I felt Hermione's gaze upon me in the Great Hall, once I'd stumbled in there, late. I could practically feel her questions threatening to bubble straight out of her, especially due to the fact that I hadn't walked down with her that morning and, instead, accompanied Harry downstairs. It wasn't too difficult to have him sitting on my other side, given that Ron was shooting him death glares from the opposite side of the table, before he was distracted by Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, about potentially pulling something against Slytherin House.

"You're late this morning," Hermione mused, barely touching her breakfast; this morning, it appeared to be a sort of vegetable frittata.

I shrugged my shoulders; in the wake of Professor Snape's rather enlightening conversation with me the previous evening, I hadn't slept much. My eyes were bloodshot, my cheeks were pale, and it was a miracle that Beauxbatons' uniform included a hat, for my hair had put up a fight before being tackled into a sense of submission. "I don't have double potions on Tuesdays or Thursdays," I responded; indeed, that class was only held on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, alongside Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Advanced Ancient Runes, and Advanced Arithmancy.

"What have you got on today, then?" Hermione asked.

"Charms and Transfiguration, which are held for me daily; History of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts," I said softly, a bowl of porridge, with a thick slice of butter, as well as a generous helping of sugar and cream, appearing in front of me. I dragged my spoon through it as I stared at the valleys and mountains it created. "Charms doesn't start until ten o'clock, meaning that I have a whole two hours extra to myself in the morning. I fancied a lie-in..."

"Well, that's all well and good for you, Cressida, but the fourth-years have History of Magic first thing on Tuesday mornings," Hermione informed me diplomatically. "Then, after that, we have potions; I have it on good authority that both are Harry's least-favorite classes."

Harry turned and peered around Cressida, staring at Hermione. "Are you not speaking to me either, then?" he asked, his face completely exhausted. "I've had enough of Ron bullying Neville into ignoring me, and Dean and Seamus not doing so in solidarity with Ron... Are you just going to be on Ron's side?"

Hermione blanched at that. "Well, I..."

"Honestly, Hermione, Harry is quite a talented wizard in his own right," I told her firmly, "but even I know that he wouldn't be able to trick the goblet like that. If you're the brightest witch of your age, surely you would have an ounce of common sense to figure that out?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "Are you saying you believe Harry, then?"

I raised my eyebrows. "I have known him for less than forty-eight hours, and of course I believe that he wouldn't want something like eternal glory, or even want the potential. Harry hates his fame to begin with, even I can see that, even if nobody else seems to."

Harry blinked, shocked at my words. "Thank you, Cressida."

I turned towards him and gave him a small smile. "Not a problem, Harry," I told him, before I dug into my porridge, and snagged a few sausages for myself as well. "I also understand why you wouldn't want to face additional disciplinary action. Madame Maxime is very good friends with Headmaster Dumbledore, as well as my mother and father, and, more than once, she has regaled them with tales of your misadventures here."

Harry looked decidedly uncomfortable at that. "Did she?"

I peeked up at him and grinned. "Oh, I wouldn't judge her too harshly, Harry. I would want answers, too."

"Like who your father is?" Harry asked.

I nodded. "Yes. When I went out for my run in my Animagus form last evening, after the events of the Halloween Feast, I ran into another Animagus."

Harry looked torn. "You... Another Animagus? What...? Who was it?"

"It was a black dog of some sort," I told him, shrugging my shoulders. "I knew it was an Animagus because I could smell the magic around it, and I also knew it was male. Males and females smell biologically different," I explained, and I could sense Hermione from behind me, listening attentively to our conversation, despite our earlier disagreement. "I probably would have liked to speak to him..."

"You mean, you didn't?" Hermione cut in.

I turned and looked over my shoulder at her. "Excuse me, Hermione, but I am having a conversation with Harry," I told her firmly.

"You didn't speak to him, then?" Harry asked.

I turned back towards Harry. "No," I replied, cutting into my sausages, "I didn't. I was interrupted by Professor Snape of all people—"

"Snape?!" Harry demanded, suddenly looking upset. "Why? What did he want?!"

"He used the Blasting Curse—Confringo—just after the dog and I made eye contact, which frightened the dog away. I returned to my human form and demanded to know what his problem was, and he claimed he was protecting me—"

"He would," Harry informed me bitterly. "That black dog was my godfather."

I blinked. "Your godfather is an Animagus?"

"All my father's best friends were; my dad was as well," Harry told me quickly. "My dad was a stag, like my Patronus. His closest friend, Sirius Black, was a black dog. He's..."

"He's the one who was framed for...well, the events of Godric's Hollow," I said in a considerate manner, and Harry nodded gravely. "I know the real reasoning behind it, why they decided to become Animagi. It was because of Remus Lupin."

Harry blinked. "How do you know?"

"It's because of my status as an Animagus," I explained. "Even though they went unregistered, the Wizarding World still knows about it, and their reasoning behind it. Whispers travel quickly, and they're all registered, informally, if not issued by the government, and their reasons are anything from challenging themselves—like Professor McGonagall—to helping a friend, like your father and Sirius Black."

Harry gritted his teeth, pure hatred in his eyes. "Of course, Peter Pettigrew, thought to be dead, is an Animagus as well," he said darkly.

I nodded. "Yes, he was listed there as well," I said softly. "Rather fitting, isn't it? That he took on the form of a rat."

Harry smirked at that. "Yeah," he agreed. "Fitting."

"Professor Snape mentioned that he and Sirius Black attended school together, and that they didn't get along at all," I said.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. They hated one another."

I lowered my eyes back down to my breakfast again. "Doing the math, that means that Professor Snape, your mother and father, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew attended Hogwarts in the 1970s," I said softly.

"They did," Harry confirmed. "But why does that matter?"

"Well, Professor McGonagall said that the pupil that I reminded her of attended Hogwarts at that time as well," I said quietly. "I know my father was British, and a Pureblood wizard, so that means he was likely around my mother's age. It also means that he likely attended Hogwarts at the same time as your parents and their friends, as well as Professor Snape."

"Did your mother ever finish at Beauxbatons?" Hermione asked, likely wanting to be a part of the conversation.

I turned back to gaze upon her, raising my eyebrows. "Are you going to stop with this ignoring Harry business, then?" I asked her pointedly.

Hermione sighed. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she said at last, and Harry peered around me to meet her eyes. "You're right, Cressida. I was ignoring Harry. I won't do it anymore, I promise."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, 'Mione," he replied.

"To answer your question, Hermione, no," I replied. "Her pregnancy, being out-of-wedlock and her being a teenager herself, was seen as so shameful that she was prohibited from returning to Beauxbatons for her final year," I replied. "She came here to England in the summer of 1976, which put my conception date at the end of June, not long after term broke," I explained. "She had her THESTRALs, but was forced to continue her final year via private tutor, and she died not long after I was born, so she was ineligible to take her NYMPHs."

"So, her wand wasn't snapped, then?" Hermione asked.

"No," I replied. "The Lamberts were a fairly wealthy family, and so they could afford a private tutor, which is what many countries do whenever a magical school isn't readily available to them to attend."

"Like where?" Harry asked.

"Australia and Canada come to mind," I replied. "Yes, they're eligible to attend Hogwarts and Illvermorny respectively, as Australia is part of the Commonwealth, and Illvermorny is the closest school to Canada, but some families opt for a home school type of situation."

"There is bill being presented in Canada's Ministry of Magic currently, to establish a wizarding school there, thus far named Whitestar Academy of Magic," Hermione put in. "It's still in the early developmental phases, but, with Canada being such a large country, as well as the proposal for the curriculum to be taught in French, and due to Beauxbatons being so far away, many in the Wizarding World are all for it."

I nodded. "That's certainly considerate," I replied.

"You might try the Hogwarts Student Directory," Hermione said softly. "Madam Pince keeps it in the library, but only seventh-years can look at it without a professor's permission."

I blinked. "You think it could have information about my father?"

"Undoubtedly," Hermione responded. "You already have the decade in which he attended school here, not to mention the notion that he was British, and a Pureblood."

"Hogwarts is open to Irish and Scottish wixen as well," Harry said, clearly formulating a plan in his mind, "so that's already a decent process of elimination right there."

"Perhaps we might go to the library on Saturday?" I asked. "Hermione, you're good at taking notes, and Harry... Well, I'd love the company."

Harry chuckled. "I'll come," he assured me.

Hermione nodded. "So will I."

~⚜~

Friday evening brought the end of a lengthy day of classes, and Fleur sought permission for her, Gabrielle, Morgana, and me to dine in the Beauxbatons carriage. This was granted by Madame Maxime, who only told us to be careful, not to make too much noise, or a mess of things. I knew entirely well that she was being courted by Hagrid, who was the professor for Care of Magical Creatures, as well as the gamekeeper and Keeper of Keys and grounds. Hagrid was also in charge of Madame Maxime's prized Abraxans, and they all seemed to get along famously with the half-giant.

"Have you managed to get any running in, Cressida?" Gabrielle asked, beaming up at me once our supper of chicken confit, dauphinoise potatoes, and haricots verts was served.

I nodded, smoothing Gabrielle's French braids as Morgana snuggled even closer to me around my neck. "I have, ma petite chérie, yes. Madame Maxime spoke with Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall about it, and they agreed that my form was safe enough to traverse the Hogwarts grounds at night."

Gabrielle cocked her head to one side. "The Forbidden Forest has dangerous creatures within its trees, doesn't it?"

"Of course it does, just like the mountains surrounding Beauxbatons," Fleur informed her gently with a small smile. "Brown bears, vultures, red deer... The bucks of the deer are fantastic, douce petite soeur, but, one false move, and its antlers will slam into you." Fleur took a delicate sip of her Gillywater. "Then, there's the creatures of the Monde Sorcier, petit, which include Thestrals, which only appear to those who have seen death, and are rumored to be malheureux—"

"Both Hagrid and Madame Terre at Beauxbatons have debunked that theory," I put in, not wanting Gabrielle to have any false information.

Fleur sighed dramatically. "Very well, then. There are also Wood Nymphs, which too are native to France, alongside Thestrals. However, one could also see wild Hippogriffs, Goblins, Trolls, Grapehorns, Nogails, Hags, Ghouls, and Werewolves."

"Not all werewolves are bad," I broke in, and Fleur looked at me, her fair brows raised. "There are some individuals who didn't want to be them in the first place, and take a special potion monthly called Wolfsbane."

Gabrielle blinked. "Does it stop their transformation?" she asked.

I shook my head at her sadly. "No. Unfortunately, one a human is bitten by a werewolf, they are doomed to transform with every full moon for the rest of their lives. If they are merely scratched by a werewolf, however, they will have the effects of a werewolf—a short temper, becoming quite protective of those around them, as well as becoming a bit ill upon the occasion of the full moon—but will never transform."

"Well, I hope they're all right with the potion..." Gabrielle shook her head, looking decidedly uncomfortable at the notion of anyone in pain, and turned back to me. "But what is in the Forbidden Forest, Cressida?"

"Well, there are unicorns," I began, which made Gabrielle's expression light up, as Fleur looked on indulgently. "There are centaurs as well; you remember that, if you are to ever encounter one, that you must be respectful, right?"

Gabrielle nodded immediately. "Right."

"Good," I said softly. "Thestrals and Hippogriffs live there as well. You remember meeting the Hippogriffs back in France, that summer when we visited Beauxbatons?"

Gabrielle grinned. "Yes. We had to bow to them first and, once they bowed back, we were allowed to pet them."

I chuckled, for, like Gabrielle, that was always my favorite part as well. "That's right," I praised her, and Gabrielle visibly shown at the compliment. "There are giants in there as well, but they, along with the Acromantula colony, a three-headed dog called Fluffy, Blast-Ended Skrewts, and Trolls are something you should never approach without proper knowledge, or an acceptable guide, beforehand."

Gabrielle looked decidedly disappointed. "Well, wouldn't there be any creature that I could see, before I go back home?"

I smiled. "Bowtruckles and Mooncalves," I told her, and Gabrielle looked excited. "I'll see if I can find out if Hagrid is doing a lesson on them, and if you can come and watch, as well as potentially meet and pet them," I assured her.

Gabrielle practically squealed, throwing her arms around me. "Thank you, Cressida!"

I giggled. "You're welcome," I said. "So, as you now know," I went on, patting her back, "I'm just fine as long as I limit my explorations within my form to the grounds."

"I like your form," Gabrielle said, peeking up at me and grinning.

I laughed, letting her go. "Yes, I know," I responded, cutting into my chicken.

"Rumor has it that Gryffindor House has been getting quite a bit of extra points in their potions classes," Fleur put in, taking a delicate bite of potatoes. "I also know that Professor Snape, being the Head of Slytherin House, is notoriously against the house..."

"But... That doesn't seem right, or fair," Gabrielle protested, shaking her head as she moved her haricots verts around her plate. "Playing favorites like that..."

"It isn't right, or fair," I agreed, nodding my head.

"However, favoritism is something that you'll encounter in all walks of life," Fleur informed Gabrielle diplomatically. "The issue with it is that not many people wish to find a solution, either out of fear of conflict or simply willing to accept the way things are."

I waited to see if Gabrielle would respond directly to that, but she merely proceeded to eat her dinner. I looked up at Fleur and asked, "How are your preparations for the tournament going, then? We haven't gotten to talk too terribly much about it..."

Fleur sighed. "I know, and I don't blame you for it," she assured me, smiling. "You're just as busy preparing for your NEWTs, as well as keeping up with all your classes, and remembering to speak English..."

"Are the Translation Texts and Spells working for you?" I asked her.

Fleur nodded. "Yes, thankfully. I would be lost without them." She sipped at her Gillywater. "I am preparing as much as I can for the tournament, of course. They have arranged for Saturday evenings after supper to be reserved for the physical training, while Sunday afternoons are to be spent reading odd texts." She shrugged. "I assume we'll find out more tomorrow evening what is expected of us."

I blinked. "They can't have you wanting to go in blind!"

Fleur giggled. "While it does seem reckless, I can see why they would. More entertaining for the spectators, I would think."

I remained in the carriage with the two of them until just before curfew, and then Fleur and I walked back to the castle together, knowing that Madam Maxime would be returning to the carriage to keep an eye on Gabrielle. I had faith that the intricate charms and spells that our headmistress had woven for the safety of any student, child, or adult residing within the carriage would work for her protection. Fleur and I parted ways once we reached the separation point, and she made her way to Ravenclaw Tower, while I did the same, although going in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

I awoke the following morning and made my way down to breakfast, Hermione and Harry by my respective sides. I was a trifle annoyed by Ron's continued behavior towards Harry, and made up my mind to have a word with him soon. Once we'd finished breakfast, the three of us went upstairs to the library, ostensibly to find the directory. Since Hermione had informed me that only seventh-years, alumni, and professors had access to it, she and Harry decided to pretend that they were in the library to study, and I would approach Madam Pince on my own.

Upon arrival in the library, Hermione and Harry wandered off to one of the tables in the back, while I approached the librarian on my own. "Good morning, Madam Pince," I said politely to her, smiling.

Madam Pince returned the smile; she had been polite to me since my arrival, due to my willingness to obey library rules, as well as the ample time Hermione and I had spent studying in there previously. "Good morning, Miss Lambert," she replied. "How may I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could take a look at the Hogwarts Directory, please?" I asked politely. "I know that my biological father attended school here in the 1970s, and I would appreciate looking in there to figure out who he is."

Madam Pince nodded her head. "I can see why you would wish to solve such a mystery," she replied, snapping her fingers, which caused a case from behind her desk to open, and a large, weathered, old tome came sailing into her hands. "I suppose Miss Granger and Mr. Potter will be assisting you, then?"

I blushed. "I know that it's not considered appropriate..."

Madam Pince shook her head. "Not for them to request the volume without being of age, or having graduated already," she told me. "However, since it was you who asked for it with a specific purpose, with Miss Granger will be helping you with research, and Mr. Potter merely keeping you company, I see no fault in it."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Madam Pince."

She smiled and handed it over. "You may look at the book as often as you like, provided that you do not leave the library with it, and it hasn't been borrowed by someone before you," she told me with a polite expression. "It has spells on it to keep it from becoming dirty, as well as Protection Spells so as it doesn't become more...well, damaged."

I smiled. "You can trust me, Madam Pince," I assured her. "Although, it does seem as if a fair few people were less than careful with it."

"Blame the Marauder's," she said stoutly, before turning back to her work of polishing a jeweled tome, and I took that to mean our conversation was over.

I ventured towards the table where Hermione and Harry were currently occupied, and spotted one Viktor Krum lurking beside one of the nearby shelves. As I walked by, he turned at the sound of my footsteps, and I gave him a kind smile. "Good morning," I said, not saying his name, else some girls would likely surround him.

Viktor inclined his head. "You are the sister of Fleur," he pronounced.

I nodded, surprised he knew who I was. "Yes, I am," I responded, putting out my hand towards him in a genial manner. "Cressida Lambert. Pleasure to meet you."

Viktor stared at my hand for a moment before taking it and shaking it. "You do not fawn over me, Cress-eee-da," he said, and I did my very best not to laugh aloud at his pronunciation of my name; in fact, it was quite endearing.

"Well, no point in doing so," I responded, and he raised his eyebrows. "Yes, you're good at what you do," I said quickly, "but sports were never my calling." I tapped the book I held. "Literature is," I continued, and Viktor peered through the bookshelves a second time. "Are you worried about the Triwizard Champion meeting tonight?"

"No!" Viktor explained, turning to me, his dark eyes serious. "The rumor is that the young Potter boy tricked the Goblet of Fire, and put his name in," he informed me.

I nodded once. "I am aware of the rumor," I responded. "However, Harry is my friend, and he doesn't like being called 'Potter'. Furthermore," I continued, and Viktor looked shocked at my willingness to go toe to toe with him, "he didn't. It's clear to see how much he dislikes his fame in the first place, once you get to know him, and although I have only known him for barely a week, it was quite simple to read him, if you ask me."

Viktor appeared torn. "Headmaster Karkaroff doesn't like him," he admitted.

I nodded. "He seems quite keen on you," I put in, and Viktor looked uncomfortable. "Ah. Am I to take it that the feeling is not mutual?"

Viktor promptly shook his head. "No, it isn't," he said quietly. "He likes to use me for my fame to bring up the student count at Durmstrang."

"Ah," I said, nodding my head, "I can see why that would bother you. Perhaps you and Harry do have something in common," I said, watching as his dark eyes gazed at Harry for a few moments before ultimately setting upon Hermione, and I found myself smiling knowingly. "She is a lovely young woman," I told Viktor.

Viktor grimaced, flushing deeply at my comment. "She is," he said softly. "Are they...? Is Potter in a relationship with her?" he asked me quietly.

I shook my head at him. "He isn't, they're just friends... You know," I continued, moving to stand beside him, "it wouldn't hurt to speak to her."

"Speak to her?" Viktor asked, grimacing slightly. "I do not even know her name..."

"Her name is Hermione Granger," I whispered, pleased that Hermione and Harry seemed to be distracted in a conversation of their own, knowing entirely well that Harry could laugh at her, and Hermione could be embarrassed. "She's fifteen, a fourth-year, and her favorite classes are Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."

Viktor looked quite grateful. "Hermy-own," he said determinedly.

"Actually, that's not..."

"Tell Potter I look forward to seeing him this evening," Viktor said quickly and, before I could stop him, he practically danced out of the library, repeating her name, wrongly, in a sing-song voice that was, just a little, adorable.

I shook my head with amusement as he wandered away, before I made my way between the shelves and to the secluded table that Harry and Hermione had picked out. "Sorry for keeping you," I told them, knowing entirely well that Harry would be joining Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric for the first meeting of Triwizard Champions later that evening.

"Did Madam Pince not want to give you the book?" Harry asked.

"You know entirely well that Cressida is a seventh-year, and seventeen," Hermione informed Harry in a prim voice. "She would have no reason to do so in that regard, plus Cressida has always made sure to return the books she's looked at to their proper places, as well as keeping the library quiet, and clean."

Harry made a face. "All right," he allowed, "but that doesn't explain why Cressida took as long as she did..."

"Viktor Krum was lurking about," I informed them, and both Harry and Hermione turned towards me at that, eyes wide. "He is looking forward to seeing you this evening, Harry. I set him straight about the rumor, so, perhaps, with Fleur already being told herself, they can set Cedric and the rest of them straight."

Harry nodded. "One can only hope," he muttered.

I gave Harry a sympathetic smile and moved to sit between them at the table, setting the book down carefully upon its surface. "Is there a table of contents, or an index?"

"Not exactly," Hermione informed me, and I was relieved that I'd asked her to accompany the pair of us to the library. "You have to open the book, and inform the Four Founders—inked wizarding portraits of them, rather—what it is you're looking for."

"Droids," Harry and I murmured to ourselves, and Hermione chuckled.

"A bit, yes," Hermione admitted.

I opened the book slowly and carefully, feeling with my fingertips the careful spell work that Madam Pince had previously informed me was woven into it, gazing down at the portraits of Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. "Greetings to you, Founding Four," I announced, and the four of them awoke, staring up at me with intrigue, happiness, curiosity, and annoyance. "I have come seeking the identity of my biological father, who attended this great school in the 1970s."

"Have you a name?" Rowena Ravenclaw queried.

I shook my head. "No, Founder Ravenclaw, I am afraid I do not."

"A House, then?" Godric Gryffindor asked.

I nodded. "I believe it was Gryffindor, for Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, Minerva McGonagall, spoke of him in such a way that only a Head of House would, Founder Gryffindor," I informed him.

"Any other identifying factors?" Helga Hufflepuff wanted to know.

"He was British," I told her.

"You are a Pureblood," Salazar Slytherin declared, sitting up in his frame, and clearly more interested in me, "yet you keep company with Half-Bloods and Mud—"

"I won't hesitate to put a Silencing Spell on you if you're nothing but prejudiced and not helpful," I informed Founder Slytherin abruptly, cutting him off.

Salazar Slytherin looked angered by my words. "Such insolence! I won't have—"

"And I won't have you disrespecting my friends, who is the Brightest Witch of her Age," I told the man levelly, turning my attention away from him and towards Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. "Would you all perhaps have information for me, please?"

Rowena Ravenclaw spread her hands. "O Passages of Time, take this witch to the decade of 1970s at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she intoned, as Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin bowed their heads, one more begrudgingly than the others.

I immediately threw myself backwards, as Harry and Hermione did as well, as the book pulled itself into the air, and the pages went flying, landing towards the back of the book, given that it was a mere two decades ago that we were seeking. Looking down, I saw that it showed us 1 September, 1970, with a chart divided up by Hogwarts Houses, the nationality of the incoming students, the year they were born, Blood Status, parents' names, whether or not they were among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and if they had, or would have, siblings entering the school. Much to my delight, there were little portraits of the students as well, which would age from their first year to their final year, giving me an idea of what they would look like more present-day.

"Too bad there's no identifier," Hermione said softly.

I blinked, turning towards her as the book slowly lowered itself back down upon the surface of the table. "A what?" I asked.

"A place to prick your finger or something," Hermione elaborated, "so that the book could identify truly who your father was..."

"Well, there is the fingerprint up there," Harry said, nodding towards the top of the page. "It'll tell Cressida if her father still lives, and if she's a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"That'll narrow it down considerably," Hermione said, nodding with approval, "and she could even look into the Pure-Bood Directory if she had a mind to."

"Might as well," I said softly, extending my left index finger, and pressing it down, hard, onto the fingerprint. The book shuddered for several moment until it launched into the air again, flipped onto a blank page, and revealed information about me.

Name: Cressida Thérèsa Lambert

Birthdate: 27 March 1977

Birthplace: Lambert Loge, Île-de-France, Paris, France

Father: Louis Alphonse Delacour (adopted); Unknown British Pureblood Wizard (biological)

Paternal Relatives: Unknown

Mother: Apolline Marianne Delacour (adopted); Thérèsa Éloïse Lambert (biological)

Maternal Relatives: Raphael Baptiste Lambert (maternal grandfather); Antoinette Françoise Marchant (paternal grandmother)

Sibling(s): Fleur Apolline Delacour (adopted); Gabrielle Louisa Delacour (adopted); Unknown (biological)

Nationality: British (paternal); French (maternal)

Blood Status: Pureblood

Member of Sacred Twenty-Eight: Yes

"Other than the notion that you're a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, is there anything listed that you didn't previously know about?" Hermione asked softly after a few moments.

"The middle names of my grandparents," I said quietly, gazing down at the information, more than a little infuriated that my mother had decided to go to her grave without informing anyone who my biological father was. "Why didn't she tell anyone, do you think?"

"Perhaps there was a significant age difference?" Harry guessed. "All you know about your father's age is the decade that he attended Hogwarts, and, placing your birth year as 1977, your own father could have been born as early as..."

"1958, at the earliest," Hermione said softly, shaking her head. "Perhaps it was a situation that your mother just couldn't get out of...." She pursed her lips. "Perhaps neither of the families approved?"

"My mother's family certainly didn't," I said stoutly. "After I got my THESTRALs, my parents told me that my grand-père was very unhappy about the prospect of my mother getting pregnant so young. According to Mère, she had shamed the family, and, according to her, died of a broken heart because of it..."

"Given the notion that you are, indeed, a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, it's entirely possible that your paternal family was strictly traditional," Hermione mused, shaking her head.

"Not to mention potentially dangerous," Harry put in. "Most of the families are Slytherin, and lots of them are known for interbreeding..."

"Yes, thank you, Harry," Hermione said firmly, once she caught a glimpse of my rather pained expression at his words. "I don't want you thinking that we think of you any differently," said Hermione softly, squeezing my arm. "I know it's only been a few days, but I can sense that we'll be friends for a very long time, all right?"

Harry nodded. "I certainly don't think of you any differently."

I gave them both a small smile. "Thank you," I said softly. "It's not like I can really control who my father is, after all."

I spent the rest of my afternoon studying with Hermione, while Harry went outside to ride his Firebolt around the Quidditch pitch. I returned the book to Madam Pince, thanking her for its use, and was pleased when she didn't request me to elaborate further on what information I'd found from within its pages. When dinnertime arrived, I sat with Harry and Hermione once again, continually attempting to wonder why Ron was so dead-set against believing that Harry would put his name in the Goblet of Fire.

Once dinner ended, Harry, along with Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric, were taken with their Heads of Houses, plus Headmaster Dumbledore, Headmaster Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime, to a secluded area to do some training for the tournament. I made my way out of the Great Hall with Hermione, who was going to do some more studying, while I told her I intended to walk around the castle with Morgana. I'd previously been told by Madame Maxime and Professor McGonagall that, as long as I was respectful and quiet, I would have the same curfew rules as that of the Head Boys and Girls, plus Prefects, as I had attained the title of Head Girl back at Beauxbatons, and was, therefore, able to be trusted.

I took Morgana from the seventh-year girls' dorm in Gryffindor Tower, before making my way back outside and into the corridor. As per usual, she curled herself around my neck in a loving manner, and I tickled her beneath her chin as I made my way around the seventh-floor corridor, looking at the various portraits and admiring their style. It was after a quarter of an hour or so of my journey that I heard heavy footsteps behind me, and my wand was in my hand immediately just before I turned around.

"Ronald Weasley, I could have hexed you!" I nearly shouted, gripping at my wand still, yet I lowered my arm. "What do you think you're doing, wandering around the corridors at night? It's not safe."

Ron scoffed, crossing his arms as he approached me. "I can't believe Harry got to you," he declared rather scathingly. "How could you believe him?"

I raised my eyebrows, my eyes locking with his. "I can't believe you wouldn't believe him," I told him, my voice very near a growl as Morgana began squeaking dangerously around my throat. "You're supposed to be his best friend—have been, in fact, for four years."

"Which is why he should've told me how he got his bloody name in the goblet," Ron declared, his eyes flashing angrily.

"He can't tell you, because he didn't do it," I told him, deliberately saying each word slowly in an attempt to drive the point home. "Why can't you see that? He hates his fame. He's told me already about how much he hates it a handful of times since I've met him, which means he's likely told you at least a hundred times since you've met. Why can't you believe that? Are you really so jealous of him that you've convinced yourself otherwise?"

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Take that back."

I scoffed. "Or what? I can hardly fathom taking back something that's clearly the truth. What's there to be jealous of in the first place? He didn't do it, plain and simple."

Ron shoved me backwards then, causing me to trip over my own feet, and Morgana to squeak all the more loudly, bearing her teeth at the redhaired wizard before us. "Don't lie."

"I'm not," I told him firmly, narrowing my gaze. "Don't touch me."

Ron gritted his teeth. "Or what?" he demanded, shoving me again, harder this time, to the point where I stumbled backward further, and fell into the stone fall, my shoulder blades protesting as they landed hard against it. "I don't think I need to apologize or stop doing it, given that you seem dead set on provoking me."

I rolled my eyes. "Ah, yes. Childishness. Real mature, Ron. Excuse me," I said, and attempted to move to walk around him, in an effort to exit the conversation.

Ron, meanwhile, wasn't having it, and took ahold of my shoulder, knocking me, hard, against the wall a second time, which dislodged Morgana, who launched herself to the floor, and took off running in the opposite direction. "I don't believe I'd ended my part of the conversation yet, Cressida," he said firmly.

"Morgana!" I cried out, watching as she hurried down the opposite corridor. I locked my eyes back onto Ron's, my patience just beginning to fail. "Pinning me against the wall is hardly something a proper wizard would do in an effort to get their way. Not to mention the notion that you are failing utterly at international magical cooperation." I gritted my teeth, seeing that, clearly, Ron wasn't comprehending any of this. "My familiar has wandered off on her own, and I have to retrieve her. Since our conversation isn't getting anywhere, I am ending it." I slipped beneath his arm, venturing towards the corridor where Morgana had scurried off to, but I felt an almighty tug, and was, quite literally, trapped by my hair.

"I said I wasn't finished talking," Ron declared.

"That hurts!" I cried out, turning slightly to see my raven locks wrapped around Ron's meaty fingers. "Let me go!"

"Mr. Weasley, I hardly think that is appropriate behavior, given that Miss Lambert is the senior witch, of age, and a guest of the castle," said a familiar voice and, quite suddenly, the pressure and pain of my hair being yanked in one direction eased.

I swallowed, the relief that someone had come to my rescue was evident and, as I turned towards the voice, spotted Professor Snape, who was holding onto Morgana gently, stroking her white fur, while my familiar looked altogether pleased at the situation. "Oh," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "You've found her."

"Quite," Professor Snape replied, before looking down his nose at Ron, who appeared altogether annoyed at his plan being foiled. "We'll make it an even thirty points from Gryffindor for assault upon a guest of the castle, Mr. Weasley. I suggest you return to Gryffindor Tower at once, before you lose further points. Go," the man ordered.

I was vaguely aware of Ron exiting my line of sight from behind me, and, once he turned the corner to reach Gryffindor Tower, only then did I turn my gaze to the Head of Slytherin. "Thank you," I said softly, crossing more closely to him, and was pleased when he handed Morgana over to me.

"She was, quite literally, screaming for someone to come to your aid," Professor Snape said, his eyes filled with a rare indulgence as he gazed upon Morgana. "Lovely ermine you've got there. I haven't met a wizarding one before."

"They're very rare creatures indeed," I said quietly. "Her mother abandoned her at birth, and she was the thirteenth in her litter." I leaned down and pressed a light kiss onto her head, and was rewarded with Morgana nuzzling my cheek before wrapping herself around my neck again. "I found her during a family trip the summer before I began at Beauxbatons."

"The rules of Hogwarts stipulate that only an owl, cat, or toad can be brought, but I know entirely well that the headmaster made an exception for your Morgana," he replied.

I looked up at the man, a little gasp escaping my throat before I could call it back. "Did Madame Maxime tell you her name?" I asked.

"Your Morgana was mentioned during the staff meeting before she and the rest of the student body arrived, and the headmaster approved of her coming along as well," Professor Snape informed me. "What familiars are permitted at Beauxbatons?"

"Owls, cats, and toads, of course, although if it is a gentle wizarding beast, and you have formed a bond with it, they are permitted as well," I said softly. "She usually doesn't take to people so easily. I had to socialize her quite a bit in the beginning, just to get used to being in a room with a certain number of people. When Fleur and I became Filles en Chef this year, she behaved quite well and let the younger years greet her upon the train..." I shook my head then, not wishing to bother the man with mundane tales. "I appreciate you stepping in with Ron like that. You really didn't have to..."

"In my capacity as a professor, Miss Lambert, I certainly did," he informed me.

I nodded. "Right," I responded.

"I noticed you were in the library today with Miss Granger and Mr. Potter," he continued, and I raised my eyebrows at that. "Read anything interesting?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Merely an attempt to figure out more information on my thus-far elusive biological father," I said softly.

Professor Snape looked intrigued. "And did you discover anything?"

"Well, according to The Hogwarts Directory, I am a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," I said softly. "I suppose it would mean something quite different to a wixen who had been raised entirely in Britain, but, I'm afraid, it doesn't harbor the same appeal to me."

"You knew you were a Pureblood from birth, then?"

I nodded. "Yes. That was one tidbit of information my biological mother saw fit to part with before her untimely death."

Professor Snape inclined his head. "You harbor resentment for her."

I sighed, wrapping my arms around myself. "I am perfectly happy in my home life, and my mother and father were always good to me. However, I fear I will never be able to escape the yearning I feel to complete the puzzle that was handed to me from the moment I was born, for I can feel as if I will not be complete without it."

"It seems to me as if your mother was an impulsive witch," Professor Snape put in.

I laughed aloud at that. "One could say that, yes, given that I was the product of a summer fling in the 1970s," I said, shaking my head.

"In that, I am afraid, I cannot help you, other than the notion that I likely attended Hogwarts with your father," Professor Snape said softly.

I blinked. "Which years did you attend Hogwarts, sir?"

"I began in 1971, and graduated in 1978," Professor Snape responded.

I nodded; it wasn't much, but, perhaps, it would narrow down my search. "Hermione mentioned that she wished there was an identifier..."

Professor Snape blinked. "A what?"

"A place to prick one's finger, thus permitting the magical blood to be analyzed, sort of like a Muggle blood test," I explained.

The man appeared completely fascinated. "You appear to know quite a bit about Muggle culture despite your Blood Status, Miss Lambert."

I smiled. "It's different in France, not so separate," I explained. "Yes, wixen must be concealed from the world, but we frequently make trips into the cities to experience their culture. For example, I've been to the cinema a number of times, as well as to shopping malls, their libraries, restaurants, and other things like that. It's fascinating, in a way, and makes me truly sad that, a part of them, at least, cannot experience our world for themselves."

Professor Snape sighed. "It could lead to war, Miss Lambert."

I gave him a small smile, reaching upwards to pet at Morgana again. "There is already war on the horizon, Professor Snape," I responded, shrugging my shoulders. "Who is to say that the war with Muggles would be any worse?"