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In the history of the Vongola Famiglia, there had only been one female Boss- Daniela, also known as Donna Ottava.
She had been meant to be named ‘Daniel’, and instead of going with the more feminine spelling of ‘Danielle’ her father had looked at his newborn daughter, and pronounced her ‘Daniela’.
Fabio Vongola, or Don Settimo, had lived through the Great War and had already buried four children and two wives. Daniela was his sixth child, and as it would turn out, his only offspring who would outlast him and take the mantle of ‘Boss’.
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When Daniela had been young girl, she’d often been told that she needed to be more ladylike so that the young men who wanted to curry favor with her father would be more inclined to want to woo her.
“With your black hair and pretty hazel eyes, you’re a catch,” Her tutors would simper, “But you need to actually act like the bred lady you are.”
Eventually her irritation had peaked and she’d disappeared into Venice for a few days, only to come back with a rather lovely, vibrant tattoo of a flower resting near her right eye and spiraling gracefully down her cheek. “I’ve got a flower on my face, this is as girly as I’m going to get, now shut up and let me work on my archery in peace!” She’d snapped at the gaping idiots.
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Vongola Primo was Daniela’s hero, but she sort-of not-so-quietly wanted a time machine so she could go back in time and have his right-hand man’s babies.
G, the First Generation Storm Guardian, was Daniela’s one true love, and no one would ever convince her otherwise. She admired Primo as a Boss, but she admired G as a tactician and a planner. The few stories that had survived told tales of G turning the enemy’s own advantages against them when things looked darkest for the Vongola, and Daniela really could appreciate a man like that.
(And, well, she was a healthy young woman and the man was attractive, even for having existed four hundred years ago and having few surviving portraits.)
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Daniela abruptly became Donna Ottava at sixteen in 1934, just in time for the shit to truly hit the fan and the Second World War to fully explode.
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Donna Ottava sat back and re-read the reports.
An unknown, outside force was interfering with her people, causing memory gaps and a host of other issues.
Not on her watch. Secondo had created the Varia for a reason.
“Get me Boss Messa.” She ordered.
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The Varia’s WEATHER Squad had been created for the sole purpose of handling issues that crossed over into the newly-discovered magical world’s territory.
After the near-disaster of them almost being found out, (and losing a damn good Mist in the process), Donna Ottava had set about restricting and compartmentalizing the information about the magical world, so that if they ever were discovered, the Vongola wouldn’t be left entirely helpless.
She also developed a deep loathing of Albus Dumbledore and his sanctimonious bullshit.
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In 1940, with Daniela being sick to death of snide comments about heirs and marriages from her fellow Bosses when there were more important things happening, she once again called on the Varia Boss.
(Timoteo never knew that the man he sent to his death in one of his first big screw-ups as Don Nono was his father.)
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Caleb Potter was the uncle of Lord Charlus Potter.
Technically, Caleb could have inherited, but the man had no use for politics, (the Potters in general had an aversion to politics and had been employing the services of the Ancient House of Briggs for all their legal and political needs since the fifteenth century). So, when his brother had passed on, Caleb had stepped aside in favor of Charlus to become the next Lord of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter and hadn’t regretted his decision once.
Caleb was an explorer, fighter, and healer. He’d been in Armenia for the purges in the early part of the new century and had fought like hell against the magicals that had been backing the Ottoman Empire. He’d been slipping in and out of Grindelwald’s territory and lackey’s confidences for so long he’d almost forgotten what life was like beforehand. So, when he’d been winding through Italy and picking up stray Grindelwald sympathizers and learned that muggles had discovered magical secrets, he’d gone to fix the issue.
Instead he’d found her.
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Daniela was intimately aware of the fact that she was nearly a forty-year-old woman and an accomplished Donna. Timoteo would soon be taking over for her and now was not the time for her to be doing stupid shit, but there was something about that infuriating man that drew her in.
Caleb Potter had shown up in her vacation home a week ago and she’d promptly treated him as she would any unknown: by greeting him with her crossbow in his face.
Somehow his threats of erasing her mind had turned into respect for her work, and drinks had been poured as they lamented the lack of sense the younger generation of magicals seemed to possess.
Later that evening had found her tangled up with the man on her favorite couch. As a rule, Daniela didn’t indulge herself often with men, especially not with strange men she’d just met. They tended to want to use and bend and break her- but this one-
Daniela tilted her head back as he assaulted her neck again and as a pleasured shiver threaded through her body.
This one was different.
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“You’re sure that they’ll take good care of him?” She asked tearfully as she stared down at her newborn.
Hiding her pregnancy had been difficult, but manageable.
Looking down at her baby and knowing that she was giving him to someone else to be raised was not.
“I’m sure. Dorea wanted to come herself, to do this woman-to-woman, but I convinced her not to as a safety precaution. If there was any other way….”
Daniela shook her head, “No,” she said roughly as she gently traced her baby’s features, “No, my son is nearly old enough to take over for me, and even though I could protect this one, his age would cause trouble later on with succession, not to mention with the magical issues thrown in. J-Just.” She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the tears that fells, “Just swear to me that he’ll be happy.”
Caleb gently brushed her tears away and allowed her a few more moments before he took the baby, “He’ll be the most treasured child in our world, Dani. I swear.” He told her sincerely.
The woman nodded sharply and took a shaky breath, “Alright, then. That’s that. Don’t come back.”
As Caleb Potter turned and walked away, he tried to block out the sounds of the strongest, fiercest, bravest woman he’d ever known breaking down completely behind him.
Don’t come back when you can’t bring him with you.
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James Charlus Potter was blood adopted by Lord Charlus Potter and his wife, Dorea Potter neè Black, when he was under seven days old, so he was able to assimilate some of the Black Family Magics.
The fact that his blood father was an actual Potter meant that he already possessed the Potter Family Magic and could inherit, and no one ever thought to question Dorea’s miraculous pregnancy.
The ritual used was actually called ‘Sarah’s Lament’, named after Abraham’s wife who had her handmaiden bear him a son.
It had no direct relation to that particular event, but had been developed for families who needed an Heir and, for one reason or another, couldn’t have one the old fashioned way. Since Charlus and Caleb were closely related, and Caleb had been in the line of succession, it made it even simpler for them to ‘add’ Dorea. The ritual was designed to ‘add’ instead of simply ‘overwrite’ in an effort to not have to use it successively and propagate the underlying issue. It is also largely responsible for how the Purebloods had managed to keep themselves from inbreeding their population to death or making Squibs out of all of them long before the number of ‘muggle born’ exploded.
It’s also why, when rituals began to be heavily restricted after the rise of the Dark Lord Delano, (a Dark Lord who hailed from the modern-day Netherlands area and terrorized the magical populations in the early eighteenth century), the number of Squibs began to rise.
Of course, they were cast out by their families as by the Statute they couldn’t be allowed to stay in the magical world beyond fifteen, and there was very little tolerance for Statute violations in that age. Consequently, about thirty –or-so years later, the number of ‘muggle born’ students receiving letters for Hogwarts at eleven skyrocketed, creating an entirely new problem for the Staff.
Muggle born students were allowed to attend Hogwarts, but they had always made up less than a quarter of the student population. However, as the eighteenth century wore on and the nineteenth century dawned, tensions began to rise as the number of Purebloods dwindled and the number of muggle born skyrocketed. The resulting shifts in the working class were felt by the Lords and Ladies, and they did not enjoy being told that their long-held traditions were barbaric or outdated by usurpers; especially as the majority of the workforce began to rest on the shoulders of people who viewed magic as a tool as opposed to a way of life.
However, none of that truly mattered to Charlus and Dorea as they welcomed James into their home and hearts, all that mattered was that their little miracle prince grew up loved and cherished.
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James Potter was, arguably, the most pampered brat in the entire world, between his parents and his Uncle Caleb.
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Caleb knew that he wouldn’t last much longer, not with this new war heating up and his health failing. He returned back to Potter Manor where Charlus had nodded in agreement, while Dorea had sighed regretfully.
It was time.
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Everyone had their own opinions about what had reality-checked James Potter between Fifth Year and Sixth Year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, but none of them had ever come close to the truth.
The only person James ever told the truth to was Sirius Black.
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Stories of Family Magics stretch back to Avalon, where Myrridin gathered a scattered people and built an Empire whose legacy lasted far beyond her Fall. They are also damn near sentient, most notably within the ‘Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses’.
‘Most Ancient and Most Noble’ Houses are Houses which practice a lost art or arts almost instinctively.
The Potters are known for their brilliance in Formation Magic- the predecessor of modern Transfiguration and Charms and far more powerful. The Blacks are known for their Encompassing Magic- magic so powerful it can transcend the boundaries of space and time if used to the fullest extent. (The first Time Turners were based on the concepts the Blacks had divulged over the centuries.) The Longbottoms were known for their Steadfast Magic- magic so incredibly powerful when used for defense it could stop armadas, (and did, against the Germanic magicals that one time). The Bones were known for their Supple Magic- magic able to twist and bend without backlashing at the caster, allowing them to be incredibly flexible in their spell casting.
Each Lord was installed with a ritual, (only allowed at a Gringotts location or the Family Main Estate nowadays), and the Family Magics decided how worthy one was to receive the Family legacy.
The Wards on the Potter Main Estate had been wrecked by the Death Eaters, even though they hadn’t been breached. Having other ‘Most Ancient and Most Noble’ scions at his beck and call, the Dark Lord had known to attack in the vulnerable time between the death of James’ parents and his installation as the new Lord Potter, so as to cause enough damage to the Wards that the estate would be unusable while the Wards recharged from ambient magic.
It was the only time the Estate Wards of a family like the Potters would ever be even close to weak, after centuries of being added to and built upon.
(They needed a certain level of power before they’d let the family come and go freely. Usually family members would gather and this wouldn’t be an issue, but with it just being James, it would take too long for the Wards to recharge and let him out, so he’d just have let the Wards go into Lockdown.)
So, James packed up what he could, (most things were bound to the Manor and had been for centuries), and left his home, knowing it would be at least five years before he’s be back.
(He never would see his mother’s favorite rosebush again, as it turn out.)
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Lily Potter had been a truly brilliant witch, but when she’d gotten married and been tested for the Family Magics, they had only allowed her a trickle of information.
The thing about Family Magics is that there is only so much that they will give to an outsider if they deem them unworthy. Lily wasn’t so much unworthy as she was too trusting, and the Family Magics were worse than dragons and gold when it came to keeping the information inside the House.
As time wore on, and she became more desperate to save her son, the Family Magics began to allow more power and tidbits through. It wasn’t as if they could download ten centuries’ worth of information into the poor young woman’s mind, but they could nudge and prod and poke when she was researching or calculating.
They also weren’t omniscient or omniscient, unfortunately.
As the green light sped towards her, she prayed that her contingency plans held true and that Sirius would take good care of Harry.
Please be alright, baby.
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Harry Potter was left on a doorstep in November, but Lily Potter hadn’t been the only parent with a contingency plan.
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Family Magics were damn near sentient, and James Potter possessed both the Potter Family Magics and the Black Family Magics, (the former far more than the latter).
James Potter had used every last drop of Family Magic he had, just in case something happened to all of them and his little Pronglet was left all alone.
(Because he knew that the final contingency would be Blood Wards, and that Albus had had Arabella looking out for Petunia since he’d taken the title of Lord Potter.)
James knew that Daniela Vongola was a muggle, but Uncle Caleb had said that she’d been a fiercest, strongest woman he’d ever met.
No way in hell James’ son would ever spend his childhood with Lily’s shrew of sister.
James Potter had been a damn Marauder- the leader- and he’d be having the last damn laugh.
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Federico looked at the letter on his desk and leaned back in his chair, meeting Enrico’s eyes. “What do you think, Eric?”
“I think,” Enrico Vongola- the eldest of the Vongola brothers at twenty-one- said slowly, “That we should get the results back from the lab and then decide how to handle this. I don’t want to tell Dad or Massimo though.”
“Me either.” Federico grimaced, the fourteen-year-old not wanting to sit through one of their middle brother’s tantrums, “Do you think that there’s a possibility?”
“Knowing Nonna and the way she worked, yes.” Enrico said bluntly. “She was the only female Vongola ever. Dad doesn’t know who his father is and he’s in his forties- not to mention he’s the Boss. I think it’s entirely possible.”
“True,” Federico allowed, “But what would we do with a baby? A magical one? You know how badly Dad freaked out about you having magic.”
“Yes.” Enrico sighed heavily, thinking back to what had started to drive a wedge between the eldest child and the Vongola Nono, “But he’s gotten better, he just didn’t like the idea of an entire world being hidden from him. Hell, he still doesn’t know about the WEATHER Squad.”
“You’d think he’d be more understanding.” Federico said grouchily, “When we can already use Flames.”
“You’d think.” Enrico agreed. “But that is neither here nor there. Besides he’s got Iemitsu now.” It was an old barb, but one that still stung for Enrico.
Federico made a face as he thought about Iemitsu Sawada. The boy was from Vongola Primo’s second marriage, from when the man had moved to Japan. Vongola had kept track of the descendants, and occasionally one would crop up who had a Flame- like Iemitsu.
Iemitsu was Massimo’s- the middle Vongola brother- best friend. Massimo was sixteen to Iemitsu’s eighteen, but you’d think that Massimo was the elder one most of the time. Unfortunately for Enrico and Federico, Iemitsu was their father’s rising star despite his penchant for dramatics, and Massimo got a great deal of attention as well due to the boys’ friendship.
Enrico had all but raised Federico after Nonna had passed, and Nonna had all but raised Enrico.
When Donna Ottava had stepped down in 1962, Enrico had been a baby, so she had taken care of him as his mother had died of birth complications. With everything going on with the tensions in Vietnam and the Cold War between the United States and the USSR, Vongola Nono had had his hands full. The man had still made time to see Enrico, of course, but he’d been terribly busy and Nonna had been Enrico’s entire world.
Then he’d been targeted by specialist assassins, and one had managed to slip past Nonna and her Guardians.
The fallout from that incident revealed that Enrico’s mother had been a Squib.
It had taken Nonna a great deal of time and effort to find a way to suppress the boy’s magic so that he could awaken his Flame, and in that time Vongola Nono had distanced himself from his firstborn son, gotten married, and had Massimo.
To this day father and son were at odds, despite Timoteo being genuinely regretful of his conduct. There are just some wounds that never truly heal.
Massimo, in the meantime, had been overly lavished with attention, and hadn’t truly realized that he wasn’t the oldest or only. So, when he’d gotten old enough to understand, there had always been a rivalry between him and Enrico, despite Enrico not truly doing anything to encourage such a thing.
Iemitsu had arrived in their lives, (introduced as a cousin who would be spending summers with them), when Massimo was seven and Federico was five, and the two older boys had hit it off, depriving Federico of his usual playmate. That was about the time that Enrico had started coming around, (on Nonna’s orders), to play with him, and his ‘big brother hero worship’ complex had shifted from Massimo to Enrico quite fluidly.
Soon, Federico was spending more time with Enrico and Nonna than he was with Massimo and Mamá. Federico had only moved fully back into the Main House three years ago, when Nonna had passed, and he’d all but gotten down on his knees and begged Enrico to come with him.
Federico never regretted that fact, especially looking at Massimo’s conduct sometimes. Enrico made sure that Federico behaved when he got out of line, just like Nonna had done.
So, basically Nonna had been scary awesome and Enrico was the best big brother ever.
“But if it’s true, there is a chance he has the Flame. You remember what Nonna had to do for you.” Federico pointed out.
Enrico waved a hand at him, “We know how now, the biggest obstacle we faced with me was lack of information.”
“But we wouldn’t be able to tell the truth, and we’re still Primo’s blood and it shows.” Federico contended.
“I’m magical, Fede.” Enrico explained in that patient tone parents take when asked ‘are we there yet’, “And I’m Vongola. Legalities are just suggestions to me.”
Federico’s eyes widened in comprehension, “You can use the same ritual-thing that they did.”
“Yup. Nonna didn’t raise a fool to take over her network, you know.” Enrico looked entirely pleased with himself.
“Wow. That’s really smart.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’ll try.”
“Brat.”
“Fine, fine- I give!” Federico yelped as Enrico started flicking paperclips at him.
“Better, brat.” Enrico said smugly. “Now, we wait for the results and see what happens.”
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(James Potter had used the Family Magic to bind a letter that contained a sample of his and Harry’s hair, and a bit of blood. It would be triggered to go through a particular set of requirements upon his death and would present itself to the most suitable guardian prospect for Harry in Daniela’s direct line.
The letter contained the entire story about his adoption, the war, and James’ fear that Harry would be left with Petunia- along with the name of the Headmaster’s watcher. James Potter had admired and respected Dumbledore, but his Uncle Caleb had always told him that you put family first- and James trusted his Uncle Caleb’s judgment more than he trusted his former Headmaster’s.
The Family Magics picked Federico Vongola.)
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