Directly following Two Voices in One.


Iona sat across from her mother, slumping in her seat. Her mother sat upright, her hand a few inches away from hers on the table, her eyes red-rimmed with the tears she'd shed earlier. Cigarette smoke no longer wafted from her clothes like Iona had always remembered, but she wore a steady look on her lined face, a pair of spectacles, a dozen colorful necklaces, and had kept her hair dyed brown.

The McBoids had filed out of the conference room to give Iona and her mother some time to talk alone. Marianne sat wary at the Ministry, grief and anger rooting her to the chair. They'd spoken some about her mum's muggle family, her stepsons and her writing. Marianne had asked many questions that Iona hadn't been able to answer, yet she avoided the topic most important to Iona.

What is it you want? Is there anything? Anything we can do now, for you? Her father had asked.

Her mother. She'd wanted to see her mother.

"Mum, I need to know," Iona rubbed at her eyes and focused on the old woman in front of her. "How is she?"

Her mum's mouth thinned, her brow furrowed. Iona met her gaze as steadily as she could. She could handle this. She had to know.

"Mum," she repeated, fear tinging her voice.

"She is well, Iona," her mother glanced at the door. "She's doing very well. She's happy. My husband, my sons, they all love her. She's a part of our family. There's no difference in that with us."

Iona closed her eyes and let out a slow breath of relief. Something had gone right. They'd made the right choice so many years ago.

"She remembers you," her mother said softly.

"She does?" Hope burned bright alongside the pain.

"You brought her new books. You taught her how to swim. You went horseback riding with her. She remembers growing up in that huge house, and playing near the woods and in the lake, but most of all she remembers you and Lori. It's not as if she had any reason to remember the father."

Marianne smiled, the corners of her mouth twisting with sadness.

"You were her light, just like you were for Lori."

Iona glanced down at her hands. To be a light for someone. To know she hadn't hurt someone. The girl had been safe far away from the magical world.

"There's something else," Marianne took a deep breath.

"Does she know about anything going on? About what happened to me? Does she know there's a whole world out there that's magical?"

"She knows about magic," Marianne said carefully. "She knows, in general, about the pentrals and that someone reprehensible was impersonating her mother. That alone horrified her. I've not told her about you. I needed to be sure it was you. Iona-"

"What about the McBoids?"

Iona raised her eyebrows as her mother's jaw set, guilt flickering over her expression.

"I agreed to raise her among muggles. That's what Lori wanted. None of them know she's Lori's daughter."

Her mother paused for a long moment, and since her mother rarely struggled to find the words, Iona remained silent, looking at her.

"She's not a squib like we thought. She's not a squib," Marianne repeated at the slowly dawning comprehension on Iona's face. "She developed magic later, and by that time you were," she paused. "Missing. Lori or whoever was in that house didn't answer my owls, and I just kept doing what I was doing. Doing my best."

Iona glanced at the door, heart beating fast. The girl was aware of and a part of the magical world. She could be here. She could be anywhere.

"Lori thought she'd have a better life," Iona's brow furrowed. A squib among muggles, happier than Lori had ever been.

"She does have a better life," Marianne said firmly. "She grew up loved, among family, among friends. She has the best of both worlds. Muggle schooling as well as magic tutoring. She has the chance to go places."

Iona swallowed a mixture of feelings. She wished she'd been able to help Lori too, yet she felt immense relief that Lori's daughter was not only safe but happy. If she'd stayed and grown up in that house, the Hunts would have killed her.

Iona blinked and shook her head.

"Mum," she rubbed at her eyes again. "I'm so tired."

"I know," her mum said after a pause. "We can talk again later. We still have time."

Marianne reached out and tucked a piece of Iona's red hair around her ear, offering a tired smile of her own.

"Daughter of mine. Go sleep. Go dream."

Iona closed her eyes, and retreated into her own head, keeping the memory of her mother and father and cousins and the daughter close to her heart.