A/N: Yes, yes, I know it's been quite a while since the show ended, and even longer since the actual Future Harper episode - but when the muse leads, I follow. So, welcome to this story exploring a possible reason for H.J. Darling to come back from the future, because I felt that episode could have had so much more potential had not the show been focused mainly on comedy. It takes one or two chapters for this story to really get off the ground, because of the grounding in the actual episode that I found necessary to write. So, this chapter is mainly a rehash of what happened in Future Harper, but it's just a set-up, promise.

Disclaimer: I do not own Wizards of Waverly Place,and I especially do not own the dialogue lines lifted directly from the show.

Chapter I
Someone Stole Our Stories

"Did she steal our stories?"

"Wait." Justin turned the page of Charmed and Dangerous: The Story of the Lost Wand and read through it with speed that only an overwhelming desire to learn and years and years of near-constant practice could achieve.

Alex asked again, "Did she steal our stories?"

"Wait." He turned another page; he didn't even have to read the entire page to confirm what they already suspected and he snapped the book shut, shoving it at Alex. "She stole our stories!"

"I knew it!" Alex exclaimed indignantly. "Our stories are making this lady rich." She waved the book for emphasis.

"And famous," Harper added.

"And famous!" Justin shot to his feet. "There's a crazy ten-minute sale, the kids get stuck in a movie, the brother turns invisible, and they pour orange soda into a genie's lamp." It was unnerving how H.J. Darling knew so much about all their adventures that she could write about them with such detail.

"All right, we've got our evidence," said Alex. "Angry mob assemble!"

"I always figured that I'd be the one to make a living writing wizard stories based on our adventures," Justin mused. "Except my main character's name would be Serge, he'd walk around carrying a bejeweled cane and wear an eye patch." He grinned as he imagined it. In his mind's eye he saw his name – Justin V.P. Russo – emblazoned in elegant font across the front cover of a bestselling book.

Alex, however, was less than impressed. "What, no British accent?" she scoffed.

Justin took a second to visualize that. "Why, that's a smashing idea," he said in a very thick British accent. "Thanks, luv."

Harper, sitting next to Alex on the armchair, appeared to be totally enraptured by his accent. "Hot," she sighed appreciatively.

Then Max asked, "Guys, how do you think she knows all this stuff about us?"

It was a valid point, and Justin could have kicked himself for not wondering about that sooner because he was too caught up in his author daydream.

Oh, well. That little lapse in judgment aside, he could still take charge of the situation. "All right, we've got to find her and tell her to stop."

"Oh, I know where she lives!" Harper interjected. "In an abandoned paint-your-dish warehouse in upstate New York."

"Whoa, wait, Harper," Max cut in. "How do you know she lives in an abandoned paint-your-dish warehouse?"

"I had my mom's private investigator track her down."

Mental note to self, thought Justin, never get on Harper's bad side.

While Harper assured Alex that her dad's suspected infidelity was just him sleeping in his car, Justin decided on a course of action. Springing up, he declared, "Quick, to the Inter-Wizard People Porter – or as Dad likes to call it, the IPP."

Some mechanical grinding and whirring – and a lot of IPP-related humor from Max – later, the three Russo siblings sans Harper (who had excused herself on account of having to teach scrapbooking to at-risk youths) found themselves in H.J. Darling's residence.

Justin landed none too gently. "Ow, ow! My ankle!" He experimentally stood up, smiling with relief. "I'm okay." He took a step and immediately a stab of pain shot through his ankle, causing him to stumble. "No, I'm not." His gaze landed on a cane nestled among a bunch of umbrellas. Figuring that H.J. Darling wouldn't mind, he pulled it out and used it to help him to walk.

Max, meanwhile, was holding a plain white plate and looked up, as if suddenly struck by a revelation. "Oh, can we paint a plate while we're here?" He sounded absurdly hopeful.

"Max, I just twisted my ankle." Have some sympathy!

"Will you two focus?" Alex said. "We are on a mission to find H.J. Darling."

As if on cue, a red-headed woman wandered into the room, holding a salmon-colored book and speaking to someone they couldn't see. "Okay, Ricky! Good scrapbooking! Nice use of vinegar to make the pages look old. Stay off the streets!" She gazed at the book in her hands and smiled fondly. "Good kid. Oh, I hope he makes it."

Then she glanced up and saw the Russos, and her expression changed to a mixture of shock and horror, her eyes widening as she gasped. "Alex! Max! Justin!" Realizing her mistake almost at once, she amended quickly, "I mean – who are you people?"

Her hasty correction was utterly unsuccessful. She clearly knew exactly who they were.

Well, that's odd. Justin frowned.

"No…" Alex eyed the woman up and down. "The question is: who are you? And if the answer is H.J. Darling then my new question is: why are you stealing our stories?"

"Actually," Justin interjected, "the better question would be: how is she stealing our stories?"

H.J. Darling chuckled nervously. "That's an excellent new question. Um…look, why don't we sit down…and…and talk about it, okay? Um…uh…uh…I'll make snacks."

"Do you have any sugar cubes drenched in honey?" Max asked.

"Boy salad?" H.J. Darling deduced.

Max looked amazed. "That's what I call it!"

"How do you know that?" Justin demanded. Stealing their stories was one thing – intimate knowledge of Max's abnormal (and unwholesomely sweet) favorite snack was another, much more disturbing thing.

Alex, apparently, had also caught on to the fact that H.J. Darling was far too well-informed than should be normal. "Okay, enough of the snacks," she said. "What are you? A wizard? Or are you just someone who likes to wear aquariums?" This last was said with a pointed glance at the fishbowl H.J. Darling had been using as a hat.

While H.J. Darling was fumbling for a response, Justin noticed that there was a sheet of paper tucked into the typewriter on the table. "You're in the middle of one of your stories right now," he said accusingly, limping over to the typewriter with his borrowed cane to yank the paper out. The corner of the sheet struck him in his left eye as it came free. Max caught the paper as Justin dropped it to exclaim, "My cornea!"

"What is this?" the youngest Russo questioned, reading the page. "Flour, eggs, milk…" He looked up in disbelief. "This is the worst story ever!"

Alex snorted. "Give me that!" She snatched the paper from his hand and turned to face H.J. Darling. "What is going on? Why are you writing about our lives?"

"Um…"

"Alex, hang on." Although Justin's left eye was injured, his right eye was functioning normally and had noticed the writing on the other side of the paper Alex was holding. "There's something written on the other side."

"What?" Alex looked down at the page and turned it over.

"No, don't read that!" H.J. Darling tried to grab the sheet, but Alex sidestepped her and dashed behind the table.

"'Instructions for living in the past'," Alex read. "'One: do not tell anyone who you are. Two: especially not yourself. Three: avoid Alex, Max, and Justin at all costs.'" She glanced up, confused. "What?"

"Alex, let me see that." Justin held his hand out for the page.

Alex made to give her brother the paper, but had to jerk it out of H.J. Darling's sudden desperate swipe for it. "Wh–hey!"

"I am begging you, don't read that!" H.J. Darling pleaded. "Do you want me to get down on my knees? I'll get down on my knees. Look." And she knelt on the ground. "See? I'm on my knees. Just don't read that page, please!"

"Sorry," said Justin, "but we need to find out what's going on." Ignoring H.J. Darling's protests, he took the paper from Alex and scanned through the rest of the page with his good eye. "'Do not go to Waverly Sub Station…do not talk about wizards or magic…do not say anything about the future' – you're from the future?" he accused.

H.J. Darling looked extremely anxious. "Yes," she admitted.

"Wait," said Max, "if you're from the future…how many fingers am I holding up?"

H.J. Darling glanced at his hand. "Two."

Max gasped and backed away. "Oh my gosh, you are from the future! Okay, nobody touch anything. If we do we could totally disrupt things for when we return to our own time."

Justin rolled his eye. "We're in our own time. She came back from the future."

"Right," Max agreed. After a beat, he said, "I don't get it."

"Okay, who are you?" Alex demanded. "Why did you come back from the future? Why are you writing stories about us? And how do you know so much about us in the first place?"

H.J. Darling bit her lip. "I really shouldn't say a lot about the future, because it could change the future."

"See?" Max exclaimed, springing to his feet. When his siblings stared at him incredulously, he backed down sheepishly. "I just wanted to be right about something." They were still looking at him strangely, so he cast about for something to distract them. "Hey, those look like plates Harper would paint."

Justin and Alex turned to look at the row of plates on a countertop. They were all painted the same way, purple with a rainbow…and with Justin's face in the center.

"Huh," Alex commented. "They really do look like something Harper would make."

A sudden suspicion began to form in Justin's mind. "Wait a minute." He flipped the page he was still holding back around to the list of ingredients Max had proclaimed to be 'the worst story ever'. "This is a recipe for Harper's snickerdoodles with Red Hots!"

"So you're not just stealing our stories," Alex accused H.J. Darling. "You're stealing recipes too!"

"No, wait," Justin interjected. He had a look of intense concentration on his face. "Paint-a-plate, scrapbooking, snickerdoodles with Red Hots…that's all stuff Harper does!"

Alex gasped in theatric horror. "So you're stealing Harper's life too!"

"Alex." Justin's voice sounded strangely strangled. "She isn't stealing Harper's life." He stared at H.J. Darling as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "She is Harper. Harper from the future."

A/N: Again, I promise this is only a (necessary) set-up for the rest of the story. The original(ish) stuff will come soon, starting with my next update tomorrow.

Reviews are love!