Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask. JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers.

Authors Notes: I am doing my own thing and am drawing on my own Nanticoke/Lenni-Lenape Native American heritage for this story for inspirational purposes, but am taking a number of liberties here. Some of the dialogue of the Native Americans in this story comes from famous quotes found through many sites on the web as well as my own recollections from various readings.

Alternate Universe, Fantasy, Drama, Angst.

Summary: After the fall of Voldemort many secrets are revealed amidst new beginnings. But nothing is ever as simple as it would seem even for a Native American in the Wizarding World reconnecting with her long-lost father. SS/OC + RL + HP. No Slash.

Dark Shadows

by NativeMoon

Chapter 1: The Blade of Destiny

'Daddy!' she wailed. "I want my Daddy! Nooooo! I want my Daddy!"

Tears streamed down the little girl's face and she screamed as rough hands pulled her from her father's embrace. The little girl clung desperately to her father as he struggled to hold her for just one more moment. He could not bear to let his child go.

Several men stepped forward and partially blocked his way. They were not afraid of the White man with the strange blood and magic. Their people had their own peculiar and very potent brand of natural magic, something far more powerful than most in his world could ever conceive – including the evil one they were fighting against.

'What kind of life would she have with you?' came her grandfather's voice as he handed the screaming child over to her grandmother. 'You and that metaphysical terrorist your people have unleashed on the world! Your kind made him what he is as much as he himself. So long as he and those who follow in his ways exist in this world, neither my daughter nor my granddaughter will be safe."

"I'm her father! She belongs with me! I will do the best I can to protect her! I would die for her – I would die for them both! Why can't you see that?!" the stranger said heatedly.

"Nuxa PLEASE!" came her mother's voice as she addressed her grandfather in the language of their people. "I love him! Don't do this!"

"If you go to this Sewanakw with the strange blood once more, Nicantet, you will never come back! Sacrifice your life but do not sacrifice the little one to the beat of a foolish heart!"

"No thanks to you we have paid for what little have left with our lives," said an Elder. "And this is how you repay your debt to your people? His problems with this Voldemort are not ours to fight. And neither are they yours. You forget who you are."

"What do you know of life or death? What do you know of worthy sacrifice?" asked another.

"How smooth must be the language of the Whites, when they can make right look like wrong, and wrong like right," came the voice of another.

"The ground on which we stand is sacred ground. It is the blood of our ancestors. So long as we remain here, we will live," her grandfather said sternly. "I am a red man and not of your kind. If the Great Spirit had desired me to be a one of your kind he would have made me so in the first place. He put in your heart certain wishes and plans; in my heart he put different desires. Each is good in his sight. It is not necessary for Eagles to be Crows. We may not have much in your eyes but we are free. No demon controls our footsteps; no abomination to all that is sacred and good like the one who will take my foolish daughter's life. If we must die in that way we will die here as our ancestors did. I say this to you, my Nicantet in the presence of the Great Spirit: You rush blindly to your death. This is not a warrior's death; it is not an honorable death. And the little one – she will not love you for it. Your place is here. You are safe here, with your own kind."

He was crying inside. But it was not the way of his people to show such emotion in the presence of strangers.

"You don't have the right," her mother cried. "She's our baby! Ours! Not yours!"

"You know the ways of our people!" her grandmother evenly. "Surely you did not think that we would let you take her to an early walk home without defending her right to live! She would walk a different path than the one you would choose for her! She has the right to live! She has a right to her own destiny!"

"Daddy please!" the little girl wailed once more craning her head to see her father. She twisted around, stretching her arms wide and wiggling her fingers trying to touch him. He was so close, and yet so far away. "Don't leave me Daddy; please don't leave me!"

"She's our daughter! We love her!" the stranger said hoarsely as he blinked back hot tears and strained to see the only child he would ever have.

"What will it be, Nicantet?" asked her grandfather sharply. "Your daughter or the Strangeblood?"

Her mother tried to reach out to her and was blocked by several women. She looked up at the Englishman she loved and clung to him. She could not bear to let him go.


"So be it," her grandfather said softly.

He raised up his hands.



Her mother and father were gone.

"Mooooommmmyyyy! Daaaaaadddddyyyyy!"

"Noooooooooo! Daaaaaadddddyyyyy!"





Remus Lupin stirred underneath the blanket and turned over, pulling it over his head. He had fallen asleep on the sofa in his sitting room and couldn't be bothered to climb the stairs to go to bed. It was enough to have made up the stairs from the cellar below. He was recovering from another painful werewolf transformation. The Wolfsbane potion he needed to prevent it was as inaccessible as ever without so much as a galleon to his name.


Remus sighed. He really didn't want to have to get up, as tired as he was. On the other hand, he didn't know why he should be so fussed about getting some sleep. The dream would only come to haunt him yet again. Just as it had every time he slept over the last 18 years.


"Alright, I'm coming," he said with a yawn as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

He assumed it would be the familiar snowy white form that was Hedwig, the owl that belonged to Harry Potter. Harry was in the midst of training as an Auror and it had been a while since Remus had last heard from him. The werewolf finally had a look at his visitor and there was a sharp intake of breath. A few laboured steps and he opened the window where a red owl was perched. This was a highly unusual owl, not indigenous to the British Isles. It had flown a long way and there was only one place from which it could have come. Remus took the message from the leg stuck out to him and then opened the window wider.

The owl flapped into the room and settled onto a chair.

"I'm sorry – I don't have an owl of my own. So no owl treats. And as you can see I don't have so much as a sickle to my name. I have biscuits – cookies, will that do?"

There was a low hoot of acknowledgement and Remus headed off to his kitchen. After a moment he returned with a small dish of water and some butter biscuits and placed them on the arm of the chair. He then sat down with the note and opened it with trembling hands.

There was one sentence.

'It is time.'


"It is time you learned the truth for yourself," Alicia 'Mourning Dove' Woapanachke said gravely. "The truth about the blood that flows in your veins."

Juniata Woapanachke looked over at the Council of Elders from her seat on the floor of the tribal council longhouse. Her grandmother was one of the most revered of all who guided the Nanticoke Indian Tribe. Only a fool with a serious death wish would not listen when she spoke.

Alicia regarded her granddaughter solemnly. It had been six months to the day that her husband Standing Bear had 'gone home' – the day that her beloved husband had died. And yet it seemed that when her immortal beloved walked on to the next world he had taken something of her granddaughter with him.

Hindsight being 20/20 she'd had many regrets about what had happened all those years ago. They should have anticipated that June would have total recall of that day. No matter what was said to her – her granddaughter always knew that everyone around her was lying to her about what happened to her parents; they hadn't simply vanished into thin air, leaving her to be raised by her grandparents.

June had just returned from her latest Vision Quest and something of significance had been revealed to her: the truth of what she really was. She possessed a magic far beyond that of her people and was not meant to remain in Delaware in the territory of Mitsawokett, their ancestral home. There was an old one, like the Elders but not one of them who would send for her. This old one would lead her to her destiny.

And so her grandmother reported the messages of the quest to the Council. June had taken up the mantle of Sachem and the Council of Elders had decided that it was time she had the truth and embraced her true birthright.

"My parents did not simply vanish," the young Sachem said respectfully as she sat on the floor facing the Elders.

"No, they did not," her grandmother said gravely.

"There was a great conflict – one that was not ours, but one that my mother got caught up in unintentionally."


"A stranger came from another world, a world of Strangebloods with conflicts not so different from those in the world of the whites, and it was through him that her destiny moved."

Her grandmother nodded as she looked into her granddaughters piercing blue eyes. She was more daughter than granddaughter and it would kill her to let June go to her own peculiar fate.

"You see?" said Aida Susquehanna, another Elder as she gestured and nodded, "The power of their spirits move through her as much as ours. She knows. She knows."

"What else, our daughter?" Aida asked as she took a seat across from June and clasped her hands. A significant gesture, for it was public acknowledgement of the high standing of the young Sachem and appreciation of her undeniably superior gifts in their eyes.

"I am here because my destiny was independent of my mother's. She lived her life as she was meant to live it. What you all did, what she did – all was as it was meant to be. All is as it was meant to be. She and the one with the totem strangeblood – it was meant to be. She did have a choice – but it was not her destiny to remain here. Just as it is not mine."

There was silence.

"I remember," June said quietly. "I remember that day. I have dreamt about it for the last 18 years. I barely remember her. I would not remember her were it not for the photographs, Grandmother. But him – even now I remember him. I remember what it felt like to be held by him, I remember his voice singing me to sleep, I remember his smell. I remember what it was like to have his love. I have always remembered my father even though I have nothing from him but memories; especially those of that day…"

"He did leave something for you, Nicantet," Alicia said quietly.

The old woman took a deep breath.

"You see, despite what happened all those years ago I always knew that this day was inevitable. Your grandfather had a father's love for you, his only grandchild. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe. But you have been no safer here than you would have been the world of the strangebloods in some respects. You have seen more and fought more battles than the whole of this Council put together. It is because of what you are as much as who. You know this, my daughter."

June nodded respectfully. She was crying inside, but it was not the way of a Sachem to wage an emotional battle in public.

Alicia reached under her cape and pulled out a purple velvet drawstring bag with Celtic embroidery. She held it in both hands, sighed deeply and then took a seat on the floor across from her granddaughter next to Aida.

Once seated she held the bag out to her granddaughter.

June took it tentatively with slightly trembling hands. She held it for a moment and closed her eyes. A few tears streamed down both cheeks and her grandmother reached over and stroked them away.

June opened her eyes and her grandmother gestured for her to open the bag.

The young Sachem opened the bag and pulled out a silver heart-shaped choker with a ruby setting. There was a matching cuff and earrings.

There were audible gasps from other Elders.

In addition to the extremely valuable jewelry there was something else. A long rectangular box with an inscription in what would in time be revealed as Ogham. June opened it and most curiously there was a sort of wand that had Celtic engraving and a ruby at its base.

She looked at her grandmother questioningly.

"They are from your father – a family heirlooms from his mother. The wand belonged to your mother," Alicia said quietly. "Although they hold great monetary value in this world – they are valuable for a different reason in his."

"And that reason is?"

"That is for him to tell you…"

"He still lives in the world of the Strangebloods," said June evenly, "and we are meant to reunite through the ancient one who is revered in his world."

"It is so," said Aida with a nod.

"But there is something else…my life has a purpose and that purpose is to do with that world and not this one."

"Yes, Nicantet," said Alicia. "Your destiny is intertwined with those of others, your father included. It was not for him to know all those years ago, but he knows now. And now it is time. Your time to embrace what and who you are and the world you were meant to walk in."

"I understand," June said softly. "It is hard to accept…that I will never see this world again. That when I leave all that I know fades into the mists of time."

"So it was written by the Great Spirit long ago and so it will be done," said Eagle-Eye Lenapehoking, an Elder and one of the most fearsome warriors of the tribe. "But remember Juniata – always remember who you are and where you came from in this world. Your name will be exalted in the world of the Strangebloods but the path you must walk will not be easy because the path of a Sachem is never easy. This I do not need to tell you, but time is short and what needs to be said will be."

June nodded in agreement. Wisdom was always sacred even if it was already known.