thomas and Jenny on the train, all of whom were excited and eager at the prospect of attending Hogwarts and training to become wizards.

As he grew to know them, he understood. Eddie and Salina had never known anything other than the wizarding world. Jenny was eager to make a fresh start in a world where she was considered normal and Thomas longed for stable lodgings – a place he could return to year after year, something his father's prosperous position as a diplomat never seemed to provide.

Among them, he was the quiet one, providing a simple foil for their personalities. He had thought they were mere friends. People to joke, laugh and cry with. But now that he was far from them, he realized they were so much more than that.

They were his family.

---

Ah... this chapter is probably rife with grammatical and spelling errors. I'll go through and figure those out when I get around to writing another proper chapter, rather than all the writing I've been doing for my original novel.

I'm happy I managed to delve a bit into Jon's character. He's the quiet type, and now you can sort of see why.

Please review. Perhaps you can guilttrip me into updating faster. ;)