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Christine had been completely right all those years ago, sitting in the break room of her parent's shop with Professor McGonagall. It did get weird. Far more so than Christine had ever imagined possible. More than that, it had been completely overwhelming. And accepting everything the professor told her had taken a lot of time.

The most challenging thing by far was accepting that her mother was not the person she had known her to be. At least, not entirely. It was really hard to believe that her mother was a squib, had grown up in the magical world without magic herself. That she had been disowned because of it.

The news made her feel very sorry for her mother. It must have been a very difficult thing to live through. And eventually, she grew to understand why Cyllene didn't like to talk about it.

But it still hurt, that her mother never mentioned it.

Professor McGonagall was unbelievably helpful when Christine was trying to understand her mother's past. She was very patient with Christine's unending questions about her mother and the world she came from. Though Professor McGonagall had never known her mother personally, and couldn't answer all of her questions, she tried her best. Which Christine appreciated.

And even though she wasn't the head of Christine's house, the door to her office was always open to Christine who she was at Hogwarts herself. It was a kindness that Christine would never forget. And could only hope to repay in the future.

One of the most valuable things she ever told Christine and her parents, was that most magical people who lived in the muggle world had a habit of keeping their origins secret. That her mother would likely have told her everything when she turned eleven and the letter from Hogwarts came.

That helped, a lot. Knowing that her mother probably didn't intend to take the knowledge of her past to the grave.

McGonagall's openness on the subject had another, unintended effect. Though it only came to light in the days after she left them with Christine's letter of acceptance and list of the necessary wizarding school supplies. Surprisingly, the person her presence and her news affected most wasn't Christine. It was Dominic.

In the week after McGonagall's visit, her father was a lot quieter than normal, thoughtful and pensive. It wasn't a look that suited him, a man whose face was far more accustomed to laughter and joy.

At first, Christine thought it was because Dominic was having a hard time accepting the revelation that came along with the professor and her letter. That he was having trouble acknowledging that she was different. That she was, apparently, a witch. She was wrong. It had been known to happen on occasion, but it wasn't something Christine expected. Or particularly liked. Especially not for the second time in a week.

She let it go, however, because being wrong was worth it this time since it meant her father opened up about something he'd never spoken about before. At least, he'd never talked about it where Christine could hear. She couldn't be entirely sure he'd told Jessie about it, but she thought it was likely.

He began the subject abruptly, when the two of them were alone in the kitchen. He was watching a sauce on the stove like a hawk, stirring occasionally. While Christine was perched on the counter nearby, pretending to help. Really, she just didn't want to clean her room. Dominic knew this, of course, but let her avoid the task because he wanted to talk to her before any more time passed.

"Your mum never talked about her family. Never. Not with me, not with anyone else far as I could tell," he said, not looking at his daughter, whose head spun toward him so quickly he was afraid she'd snap it, "Whenever it came up, Cyllene always got so upset. She tried to hide it, but she couldn't. Pretty soon, everyone got the idea and didn't bring it up anymore."

Christine didn't say anything to that, though she desperately wanted to hurl a million and one questions at him. Instead, she waited incredibly impatiently for him to keep going. Which, eventually, he did. Though it seemed very difficult for him to do so.

"I tried to give her a new family instead. One that wouldn't make her break down whenever anyone talked about them," he stopped to clear his throat, which had become constricted with an overflow of emotion, "It worked. All your cousins loved her. Your grandparents did too. So did my Gran. And Cyllene loved them. She fit in with all of us perfectly, even though it was so damn obvious she'd been raised by a bunch of toffs."

"I never stopped to think why it was so easy. I was too happy with her, and then with you too, to question it."

They sat, or stood, in silence for a while after that declaration. Christine had always known her father's family thought highly of her mother. But she hadn't known until then how much they'd done for Cyllene. That they'd taken her in as one of their own, long before her parents had married and Christine was born, creating a permanent tie between them.

Dominic didn't seem inclined to say more on the matter. But from the look on his face, Christine could tell he wasn't done yet, however little he liked talking about it. So, she kept her questions to herself again.

"Since that professor, McGonagall, came though, I've been thinking about it."

Christine didn't know what to say to that. Or why the teacher's appearance in their lives would get him thinking about their family so intently. She maintained her silence, but Dominic could see the questions she was holding back clearly as if they were written on her forehead.

"Cyllene would've known enough, if she really was a squib, to understand why our family's a bit... out there," he explained haltingly, and that perked Christine's interest enough to finally get her to speak up.

"What d'you mean?"

Dominic hesitated again at her question. But steeled himself like he was about to walk into a mine field and forced himself to go on.

"I mean, you aren't the first person in the family to have magic."

At that, Christine's jaw actually dropped and she nearly fell off the counter. Her father caught her before she could hurt herself, but she hardly noticed. She was too busy gaping at him in absolute amazement.

After a while though, she got her voice back. And with it, Dominic's brief reprieve and silence was over.

"But you said to McGonagall that magic wasn't real!" she pointed out in a tone that demanded and explanation, and a very good one at that.

"It's the best kept secret in London, Kalo. It wouldn't be if I went blabbing about it to every nutter I came across," he explained with an apologetic smile.

Christine frowned in confusion. If he knew about magic, he had to have known about the magical school and its teachers too.

"You really thought she was a nutter?"

"I did. Never heard of that Hogwarts place before," Dominic admitted, "Your cousins that needed to, they always learned the old ways from the family. The idea of a school all about it's kind of crazy to me still."

"Oh," was all Christine said in reply to that.

She was too caught up in her own thoughts to say much more. She'd been hurt that her mother hadn't shared the magical world with her. And now her father just admitted to keeping almost the exact same secret from her all her life. It was proving too much for her to take in, in the space of merely a week.

"Don't be cross with me, love. Please?" Dominic requested, "I didn't tell you cause you're a kid. I didn't want you to have to carry around a secret like that. I'm sure that's why your mum didn't say anything either. It's not because we don't trust you."

Christine managed a weak smile at him. That did comfort her a little. They kept things from her because she was young. All parents did that. It wasn't because of something she did wrong. And even though he did so unwillingly, Christine was glad her father had, at last, let her in on the family secret.

Well, the biggest family secret. The Rumanceks had plenty of those lurking around.

Because it was nice to know that she wasn't alone in this. That, as in all other things, she had her family to support her.

And that was exactly what they did. Even when she decided to attend Hogwarts as well as learning the old ways from her Grandaunt Lilla during her holidays from school. They didn't think it was really necessary. Nonetheless, they were a constant source of warmth and support as she entered the magical world.

But still, adjusting to the magical world had been difficult at first. Knowing that she would be looked down upon because her mother was a squib was a tough pill to swallow. But it was nothing she hadn't experienced before.

People in the muggle world looked down on her all the time. For numerous reasons. Because her family were poorer than most. Because her parents were bikers, and their friends were comprised of other bikers, tattoo artists, punks, and the like. Because they lived in a bad part of London. Because her mother and father had been divorced, and her father was remarried. Because they were Romani.

It was something Christine was confident she could overcome, even when she was just a kid. And had just found out about the magical world and all of the drama that came along with it.

She had been totally right about that, as it turned out. As she grew older, Christine discovered that she was rarely wrong, especially when it came to betting on her abilities.

Once she had adjusted to her new identity, to the world she was apparently a part of, Christine thrived.

She had always gotten good marks at school, though it had never really been able to hold her attention. She was good a fiddling around with the bikes in the shop, and helping out with the business. But magic, as it happened, was something Christine excelled at. Soon, it became her passion. And the world around it felt as though she had been involved with it since birth.

Once she accepted who was, her real origins, Christine wore them as armour. She was unashamed and open about it. Which confused her housemates so much that they soon grew tired of trying to use it against her. It became something she mercilessly shoved in their faces, not something they could use to hurt her.

That victory alone was enough repayment for the effort it took her to accept herself and her mother. Her mother's family, as horrible as they appeared to be to her.

Christine's past and parentage had become her shield and her sword at Hogwarts. And she used both freely to cut down anyone who crossed her.

Acceptance, she learned, was a powerful tool. And one she had over most of the student body. So, when she graduated, it was at the top of her year, and with a fierce reputation to protect her from the paltry attacks of others.

A/N - I've gone back and edited some of the earlier chapters of this work, but since this one has the most changes, I decided to attach this note to the chapter in explanation. I had always imagined Christine as being half Romani on her father' side. But I kind of flew through writing most of the early chapters, and only realised later on that I really didn't indicate that was the case in any of them. Thus, looking back, it felt very sudden to say she was Romani in Chapter Eight. So, I went back and fixed that mistake. Hopefully, it feels more natural to you all now.