Chappie five, aaaawlroight! I don't own Harry Potter, wish I did though. I moved this to rated M because I realized that I'm using waaaay too much fowl language and I don't want this story taken down :P

This guy could be Daddy's murderer, Fern thought with a numbing shock. The thought was highly possible and probable, but it felt so alien to Fern. If the Fates had planned for Fern to stay in the company of his father's killer, they were wicked and sadistic crones indeed.

"Um, what does Professor Dumbledore want with me, anyways?" Fern asked, his voice shook a little.

"You are going to be interviewed for the Daily Prophet newspaper." Snape said and then added snidely, "You do know what a newspaper is, don't you?"

Fern shook his head and said in a serious tone, "Oh, no, sir, we paint pretty pictures on cave walls where I come from." He couldn't help but make a crack. Murderer or not, the Professor was entertaining. He left Fern with a lot of room to make smart comebacks.

Nobody had told him about an interview, his brain was kicked into overdrive, trying to think of what he'd say and what the interviewer might ask him. He could always declined of course, but wouldn't that sound suspicious? No, it was best to face problems like this quickly to be done with them.

Snape suppressed a smirk. That was totally something Phineas would say.

Under closer inspection, the Potions Master couldn't believe how much Fern was like Phineas. From his tangled strawberry blonde mane; to his defiant narrow eyes (although Fern's were even more infuriating because they were his mother's color); to his sharp canines; and thin, constantly smiling lips. Even his chesty, cackling laughter reminded Snape of Phineas.

"Sooooo, uh, ya gonna reconsider about the detention?" Fern asked in a way he hoped was sly enough.


"Aw, c'mon, Snoop-"


"Whatever - Look, you know as well as I know that ya don' wanna do this. Instead of givin' me detention, you could be doin' what you want. Like sippin' tea, or writing dark poetry, cuttin' yerself...or listen to Unicorn Blood." he muttered.

The older man snapped his head to give the teen a withering stare,"What?" Unicorn Blood was the Wizarding World's number one faggiest, emo-est, most whiniest band ever; the female population was crazy about them though.

Fern shrunk despite himself but still giggled impishly, "Nothing, sir."

As they continued on, a wolf-whistle echoed through the halls, "That's some fine girl you got there, Professor!" a menacing voice snickered.

Snape was furious while Fern had an amused smile, "PEEVES!" Snape bellowed

"But you should really get her to shave that dead mouse off her chin." the voice continued.

Fern's smile was wiped right off his face and was replaced with a seething sneer, "Ohhhhh ho ho, you'll regret that." he took his wand out and roved his eyes across the ceiling and the hallway, he had dealt with poltergeists before.

The Slytherin Head of House grabbed Fern's shoulder, "Put your wand away, I know how to deal with nuisances like him." Barely, he added in his head. The only people who could really set Peeves straight were Dumbledore and the Bloody Baron.

The teen refused to put his wand away. His ears twitched as he could hear muffled giggles from inside a suit of armor, "Penetrare Fodio!" he said quickly and a fuchsia ray of light went through the suit of armor.

"YEOWCH!" Peeves yelped as he shot out of the armor and grabbed his bum which had been stung. He cursed angrily and floated off someplace to sulk.

Fern then noticed the disapproving look Snape was giving him and tilted his head to the side, "Oh, you know y' wanted to do that n' then some."

"At this rate, Faunabelle, you'll have as much detentions from me as a seasoned student by the end of this month." he growled and had a silent celebration when Fern finally decided to shut up for the rest of the walk.

To Snape's relief the Headmaster's office was right around next corner, they turned and stood in front of a gargoyle outside the office, "Swizzle Twizzle." he said and the door opened.

Fern snorted.

"Is there something funny, Faunabelle?" the Potions master asked stonily.

Fern grinned and shook his head, "Swizzle Twizzle." he repeated with a chuckle.

Snape rolled his eyes, Phineas's son indeed, "As soon as you are sorted, I will remove so many points from you that your housemates will hate you for your entire experience at Hogwarts." he seethed.

"Ah, Severus, Fern, do come in." Dumbledore said from his desk. Fern had enough shame to blush that his lewd implications were caught. Just how long had the old man been sitting there?

The two males did as he said and took their seats in front of the Headmaster's desk. The old wizard's eyes were twinkling more annoyingly than usual in Snape's opinion, "So nice to see teacher and student getting along so well." he said pleasantly.

Fern also noticed that there was a witch with short, curly blonde hair and gaudy glasses sitting in a seat. She was wearing an unbecoming shade of orange robes and had an acid green quill tucked behind his ear. She must be the one who was going to interview him.

He widened his eyes a little. Quick Quote Quills, he seethed in disgust. They were used to exaggerate (greatly exaggerate) whatever someone said. Fern had experimented with it when writing a poem once. Fern quickly hid his ears behind his hair and hoped to that this woman was very uneducated about nymphs.

"Hello, Headmaster, n' how're you today?" the demigod asked politely. Two-faced little monster, Snape thought while glaring at him.

Dumbledore beamed, "I'm quite fine, Fern. Oh, where are my manners? Would you care for a lemon sherbet, some tea?" he offered.

The teen nodded, "Yes, please." he accepted the teacup that had levitated into his hand and nibbled on the lemon sherbet he was given.

"I hope you are familiar with Professor Severus Snape, our school's DADA teacher for this year and our Slytherin Head of House."

Fern nodded, "Yeah, but to be honest, I don't see the point of needing to be taught Defense Against District Attorneys. Most of them are very nice, if you're not the prosecuted, that is." he said.

Dumbedlore laughed heartily, his blue eyes twinkled merrily, "Oh, you have the wit of your father, my boy."

"In other words, the wit of a five-year-old." Snape grumbled.

The woman smirked, "We shall see about that." she said curtly.

The old wizard's smile then faltered, "I'd like to introduce you to Miss Rita Skeeter, she will be interviewing you, if you are up to it, that is."

Skeeter? Fern thought in disgust and anger. Dumbledore whispered in his ear, "I'm sorry, the Daily Prophet said it was her or nobody." he said remorsefully. Obviously Dumbledore did not like this woman either.

"Charmed, I'm sure." Miss Skeeter said and stretched out her hand. Her eyes had a hungry look to them, as if this interview were a big, juicy meal she was about to devour.

I'd give her something else big n' juicy to swallow but Merlin knows how many STDs I'd get, Fern inwardly glowered at the woman with contempt, "Pleasure's mine, sug." he said flatly, his voice was shaking slightly. He flopped into his seat and trained his eyes on his lap.

"Those are very nice contacts you're wearing.' she said.

Fern gave a breathy laugh, "Yeah, thanks." he said, willing himself not to roll his eyes.

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged looks before the Headmaster said, "Will you need us to leave the room for a bit, so you won't be interrupted?" he asked.

Snape was shocked, surely Dumbledore of all people knew what damaged this woman could do if she was left alone with Fern.

Skeeter beamed, making her golden teeth shine in the light, "Yes, that'd be very much obliged."

"Remember, Miss Skeeter an hour, no more,With that, Dumbledore got up to leave and after a small struggle, managed to take Snape along with him.

"Give her as little an answer as possible, Faunabelle." the DADA professor mumbled while passing the teen by.

"So," Rita said with a plastic smile, "Let's get started, shall we? First question, why do you think the Wizarding world should believe that you are in fact Phineas Faunabelle's son. A son that has been kept secret for - How old are you?


"- Sixteen years. There hasn't even been any record of Phineas getting married." Skeeter said.

Fern decided to follow Snape's advice and give brief answers. He licked his lips and spoke, "Well, I am tellin' the truth, you could run a DNA test to prove that. But there were a few reasons why my parents' marriage couldn't be known. One of them was that they both agreed it wouldn't be...healthy, I guess, fer me to live all exposed to cameras clickin' wherever I went. I know Daddy seemed like he was a big show off n' did crazy things in public, but he did value his n' his family's privacy."

Rita's quill was dancing along the notepad, Fern was just able to catch a glimpse of what was written:

"It has come to the shocking news that the beloved late singer, Phineas Faunabelle, was not only pronounced to be dead for a whole month before public notice, but also has been revealed apparently to have not only a secret wife but a son as well. I am interviewing the said Fern Faunabelle, Phineas' only child. He certainly carries the same arrogant air his father had and his sense of style, or lack thereof.

When I asked the sixteen-year-old why Phineas had kept him and his mother hush-hush, he responded in that highly uneducated, nasally accent that could only come from a California Valley girl bred with a certain Liverpudlian hippie, "He didn't think it would be healthy for me the live all exposed to cameras clickin' everywhere." He then added disdainfully, "Daddy was a big show off and did crazy things in public. He always kept me n' Maw in the dark."

I could hear the heartbreak and bitterness in the boy's voice. I find this means that the saintly Phineas neglected his son and wife. The poor boy must feel that his father did not want the world to know his family."

"Like, that's such a lie!" Fern snarled and pointed at the offending notepad with an accusing finger, "M' Daddy was a busy guy, yeah, but he never neglected me n' Momma!"

Skeeter at first looked startled that Fern had seen the paper but then grinned toothily, she moved the paper away so he couldn't see and then asked, "Oh? Well, when your father was at home, how did he treat you?"

Fern sighed, "He was fab, y' know. As soon as he came home to our cottage - we lived in this big, villa-like cottage, y' see - we'd jus' lie under a tree n' talk about anything I guess: school, magic, music, hunting, dating advice."

"How exactly did Phineas die? Illness? Accident?" a smile ghosted the terrible woman's mouth as she added, "Murder?"

The teen's heart would have stopped if he hadn't reminded himself that this woman knew nothing. Calm down, son, she's jus' being a hag to ruffle yer feathers, he assured himself.

He replied in an even tone, "Illness; nobody knows what it was though, or how to cure it. Daddy died a slow death but I feel that me n' Maw eased his pain. Actually, he seemed more at peace when we stopped trying to save him and just accepted what was happening."

"I'm sure Healers could have saved him, why didn't you take him?"

"Well, since there was a fire in the village where we lived, we were unable to access the Healers." he said with a pained grimace.

Skeeter raised an eyebrow, "A fire as well? How unfortunate, but you could have Disapparated, dear." she said in a way as if Fern were slow.

The demigod didn't appreciate her tone and retaliated sarcastically, "Ohhh, fer sher. We could've totally Disapparated a critically wounded person who's internal organs were shutting down. It don't take a seasoned Healer to realize that's an ass move, honey."

As charming as your father, Skeeter thought sarcastically and narrowed her eyes but kept her smile in place, "W-well, how was his funeral, did his bandmates from the Billywigs attend or were they also kept in the dark abut Phineas's death?"

"We didn't have his funeral yet due to some complications but it will be on the fourth. Morgan, Jekyll, Hyde, and Alekz didn't know, or rather they won't know about this until they read the paper."

Fern looked down at his lap again, he felt horrible that the few men he respected had to find out about their best friend's death like this. There was no helping it though, he had to be careful whom and what he talked about now that was dancing with a man who was most definitely the Devil.

"I imagine that they won't be pleased about this. I mean, ten years of friendship-"

"Thirty-four." Fern interjected.

"After thirty-fours years of friendship...How do you think they are going to react?" Skeeter asked, a smile was playing her overly-red lips.

Fern stroked his soul patch and sighed, "Wouldn't be surprised if they never wanted to talk to our family ever again. Those men have been like uncles to me all m' life. I didn't want to do this to them but it was fer the best, n' I hope they'll understand that."

"Mmm, how sweet of you." Skeeter said with that fake smile of hers again, "They are going to be invited to the funeral, right? And you're also going to attend despite your enrollment in Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Well I hope the gang's gonna be there, even if their main objective is to kick m' ass, I want them to be there. The funeral will be private by the way, n' I'll be there too. S'not gonna be yer typical black n' gloomy funeral either, we're following Momma's family tradition: we'll cry, get wasted, and then we'll try laugh the pain away...Not exactly in that order."

It really did sum up what happened at a nymph funeral. Everybody would get drunk, whether off of alcohol or grief, and cry until no more tears could be shed anymore. It was also tradition for the spouse to get buried alive with the deceased person for three days before being let out. It was a way for the them to say a last goodbye of sorts before moving on in life as a widow or widower.

Skeeter wrinkled her nose, "That's...unique. Incidentally, what family is your mother from?"

"Oh, Maw doesn't have a surname, it's not in our culture." Fern said. He knew it'd be best to hide his identity but he couldn't bear the thought of hiding the side of his family he so proudly honored.

Then came the inevitable question, "And just what culture is that?"

Fern inwardly cringed, this was it, "Fae." he uttered.

If Skeeter was holding her quill, it would had certainly dropped from her talons right now, "Pardon? I'm not sure I heard correctly-"

"Yer fine, sug. Despite all the hair in them, yer ears heard the word 'Fae' clearly." Fern said.

Skeeter had a mixed look as if she wanted to scoot away from Fern and as if Christmas had come early.

Remember to thank me fer yer raise and/or promotion, sug, Fern thought bitterly.

The woman's voice was higher pitched than usual as she asked, "So your mother is a faerie?"

"No, m' Maw's a nymph; a wood nymph. I gotta say, you must be slow. I know m' hair is covering m' ears, but you mistook these eyes fer contacts?" he asked.

The journalist didn't seem to be fazed by the insult because her eyes were bugging out, "No wonder he never told the public about you." she gasped.

"N' what's that supposed to mean?" Fern asked sternly. I dare you, I friggin' dare you to insult my Fae blood, bitch.

"Well, I'm not sure if your people know this, but nymphs aren't very looked up upon in Wizard society." Skeeter said.

Fern bared his teeth at her slightly, "Oh, we don't wanna be looked up upon. Just being considered eye-level with ya'll would be askin' too much." he said with sardonic casualness ringing in his voice.

Skeeter shook her head, "I knew Phineas was one to commit social suicide after the other, but this, this really takes the cake. How did Phineas encounter...your mother?" she asked.

Fern squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, he didn't like the way she was referring to his parents' relationship; as if it were some freakish spectacle. "Actually, this school is where the magic all happened. Daddy met Momma in the Forbidden Forest while he was still in school here."

The acid green quill was scribbling in a frantic dance, copying Fern's words and perverting them in ways that he would not exactly know until tomorrow.

Despite her otherwise composed outward appearance, Skeeter was grin ear to ear on the inside. This interview is definitely going to get me that raise I've been wanting! Oh, my time's almost up, now all I need to do is get the faerie to cry to put the icing on the cake! She thought horridly.

"You said there was a fire on the night of your father's death, did you lose your home in the tragedy?"

I lost much more than my home, Fern bowed his head and rested his chin on his folded hands, "Yeah...yeah, we did. I still can't get over that. Growin' up in that house, having the family's scent marked into the walls n' wood. So many happy memories just," he made an sweeping gesture with his hand, "up in flames." he said somberly.

"It must have been so sad, losing all your belongings, especially things that belonged to Phineas." Skeeter said in a crooning way.

Fern's eyes became glassy as he remembered on that fateful day, after spending the whole morning and afternoon putting the fire out, when he and his mother and friends had returned to their burned down cottage.

Fern had ran into the giant pile of ashes, rubble, and charred wood. There he sobbed and in a maddened state of grief, dove into the ashes and covered himself in it.

He was upset that the material shell of his home was destroyed, but he knew it could easily be replaced. But what about the objects that had held within them so many beautiful memories? The family photo book, the bits and bobs his father had been working on, the recording studio where he joked and jammed with his father. The recording studio...His father's music! Phineas had spent all of the spring and summer making new songs for three albums he was planning to release in the fall.

What was even more important about those songs was that Fucktown had collaborated with his father to make them. They were supposed to be the band's debut albums of sorts in which Fern was finally going to introduced to the public as Phineas's son. Six months of brainstorming, music-making, and anticipation destroyed in one night.

He looked gravely at his wand and the guitar slung over his back, these were the only two things that he had left of his father. Tears had make streaks in his dirty face, and his expression had twisted up so much that it had frightened Xerxes and Zora from approaching him. Marigold gingerly walked to her boyfriend, knelt near him, and held the distressed teen to her bosom.

"Shh, Ferny, it'll be okay. Shh, ya still got us. Yer not alone, honey." She whispered in his ear as they rocked back and forth together. Looking down at the boy in her arms, Marigold was reminded of how much younger and more innocent Fern was compared to her.

Marigold was nineteen years old and she lived in rough places before she had settled down in Ambrosia forest. She had seen murder before and she herself he done some things she wasn't proud of, but that was how survival worked. Fern never experienced things like that. He was born and raised in this haven. After spending all your life in a place you thought was the safest place in the world, and then having all of that changed in one night really took a toll on your sense of stability.

"Don't say that, it's not gonna fuckin' be alright!" Fern snarled but then settled down, "Not without him. I only got two thing left of him now."

Marigold ran her hands through his tangled, golden hair, "N' that's plenty, Fern. I know I sound like an old lady fer this but it's the memories that count. No one can take them away- well they could with a spell, but like, y' dig me, right?"

Fern nodded a little, "I dig. But still, I'll guard these," he gestured towards his wand and his guitar, "with m' life."

The strawberry blonde took comfort in Marigold's embrace but he was angry, but not at the Death Eaters for 'angry' didn't come close to describing his feelings for them. He felt angry at Xerxes and Zora, they were all the way over there in the crowd, looking at him as if he were an untouchable or something.

Marigold was the only one who had approached him. He knew he was being stupid, hell, Fern was sure he'd stay away from himself if he were in their position. But still, this was why Marigold was his favorite of the three. She was the oldest, the wisest, and made him feel so safe.

"Bambi!" Florence's broken voice had called. Marigold helped Fern up and the boy stumbled at first but managed to run to his mother's side.

"Momma, you shouldn't be here." Fern said with a worried frown.

She was badly burned and bandages were wrapped all over her arms and right thigh and ankle. Although people had performed charms on her and gave her potions, she still was in no state to be moving around.

The patroness smiled sadly and despite the tiredness in his face, her eyes were brighter than they had been for the past fourteen hours, "I'll be fine, I'll be fine, but that's not important fer now. Look a' what I found." she gave Fern a cracked picture frame that held the smiling and waving image of himself, Phineas, and Florence.

If this was able to be saved from the ashes then...then maybe there were other items hidden in the remains. "Whe-" Fern's voice cracked and he swallowed to compose himself, "Where did you find this?" he asked and looked at his mother with unusually wide eyes. Florence pointed toward one of the many mounds of rubble and Fern was running toward it in a flash.

He frantically pawed through it and didn't stop until he found something that made his heart leap. He would have cried from joy but because he used up all his tears, he laughed instead. It was soft and broken, nothing at all like his usual booming laughter.

Fern had found a round, perfectly intact, black vinyl record. Although the label was brown around the edges, it clearly wrote 'Phineas Faunabelle: Kids Sing the Damnedest Things' in his father's messy, loopy handwriting.

"Goldie, Zora, Xerxes, come 'ere." Fern said when his chortling had managed to calm down. His three friends gathered around him and they gasped when they saw what was in his hands.

A few tears ran down Marigold's face. Zora shook her head in disbelief, "Oh, thank God, Fern." she whispered.

Fern gave a bright grin but it came out slightly watery, "Well, jus' don't stand there, lads, let's see if we can find more things. If we're lucky, we'll find the other two albums." he encouraged.

For the rest of the day, the quartet searched for things and there was a surprising many hidden in the waste. All of the real valuables seemed to be recovered, both the Fae and Wizard family heirlooms were safe along with Phineas's records and even his demos.

Fern swallowed the lump and his throat and shook his head, "Actually no. All our precious things were protected, thank God. I'd say that those objects had anti-destruction, now that I think about it. I'm not too surprised though."

Rita's upper lip slightly lifted in the beginning of a sneer but she inquired in a 'pleasant' voice, "Did your father have anything he was working on, like a new album, on the night of his death?"

"Yeah, he did, three actually. Thankfully all of them, along with his personal collection of his old ones, were charmed as well."

Although Rita was put off that she didn't get Fern to cry, an article about Phineas's last, post-houmous albums was still interesting. She was about to ask another question when Dumbledore and Snape came back into the room.

"Your hour is up, Miss Skeeter. I trust the interview went well, Fern?" Dumbledore asked.

Fern tilted his head from side to side in a 'so-so' gesture, "We'll find out in the headlines, yeah? Can we, like, just get this Sorting thing outta the way 'cause I'm exhausted."

Dumbledore shook his head, "Oh no, your Sorting will be right after the first years at the Great Hall, in fact, we need to go right now." He rose from his seat and walked to his fireplace.

Rita couldn't help but grin, "Oh, Professor Dumbledore, might you spare me a few more minutes so I can feature which House Fern was sorted into?"

"Although that would be nice for the readers to know, I do not thin-" the Headmaster was cut off by Rita's instance.

"Oh but please, Headmaster, I-"

A rather nasty glare from Snape had the woman retreating with her tail between her legs, "Er, quite right, I shall save that for another time." She then turned to walk away but Dumbledore stopped her.

"If it would be alright with you, Miss Skeeter, I would like for you to stay in my office and wait until I come back to safely escort you from the castle." the aged man said, "Come along, Fern."

The teenager complied but Rita was disgruntled, "Why, Professors, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't trust me."

The raven haired man sneered at her, "It is a good thing you don't know any better then." With that, he promptly slammed the office door in her face, a locking charm was made so she wouldn't be able to open the door from the inside and the floo connection had temporarily frozen. It would not do for the school to have a certain parasite roaming the halls.

When the first years had finished being sorted, it was Dumbledore's cue to stand up, "Excuse me, teachers and students." he said in his magically amplified voice, "I have the great pleasure to introduce a student to the Sixth-year class. Fern, if you would come here please."

Fern had to squint his already narrow eyes even further to see where Dumbledore was, this fickle candle light was playing havoc with his already iffy eyesight.

Dumbledore continued, "This is F-"

Fern stopped him, "Naw, I wanna do it, I wanna do it." he cleared his throat, "So, like, I'm Fern Faunabelle. I'm sixteen years old n' I came all the way from California to be here so I hope you guys treat me well. I'm sher ya'll can tell by m' last name that, yeah, I'm Phineas Faunabelle's son, but-"

An excited clamor issued through the Great Hall, some even came from a couple professors. Fern winced and looked at the elderly man, as soon as they quieted down, he'd have to break the sad news to them and soon their squeals would turn into sobs.

Dumbledore nodded gravely and put his hands up to silence the noise, "I'm afraid I have bad news about Fern's father. Phineas Faunabelle died about four weeks ago in his home in California."

The deafening silence was only broken by a scattered gasps and "What"s here and there.

Fern then said soberly, "I...I know it's a real shock fer some of you, it's been a month fer me n' I'm still in denial. Although some of ya'll may or may not have liked m' Dad, I'd like you to just say a prayer fer him."

The headmaster gave Fern a much needed pat on the shoulder and said, "Well, now that things are explained...Fern, if you would sit down on this stool and put the Sorting Hat on?"

The demigod hopped onto said stool and Dumbledore placed the Hat on him.

"My, aren't you a little old for being Sorted?" the Hat asked.

Fern jumped a little but didn't seem too surprised, "A talking hat, eh...? Um, like, I'm a transfer student." he responded.

"I see, I see. Mm, yes, oh, it seems to me that you are a Slytherpuff." the Hat said.

"I'm a what?"

"Slytherpuff, just a word I made up for people who would do just fine in both Slytherin and Hufflepuff. They're rather rare."

Fern wrinkled his nose, he didn't have anything personal against Slytherins but he'd rather stay out of such a competitive House. "Well, what am I more of? Am I more of a Hufflepuff?" he asked tentatively.

"No need to worry. While you do have your cunning moments, you have are loyal to your loved ones and your causes. A HUFFLEPUFF INDEED!" the hat announced.

The strawberry blonde's face broke into a beaming smile as his new Housemates applauded him, he hopped off the stool and joined his table.

"Can ya see me, Daddy? Are ya proud?"

Chapter ended. Find out was happens next in the next chapter, which means you'll have to wait another twenty years =.=

Yeah, I know I NEVER update and that's really lame of me but I PROMISE to hustle my lazy arse and write up another chapter, even if it is just one paragraph.