An Other Reality

by RHGroeninga

After he's been killed by Voldemort and has met Dumbledore on King's Cross, Harry wakes up in a Hogwarts that isn't quite as he left it. Dark alternate reality with pure-blood fanatical Weasleys, cleverer Death Eaters and alive Marauders. Sequel to The Ancient and Most Noble House of Weasley.

I still haven't decided if this is a sequel or the same story as The Ancient and Most Noble House of Weasley, but sure is that both stories aren't finished yet. Still, I'm not sure I'll ever finish them, so I thought it would be fair to you to post all I have anyway. I might continue this story, and I might continue the other ones. The first two alineas are actually written for myself to get my brain on track (together with twenty pages of lists, names and tables), but there is no reason you shouldn't read them. The first one summerizes the major differences to the plot until then (this does not yet appear in TAaMNHoW)(in Dutch), and the second one the motivation I imagined for the more neutral characters to choose the anti-Muggle side. Enjoy! (And reviews are always very welcome!)

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Nadat Galieus Weasley en Regulus Black samen Voldemort hebben geuit als beide een halfbloed en een megalomaan enkel geïnteresseerd in zijn eigen belang, keren veel van zijn Dooddoeners tegen hem en wordt Voldemort vernietigd, nog voor de profetie. Harry groeit op met zijn ouders, die beide als Aurors tegen de nu zelfstandige Dooddoeners vechten.

We've got nothing against Muggles, but there running rampant, outnumbering wizards by thousands and almost impossible to avoid. In fact, there the largest threat to wizard's society. Therefore, their numbers must be diminished drastically, their potentially harmful weapons dismantled and their sort must be placed under a much stricter control of wizardkind.

1.

Harry almost groaned as he regained his consciousness, but remembered to keep still just in time. Voldemort had just put the Killing Curse on him, he was supposed to be dead. Tom Riddle needn't know that instead of killing the Boy-Who-Lived, he'd just killed a piece of himself, unless he wished to die for real.

However, he noted he wasn't laying on the leaf-covered wood floor, where he'd fallen. He concluded he – or maybe, his body – had been moved during his talk with Dumbledore, as he now lay in a soft bed rather than on hard earth; did that mean he had returned to his friends?

A few feet away from Harry, he heard the hushed mumbling of two voices, as if not wanting to wake him up. Straining his ears, he recognized one of the voices as Madame Pomfrey, the Hogwart's matron. The other voice was distinctly male, and while Harry felt an odd twinge of familiarity at it, he couldn't tell for the life of him who it was.

The voices became somewhat louder as their conversation reached its end, Harry could just grasp the man saying '…get back to work then. I reckon I'll hear when he's awake,' as he heard a swish, probably the man turning around, followed by his footsteps leaving the room, which Harry was now quite sure was the Hospital Wing. He tried to keep the worry nagging in his brain from showing in his face. If they'd already had time to rebuild the Hospital Wing, how long had he been out of it?

Madame Pomfrey moved over to Harry's bed, inspecting her patient. Despite his best efforts to play dead until he had more clarity of his situation, she must've seen something in his expression because before he knew it, a small flask was opened and put under his nose, emitting a shockingly sharp, stinging smell that forced him to stir and open his eyes.

He felt the mediwitch's hand gently tilting his head up, and he scrambled a bit more upright. "Drink up," she ordered, and he complied reluctantly as she put the potion to his lips. It made his head clear up almost instantly and he sat up widely awake.

"What happened? How did I get here?"

"According to Mr Longbottom and Ms Granger you were walking with them to your Charms class, when you suddenly fainted. They brought you here, then they went on with their classes once I'd ensured them you would be in good hands. Do you have any idea what could've caused you to lose consciousness?"

Harry stared at her with wide eyes. He briefly wondered if he was still in some place in his mind, though everything seemed too real to be anything but reality. How could she not mention the deaths, Voldemort, the battle? Where was the battle?

He shook his head jerkily, suddenly realizing she was waiting for an answer. "I'm sorry… er… I think I've lost what you are talking about," he stammered, "how long have I been out?"

Poppy frowned. "Not more than a few hours. It's now a quarter to four, they brought you in after lunchtime."

Harry tensed, his rising panic chasing his voice at least an octave up. "That is not how I remember it!"

Madame Pomfrey hastily bowed forwards to touch Harry's forehead, fussing over him, muttering some diagnostic spells as concern flared in her eyes. "What is the last thing you do remember, Mr Potter?"

He nearly blurted out the truth, but stopped himself just in time from saying 'Voldemort killed me'. That was not something the world needed to know, at least not before he told Ron and Hermione. Instead he opted for a more general explanation. "The battle at Hogwarts. When Voldemort called a cease-fire and demanded me to come to him." Without intending to, the words coming of his lips sounded bitter and harsh.

She fixed him with an stern stare. "That is not something to joke about." she reproached him.

Harry could only stare at her, unbelievingly. If she genuinely thought he was joking something in the universe had gone terribly awry. "What date is it?"

"The second of May, nineteen-ninety-eight. If you are trying to pull me a leg, Mr Potter, I advise you to stop now. It is nowhere near funny."

"I. Am. Not!" he exclaimed. "The last thing I remember is Voldemort shooting a Killing curse at me! But apparently, he still couldn't do me any harm, and now I'm here in an inexplicably rebuilt Hospital Wing with you telling me I fainted in the corridor! What happened!? Where are my friends, where are the wounded, the dead, where is the battle!? Where is Voldemort?"

She began fussing again. "Calm down, dear. It seems that whatever hit you, has left you a bit delusional. Though I thought the poison would've taken care of that." Harry didn't know what all the spells and all the checks told her, but whatever it was had her puzzled. She left him for a moment in a bit of a hurry, telling him to stay where he was.

Harry let his eyes wander around the rest of the room. The wing was entirely unscathed, the beds tidily made and there were no traces of any recent battles to be found. He was the only occupant at the moment, and the hallway seemed oddly calm, ordinarily calm.

First he'd thought he'd time-travelled, but the date was exactly the same as the date he'd come from, so that he ruled out. It couldn't be a dream, as his dreams always much more hectic than this, and much less detailed. He wouldn't be waiting for the matron to come back in a dream.

One moment he felt ice-cold, as he thought this might be Voldemort playing with his mind, but he honestly couldn't see any sense in that. The only thing Voldemort had wanted of him since he was resurrected, was to kill him, and he'd just handed him that opportunity on a silver platter. He probably believed him to be dead anyway, and surely Voldemort had something better to do now with the battle going on.

Yet, if he was actually dead that would mean Dumbledore's words of just a moment ago meant nothing at all, which, considering the circumstances of their meeting seemed… highly unlikely. And wasn't this a bit of a weird way to enter the afterlife?

But then, what could it be? The only other thing that Harry could come up with was a kind of parallel universe, another planet, he vaguely remembered something alike from one of Dudley's televisions shows. Either that, or he'd completely gone bonkers. Which was a considerable possibility, of course, but not one he had any control over, so he preferred his alternate universe theory.

Madame Pomfrey re-entered the hall, this time tailed by Professor McGonagall. They went over and stopped at his foot end.

"Mr Potter, I'm glad you are awake, you gave us all quite a scare. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Professor," Harry answered truthfully. He actually felt better than he had in months, maybe due to his having finally been able to catch up some sleep.

McGonagall nodded curtly, though not unsympathetically. "Madame Pomfrey told me you were confused to where you were, and what day it was. You had mentioned Voldemort was attacking Hogwarts?"

Harry sighed. It was obvious through McGonagall's question that she too was wholly ignorant of the battle taking place at this very school, on this very day, the second of May nineteen-ninety-eight. And he had to admit, even he himself was hard-pressed to believe there was a fight raging on outside when everything seemed so calm, so peaceful… so normal.

His brows knitted together wonder. "Professor, if I can ask you something…" he started, looking up at his well-respected Head of House, relieved to see her listening attentively, "is it – in whatever way – possible, to by some form of magic, end up in a world… different from yours?"

McGonagall's eyes were watching him intently from behind her glasses. "I'm sorry, but you are being very vague, Mr Potter. What kind of magic? Different in what way?"

"Like…" Harry halted briefly, thinking of a good example to illustrate his point, before he realized that the most obvious example was the situation at hand. "Like in one world, on the second of May, there is a large scale battle going on on Hogwarts' school grounds in which Voldemort might finally be once and for all defeated, while, in another world but still at Hogwarts, on the same second of May…"

"…Voldemort has been dead for more than seventeen years?" McGonagall finished with one arched eyebrow, seeing where her student was heading to. Meanwhile, the said student was currently gaping at her, dumbstruck. That was quite a difference from his own world indeed. Voldemort defeated more than seventeen years ago… he was seventeen, that meant that the Dark Lord had been vanquished even before he turned one, before…

His hand shot up to touch his forehead, the matron and the teacher watching this action with interest. There. There it had always been, his scar, which burned at Voldemort's anger and served as a symbol of his status as the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, the celebrity. Nonetheless, for himself it had mostly been a reminder of his loss, of how Voldemort killed his parents, tried to kill him but failed to do so and thus unknowingly made a seventh horcrux.

However, he wasn't a horcrux anymore, was he? Both because Voldemort had just killed that little, lingering piece of himself and because he was now in another world, where Voldemort had been dead for seventeen long years and had never come around to murdering the Potters. With that thought in mind his heart started beating faster. Did that mean there was a chance his parents were still alive on this earth?

"Voldemort has been dead for seventeen years?" Harry repeated in awe. Unnoticed by Harry, McGonagall's gaze hardened.

"Yes, he has been." she replied somewhat bitterly. After another second of one sided tension – Harry was momentarily oblivious for anything outside his own train of thought – McGonagall broke the silence by stepping forward.

"I do hope this isn't your idea of a joke, Mr Potter. For if you are really from another universe, as you want to make us believe, that would mean the Harry Potter from this world is missing."

Harry nodded quickly, the grave consequences of the predicament suddenly hitting him. He too, would be missed, unless the Harry Potter from this world had crossed the dimension barrier as well. Even still, Harry had the hope the others would be able to kill Voldemort now. Kill the snake, and then kill Voldemort.

"I am not joking," he said, for the second time since he woke up, "just before I lost consciousness, we were fighting this grand scale battle between the Order and the Death Eaters. About everyone was there, several people I cared for had died…" his breath hitched thinking about Remus, and Tonks, and Fred, but he immediately managed to pull himself together before he broke down completely, "and, er, there were giants, and acromantulas, and the castle was in shambles… this is definitely not the place I came from."

"Then, for now, we shall have to believe you on your word." McGonagall agreed. "Nevertheless, you understand we'll have to do a few more checks to confirm the truthfulness of your story, both for your health and our own security. I'll inform your parents – or Mr Potter's parents – and see when you are ready to leave the Hospital Wing."

"My parents…" Harry said in a little voice, staring at the opposite wall. McGonagall misinterpreted his stricken look, and laid a hand soothingly on Harry's shoulder. "Mr and Mrs Potter are two very kind people, Harry. I admit I don't know them to you in your world, but here they love their son passionately, and so they will love you."

Harry shook his head, a broad smile creeping onto his face. "No, I'm quite alright, Professor. Actually, I would love to meet my parents!" He laughed at the hesitant look at his professor's face, before sobering up. "Yeah… I'm sorry to say that wasn't just unfortunate phrasing. I've never met my parents before. They've been killed in my world, you see, when I was one… by Voldemort."

"I am sorry to hear that, Mr Potter." Minerva said in a sincere voice.

He shrugged. "I've always had my friends. The Weasley family practically took me in after I befriended their son Ron."

He looked up in surprise when McGonagall immediately pulled her hand back as if Harry's shirt had become scalding hot. It was like an invisible barrier had thrown her back from him. "What is it?" he asked urgently, "Something wrong with the Weasleys over here?"

It took a second of reconsideration, but then the tension eased and McGonagall's startled gaze softened. "I presume the Weasleys you know are entirely different people than the Weasleys here."

"They've always been a very warm, tolerant family, and unwaveringly loyal to the Order of the Phoenix, the group fighting against Voldemort." Harry explained. He had nothing but good memories of his time in the Burrow, and felt the need to defend them, or at least, to defend the Weasleys from his universe. "Ron has been my best friend since we met on the Hogwarts Express. We were both sorted into Gryffindor, and he never doubted me, or considered the danger that being my friend brought to him and his family. I would trust him with anything."

"I wouldn't trust this Ron too much." McGonagall warned him. "I can imagine he and his family are very loyal, but unfortunately that loyalty is not to us."

"So they fought for Voldemort? Or didn't they fight at all?"

McGonagall was silent for a moment, brooding on a way to best explain the twists and turns their war had taken in the past few decades to someone for whom the war would end once Voldemort was destroyed.

"You know, Mr Potter… when you speak as you do you seem to be under the impression that magical morality equals fighting for or against Lord Voldemort." Harry open his mouth to deny that statement, but she cut him off before he could utter a word. "– Which is… of course, a very defensible view in your position, but I would remind you that it's not always true. In case of the Weasleys, no, they've always defied Voldemort and were openly against him, but no, that does not make them our allies. I regret to tell you that the family you've evidently been close to in your own world, here is a core member of Wizard's Right. They fought against, and succeeded to defeat, Lord Voldemort, but only because they were too proud to bow for him."

That clarified a lot, Harry reckoned, he could see a Dark Arthur Weasley being too damn stubborn to enslave himself to Voldemort and become rebellious instead. It corresponded with what he knew about Regulus Black, and made him wonder why not more pure-blood fanatics shared that view. But not everything was yet so clear to him.

"Professor, what is Wizard's Right? I've never heard of it in my world."

McGonagall looked somberly down at him. "Of course, you wouldn't. I would say you're lucky, but as you are still in war with Voldemort, it seems no side is better off. The Order, with which you seem acquainted, still exists today, but is now active against Wizard's Right. Voldemort might be long gone, the wars continues…"

"Then we do have it better than you. In fact, we had almost defeated Voldemort, before…" Before he came here. But what were their chances now he had vanished from that earth?

"Let's hope so." McGonagall concluded, seeing Harry's uncertainty kick in. "I'll call for your father and mother, and their friends… They should know what has happened, and I believe you would like to meet them?"

Harry smiled gratefully at her. "Indeed, Professor, I'd love to. Thank you."

The professor returned the smile. "It's no bother. But I would ask you to stay here until further instruction, it wouldn't do for you to go wandering around the halls."

…And walk into another friend who'd turned enemy, it would be awkward, indeed. So Harry replied with another 'Of course, Professor.', and both witches went off to mind their own affairs.

2.

"Finite Incantatem."

The blue sealing charm whirling around his patient dissipated, as the man was watching him through half-shed lids. No more than six weeks ago, Remus Lupin would've stepped back from the heavy, dark presence radiating from the man, but after days on end sealing and unsealing patients, the ominous wave of black magic became to be expected.

His Patronus – a werewolf, though few recognized the beast – edged closer to the suffering man, trying to relieve his pain as much as possible. In a moment of clarity, his eyes met his Healer's, who responded to his terrified look with a reassuring nod. Now he'd have to do it.

"Nox Abigo." A jet of blue light sprang from the Healer's wand, into his patient's chest. The blow knocked all air out of his longs, making his gasp for breath, as a large, black cloud of emitted from his skin as if Lupin had pressed it right out of him.

"Sereno!" Remus now had to act swiftly, or the oily mist would go right back into its victim. His wand soaked up all the blackness, and Remus vacuumed the air until it was clear again. "Renervate!" This spell was directed at the man, to help him recover from the expelling-charm. It was no more severe than a strong Stunner, but in the man's weakened state it could be the one blow to much.

The patient's breathing evened out and he rested his head back on the pillow. Lupin quickly conjured a glass of water and rushed to his side. He gently helped him propping up his head, and placed the water on his lips so the man could drink slowly. They both tried to ignore the fact that the treatment had to be repeated at least a few more times, to force out all traces of black magic lingering in his system.

After the man had drunk, he laid down, bracing himself for a second round. Remus vanished the glass and went to the end of the bed, pointing his wand at his patient.

"Nox Abigo!" The curse send the patient into a harassing couching fit, but Remus first had to clear the fog away. "Spiro placidus! Renervate!" He waited until his patient regained his breath, before offering a drink again.

"Do you think you can handle another treatment now, or do you want to rest?" The poor bloke could barely keep his eyes open. He made a vague, dismissive gesture with his hand and rasped, "Rest… please… doctor."

He stood up, and just caught the words 'Thank you, doctor.' before the man fell asleep. He rounded the end of the hospital bed, and waved his wand over the man another time. "Sigillum Malum." The light blue whirls reappeared, keeping the ailment inside and preventing further spreading of the disease. The last thing they wanted was the epidemic infecting the Healers themselves.

With a churning feeling in his gut, Remus moved on to the next bed, the Patronus following loyally.

"Finite Incantatem."

The glowing werewolf moved gently to the pillow. There lay a sheet-white shadow of a six-year-old girl, curled up in a ball, awaiting her treatment. The flickering of her eyelids was the only sign she'd noticed the arrival.

His last class for the day had finished, and James had just gathered all essays on the various dark creatures they'd treated last term. Plunging the impressive mount on the desk in his office, he mentally prepared himself for a full evening of reading and grading sloppy second-years' work. While he loved his job, if there was one thing James Morgan Potter had an unrelenting hatred for it was grading papers.

He plucked the first one off the pile and laid it on the table.

Doxies

Doxies are magical creatures that can bite, pinch, and in general be very annoying, and sometimes even dangerous. They have poison, so…

His mind wandered to Harry again. Poppy said she'd inform him when he'd waken up, but maybe he should go see him, just to make sure he's okay.

He immediately dismissed that ridiculous idea, Harry wasn't in any imminent danger and would do fine sleeping without him at his side. He was just looking for a way out of grading papers, but he really had no excuse. He could visit Harry after he was done.

…They have poison, so when you are bitten by a Doxy, you should get an antidote as soon as possible because otherwise…

He glanced up, at the pile of another good forty parchments waiting. His son was a strong, healthy boy, he wouldn't just faint for no apparent reason. Maybe he had been hexed, or in some other way bewitched that he would be unconscious as a form of a prank. Lame prank, that is. Those of him and his friends were far better, without a doubt!

Or one had deliberately wanted to harm him. James didn't really want to consider it, but if he was honest with himself, that was much more likely than the idea of a prank. He was the son of a famed ex-Auror, after all, and it was well-spread under Wizard's Right that James was a member of the Order. He felt guilt eat at him; if Harry had been hurt because of who his father was, he would never forgive himself.

He stared blindly at the essay.

Yes, that was only too good a possibility, one simple hex or trick would do the job. The Slytherins wouldn't back away from performing Dark magic on his son, and if this was Weasley's doing…

He closed his eyes, and brought his hands to his face, exasperated with himself and his bothering. No need to bring Weasleys into this, no need at all, he should focus on his essays, ESSAYS! He shivered, pushed his imagination away and picked up the homework again.

…should get an antidote…

What was this about? He glanced at the title. Doxies.

Doxies are magical creatures that can bite, pinch… He couldn't possibly concentrate on this. Just one look to see how Harry's doing, then he could set his mind to essays. He had the whole evening to finish them.

With that decision in mind he stood up, shoving the chair clumsily backwards, and trotted down towards the Hospital Wing. But just as he rounded the first corner, he was met by Minerva McGonagall heading purposefully his way.

"Ah, James, I hoped I would catch you." she said, halting him, "where you heading to the Hospital Wing, perchance?"

"Er…" Had she seen through him and was this her disapproval?

But before he could bring together a shameful yet coherent answer, she was already leading him further on his way, cutting off his stream of thought. "Harry has woken up." she said tersely, "Only, there's something extraordinary with him going on, James."

His brows shot up as he followed her, silently urging her to continue.

"Harry is under the assumption he comes from a completely different world." she explained wearily.

James stopped in his tracks, mouth wide open, making McGonagall whirl around on her heels to face him. "But how can that be? Did he say that? Surely, you can't believe…"

"He thinks Lord Voldemort is still alive and he's the one fighting him, and has no recall of much that has happened the last few decades. And I am tempted to believe him. Poppy could not detect any mental damage or loss of memory, and I'm not sure why he would lie about such matters."

"But, how?" James still felt he couldn't really grasp the concept yet.

"Magic. Parallel universes is a controversial, and a largely unexplored field, related to time-travel. Who knows what could've happened, and how? But what we do know is this: the person we previously knew as Harry Potter is a perfectly healthy, young man, who is, in all senses of the word, still Harry Potter, only with an entirely new set of memories." she turned around and resumed walking, "At least, that is my theory."

Comprehending the implications, James' worries were bubbling up again, and with it, his anger. "But if this Harry is another Harry, where is my Harry!?" he snapped.

"Please, James!" McGonagall reprimanded him, accompanied by the stern look he knew so well from his school-days. Instantly, her face softened. "We don't know where your son is, or if he has disappeared at all, but I ask you not to be hostile towards the boy. As it seems, he still is a Harry, who is more lost than ever." McGonagall's face fell, though invisible for James. "And apparently, this Harry has lost his own parents in infanthood. He has never met his version of you, or Lily."

"Oh." His parental anxiety and anger diminished at once, making place for an even less welcome sentiment: guilt. Fortunately the discussed boy hadn't witnessed his falling out against him.

Before they entered, McGonagall stopped him. "A few more things, James. I'll arrange for Dumbledore to visit the boy once he returns. Do you think you could get to Lily and your friends before the first Order meeting?"

"I'll floo Sirius as soon as I get back. I'm afraid Peter is very busy though, and Remus and Lily certainly won't have the time." he ended bitterly.

James had never really appreciated how huge the Muggle-society actually was, until suddenly two of the people closest to him spend whole days at some emergency clinic to heal them. And still, Lily and Remus had assured him, the people they could cure were only a fraction of the affected Muggles. Most of them died, in the clinic they worked, in Muggle hospitals or even in their own beds if they couldn't find a place in time.

It was heart-wrenching, depressing and guilt-invoking. While the Order tried their utmost best to arrest every single member of Wizard's Right – that was likely behind the disease – all their efforts fell short, as the people they were supposed to defend were still dying by thousands. The causalities of the war were devastating, but faded in comparison with the number of Muggles that succumbed each day. It made all fighting seem so wrong and so pointless. No matter what they did, no matter who they arrested, the cause was already lost. Muggles were dying by a lethal, contagious curse – that they themselves believed to be a 'virus' called Erebocy – and wizards were simply with too few to help them.

"Another thing," McGonagal interrupted his depressing stream of thought, "remember that people, places and occasions this boy mentions are all possibly quite different from their equivalents here. Try not to get upset, and do not be judgmental."

James huffed. "I'm never judgmental."

"He's already listed the youngest Weasley boy as his best friend." Minerva commented dryly, watching his expression go from indignation to shock. "As I said, try not to be judgmental."

"Alright I won't be judgmental." James repeated, a bit dazed. But according to McGonagall, Harry was still Harry, who was a pretty decent boy – though James said so himself – so the Weasleys from the other world were indeed different people. By Godric, this had certainly the potential to get confusing!

After giving McGonagall a respectful nod, he faced the wooden double door and waltzed through it. At the left side, a bit in the back, sat indeed Harry, but not his Harry, if the Head of Gryffindor was to be believed. He approached him with some hesitance.

"Hi." he greeted him, gaining his attention. The man, Harry, smiled genially at him and greeted him back.

"Hi, so you know who I am?" He shook his hand. "Yeah." James answered, "another Harry."

Harry must have seen his face fall, because he immediately replied, "I'm sorry for your son. I hope you will find him back soon, I truly do. I didn't come here by choice, you see. Actually, I have no idea why I came here."

James gave him a warm, but unintentionally wry smile. "I know, Harry. I don't blame you, not at all." He tried to pull the conversation on a less burdened topic, "So, you come from another world, eh? Another universe. That's quite something. Tell me more about it." He leaned back against the matrass beside Harry's.
"Well, what is there to tell?" Harry laughed, but ended up with a frown, "I'm afraid there isn't much good news I can think of right now. I can't even say the castle is still standing."

"Well, that's a pity." He racked his brain for something cheerful to ask about, something else than Voldemort, the fact he and Lily were dead, other people who could have possibly died… His eyebrows shot up and his lips turned into a mischievous grin. "Tell your father, Harry… is there currently someone in that world of yours that makes your insides go all fuzzy and warm?"

Harry cracked a smile. "You mean, if I have a girlfriend?" He proceeded to stay cryptically silent.

"Yes… Do you?" James urged.

"Yeah…" His smile fell of his face and turned apprehensive. As if he had a secret to share, James quietly thought. James Potter loved secrets. Especially when they concerned girlfriends.

"Well, who's the lucky one?"

"You won't like it." Harry warned.

James' grin widened, wanting to bring it over on Harry's face. "Then, I'll have to guess, I'm afraid… Uhm, let's see, where will we start…" His thought went immediately to Lily. "Does she have bright red hair?"

To James surprise, Harry flinched.

"Am I right?" he asked bewilderedly, he really had only thought about Lily and had in no way expected it would be true. Who was there in Harry's year with auburn locks anyway?

"It's in the family." Harry joked half-heartedly, "Though, I wouldn't want to start kissing her here anyway. She's probably still as beautiful as always, but… From what I've heard, I don't think she'll welcome the idea of me as a boyfriend, and neither will I."

There was only one red-headed family that came to James' mind. "It's Ginevra Weasley, isn't it?"

"Yup, got it in once." James grimaced.

"They are Dark here, the Weasleys, aren't they?" Harry asked bitterly. James nodded. "Well, that means I've lost one of my best mates and my girlfriend at once…"

"It must be hard on you, suddenly coming here and hearing these things."

Harry didn't disagree. "Who are my friends here?"

"Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom. Do you know them?"

Harry's face brightened up at hearing Hermione's name. It was a good thing that not everything had changed. And Neville, of course, he would be the obvious replacement for Ron, now that he was evil.

"Yes, I do." he answered, "They are both in Gryffindor, the same year as me. Frankly, Hermione is my other best friend, together with Ron." A genuine grin appeared on his mouth as he recollected his time with them. "We were our own little huddle ever since defeating a troll together in first year."

James eyebrows shot up in amazement. "You defeated a troll in your first year?"

"Yup, I decided it was a good idea to jump on his back and stick my wand up his nose. I can't remember what I tried to achieve with that, though."

James laughed. "The mystery of a century."

"Here that never happened?"

"No, not that I can recall… No."

Harry pondered it for a moment, on why that would be. Of course… The troll was set loose by Quirell, who was under control of Voldemort. And Voldemort didn't exist here anymore in 1991. So neither had the bewitched-broomstick-incident occurred, nor the search for the Philosopher's Stone. Even the adventure with Norbert the dragon and the accompanying trip into the Forbidden Forest had not ensued, because it was Quirell who gave Hagrid the egg in the first place. On the other hand, both his parents were still alive, hopefully as well as Sirius, Remus, and maybe even Peter Pettigrew if he had never betrayed the Order. With the Marauders' help, he might have gotten in all kinds of trouble. But how would they be, and what about all the others? Was Moody still alive, had Remus and Tonks found each other? Would Snape still be a double spy?

Harry opened his mouth to ask. "Da – uh, can I call you Dad?" he looked up, and to his relieve, he found his father nodding.

"I believe so. You may technically not be my son, and I may not be your father, but closer than this it is never going to get." Harry smiled.

"Good. Because there are so many things I want, I need, to ask!" Harry said enthusiastically, "First, what about the Marauders, were you all friends like in my world, are you still all friends unlike in my world, what happened to them?"

"Well, yes, we were all friends, and yes, we still are all friends, best friends even." As James spoke about his friends, his eyes were twinkling and his mouth was grinning madly, enjoying his memories just as much as Harry did when speaking about Ron and Hermione. "Sirius is an Auror – we once were in Auror training together, but two years ago Dumbledore offered me a job at teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, Remus now works as a Healer – as well as your Mother, Lily, they're doing great work there, I can only add, though they're terribly busy – and Peter has a leading function in the Muggle Liaison Office."

"And you've all become Animagi, to help Remus with his 'furry problem'?"

James raised a skeptical eyebrow that his son would question such a thing, but the effect was foiled as he couldn't help radiating joy. He was ecstatic: even if this wasn't his Harry, and even if this Harry was an orphan, he still knew all those little things James had told so often to his son.

"What do you think?" he scoffed, as he rose from the bed.

"I think, you were all too lazy a bum to even look up what the word meant." Harry stated, his grin betraying the joke.

James huffed indignantly one time more, stepped towards the middle of the hall, and transformed right in front of Harry's eyes into a handsome, noble stag.

Despite all the extraordinary things he had already witnessed – his father being alive, for instance, Harry almost couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the animal. The thing was, even though he had already known that his father was an Animagus, he already knew the animal as his Patronus-form and he had even met his father numerous times – in the mirror of Erised, on the graveyard in his fourth year, in Snape's memories, resurrected before he faced Voldemort – he had never seen his father transform, and that was an entirely different thing. It was like the final piece of evidence he needed, the final prove that ascertained that, yes, this was real. This really was James, this really was his father.

Prongs strode over to him and gently prodded with his snout into Harry's cheeks. He just kept staring at him in shock, so James decided he needed to use a bit more force for Harry to regain his senses. So he laid his snout against Harry's face a second time, but this time, he stuck out his rather large deer tongue and licked him from his chin to his eyebrows.

After a lot of yelling and spluttering protest, James changed back to his human form, wearing an overly smug look on his face. "And that, Harry, was for zooming out on me! You see, Sirius has taught me some useful lessons in life!"

"Yeah, I see." Harry grumbled, his face and hands covered in deer slime, "Though I'd expected you to be a bit more responsible than he is, with you having children and all." He swished his wand, drying himself.

"I am responsible!" James retorted haughtily, "I've just ensured you paid attention, as any decent parent would."

Harry chuckled. "I doubt Lily would agree…"

James pouted, seemingly in thought. "Maybe…maybe not. But whatever the case, I think it's about time you returned to the land of the living!"

Harry looked away, into the silent, empty Hospital Wing, considering the idea. "How many people know about me?" he asked, all traces of frivolity gone in his voice.

"I didn't know about you until McGonagall told me." James replied sincerely, "She said she would tell Dumbledore, he's not here at the moment, and asked me to tell Remus, Sirius, Lily and Peter before… before she would."

Harry frowned, having noticed James' slip up. "Before what?"

"Oh nothing," James waved it away, "we sometimes meet, that's all."

He looked up to his father, genuinely confused. "With McGonagall? Why…" He let out a small gasp when it finally hit him. "You're in the Order, aren't you?" he guessed.

James mouth fell open in shock. "How do you know about the Order!?"

"I should've known it." he mused, to James' annoyance. "I take it you've never told Harry from this world?" he asked, "Don't worry, I was just pretty involved with the Order myself back home."

James scowled. "That's more than enough reason to worry, Harry." he reprimanded him, resembling surprisingly much Molly during one of her fights with Sirius. "I'm serious, if I were around in your world, I wouldn't have let you near the Order until you were well out of this school!"

"If you were still around in my world, there wouldn't be a need for me to join." Harry countered, though more to himself than to James. "But you were saying, McGonagall would tell Dumbledore, you, the Marauders and my mum, probably the other Order members at the next meeting –" James was silently staring at his son, flabbergasted, and a bit sad, "– Madame Pomfrey knows to… what about the other teachers, and my friends?"

"We shouldn't tell the teachers, just the ones in the Order: that is me, Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Dumbledore of course." James sighed, "As far as I know, you always tell everything to Neville and Hermione, so I doubt you could keep it a secret from them. And they could help you, coming through the day."

He eyed Harry in wonder, "You look no different from the previous Harry, though, so it wouldn't be too difficult to hide you identity. No…" he shook his head, "it wouldn't do any good throwing it around, better we'd keep it under covers. You, I mean. Until we can find for you a way home…"

Harry caught his downcast gaze. "I hope you'll find your own son again, Dad."

"Yes." James said quietly. "We'd better get on. I've got some second-year's essays to mark."

However, before he quite made it to the door, James stopped and turned. "Just… one thing, Harry."

Harry listened. "Don't… don't slip up. I've heard Ronald Weasley was your best mate, and you've just told me his sister was your girlfriend, so I can't help but to be a bit worried. Don't slip up, Neville and Hermione are your friends here, not them. They are different people than the people you know, remember that."

Harry smiled reassuringly. "I won't forget. How could I, with all of you constantly reminding me of it!"

James returned his smile, appreciating the irony, and disappeared behind the door.

3.

Much later that evening, as the sky became dark, and the drizzling rain slowly but steadily stripped the air of the comfortable warmth it had soaked up during the day, three cloaked men sat in the bushes, hidden from the view of the house standing a few hundred yards away. Its windows emitted a friendly, welcoming light, as if the lawful Ministry officer was expecting them. Rabastan smirked, imaging the judge heartily receiving them with tea and cookies, leading them to a cosy couch while chattering about this and about that…

"What yer laughing 'bout?" Nott grunted in his typical, menacing fashion. Even though he was becoming an old man – nearing seventy, probably – he'd always maintained a roguish, bearlike built, with leathery muscles that shouldn't be underestimated. He'd been with them from the very beginning, one of Riddle's original gang, but he stepped away from him when the moment came. A Slytherin in his core, a warrior by heart, and too toughened by age to swallow.

"Just thinking…" he mused, "I wonder if dear Amelia would have something to eat for us. She is such a fine woman that she certainly would have something prepared, but we're falling in so unannounced."

Beneath them, squatted near the ground, the third wizard barked a loud laugh, ripping harshly through the nightly silence. He was the youngest of the three, but no less valued. He earned a good living as a Curse-Breaker at Gringott's, had a lot of experience with breaking and setting up wards, a vast knowledge of foreign magic, and above all, he was an excellent duellist. "You think we should've called?" he mused, playing along.

"We could at least have left a note." Rabastan argued, "Your father must've seen her at the Ministry only this afternoon!"

The younger wizard frowned in mock consideration, and turned around to look at Rabastan with round eyes. "I believe…" he said slowly, "you, are, right! He did!"

The dark haired wizard rolled his eyes. "Then you could have given him a message!" he whined, making a creepily good impression of a spoiled child, "Now she doesn't know we're here!"

"Surprise is on our side." Nott stated flatly, quite effectively killing the gag.

A smile quirked at Bill's lips as he turned back to his work. Rabastan crossed his arms. "Nott has no humour." the older man remarked dryly. Victor Nott ignored him.

After another minute of silence, Bill finally turned around again, a wide grin on his face.

"Is it done?" Rabastan asked anxiously. Bill nodded. "There were some wards that would've alarmed the Auror Departement when broken without permission, as well as others. I've only left the anti-Apparation ward, but that one actually will come in very convenient. They've laid their own trap!"

"Good." Nott approved, his lips permanently set in a grim, straight line. "Move."

Nott wasn't a man of many words, but they didn't need more to jump into action; each man knew exactly what to do. Exact revenge.

They sneaked up to the building and followed the wall to the nearest door. They tried a simple Alohomora, but the door wouldn't budge, then a more complicated unlocking spell, but when that attempt failed as well they gave up on stealth and simply blasted the way in.

The door came out on a neat kitchen, through which they could directly see the hallway. For one second, there was absolute silence, until above them a floor board creaked. On all their faces appeared a nasty grin, Rabastan's dark and malicious, Bill's showing a grim satisfaction, and even Victor's stony expression twitched briefly.

They hid themselves in various rooms on the ground floor as they waited for a nervous Amelia Bones to come down to check the door. She did, slowly she walked down the stairs, the groaning of each step seemingly loud enough to alarm the Aurors. Her footsteps were more muffled when she reached the old carpet in the hall, softly thudding as she turned around. She stopped, seeing the back door hanging off its hinges. She was so close now, Bill could hear her erratic breathing. Amelia took one more step, and then one more, slowly advancing on the open hole behind which was only the chilly darkness of the night. Maybe it was some animal, she thought hopefully, though she didn't truly believe it. Maybe whatever it was, was outside.

"You better let go of that wand, dearie. Maybe it will spare you some grief in the future." a voice leered from behind. Her blood ran cold. She didn't lower her wand, but her whole body stiffened, and she could only stare as a weathered, grim looking man turned into view, effectively blocking her escape to the kitchen. As the Head of the now so much-called-on Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she could place a name to that face without a shred of doubt. Victor Nott, active member of Wizard's Right and ex-Death Eater, he'd been a wanted criminal for longer than she could remember. And behind her another one, though she couldn't tell which. Travers, or Dolohov, he sounded too young to be of Nott's generation, but too old to be of the 'New Wave'.

"Come on! I haven't got all the time in the world. And you certainly don't..." The voice snickered, sending shivers up her spine. She was not an easily intimidated woman, she had looked some of the most despicable witches and wizards in the eye and had seen the withering madness waiting there, waiting to tear another live apart. She had joined the Order of the Phoenix with her brother, brought justice on those who'd murdered, tortured or raped and was famed for keeping a cool head in the most precarious of situations. However, she was not a duellist. She very much doubted she could take on Victor Nott who was standing in front of her, let alone fight him against the odds.

She carefully lowered her wand, but didn't drop it. She then turned around and looked the speaker in the eye.

A reasonably handsome man from around her age was standing in the way to the front door. He had dark curls – slightly thinner than they used to be, a long face, a lean but average frame and a bearing not unfitting Sirius Black, prompting in her the urge to smack that cocky smirk off his face and scold him for scaring her, weren't it for the sheer bloodlust in his eyes. Behind him, standing steadily at the doorway, was a third man, much younger and taller than the other two, his long, fiery red hair and freckles requiring no further introduction. His bright blue eyes blazed with an unmovable determination, only alleviated by an amused smile that really didn't bode well.

"Rabastan Lestrange." Her voice faltered in her throat, but it gave it a rather clipped quality, making her sound far braver than she felt. Lestrange and Nott, and it wasn't only the two of them, Bill Weasley had also joined the crowd. Evidently, they were greatly overestimating her; there were students at Hogwarts she would still lose to, yet Wizard's Right found her worthy enough to send three of its better fighters. It would've been funny weren't it so ghastly.

"Any idea why we might be here?" Lestrange purred softly. He took a step forward, she took a step back.

Yes, she had an idea. She had a pretty good idea; it was rather obvious why they would target her. She had been Head of the Department for almost twenty years, and had seen many rebels to Azkaban during that time: Alfred Goyle was the first, 1980, though she suspected he was more of a left-over Death Eater, lost after his master's demise; then there was Lydia Gamp-Pidot, together with Fabian and Gideon Prewett on an attempt to assassinate Muggle Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher after her re-election; Julian Selwyn in 1987, Hieronymus Gamp – Lydia's husband – just before Christmas 1989, Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange in 1994, Desiderius Scamander in 1996, Augustus Rookwood last year, Andrew Avery two months ago…

"Cut the nonsense, Lestrange." Nott suddenly barked, making Amelia whip around, "We've got a job to do. You – " he jabbed his wand in Amelia's direction, "– come with us. Put your wand down on the floor now, and kick it out of your reach."

She was frightened, and hopeless in a fight, but far from stupid. She knew exactly what to do.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A silver flash shot out of her wand, just before her punishment came in the shape of hot green pain. She bared her teeth and screamed, letting loose of her wand and meeting the ground in a curled ball, but she didn't care she was beaten, for she'd already fought back in the only way she could. She'd called for help.

Lestrange face was feral, irate at her disobedience, mad for the brother and sister-in-law she'd cost him. All day long he'd had been hungering for revenge, for years he'd craved for it, and now finally, it was there. Amelia Bones, squirming at his feet. His mask of rage turned abruptly into one of malicious glee. He cackled, madly, as the green light was reflected into his handsome face, his eyes flickered, with joy, his toothy grin shockingly bright. As the hatred burning inside of him was eating its way through her, he watched her, eagerly, how she writhed and screamed…

"Lestrange!" Nott hollered at him, snapping him out of his rapture. "Stop that and stun the woman! We need to get away now!"

As Rabastan reluctantly did as he was told, Victor commanded Bill, "They will probably arrive at the front, Rabastan and I will run through the back and disapparate as soon as when we've crossed the wards. Distract the Aurors and then follow us!"

Bill nodded, a plan already forming in his head. Rabastan levitated Bones, quite roughly, and lead her through the doorposts as he sprinted through her garden, Victor hobbling behind. The first two cracks were heard, indeed, at the front of the parcel, as Bones' head barely missed a tree.

Bill drew his wand. He had to somehow lure their attention to the house, and lock it, so they'd put their efforts in getting in. So with a quick flick, he slammed all doors shut, and locked them with another one. He ran upstairs, unlitting all rooms one by one. There were footsteps running up the ramp, and four more cracks. He rushed into a bedroom, and blasted one of the windows out of his way, the glass bursting with a loud pang. Immediately he hid behind the solid wall, side-stepping the spell flying in from the other side. Glancing around the corner, he saw the small form of Dorcas Meadows holding her wand in his direction, but not seeing him in the dark.

He slashed his wand shortly and swiftly through the air, sending a silent stunner her way. She blocked, creating the half second he needed to fully appear in the window and point his wand a good distance in front of her. "Leb Baghira!"

A large stream of brightly burning flames appeared from his wand, forming a broad wave of fire when touching the ground, forcing Meadows and the four newcomers back in their approach as it engulfed the lawn and set a fast area on fire. Luckily for them, each of them was smart enough to either back up or block the fire with their wands, otherwise they might've gotten badly burnt.

However, even as it would take considerable time for them to quench the flames and find their way out, Bill knew there still was one person who'd escaped the inferno: there had been two people running at the front, one of them was Dorcas, the other one was still unknown. So he sprinted back up the corridor and thundered down the staircase, while muttering the incantations for a Jelly-spell, creating slow purple swirls that clogged in a thick mass against the front door, effectively preventing anything from coming in. Like the fire-spell, the curse he used he'd learned during his treasure hunts in the deep tombs of Egypt; both spells were very efficient when it came to holding dark creatures at bay. Leb Baghira was an Arabic fire-spell, mostly used to fend of swarming armies of Inferi or mummies, while the Jelly-spell was one of the first and most common jinxes he'd learned; it was standard protocol in Curse-Breaker circles to block all dark holes and creeks with a thick layer of Jelly before tinkering with lethal traps and curses, just in case something came out of it. As a fun fact, his supervisor at the time had sworn that it originally was only used in Curse-breaking, until a Curse-Breaker named Bertie Bott took it home to England and began using the spell as an ingredient for his Every Flavour Beans.

Its effectiveness proved while Bill was sealing the other entrances, as the front door was blasted in – with the very same spell they'd used on the back door, Bill noted wryly. The force of the spell bounced back out, causing the door to collapse on its own in a very anticlimactic way. Only a few splinters had penetrated the semi-visible barrier, getting stuck and slowly moving up with the purple pulse.

Bill looked out the empty frame, only to see it was none other than Sirius Black that had managed to reach the door. He had encountered the celebrated Auror before, and even if he hadn't he would have recognized him from the pictures he'd been shown. He wasn't an easy person to overlook.

As Bill took in his appearance, he noted the resemblance with Regulus, a good family friend since Voldemort's fall. Though Sirius was a whole lot bigger than his younger brother, and looked a whole lot rougher, they both in their own way held an air of aristocracy. It was not just their nose, or their cheekbones, the very way they hold themselves spoke of confidence and leadership. It was clear in every movement they made: Sirius and Regulus were princes, of the royal House of Black.

There were stark differences, though. Regulus' type of superiority was of a more subtle, modest kind – he was friendly, wise, calm, someone who people would trust to make the right decisions. Bill had always looked up to Regulus as an older brother, which was funny of course, as he was an older brother to many.

Sirius on the other hand, was grand, strong, impressive, almost the opposite of his well-mannered brother, a prince prepared to fight for his country, and maybe even more, expecting his country to follow him into the bliss of battle. A warrior – although, you had to consider Bill was seeing him against the dramatic light of the fire, with his face washed by the rain and his Auror cloak bellowing behind him like a hero's cape.

The warrior prince had his wand drawn, and his face earnest. Bill prepared himself to block any spell the other might cast; while the jelly was terribly efficient against physical threats, its effect on curses was only limited.

"Where is Amelia Bones?" Black called, his eyes squinted with hatred.

Bill flashed him an unnecessarily ugly smile, knowing it would disconcert Sirius. He could scare people if he wanted, but unlike some of the Darker rebels, it never came natural to him. He just hoped his smile conveyed a bit of Rabastan's nastiness, as really, Bill had nothing to be nasty about. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he answered playfully.

"What have you done to her?" Black whispered, his tone horrified. Bill's smile grew even uglier, as he suddenly spun around, his wand pointing up the stairs.

"Incendio!"

Sirius' eyes widened in shock, as he saw the flames licking at the steps, creating a blazing fire at the upper floor. No. She wouldn't be upstairs, would she?

"Yes, she is!" the red-head cried out cheerfully, as if reading his mind, "As a good Auror, you should go up and look for her. I would start with the closets, if I were you."

"You bastard." Sirius growled, and he shot a Stupify at the man, which Weasley blocked just in time but the force made him stumble backwards on the stairs. He fired back, and both parties burst into a string of hexes and curses sent at an incredible rate trying to incapacitate the other, even more rapidly than the fire spreading upstairs. Anxiety slowly crept into Bill as he gradually realised the predicament he was in. Even though he had Black exactly where he intended him to be, he was the one standing in an house on fire.

"Can you imagine poor Amelia," Bill taunted, carefully hiding his fear behind a mask of cruelty, "bound and silenced, locked in the dark, while she can feel the heat blazing around her, the smoke suffocating her, while her brave saviour prefers blowing up bad guys instead of coming to her rescue. She must be so glad you've arrived."

"Get out of my way then, before I really blow you up!" Sirius hollered menacingly.

Bill snorted. "Gladly. If you'd let up your fire for a moment."

Sirius abruptly halted his wand, knowing, whatever the Weasel was up to, he'd be too late to find Amelia if he tried to defeat Weasley first. He warily watched as Bill stood up, sneered at him and rounded the stairs, backing up into the hallway. "And for your information, brave rescuer, at this rate the house will be burnt to the ground before you find her. You won't get through that without knowing how to." Weasley nodded at the doorway, indicating the purple swirls before the entrance.

He made Sirius' blood boil, he truly did. Sirius honestly couldn't understand how someone could be so heartless, so cruel, even though he'd seen this kind of behaviour so often in his family. It just didn't fit with him: they were all reasonable human beings, yet what they were doing, these kind of things... they were inhumane! Weasley's smirking face looked surreal to him, as if he were a monster in a nightmare, or a hallucination caused by an awry spell. But it was real, it was all very, terribly real.

Still sneering, Weasley laid his hand on a door handle – leading into the kitchen, Sirius knew, he and James had once visited the Bones' house a few times. "So a piece of advice, Black: the back door is still very much open."

An awful feeling sunk into his stomach, and it didn't take more than a moment for Sirius to make a decision. He shot out of the house, finding Dorcas and the others finally rushing towards him. However, he had no time to explain the situation, he'd already wasted too bloody much time fighting Weasley and getting him out of the way, so he only caught a glimpse of Edgar Bones' horrified face as he hasted to the back. Only once he turned around, yelling, "Quench the fire!"

In the garden he found blue, red, and green flashes, as Weasley was duelling some girl he could only just recognize as Nymphadora Tonks, one of the youngest Aurors of the Ministry. The scene was awfully lit by the yellow, flickering light of the blazing house, the trees and bushes in the park-like landscape casting long, ominous shadows over the witch and wizard, who were occupied with incapacitating each other.

Sirius panicked mind went into hysterics at the sight. She couldn't be fighting Weasley, however well she held, he couldn't spare her, too many had go down in the fight against Wizard's Right, they had to save Amelia, they had to save her before it was too late.

He called her back on the top of his lungs, she obeyed his orders as the well-trained Auror she was, leaving the fight to come to Sirius and letting Bill Weasley run off into the shadows of the garden and the wilderness behind it. Sirius again had to restrain his anger, he'd loved to bring Bill Weasley to justice, but couldn't, not now, there simply wasn't the time.

"Amelia is still inside." He explained as they hurriedly entered the house, stepping into a world of surprising heat and sooth fluttering from the ceiling. They quickly cast a Bubble-Head-charm. "Probably locked up somewhere upstairs. We need to find her and get her out as quickly as possible!"

"How do you know she is here?" Tonks asked logically, casting a human-revealing charm. She found nothing.

"Weasley practically told me so, it's the reason he set the house on fire, he's planning to let her burn to death!" That twisted, evil, sick –

"But how do you know?" she stressed, "She doesn't seem to be here, and I can't find any charmwork in the house apart from the wards and those Jelly-spells at the doors!"

"It's their revenge, Tonks!" he exclaimed, having trouble making himself audible above the roaring of the fire, "She's convicted Avery, Lestange, Scamander, the elder Black –"

"So he told you, and you believed him on his word!?" she asked incredulously.

He halted. No, that couldn't be it, could it? There had to be more, there had to be proof, why didn't Tonks just take his word for it!? He casted some spells to detect magic traces, just as Tonks did the same.

"There seems to have been a duel on the stairs, near the front door."

"That must have been me and Weasley." Sirius answered curtly, slowly coming to realise he'd been taken for a fool. "Her Patronus has been cast here, and an unforgivable…"

"– the Cruciatus curse, just before you and Dorcas arrived. He can't possibly have had time to move her upstairs, and hide her with proper concealment charms before you broke down the door. He didn't even have the time to seal the back door! She isn't here, Sirius, and if the house collapses on us because you're too damn proud to admit your stupidity, I will positively kill you!"

Sirius felt utterly embarrassed, so he bit back his retort while he and Tonks escaped the burning structure. Amelia Bones had been kidnapped, and Bill Weasley had escaped because of his foolishness. If he had continued battling him on the stairs, Weasley would certainly have been captured: he had him right there, backed up in an impossible corner. But he'd believed him. Even if he'd just let Tonks fight him in the garden, she might have slowed him down enough for back-up to arrive, but he'd believed him. He had believed Weasley's cruel, horrifying smile, and Sirius had taken care single-handedly that no one had gone after Bill Weasley.

"I am a pig-headed fool." he muttered as they reached fresh air.

"Yes, you were," Tonks agreed, "but don't beat yourself up over it. You only tried to save Amelia, which would've been a very noble deed if she were in the house."

They saw most Order members were still sending jets of water in the flames, as Sirius had directed them to. Now he'd have to tell them it wasn't needed, Amelia was already long gone. His eye fell on Edgar Bones, who was glancing at him over his shoulder, anxious for what he had to say. Sirius flinched. Edgar had just lost his sister, who was now going through Merlin knows what.

After one long night in the Hospital Wing, Harry was finally set free from Madame Pomfrey and was heading down to the Great Hall to attend breakfast. After James had left, no one had visited him anymore; Sirius would have come but was stuck in some emergency Auror case. Neville and Hermione were informed, McGonagall had assured him, so they wouldn't be asking any suspicious questions and could help him with the 'act-normal-act'.

He had been restless all morning, he was lightheaded and his heart fluttered in his chest almost in a love-struck manner, though Harry knew it was rather a form of stage fright that he felt. His fidgeting was caused by a combination of being finally out of hospital, curiousness as to what life and his friends around here were like and anxiousness for the very same thing. It was much like stage fright indeed, not in that he was afraid, but entering the Great Hall and meeting his friends was something he looked forward to and dreaded at the same time.

When he arrived, one of the first things he noticed was that the Great Hall was still very much intact, and bustled with life. The four long tables were filled with all kinds of breakfast products and everyone did their usual thing, eating, chatting, gossiping, there were no wounded to be mended, no dead to be cleared… Harry swallowed heavily. It looked too much like the quiet years before the war.

As he went over to the Gryffindor table, his eyes passed briefly the faces seated there. Some he recognized from his own universe, most of them had stayed in the same house though of a few he was certain they hadn't been in Gryffindor before, and some faces were entirely new to him. Hermione and Neville were soon spotted, as Hermione waved him over, and Harry was relieved to find her and Dean Thomas sitting at the Hogwarts breakfast table, together with Seamus and Parvati Patil.

He wasn't sure if he was surprised to find Ron and Ginny still seated at the Gryffindor table. He was ashamed to admit it, but he'd directly assumed they'd be in Slytherin or another house in this world, anywhere but Gryffindor. From the way his father and McGonagall had spoken about them, it was difficult to imagine eating from the same table as the Weasleys – good Godric, that meant he still slept in the same dorm as Ron! No wonder why his father had pressed him not to slip up.

He sat down beside Hermione, returning her welcoming smile. "How are you?" she asked. He needed to remind himself this was not his Hermione, and then needed to remind himself he was to act as if she were.

"Fine, really, you know how Madame Pomfrey is. Yesterday I was already more than ready to leave, but she wanted to keep me for the night, just to be able to spring in if anything happened. Nothing did happen, of course."

"Any idea why you fainted?" Dean asked from across the table. Only Neville and Hermione knew the truth, so it was the obvious question to ask.

"No. I just slept it out and woke again. Pomfrey said she found nothing on me, no charms, no poisons, no signs of attack, we just don't have any clue what it was."

Seamus scoffed. "I'd tell you it was Weasley somehow. He must have slipped you something the previous night, people don't just faint out of nothing."

Harry shrugged and took some toast, not quite sure how to respond to the comment.

The three wizard's finally found a chance to speak privately on their way to Greenhouse six, where all three of them followed Herbology. Neville and Hermoine asked if he really came from another world, and what his life was like there, while Harry was glad to hear both Neville's and Hermoine's parents were alive and well in this world. Neville apparently had a sister, Madeline, who was a fifth year Hufflepuff, and Hermione had just broken up with a Muggle bloke she'd been dating the last two summers. "We still write every now and then, but with me at Hogwarts, and him having his job and college and all, the romance kind of bled to death. But I'm just grateful we could have avoided any real heart-break. I think we're both glad its officially over, now we have the opportunity to go on."

"Any romances in Gryffindor house I should be warned off?" Harrry asked conversationally.

Hermione grimaced in distaste, while Neville looked at her in amusement. "Plenty of romances, but the one you should be warned off?" Harry turned his head in interest, as Neville humoured conspiringly, "Brown and McLaggen…"

Harry's eye-brows shot up and his face mirrored Hermione's, remembering Ron's relationship with Lavender a year previous, and combining the picture with a flirting, bragging Cormac McLaggen. It was a bit disturbing, even though he had to admit, as far he knew the two adolescents, they would suit each other pretty well.

"Oh, shut it, Neville, that is far from a secret!" Hermione exclaimed in what seemed to be exasperation, "I would almost believe they only go out to flaunt with their relationship. Or at least, McLaggen does, Lavender seems genuinely interested in sucking his pretty face off."

Neville grinned widely. "As I said, they're made for each other!"

It proved to be quite a show indeed. The first time Harry saw that exuberant relationship on display, was outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts class that afternoon. They were completely enthralled with each other, seemingly unaware of their classmates steadily streaming in until Malfoy called them loudly to find a room, earning sniggers of Crabbe and Goyle, still loyally at Draco's side. Lavender seemed slightly embarrassed, but that didn't stop her from clenching to Cormac's arm and tittering obnoxiously as he walked – swaggered – inside.

There was something off about Draco – apart from the fact that he more resembled the Draco from before the war, as everyone did. Basically, his behaviour was exactly the same as in Harry's world – sneering at Gryffindors – but his comment seemed somehow less snide, lacking edge. In fact, they were just lame. Harry glanced at the other Slytherins, who would have laughed along Crabbe and Goyle and exploited any chance at humiliation whenever possible. The girls from Pansy's gang were dotted along the right side of the classroom, smirking and whispering at the situation, not differently from Harry's world. Nott and Zabini were the same, there was no visible difference, apart from them being friendly with Ron Weasley apparently...

"As if you weren't enjoying the view yourself, Malfoy!" Pansy jeered mockingly. Harry made sure to hide his surprise at the unprovoked attack. Pansy insulting Malfoy, that was something new. "I saw you looking at Lavender, you perverted creep!"

"Then you need your eyes checked, daft hag." he retorted acidly, "I would never fall for an easy blood-traitor like her."

Lavender gasped and puffed up in ire, but it was Cormac who opened his mouth first. "You slimy, immature brat! What right do you think you have speaking about girls when –"

"No! He prefers McLaggen!" Ron exclaimed, evidently responding to some unheard joke. He, Blaise and Theodore burst out in laughter, while Malfoy seethed in silence, for at that moment, Professor Potter entered the classroom and closed the door. He kindly asked Cormac and Lavender to sit down, and requested a lot less kindly for Ron and the Slytherins to pay attention.

Something was wrong with his father. It was true, Harry had no idea what was the norm for this world's James Potter, but he positively looked a lot worse for wear than he did the previous evening. His light-heartedness had gone, and in its place had come a grave, stressful appearance.

"Good morning, everyone." James caught Harry's worried look, and gave him a small, tired smile. "Today I would like to revise some duelling charms, and let you practise swiftness and duelling techniques. If everything goes smoothly, we'll have time for a little tournament at the end of class. But first, we're going to practise the Stunning Spell. Everyone, make duo's please."

There was a rumble in the class as everyone shove their chairs back and made space for the duelling. Neville went with Harry, as Hermione went with Parvati – Lavender duelled McLaggen and everyone preferred it that way.

"Now, everyone wands out and ready," the Professor instructed, though everyone had already assumed some sort of duelling-stance, "When I count to three, I want everyone to either try to stun their opponent, or block the charm with a Protego. After one of you is hit, renevate each other and make sure he or she is okay, and then repeat the exercise. I will walk around and help you if needed."

It was funny how much James' instructions resembled Harry's own lessons in Dumbledore's Army.

"One…"

Harry looked Neville in the eye, they both were wearing a challenging smirk. He was glad to see this Neville was much more confident than he used to be in Harry's world.

"Two…"

He decided to give Neville his best shot. He was curious how good a dueller he would be.

"Three!"

"Stupefy!" Both wizards chose the offensive, but seeing it coming, both ducked the other's efforts. Harry's battle-honed skills were quicker than Neville's, however, so the latter let out a yelp of surprise when Harry's second spell came immediately after the first. He renevated Neville, and helped him up before he realised James was looking at them.

Their eyes locked and James cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Well, done, Harry." he praised, before lowering his voice so only Harry and Neville could hear, "You really showed outstanding skill just there. Much better than my Harry, I might add, and he was going to be an Auror."

Harry smiled a bit shyly under the compliment, it was nice to hear, even though he had little doubt in his own abilities. His smile fell when he noticed the weariness in James' eyes. He decided he had no reason not to ask.

"Has something happened last night? You look as if you've spent the whole night and day worrying. What is it?"

James sighed: the Order preferred to keep these things hushed, but in all likelihood it would be all over the papers tomorrow. "Sirius went out last night." he addressed, to both Harry and Neville, "Alarm was raised at Madame Bones', Head of Law Enforcement. They couldn't find her in time, she has disappeared, probably been kidnapped. Sirius is a bit down at the moment, as he had found Bill Weasley at the site, but apparently he let himself be fooled spectacularly and Weasley escaped. It is possible there were more rebels than him, though, Amelia was already gone when Sirius arrived. Weasley set the house aflame and convinced Sirius Bones was still inside."

"Where could she be held?" Harry asked.

"We're not sure, there are a number of places Wizard's Right keeps its prisoners, we don't expect we even know them all. Still, It is most likely she is either at Lestrange Manor or Cwndrygan's Castle – owned by the Blacks."

"My parents were imprisoned in Cwndrygan's Castle." Neville confided. James gave him a sad smile and laid a comforting hand in Neville's shoulder. "But happily they got out." the professor concluded, "I need to help some students though. You two talk to each other, I still got a class to teach."

They practised the Stunning spell, the Disarming charm, Full Body-Bind, Incarcerous and the Revulsion jinx. Most of the times Harry came out as the winner, but only for his quicker shot, all Neville's spells were solid and flawless. After a few partner-switches – Harry fought against Dean and Hermione – James found his students had worked enough for the day and set up the classroom for the competition he promised. "Alright, everyone." he addressed the gathered seventh-years, "Now you've had plenty time to play around, it's time for the real thing. I've put all your names in this hat, and each turn I'll pull out two of you randomly who'll challenge each other, until everyone has had their turn. The winners will then be put back, and the process will be repeated until there is one winner left. Oh, and once I call your name, you will fight, we're all N.E.W.T. level here so no chickening out. Is that all clear?"

Seamus raised his hand with a smirk on his face. "What will be the award for the winner?"

"Eternal glory." James responded dryly. He continued outlaying the rules, "A duel is won when your opponent either loses his wand or is rendered immobile. You're not restricted to spells taught in this class, but cruelty will not be tolerated," he fixed a stern stare at the Slytherins, "and if I need to intervene, you're not only out of this competition but you'll have earned yourself a full two weeks detention. Now," he drew the first two names out of the hat, "please step forward, Mr Crabbe and Ms de Thiercelieux."

"Who's she?" Harry whispered to Hermione, indicating the young witch with round nose, thin, wide lips and a full head of deep brown curls. The Slytherin girl leapt at her spot excitedly, even though she furled her lip in aversion at the sight of slow, overweight Vincent Crabbe.

"Edda de Thiercelieux, her background is a bit mysterious, though there are rumours she is related with Hervé de Thiercelieux, a werewolf who was sent to Azkaban a long time ago. She's not unkind, compared to most Slytherins, but she mostly keeps to her own friends, who are unfortunately the families afflicted to Wizard's Right."

"Wands ready. And begin."

"Trucatus!" Crabbe shouted, but the purple flash was met with a neat Protego charm. "Furnunculus, Calvario, Ririritis!" Crabbe went on and on with all types of curses while De Thiercelieux nonchalantly blocked or side-stepped them. However, she paid too much attention to being unimpressed as Crabbe finally struck her with a Leg-Locker Curse, unbalancing her, and while she saw her mistake and quickly shot her hex, the backlash toppled her over and Crabbe disarmed her with a wide grin on his face.

"Crabbe has won, Ms de Thiercelieux is out of the game." Potter declared, undoing the charm on De Thiercelieux, "Next goes: Zabini against Patil. Start!"

They were very evenly matched, making for quite an undecided duel until Parvati managed to get an Expelliarmus on Blaise and his wand flew away. They were followed by Neville and Pansy Parkinson, the latter spitting out jibes and taunts, and after Neville knocked her across the room with his very first spell she retaliated with screeching even more jibes and taunts. Hermione won from Seamus, Nott crunched Gregory Goyle, and at last it was Harry's turn.

Opposite him stood McLaggen, wand raised and a focused look on his face. Looking at him, Harry was reminded of his sixth year, when McLaggen and Ron competed for the Keeper position at the house team. He cursorily wondered who would actually be on the house team, and if he was Captain again. He really needed to ask, he realized with a jolt, or else his cover could be easily blown.

James started the duel, and Harry immediately send a Stunner Cormac's way. His eyes widened as he threw up his shield just in time, countering with an Immobulus, which ricocheted against Harry's Tickling charm, both sizzling out. The next jinxes hit each other as well, but instead of levelling each other out, Cormac's Banishing charm banished Harry's Impedimenta, making it bounce back at the sender. Harry cast a hasty Protego, and side-stepped the Tarantallegra Cormac saw fit to fire as he did so, warned by McLaggen's shouting loudly of the spell. Then, in one fluid movement, Harry's wand point found its way to Cormac and a curse rolled almost automatically off his lips, "Reducio!"

The spell came from an odd angle, and Cormac was a tad too slow to move out of the way. The Shrinking charm caught him in his shoulder, and within a heartbeat Cormac was the size of a fairy. With a simple Disarming charm Cormac was disarmed, his smaller size lessening the strength of his shield. James declared Harry as the winner, and brought Cormac back to his regular size once he'd recollected his wand.

Hespia Elkhopper – a Ravenclaw girl in Harry's world – won her duel by conjuring a cloud of butterflies, which swarmed Bulstrode and blocked her view, and then confunded her under loud cheering of Pansy, Edda and Maureen Manx. Dean Thomas and Draco Malfoy faced off. Though they were both potent duellists, Malfoy clearly had the upper hand and finally beat Dean with a Langlock curse. Then only three students were left, Maureen, Lavender and Ron.

"The person who isn't drawn in this round will by default be the first contender in the next round," James decided, as he pulled out the last two duellists of that round, "but first we'll witness a duel, between… Ms Brown and Mr Weasley."

James stepped back as Lavender and Ron positioned themselves opposite each other. Harry noticed his father's face had become a bit darker, and was harshly reminded that Sirius had fought Ron's brother only the previous night. If those kind of incidents happened regularly, no wonder there was bad blood between Ron and the other Gryffindors.

The duel was quickly over. Lavender casted a Silencio, which was easily blocked by a wave of Ron's wand, and then he attacked with a Stinging jinx. Thankfully, she dodged in time, but got in the way of a nonverbal Stunner instead. Harry winced, the spell hadn't been a too gentle one, but Ron only smirked in triumph as she stumbled over her own legs and collapsed on the ground.

James reluctantly rewarded Ron's nonverbal spell usage with house points, but cast him a warning look. Ron kept smiling defiantly however, with so much smugness and arrogance it almost looked forced, as if he was luring out a reaction. James clenched his jaw, but ignored him professionally, turning his back on them after rennervating Lavender and pulling out a new name from the winners of the previous round. "Mr Malfoy, you will duel Ms Manx, please."

The competition went on. Malfoy effortlessly bet Manx, her being not much better than Pansy had been, after which followed a truly vicious duel between Hermione and Nott. The fight needed to be paused when Nott called Hermione 'Mudblood', losing Slytherin twenty-five house points, and finally ended when Nott was disqualified for using a Dark curse that could have frozen Hermione's fingers off, had it hit its target. The next duel Crabbe went by his usual approach of wildly shooting curses, but Ron actually shot spells back and won when his well-aimed Depulso rammed through Crabbe's Protego, bringing Crabbe off his poise and seizing the opportunity to catch him in an Incarcerous. Neville won his duel with Parvati – when he went back he softly explained Harry he'd trained to become an Auror after Hogwarts, and Harry faced off Hespia Elkhopper. She tried the same trick as she had against Bulstrode, but Harry saw it coming and cast a Full Body-Bind before she had anywhere enough butterflies.

The third round he was drawn immediately again, this time against Neville. They had great fun, testing each other out and coming up with curses and counter curses, feinting attacks and surprising each other with nonverbal incantations. However, like in the practise matches they had beforehand, Harry was the quicker wand and won the game. As he picked Neville up from the ground and James awarded them both points for showing skill in the subject, Neville smiled broadly at him and congratulated him with his win. His short moment of light-heartedness was only interrupted as he returned to his seat, contently exhausted, when he realised the only contestants left were Draco, Ron and Hermione. He flinched inwardly. Whosever names were drawn, there was bound to be blood on the floor.

"Okay, the last duel, who loses this match will be out of the race, and then the other three will determine the outcome in a three-way battle." Harry sat on the tip of his chair. "The last two duellists will be… Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy!"

Ron rose and walked over to the left side of the duelling field, while Malfoy took a spot on the right. Once there, they immediately fell in their poses, curse on their lips, ready to strike. Tension hung in the air. Ron snorted in derision, Malfoy tilted his pointy chin and narrowed his eyes in disdain. In fact, it was marvellous how much they resembled each other in their dislike for each other, both were epitomes of arrogance and flaring hatred. Ron smirked darkly.

"What are you laughing about, Weasel!" Malfoy sneered in an accusing manner.

His smirk widened to a malicious grin, reminiscent of the twins. "'M just thinking of the ways I'm gonna trash you." Ron drawled in reply.

He took a beat in which he gripped onto his wand, but then his fingers relaxed and Draco raised his eyebrows. "As if you could," he sneered, even more obnoxiously than usual, "whatever you claim to be, you and your Weasel family are nothing but a nest of poor, country-side bumpkins, one in a dozen, who think too high of themselves. You are no pureblood, you are nothing. You have no etiquette, no influence, no connections, no knowledge of ancient pure-blood ways, you don't even have money for a House-Elf!" he laughed, while Ron's eyes narrowed into slits "Your mother is a fat cow and your father is stumbling oaf, whose even afraid of his own shadow! With your position, you could just as well have been a Mudbl–" Professor Potter cleared his throat.

"Mr Malfoy, I hope I won't have to say it a second time today, but certain termology is forbidden in this class. Would you be so kind to continue the battle?"

Malfoy's jaw clamped shut. "Of course, Professor."

"Good. Then, begin." James barely finished his sentence, and Ron furiously hurled his first curse, "Expulso!"

"Protego, Incarcerous!"

"Diffindo!" Aiming his wand straight at the launched ropes, Ron's cutting charm sliced neatly through the bundle, splitting the cords in neat, useless bits. He gritted his teeth and slashed his wand downwards wordlessly, sending a blindingly bright spell Malfoy was likely wise to dodge. "Everte Statum!" the blonde retorted, as Weasley called "Flipendo!"

The spells gave a loud cracking noise as they hit each other, Malfoy send a Stunner, avoided a silent spell by Ron with mere inches and sent another Stunner, and another, ducked underneath a Conjunctivitis curse, shouted "Entomorphis" and silently blocked an Impediment jinx and a nonverbal dandelion-coloured spell – either that, or its incantation really was "Rah!" – then sent an unintelligible curse himself which was deflected by Ron who shot a physical Summoning Charm in Malfoy's direction… Harry frowned at the spell, briefly pondering on its harmlessness, though Malfoy couldn't be bothered and side-stepped it anyway, casting an Immobulus. A half second later, however, it was too late.

A girl screamed "Watch out!", as the desk standing behind Draco was violently flung forward. He didn't turn, he didn't look up, he didn't even flinch, for before he could do so, before anyone in the room could process the girl's words, the edge of the desk caught Malfoy's legs from behind and he was thrown over its surface, rolling sideways through stacks of paper flying everywhere, before landing hard on the ground while all other students jumped out of the desk's way and let it crash against the opposite wall.

There was a moment of absolute silence. What had just seemed random spell usage at first, had appeared to be a quite practical, though somewhat reckless, trick. It had taken Harry by surprise, while he might've expected something like this on the battlefield, but in the orderly enviroment of the classroom it seemed... underhanded. Harry glanced unconfortably between Ron and Malfoy, one was smirking darkly as he stepped towards his unmoving opponent, the other lay eerily still. But to Harry's relief, it only took two seconds before Malfoy began moaning.

"Ow. Ow, ow, ow, my legs, I think I've broken my legs. And my back, I've certainly cracked a rib. Ow, OW! – you sodding wretch! You freaking bastard! Look what you've done to me! Look!"

Ron already was looking, but didn't seem to be sorry in the least. Though he didn't dare to say it aloud, he was silently celebrating his victory with a smug smile and a pleased look.

James ordered Crabbe and Goyle to take Malfoy to the Hospital Wing, while he rounded on Ron. "Mr Weasley, what did you think you were doing!" he shouted angrily, his fists clenched at his sides. Ron's smile fell, but his smugness multiplied. He stared daringly back in his Professor's blazing glare. "This is a friendly duel between classmates, to practise some jinxes, where did you get the idea you could pull a stunt like that! Forty points from Gryffindor and a month's detention, Weasley, you can start tonight in my office!"

Up until then relatively cool, at hearing his punishment Ron grimaced and his ears turned red, a sure sign the Weasley was getting angry. For one instance it looked like he would retort, but something - probably the fact the detention was obviously deserved - seemed to change Ron's mind, and he proudly strode to his seat instead, leaving a fuming Professor to fix the desk.

Who was to be the winner of it all, remained undecided.

4.

The bloodstains looked black against the wine red couch. For a undecided amount of time, daylight had been seeping underneath the large, heavy curtains into the once grand drawing room, lending it a deceptively peace-ful twilight. Amelia lacked the strength to turn her head in search for a clock - not that knowing the time would help her situation any bit. Already since dawn, she was staring straight forward, to the little bloodstains on the couch, and the enormous, imposing portrait of a man and a woman hanging above the extinguised hearth.

She knew the depicted couple all too well, only the last time she'd seen them Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange had look rugged and filthy, clad in dusty grey Azkaban robes and shackled to the convinct's chairs in the courtroom, spewing threats and insults. Here they looked a little more sane, wearing elegant, elaborate robes rather than the prisoner rags and laughing down at her haughtily. They were two young, beautiful people, newly wed and richer than was decent, the future at their feet. But even they, in the prime of their lives, had jeered and cackeled when Rabastan had tortured her, giving away the already deeply rotten core behind their pretty perfect exterior.

"Ah, a good morning, Bellatrix, Rodolphus. Any idea where Rabastan could be hiding?" Amelia whimpered miserably as she heard the voice. Before he had left that night, Rabastan had poisoned her, poured an viciously stinging liqiud directly directly in a cut. It had spread slowly across her entire body that morning, paining her and making sleap impossible. By now, it had filled her to her fingertips.

She heard footsteps, as the man curiously went around the couch to have a look at her. As he came in her view, she saw his flaming red hair and dark, billowing robes. She guessed he was a Weasley, about fifty years old. He raised his eyebrows as he caught her eye, looking somewhat annoyed.

She couldn't deny she was a bit surprised when he addressed her. "You're Madame Amelia Bones, aren't you?"

She honestly couldn't be bothered to answer, so she simply kept staring at him.

"What has he done to you?" the Weasley asked impatiently. When she again didn't respond, he got an irritated scowl on his face and with a quick stride stepped out of her view, heading out to a room somewhere behind her. "Rabastan, what have you done to the Head of Law Enforcement!?"

5.

Plot:

Alrod Harrald Weasley (1919) – American Muggle-born witch

? Weasley (1938)-America

? Weasley (1939)-America

? Weasley (1940)-America

Septimus Percival Weasley (1921) – Cedrella Black (1921)

Bilius Phineas Weasley (22-06-1946)

Godfrey Lysander Weasley (03-09-1947) – Czech pure-blood witch (1951)

Galahad Weasley (1974-05-09)-Czech Republic

Tristan Weasley (1977-08-26)-Czech Republic

Arthur Harrald Weasley (12-09-1949) – Molly Prewett (02-12-1948)

William Arthur Weasley (28-06-1971)

Charles Weasley (15-01-1973)

Percy Ignatius Weasley (23-11-1975)

Fred Gideon Weasley (01-04-1978)

George Fabian Weasley (01-04-1978)

Ronald Bilius Weasley (01-03-1980)

Ginevra Weasley (09-05-1981)

George Carolus Weasley (1925) – Amelia Greengrass

Anthony Alrod Weasley (1955)-Squid

Galieus Leonard Weasley (1926)

Arthur: higher up Office of Misinformation

James: Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, ex-Auror

Lily: Healer

Sirius: Experienced Auror

Remus: Healer, spy

Peter: Muggle Liaison Office

Office of Misinformation: deals with secrecy, oblivations, comes up with excuses

Obliviator Headquarters: obliviation station

Invisibility Task Office: hides the Wizarding World

Muggle Liaison Office: investigates and handles magical problems in the Muggle world

Erebocy: de ziekte

Noxenosos; Finite Incantatem, Nox Abigo, Sereno, Renevate, Nox Abigo, Sereno, Renevate, Sigillum Malum

1930's Sacred Twenty-Eight

1940/1941 Alrod dies, having received the most money from his parents for he was the only one with so many children, but as he has no will, his wife automatically inherits all. She sells their house and land (part of the Weasley estate), to go back to America with the children. Septimus however saves the land by buying it from her, then takes her to court and saves much of the already small family fortune. Cedrella helps him out, they fall in love.

1941 Septimus and Cedrella marry.

1945 Grindlewald is defeated. Septimus gives hopes up and starts thinking of a family

1947 Dumbledore becomes headmaster of Hogwarts

1965-1966 Arthur meets Molly by her twin brothers and their status as prefects

1967 The First Wizarding War starts

1969 Arthur and Molly marry

December 1970 House of Evelyn Fawley and Bert Brown, Muggle Studies Professor at Hogwarts, is blown up, for being a blood-traitor family.

31 July 1980 Voldemort is defeated

Abraxas Malfoy (1913) – Charlotte Burke (1919)

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy (28-12-1944) – Narcissa Black (06-10-1952)

Draco Lucius Malfoy (08-06-1980)

Why is Septimus called Septimus?

great-great-great-great-grandfather

great-great-great-grandfather

great-great-grandfather

great-grandfather

grandfather

Charles Galahad Weasley (1796)

Leonard Agnar Weasley (squid) (1822)

Jean Eleanor Weasley (girl) (1833)

Bilius Tristan Weasley 1 (1835)

Ragenald Agnar Weasley 2 (1862)

Frugoldus Imeas Weasley 3 (1891)

Alrod Harrald Weasley 6 (1919)

Septimus Percival Weasley 7 (1921)

George Carolus Weasley 8 (1925)

Galieus Leonard Weasley 9 (1926)

Carolus Bilius Weasley 4 (1893)

Martin Galahad Weasley 5 (1916)

Huizen

The Den

Weasley home since Agnar the Weasel

Many generations

Charles Galahad (1796)

Leonard Agnar (1822)

Weasley Cottage

Built by Charles Galahad Weasley, after selling the Den (1824)

Jean Eleanor (1833)

Bilius Tristan (1834)

Bilius Tristan marries (1860)

Ragenald Agnar (1862)

House near Lockerton

Built near Weasley Cottage for Charles Galahad old day (1867)

Frugoldus Imeas (1891)

Carolus Bilius (1893)

Charles Galahad dies

Bilius Tristan takes over (1908)

Carolus Bilius marries (1914)

White Cliff

House near east coast built by Carolus Bilius to start a family (1914)

Martin Galahad (1916)

Frugoldus Imeas marries (1916)

Bilius Tristan dies

Frugoldus Imeas takes over (1918)

Alrod Harrald (1919)

White Cliff explodes (1919)

Septimus Percival (1921)

George Carolus (1925)

Galieus Leonard (1926)

Ragenald Agnar dies

Frugoldus Imeas takes over (1937)

Alrod Harrald takes over (1937)

Alrod Harrald marries (1937)

(1938), (1939), (1940)

Alrod Harrald dies (1940)

Saved from inheritance theft (1941)

Septimus Percival marries (1941)

Saved from sale with Black fortune (1941)

Septimus Percival takes over (1942)

Septimus Percival buys over Weasley Cottage (1945)

George Carolus and Galieus Leonard take over (1945)

White Cliff is rebuild

Frugoldus Imeas takes over (1945)

Bilius Phineas (1946)

Godfrey Lysander (1947)

Galieus Leonard moves out (1947)

Arthur Harrald (1949)

George Carolus marries (1950)

Anthony Alrod (1955)

Abbott

Fawley

Malfoy

Selwyn

Death Eater

May be related to Umbridge

Avery

Flint

Nott

Shacklebolt

Kingsley (only member alive)

Black

Gaunt

Ollivander

Shafiq

?

Bulstrode

Greengrass

Parkinson

Slughorn

Horace, Slytherin

Burke

Lestrange

Prewett

Travers

Death Eater

Carrow

Longbottom

Rosier

Original Death Eater

Evan, Death

Weasley

Blood-traitor in the 30's

Gryffindor

Crouch

Macmillan

Rowle

Thorfinn, Death Eater

Yaxley

Scottish

Death Eater

Lysandra

Slytherin

Gryffindor

Hufflepuff

Ravenclaw

Slytherin

Harry Potter

Vincent Crabbe

Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy

Ron Weasley

Parvati Patil

Hermione Granger

Vincent Crabbe

Neville Longbottom

Neville Longbottom

(Nott disqualified)

Gregory Goyle

Dean Thomas

Hermione Granger

Ronald Weasley

Theodore Nott

Seamus Finnigan

Theodore Nott

Neville Longbottom

Blaise Zabini

Cormac McLaggen

Harry Potter

Harry Potter

Pansy Parkinson

Hermione Granger

Hespia Elkhopper

Daphne Greengrass

Lavender Brown

Draco Malfoy

Millicent Bulstrode

Parvati Patil

Ronald Weasley

Edda de Thiercelieux

Fay Dunbar

Maureen Manx

Maureen Manx

Rionach O'Neal

Hespia Elkhopper

Imprisoned Death Eaters/Wizard Right rebels

Under Barthelomues Crouch Senior

Amycus Carrow (1976)

-Brendan Wilkes dies – (1977)

Egmond Furskin (1978, werewolf)

Alex Clayson (1978, werewolf)

Rea Moontooth (1978, werewolf)

Tomás Václav (1979, innocent)

-Alecto Carrow dies – (1979)

Philip Wackerdam (1979, werewolf)

Hervé de Thiercelieux (1979, werewolf)

Walden Macnair (1979)

Barthelomeus Crouch Junior (1979)

Under Amelia Susan Bones (1979)

-Evan Rosier dies – (1980)

-Voldemort's downfall – (1980)

Alfred Goyle (1980)

-Tomás Vaclav freed – (1982)

Lydia Gamp-Pidot (1983)

Fabian Prewett (1983)

Gideon Prewett (1983)

Julian Selwyn (1987)

Hieronymus Gamp (1989)

Rodolphus Lestrange (1994)

Bellatrix Lestrange (1994)

Desiderius Scamander (1996)

Augustus Rookwood (1997)

Andrew Avery (1998)

Members of Wizard's Right

Black family

Cygnus Black (1923)

Druella Black-Rosier (1924)

Regulus Black (1959)

-Sirius Black is Auror and fights for the Order (1958)-

Nott family

Victor Nott (1930)

Theodore Nott (1979)

Lestrange family

Rabastan Lestrange (1948)

Rodolphus Lestrange (1950)

Bellatrix Lestrange-Black (1951)

Avery family

Andrew Avery (1958)

Dolohov family

Antonin Dolohov (1953)

Travers family

Lindor Travers (1957)

Selwyn family

Julian Selwyn (1966)

Rookwood family

Augustus Rookwood (1952)

Weasley family

Septimus Weasley (1921)

Cedrella Weasley-Black (1921)

George Weasley (1925)

Amelia Weasley-Greengrass (1925)

Galieus Weasley (1926)

Godfrey Weasley (1947)

Molly Weasley-Prewett (1948)

Arthur Weasley (1949)

Anthony Weasley (1955)

William Weasley (1971)

Charles Weasley (1973)

Galahad Weasley (1974)

Percival Weasley (1975)

Tristan Weasley (1977)

Fred Weasley (1978)

George Weasley (1978)

Ronald Weasley (1980)

Ginerva Weasley (1981)

Prewett family

Muriel Prewett (1890)

Lucretia Prewett-Black (1915)

Fabian Prewett (1951)

Gideon Prewett (1951)

Adeline Prewett-Gamp (1956)

Jeremy Prewett (1984)

Scamander family

Desiderius Scamander (1942)

Anatida Scamander-Quack (1945)

Rolf Scamander (1981)

Gamp family

Marcus Gamp (1930)

Hieronymus Gamp (1951)

Lydia Gamp-Pidot (1954)

Isengrin Gamp (1958)

Nemsis Gamp-Aspuhud (1959)

Giselle Gamp (1990)

Winora Gamp (1994)

Caspar Gamp (1995)

Lovegood family

Xenophilius Lovegood (1944)

Luna Lovegood (1980)

Light:

Weasley, Bones, Abbott, Jones, Marchbanks, Turpin

Neutral:

Greengrass, Moon, Edgecomb, Lovegood, Spinnet, Smith

Dark:

Bulstrode, Parkinson, Carrow, Davis...