Now the truth must be told...

I got the message by owl last night that uncle is on my mom's case again, and I can't put this off any longer, so I am going to come clean. It's that or a trademark green howler, and that would be a HUGE mistake for anyone to make, so I have no choice, really, and here goes.

I am not exactly who you think I am. That is, I mean, I am, I am exactly like you think I am in that sense, it's just that I've been leaving off my last name, because my dad is really well known and you know, I just wanted people to judge me for myself. As Uncle Severus says...

Well, on second thought, I had better not repeat what he says about Gryffindors, even though he adores Rosemary and she is one, and so is Aunt Celia, so let's just say...that when you are busy doing things like winning Quidditch matches and trying to figure out a way to top Uncle Harry, or Uncles Fred and George, or Uncle Neville, that you probably aren't going to pay too much attention to the inconsistencies in your housemate's story, or probe too much into why she is always getting picked up at Platform Nine and Three Quarters by Freesia'a mom and dad, the Muggle and the Famous Auror, or anything like that, whereas if you happen to be the more ambitious type, then your curiosity might well take the form of figuring out just what is going on with that odd girl Belladonna who volunteered to be in your house for a term, and what use you might legitimately be able to make of that information.

Well, I am Belladonna Boomslang – Belladonna Boomslang Moody, that is. Not everyone knows about my mom being a Muggle, or how my father survived the fall from his broom, or why I have a gorgeous red-haired sister who is just the life of the party over in Gryffindor tower. Freesia does not feel the need to answer questions, and she could be, I don't know, the daughter of Dumbledore and Harry Potter and Bellatrix Lestrange and Tom Riddle and Dobby all at once and the force of her personality would override it, but between her, the boys, and Dad, I figured I would just be lost in the crowd, so I sort of reinvented myself when I turned eleven and started here. (And don't EVEN start with how the years don't add up because I have suspicions that may involve very restricted magical objects previously thought to be more or less extinct and let us just say we don't want to go there. Some things just have to be accepted for what they are.) Everyone thought it was a bad idea, although mom and dad are sympathetic, and decided to let me, and I do have to say I was getting a little sick of it by now although the thought of having to explain in the common room did not appeal, you know? But when Uncle Sev found out I was going to be a Slytherin this term he appeared in the living room that way he has, with that look he has, which if I did not know him as well as I do would scare the pee pee out of me, and started in on them.

It eventually involved my mom going into her little office with him, and the door being imperturbed and a silencing spell put on and you could still feel him sort of Stomping every now and then in total frustration, the vibration carries through the floor boards, and every time he did Dad chuckled a little and shook his head and when I threw him a look finally said, “It's good for him. It's always good for your uncle to have to deal with your mum – the immutable force meeting the immovable object. Keeps him in his place. Well, that and your aunt.” and then he chuckled again but managed to look totally solemn by the time the door opened and my famous Uncle came out.
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“Idiocy! But she will have to tell them or she will be at their mercy, and Elizabeth has agreed with me.”

I doubt it took more than one sentence for mom to agree with him, because he really did have a point and she is no idiot, in fact, she may have been ready to make me tell the house anyway, and just let him go on and on because it amuses her when he gets like that. She winked at my dad from behind Snape's back and he asked, “Don't suppose she offered you any fire whiskey during the discussion?”

“Of course not, I don't have time for Fire whiskey, I”

“Well, I've got some in the kitchen. Leafey found it in the cellar, Merlin knows how long it's been down there – thought you'd take a look at it for me and let me know if it's safe to drink.”

This must be some standing joke between them because everyone but everyone knows my dad is tops at figuring out what is good for you and what isn't, but they go through it every time, and then they go in the kitchen and Snape mumbles about how women are impossible, and Gryffindors are impossible, and how my aunt is the most impossible of all and how he is certain Minerva Macgonagall was right and that my mom would have sorted Gryffindor if the hat had ever been willing to sort her at all, and he has usually found a reason to do something obscurely nice before he leaves.

So there you have it. I am a Moody. My Mother is a Muggle. I have a passle of brothers and sisters most of whom have been humoring me for years about this and are now going to be having a ball behind my back about it, but woe to any of you who give me a hard time – we are all the children of the best Auror the ministry ever had, as the Weasleys say, and you wouldn't want to take us all on.

(If you are interested in how my parents got together and how my dad survived and why my uncle isn't dead, that story is being told. You can read chapter one of here, and if you like it, or really hate it, you can either register at the site which will not get you any spam (Has never gotten me any in the past 3 or 4 years, anyway) or if you really don't want to do that, you can comment here after you've read it.)