FIC: Aftermaths, Part 38

[geri_chan]

Title: Aftermaths, Part 38
Rating: NC-17 overall, but most chapters are closer to PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin, Theodore/Blaise, and a few other minor pairings
Word count: ~5,530
Warning: AU; written pre-HBP
Author's notes: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts
Disclaimer: No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising
Summary: An unwelcome win for Gryffindor, and Selima makes a startling announcement.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37

***

Unbeknownst to them, Dean had finally come out of his state of shock, and noticed that the Quaffle and the Slytherin goals were unattended. He grabbed the Quaffle and tossed it through one of the hoops, just before Harry and Draco took hold of the Snitch. The scoreboard automatically recorded ten points for Gryffindor, although only one person other than Dean noticed this.

"A tie?" a bewildered Hooch said, scratching her head. "I'm not sure such a thing has ever happened before. Is it even legal for two people to take possession of the Snitch at the same time?" She pulled the rule book out of her pocket and began flipping through it.

For once, Snape cared nothing about the results of the match. "Dylan!" he shouted, his black eyes still wild with fear. "Are you all right?"

Lupin smiled, although tears were still trickling down his face, and released Dylan, who said, "I'm fine, Professor." He didn't have a chance to say anything else because, to his shock, Snape grabbed him and pulled him close, fervently whispering, "Thank God, thank God," over and over again. Dylan smiled and leaned against his foster father's chest, as Snape, who was never demonstrative with his affections, especially in public, held him tightly and stroked his hair as he continued to whisper, "Thank God, oh thank God, I thought I'd lost you." Goewin ran out of the stands, and since Snape didn't seem inclined to let go of Dylan, she flung her arms around them both, weeping hysterically. A much calmer Math cradled Ariana in one arm as he brushed tears from his eyes with his free hand, smiling tenderly at his wife and great-nephew. Little Ariana cooed and gurgled contentedly. Hermione came down from the stands, too, and just stood on the sidelines, smiling and weeping a little as she watched Snape and Goewin hold Dylan. Lupin gently slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other around Theodore, who stood there grinning and looking a little teary-eyed himself.

Hooch couldn't find anything in the rule book about two people grabbing the Snitch at the same time, and was about to declare the game a tie when the spectators began shouting and pointing at the scoreboard, which read: Gryffindor 210, Slytherin 200. "Gryffindor won?" she asked in confusion. "But they were tied before Potter and Malfoy took the Snitch."

Colin Creevey, looking pale and troubled, came running down from the stands, holding up a photograph in one hand. He handed it to Hooch; it showed Dean tossing the Quaffle through the goal.

"You tricked me!" a furious Draco screamed at Harry, but to his surprise, Harry looked just as shocked and angry as he did.

Harry snatched the photo out of Hooch's hand and shoved it in Dean's face accusingly. "Is this true, Thomas? Did you score a goal while everyone was trying to save Dylan?"

"Yeah," Dean said, seeming puzzled by Harry's anger. "I thought you'd be glad--I won the game for us!"

"Be glad?" Harry shouted, looking outraged. "That you cheated?!"

"I didn't cheat!" Dean said defensively.

"What else do you call it, when the Slytherin goal was left unattended because the Keeper was trying to save someone's life?" Harry retorted. "You should have been trying to help Dylan, too, instead of throwing the Quaffle through an unguarded hoop! Do you think that's good sportsmanship? Do you think that's honorable? How dare you call yourself a Gryffindor!" As Dean spluttered, looking both angry and guilty, Harry turned to Hooch and said, "We'll forfeit the game. I don't want to win this way."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Andrew Kirke said indignantly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," Hooch said. "Although what Mr. Thomas did is not very sporting--" She frowned at him disapprovingly. "--I'm afraid that it is not illegal." She raised her voice and announced, "Gryffindor wins the match!"

"Gryffindor wins by ten points," Dennis said in a subdued voice. "But it doesn't seem like a clean victory. I have to say that, as a Gryffindor, I feel a little ashamed."

"No!" Harry protested. "It's not right!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," Hooch said, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry said helplessly. "I swear, I wouldn't have suggested going for a tie if I knew Dean had done that!"

His face was filled with such anguish that even Draco believed he was sincere. "I believe you, Potter," he said. "My quarrel's not with you, at least not this time." He glared at Dean. "But you'd best watch your step, Thomas."

"I'm so scared," Dean sneered.

"You're off the team!" Harry shouted.

"What?"

"You heard me, you're off the team! We don't need someone like you playing for us!"

"Listen, Harry," Ron said quietly but urgently, tugging at his sleeve. "Maybe you'd better wait till you cool down a little before making a decision like that. Maybe you could just suspend him--"

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Dean protested.

"You are off the team," Harry said in a cold voice. "That's final."

Dean stared at him in shock, then abruptly turned and stalked off the field without another word.

"You don't have the right to throw him off the team like that!" Andrew argued.

Harry turned his cold stare on Andrew. At the moment, he looked more like Snape than his normal good-natured and mischievous self. "I'm the team captain and I just did. If you don't like it, you can leave, too."

Andrew opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it, and turned and walked away. Ginny stared at Harry wide-eyed; while she didn't disagree with his decision, that look of cold fury in his eyes scared her a little. She suddenly remembered what he had once said about having to embrace both his Gryffindor and Slytherin sides to defeat Voldemort, and she wondered if what she was seeing now was his Slytherin side.

Snape had finally released Dylan, and was staring at Harry thoughtfully. Dylan went over to Harry and held out his hand, wincing a little at the pain in his arm. "Thank you for saving my life, Harry."

Harry blinked, and the cold look on his face suddenly vanished. "Uh...you're welcome," he said awkwardly, shaking Dylan's hand. "I mean, it's nothing that anyone else wouldn't have done."

"That's not true," Draco pointed out dryly. "Thomas and Kirke didn't lift a finger to help him."

"And thank you, Draco," Dylan said. "I owe you my life."

"Never mind," Draco said gruffly. "I owed you one, so now we're even."

"Well," Snape said slowly, looking both amused and annoyed, "it seems that I am beholden to a Potter yet again."

"You don't owe me anything, really, Professor," Harry said nervously.

"Do you think my foster son's life means so little to me?" Snape asked, giving him a scornful look, but Lupin smiled and winked at Harry behind Snape's back. "A Snape honors his debts, and I acknowledge that I owe you a debt for saving Dylan's life." Snape then turned to Draco, and the corners of his mouth turned up just a little. "And while I find it nearly as troubling to find myself owing a favor to the Malfoy family, I acknowledge that I am in your debt as well, Draco."

Draco grinned at him and said, "Yes, sir."

"Notice," Lupin said to Harry in a stage whisper, "that a Slytherin doesn't try to reject a favor. He'll save it, and claim it sometime in the future when he really needs it."

"You're starting to scare me, Lupin," Snape told his lover. "You understand the Slytherin mindset a little too well for a Gryffindor." Lupin laughed, and Snape smiled sardonically and said, "Fifty points to Slytherin and fifty to Gryffindor."

"Sir?" Harry, Draco, and Dylan chorused, staring at him in shock.

"Don't you think that your life is worth at least fifty points, Mr. Rosier?" Snape asked Dylan mildly, raising an eyebrow.

"Uh...no, sir...I mean, yes, sir..."

"He's worth a thousand points!" Lupin declared, throwing his arms around Dylan.

"Yes, I think so, too," Snape said, smiling a little. "But I think the other Houses might object to my handing out that many points."

"By the way, what happened to my broom?" Dylan asked.

Crabbe approached him, an apologetic look on his face, and held out one piece of the broomstick in each hand. "Sorry, Rosier. After you fell off the broom, it took a nosedive and snapped in two."

"Oh, no!" Dylan cried in dismay.

"Better the broom than your neck, Mr. Rosier," Snape said impatiently. "I'll buy you another."

"It was just a Cleansweep," Dylan said softly. "Not a Nimbus or a Firebolt, but it meant a lot to me, because Mother and Uncle Math and Aunt Goewin gave it to me. It was the last Christmas we ever spent together..."

"Oh, Dylan," Goewin whispered sadly.

Snape's expression softened, and he said in a much gentler voice, "I'm sorry, Dylan. I didn't know it was a gift from your mother. But no matter how much sentimental value it has, a broom can be replaced; you cannot. I assure you that Ariane would much rather have you in one piece than the broom."

Dylan managed a smile. "Well, when you put it that way, I guess you're right."

"You have your memories of your mother here," Lupin said gently, laying his hand first on Dylan's head, then on his chest, over his heart. "And here. They will always be with you."

"I know, Remus," Dylan said softly. "Thank you."

By now, the other teachers had joined them on the Pitch, as well as Sirius. "Are you all right, Dylan?" Branwen asked anxiously.

"Yes, Professor, I'm fine," Dylan replied, then winced and rubbed his shoulder. "Well, my arms hurt a little, but it beats the alternative."

"You'd better have Madam Pomfrey take a look at you," Branwen said.

"Come along to the hospital wing, Mr. Rosier," Pomfrey said.

"But I'm okay, really--" Dylan started to protest.

"You will go with Madam Pomfrey to the hospital wing," Snape ordered in his sternest Potions Master voice.

"Yes, sir," Dylan said meekly, then ruined the effect by grinning widely at his foster father. But he did follow Pomfrey back to the castle without further argument.

"Thank goodness Mr. Rosier is all right," McGonagall said. "But who could have done such a thing?" The teachers stared at each other, looking troubled; they all remembered who had been responsible for Harry's "accident" six years ago.

"Voldemort is dead," Branwen finally said. "And the Death Eaters are dead or in prison."

"Except for Rabastan Lestrange," Sirius reminded her.

"He's most likely hiding in some remote corner of the world," Branwen replied, "cowering in fear if he hasn't heard that his Master is dead yet. To escape the Dark Lord's grasp, he would have to run very far, where it would be difficult to find copies of the Daily Prophet, and he wouldn't dare make contact with the wizarding world. Even if he did come back to take revenge and somehow managed to sneak into Hogwarts, why would he attack Dylan? His most likely targets would be Harry and Severus."

"Perhaps he might try to hurt Dylan because he's Snape's foster son?" Sirius guessed.

Snape frowned. "Possibly, but this doesn't seem like Rabastan's modus operandi. The Lestranges liked to torture people with Unforgivable Curses; Rabastan would regard a fall from a broomstick as too quick and painless a death." Theodore went pale and Harry shuddered. "This seems more like a nasty but childish prank played by a student."

"Aric!" Theodore exclaimed. "It must be him! He's been out to get me ever since he came to Hogwarts, and I've seen him at some of the practices, watching in the stands!"

Lupin shook his head. "No, I saw him in the stands, and he looked just as shocked as everyone else."

"He could have been pretending to be shocked," Theodore argued.

Lupin smiled a little. "Your cousin isn't that good an actor, Theo. While his intentions might not always be honorable, he tends to wear his heart on his sleeve--almost like a Gryffindor, come to think of it--and he's not very good at hiding his emotions. Besides, if he was going to hex someone, why would he hex Dylan instead of you?"

Theodore reluctantly nodded, although he didn't look entirely convinced. "But who could it be, then?"

"What about that kid who gave Avery's mother a hard time?" Crabbe suggested. "The one who said he wouldn't let a Death Eater wait on him?"

"Stewart?" Lupin asked, frowning. "I wasn't looking for him specifically, but I didn't see anyone casting a spell from the Ravenclaw stand."

"The spell might already have been placed on the broom," Snape said thoughtfully.

"I know that Stewart has been troubled lately, and he got a little out of hand in Hogsmeade," Flitwick protested, looking offended, "but he's always been a model student! It's a bit extreme to accuse him of killing someone just because he was rude to Delia Avery!"

Selima joined the crowd of teachers and students on the Pitch. "What kind of school are you running?" she demanded of the Headmaster. "How could you put my..." Her voice suddenly faltered and she flushed a little.

"Did you mean to say 'my grandson'?" Lupin murmured into her ear with a mischievous smile.

Selima glared at him. "How could you put my son's ward in such danger?" she finished in a cold voice.

"Nice save," Lupin said under his breath, causing Selima to glare at him again.

"What if it had been Theodore who was nearly killed?" Selima continued, turning back to Dumbledore. "I won't allow my grandson to attend a school that isn't safe!"

"That's not your decision, Mother," Snape said.

"Then you don't care that Dylan was nearly killed?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Well, what do you intend to do about this?" Selima demanded, addressing both her son and Dumbledore.

"I want to know the answer to that also," Goewin said, looking fierce and protective.

"We will investigate the matter thoroughly and punish the person responsible," Dumbledore replied calmly. "Starting by examining Dylan's broomstick for hexes."

"Here, let me take it," Branwen said, and Crabbe gave her the broken pieces of the broom. "I'll go back to the castle and get started on it right away."

"I'll help you," Sirius said, and Flitwick and McGonagall volunteered as well. "By the way, Harry," Sirius said before he left, "I'm very proud of you. I'd like to say that I would have done the same thing when I was your age, but I'm afraid it's much more likely that I'd have done something stupid like Dean did. But you're mature enough to know that a person's life is much more important than winning a game." He hugged Harry. "I'm so proud of you, Harry, and I think your dad would be, too."

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry said, tears stinging his eyes.

"Don't be too hard on Dean, okay?" Sirius whispered. "Well, you should probably be a little hard on him, but what I mean to say is--I was young and stupid once, too, so I don't think he's a lost cause. Maybe you can help him smarten up a bit."

"I'll try," Harry said.

Sirius hugged him again. "I've got to go help Branwen, but I'm staying for dinner tonight, so I'll see you then."

***

Meanwhile, up in the Hufflepuff stand, Gwendolyn Ames frowned as she stared through her binoculars down at the field. "Tristan," she said to her son, "who is that man standing next to the Headmaster? The one with the long blond hair?"

"Oh, that's Master Bleddri," Tristan replied. "He's the Physical Defense teacher."

"It's a waste of time to teach Physical Defense to wizards," Amos Diggory said sharply. "And he's a werewolf--I'm still appalled that Dumbledore would let a dangerous monster run loose among the children. You should have sent Tristan to Beauxbatons, Gwen."

"He can't speak French, Amos."

"Well, the Salem Witches' Institute in the States, then."

"I could never send my baby boy so far away," Gwendolyn protested.

"Mum!" Tristan said indignantly, his face turning red.

"Now, now," Robert Ames said mildly. "All the Ames and Diggorys have always attended Hogwarts, and I see no reason to break with tradition. I'm sure that Dumbledore wouldn't allow this Bleddri to teach here if he was dangerous. Isn't he supposed to be a hero of the war?"

"If you believe the Daily Prophet," Amos said bitterly. "The same paper that said Cedric's death was an accident."

"Everyone knows the truth now," Helen Diggory said gently, laying her hand on her husband's arm.

"I like Master Bleddri," Tristan told his uncle. "He's a nice guy, really, even if he is kind of strict. I like the Physical Defense classes, they're a lot of fun, and Master Bleddri says it's good training for an athlete like a Quidditch player."

"I can't wait to see you play, son," Robert said proudly. "Imagine, being made Seeker your first year!"

"Cedric would be so happy for you, dear," Helen said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

"I'll try to become as good a Seeker as he was," Tristan said solemnly. Helen smiled and Robert ruffled his son's hair affectionately, but Gwendolyn kept staring down at the field, and Amos stared at his sister, a worried frown on his face.

***

Now that Dylan was safe and the game was over, the crowd began to disperse, and Dumbledore told the players to return to their dorms. Lukas turned to go back to the castle as well, when Selima suddenly cried out in a clear voice that rang loudly enough to carry into the stands, "Cyril Lukas Gravenor Diggory!"

Everyone stopped in their tracks and turned to stare at Selima, including Lukas. "Master Bleddri's a Gravenor?" Theodore asked incredulously of no one in particular. "And a Diggory?"

"Oh no," Lupin muttered, then glared at Snape. "I told you that you shouldn't have gotten your mother involved in this!"

"Clearly you have mistaken me for someone else," Lukas said in a cold voice.

"There is no mistake, Cyril," Selima said firmly. "You are the spitting image of your father. You are Cynric Diggory's heir."

"He really is the Diggory heir," Snape said, looking a little stunned. It was one thing to suspect it, and quite another to have it confirmed in so dramatic a fashion.

"This is ridiculous," Lukas said. "I am a werewolf of ill repute and nothing more. Take your little fantasies elsewhere, Lady Selima."

"Why do you deny your heritage and your birthright, Cyril?" Selima continued implacably.

"What do you care about my birthright?" Lukas snarled.

"Your parents were my friends," Selima said quietly. "If their deaths were not caused by accident or illness, but by malice, then I wish to see them avenged."

"This is none of your business!" Lukas snapped. "And I want nothing to do with any of you purebloods!" He turned to walk away, but came to an abrupt halt when a pretty brown-haired woman came running out of the stands towards him and flung her arms around him.

"Cyril, oh Cyril, it really is you!" Gwendolyn Ames sobbed. "All these years, I thought you were dead!"

Lukas stared at her helplessly, holding his arms out at his side, unwilling to either embrace her or push her away. "Gwennie?" he said weakly.

Gwendolyn's family came running after her; Robert, Tristan, and Helen looked bewildered, while Amos looked angry and frightened. "Mum?" Tristan asked. "What's going on? Do you know Master Bleddri? And why are you calling him 'Cyril'?"

"Because that's his name," Gwendolyn said, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Gwen," Lukas said, still holding his arms out at his side. "Please don't...I'm not who you think I am..."

"I know who you are!" Gwendolyn insisted. She released him, but before he could back away, reached up and cradled his face lovingly between her hands. "You are my nephew, my childhood playmate, my oldest brother's son."

"WHAT?!" shrieked Tristan, and Robert's jaw fell open.

"But I don't understand," Gwendolyn said. "How is it that you are alive when we all thought you were dead? Why didn't you tell anyone that you were alive?"

"Why don't you ask Uncle Amos that?" Lukas said with a bitter smile.

"Amos?" Gwendolyn said, looking confused. "You knew he was alive?"

Amos grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from Lukas. "Get away from him, Gwen! He's a werewolf, a monster!"

Gwendolyn looked into her brother's eyes and saw that he was angry but not surprised. "You knew!" She said accusingly. "You knew that he was alive, and you never told me? How could you let me think that he was dead all these years?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Amos snapped. "He's obviously an impostor!"

"Amos!" Robert said. "What is going on here?"

Selima watched all this with a small, satisfied smile on her face.

"This is why you came to the match, isn't it?" Snape asked her.

"Well, I would still have come to see Theodore play," she said calmly. "But yes, I did want to get a look at 'Master Bleddri.' After your questions about your mysterious friend, I did a little research and went through some back issues of the Daily Prophet, and noticed that the leader of the werewolves bore a most uncanny resemblance to Cynric Diggory."

"He doesn't look like a Diggory," Snape said.

"Cynric was the only one in the family with blond hair," Selima replied. "He was quite a handsome lad. Still, it's impossible to be certain from a photograph, so I wanted to see him in person."

"You could have spoken to Lukas in private instead of shouting it out to everyone at the game," Lupin chided.

Selima smiled. "Ah, but what fun would that be, Professor Lupin? Besides, I also wanted to see Amos's reaction."

Lupin sighed and shook his head. "Well, you've certainly opened up a can of worms!" Then he looked over at Dumbledore who was watching all of this calmly, a look of mild interest on his face. Lupin frowned suspiciously as a thought suddenly occurred to him: Cynric Diggory must have been going to Hogwarts around the same time as Selima, so Dumbledore would have been his teacher as well. He walked over to Dumbledore and whispered, "Albus, did you know? That Lukas was really Cyril Diggory?"

"Well, I never asked," Dumbledore replied, "and he never volunteered the information. But he does bear a striking resemblance to Cynric. I'm sure that anyone who knew his father would have noticed."

"Is that why you brought him here?" Lupin asked; Dumbledore just smiled.

"Meddling old man," Snape muttered.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lupin demanded. "Or at least talk to Lukas about it?"

"Because it's none of our business, my boy."

"That never stopped you before," Snape muttered.

"It was Lukas's decision," Dumbledore continued, ignoring the interruption, "to contact his family and declare his true identity--or not."

"But with Tristan going to school here, you knew he'd come into contact with the Diggorys eventually," Lupin accused.

"I hadn't counted on Lady Selima getting involved, though," Dumbledore said.

Selima smiled again, and Snape looked over at the Diggory family and said, "Well, this should be interesting..."

"He's not an impostor!" Gwendolyn was shouting at her brother. "I know my own flesh and blood when I see it! How could you lie to me? How could you let me think Cyril was dead?" A sudden look of hope filled her eyes. "If Cyril is alive, then does that mean Cynric...?"

"No, Gwennie," Lukas said, in a voice gentler than anyone had ever heard him use before. "My father--and my mother--truly are dead."

Gwendolyn burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. Amos tried to put his arms around her, but she pulled away from him. Her husband tried to comfort her, and Tristan, still looking bewildered, said, "Mum? Master Bleddri? I don't understand what's going on here..."

Lukas sighed wearily. "Things that happened long before you were born, child. Things that don't concern you."

"Are you really my mother's nephew?" Tristan asked timidly. "Wouldn't that make you my cousin?"

Amos put his arms around his nephew protectively and pulled him away from Lukas. "Stay away from my family, werewolf!"

Lukas snarled and bared his teeth. "You will stay away from ME, if you know what's good for you, Amos!"

Amos turned pale and hastily backed away. "Did you see that?" he asked the crowd of teachers and students. "He threatened me! You'd better put your pet werewolf on a leash, Dumbledore, or I'll see that he's sent to Azkaban!"

"Interesting that you should mention Azkaban," Selima purred, stepping forward. "Tell me, Amos, how did Cynric really die?"

"He died in a carriage crash!"

"Yes, that is what you told everyone...but then, you also told everyone that Cyril died in that same crash, and he's standing here before us alive and well, isn't he?"

"Stop calling me 'Cyril,'" Lukas said irritably.

"It is your true name, no matter what you choose to call yourself," Selima told him in a cool voice. "How did your father die, Cyril?"

"I don't know," Lukas replied quietly. "My father did go out in a carriage on a stormy night; that much is true. They brought his body back to the house later that night, saying that the carriage had crashed. That is all I know."

"Why?" Gwendolyn cried out. "Why did you lie, Amos? Why did you tell everyone that Cyril had died, too?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Selima asked. "Your family did not want a werewolf to inherit the title."

The remaining spectators in the stands and the players down on the field were watching the argument between the Diggory family with avid fascination. "Man, this is even more exciting than the game!" Crabbe said.

"Very interesting," Draco murmured, a speculative look in his eyes. "A werewolf being heir to a pureblood family...I wonder how this will turn out?"

Gwendolyn was staring at her brother with a horrified look in her eyes, and Amos said defensively, "We couldn't let a werewolf inherit the title! It would have disgraced the Diggory name! And soon there would have been nothing left to inherit, because Cynric was squandering the family wealth trying to buy a cure for his son's lycanthropy! Do you know how much money he threw away on any number of charlatans' useless potions and spells?"

"So you killed him," Selima said in a very cold and dangerous voice that sent chills down the spines of the students standing nearby, because it reminded them of Professor Snape at his angriest, when he had moved beyond shouting into a cold, quiet fury. Even Snape went a little pale and took a step back away from her.

"No!" shouted Amos. "I loved my brother, even though I thought he was a fool! I admit that my parents and I conspired with the Gravenors to fake Cyril's death, but I did not kill Cynric!"

"Then did your parents kill him?" Selima asked in that same cold voice. "Or the Gravenors?"

"NO!" Amos shouted in frustration. "I told you, it was an accident!"

"I don't believe you, Amos," Selima said.

"I don't care what you believe, Selima," Amos snapped. "I'm not standing here and listening to your ridiculous accusations for another moment!" He turned to Lukas. "And as for you...Cyril or Bleddri or whatever it is you are calling yourself, I will never let you inherit the Diggory title!"

Lukas spat on the ground at his feet. "You can keep your title," he said scornfully. "I wouldn't take it if you handed it to me on a silver platter. I want nothing more to do with your pureblood world of scheming and hypocrisy."

"And stay away from my family!" Amos shouted.

"If you want to keep your family away from me, Uncle Amos--" Lukas sneered. "--that's fine with me. But I am not leaving Hogwarts."

"Then we'll send Tristan to another school!" Amos snapped. "Gwendolyn, Tristan, come along!"

"No," Gwendolyn said quietly.

"What?" Amos asked, looking angry and frustrated.

"No, I will not come along with you," Gwendolyn said in a quiet but determined voice, "and no, I will not send Tristan to another school."

Helen stared at her husband and sister-in-law, looking confused and troubled. "I don't really understand what is happening, dear, but let us go home and let Amos explain things to us." Her voice was gentle, but she gave her husband a look that said it had better be a very good explanation.

"I will listen to Amos's side of the story," Gwendolyn said, "though I suspect I will not like it. But first I want to hear Cyril's."

"I don't want you or Tristan going anywhere near him!" Amos shouted. "He's dangerous!"

"What you want means very little to me right now, Amos, considering how you have deceived me all these years."

"For your own good!"

"I will be the judge of that," Gwendolyn said.

"Gwen, perhaps--" Robert said uncertainly.

"I want to know what happened to Cyril, and where he has been all these years," Gwendolyn said stubbornly.

"The boy you knew twenty-five years ago no longer exists," Lukas said in a gentle voice. "In a way, it is true that Cyril died the night my father did."

"Well, I am not the same girl I was twenty-five years ago, either," Gwendolyn said. "But I am still me, and you are still you. We still share the same blood."

Lukas shook his head. "You were just a child at the time, so I bear no grudge against you or Tristan. But I am no longer a Diggory, and I want nothing more to do with that family."

"Well, I am an Ames now, and no longer a Diggory, either," Gwendolyn pointed out. "And I will not leave until you talk to me and tell me what happened to you."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Lukas's mouth. "You always were a stubborn little girl, Gwen."

Gwendolyn smiled back at him, looking relieved. "That's 'Aunt Gwen' to you, nephew."

Lukas's smile grew a little wider. "Yes, I remember how you always insisted that I call you 'Aunt' even though you were a year younger than me."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore suggested, "you would like to continue this conversation in private? Why don't we all go back to the castle?"

"If you want to talk to the werewolf, I can't stop you," Amos told his sister. "But I won't let you take Tristan with you."

Robert frowned. "Now see here, Amos, Tristan is our son; that's up to Gwendolyn and I."

"He is my heir!" Amos said.

"And he is my son!" Gwendolyn retorted. "I will decide what is best for him. You may take back the heirship if you wish. It rightfully belongs to Cyril, anyway."

"This is all a plot, isn't it?" Amos raged at Lukas. "To steal the Diggory inheritance?"

"Hasn't anyone been listening to me?" Lukas asked irritably. "I don't want the damn inheritance!"

"Will you let him take your son's inheritance?" Amos asked his sister, ignoring Lukas.

Gwendolyn gently placed her hands on her son's shoulders. "A family member is more precious than any amount of land or money. I am sure Tristan understands that."

"I wasn't supposed to be the heir in the first place," Tristan said in a low voice. "I wish I wasn't. I'd trade it away in an instant if it would bring Cedric back."

The eyes of the Diggorys filled with tears, and Dumbledore asked quietly, "Isn't it time that you made peace with your nephew, Amos?"

"No!" said Amos, giving Lukas a hateful look. "He is no kin of mine!" He stalked off the Pitch, and his wife followed, after giving Gwendolyn an apologetic look.

Everyone else headed back to the castle. Snape dismissed the students, who left with obvious reluctance; they were nearly as eager as Gwendolyn to hear the story behind Master Bleddri's supposed death. "Go to the hospital wing and check on Dylan," Snape told Theodore. "I'll come by later."

Theodore looked disappointed, but said, "Yes, Father," and left.

"You can use the staff room to talk," Dumbledore told Lukas and the Ames family. "I'll have the house-elves send up some tea."

When Selima would have followed them, Lupin said firmly, "This is a family matter. We should give them some privacy."

Lukas looked a little alarmed at the prospect of being left alone with his long-lost relatives. "You had might as well come along, Lupin. It's your and Snape's meddling that got me into this mess in the first place. And I'd prefer to have Lady Snape where I can see her, rather than have her shouting my parentage to the entire wizarding world."

Lupin smiled. "As you wish, Lukas."

Part 39