Joe's Note: If you're having problems visualizing the house, it's heavily based - on the interior at least - on a real set of blueprints that I can link you to if you message me. Thing is massive: three stories, seven bedrooms, seven and a half baths, and just shy of 9,000 square feet - about 835 square meters - of floor space. To put that in perspective? That's slightly more square footage than one entire floor of my apartment complex - consisting of six units with two bedrooms and five single bedroom units - contains. It's a BIG house and so we're going to be finding nooks and crannies for chapters to come. Apart from that… not much else to say. Other than that while I don't do that stupid 'holding chapters hostage' shit, I've got nothing against whoring for reviews and so review please!
Dedications & Thanks: To Alexander, Nicholas, William, Koby, Wil, Thomas, Tracy, Christopher, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on , and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.

June 21, 2001
The Mysterious Shared Walk-in Closet
Potter Manor
Fowey, Cornwall, England, United Kingdom

If not for his mother's shout that lunch was ready, Harry probably would have stood there trying to make sense of the bizarre wardrobe situation for hours. Her booming voice echoing through the house pulled him from his thoughts, though, and had him meeting up with his sisters outside their rooms before following them down the stairs into the foyer. They almost reminded him of Fred and George, Harry mused, talking over each other as they jostled for position on their way down the hall. Bumping Rose into the opposite wall, Jasmine skidded a bit as she took a corner too fast before disappearing, leaving her twin sister to catch up and Harry bringing up the rear. His mother just rolled her eyes at their antics, shooing them over toward the table in the breakfast nook that evidently served other meals as well.

Despite being fairly hungry, Harry found himself hanging back as he eyed the table uncertainly, wondering if there were unofficially 'assigned' seats like at the Weasley house. If he was going to be discovered, he swore, it definitely wasn't going to be because he sat in the wrong seat for lunch. Somewhere off to his right, there was a loud whoosh as the floo activated and then Sirius was breezing into the kitchen with a lovely blonde on his right arm. Olivia, presumably. No children accompanied them, but given the stories he'd heard about Sirius in his prime, he wasn't surprised. Hell, there was a good chance that Olivia was his girlfriend of the month rather than his wife.

Then Remus brushed past the couple and took a seat at the table, and everything else quickly fell into place. Once Remus came to a stop in the middle of the bench seat that wrapped around the edge of the breakfast nook, the twins quickly claimed spots on either side of him and then Sirius plopped down next to Rose. Olivia claimed the chair at his left and Lily left one chair open between them before seating herself. Given that the average boy his age thought girls were gross, Harry decided to take a gamble and picked the open seat between his mother and Olivia. When she smiled and patted him on the head before transferring a slightly larger than average sandwich from the serving platter to the plate in front of him, he knew he'd guessed right.

Given how quickly they'd run off after being released from the search for him, Harry assumed that his sisters would likely disappear after lunch to go back to whatever they'd been doing and so he decided to spend lunchtime studying his sisters as discreetly as possible. They were definitely identical twins like Fred and George, but seemed to lack the Weasleys' obsession with remaining absolutely identical. Jasmine seemed to be the more athletic - or at least more active - twin, sporting slightly darker skin, more freckles, and chin-length hair to go with her t-shirt and trousers. Rose, on the other hand, was wearing a sundress and her hair disappeared down her back. Almost down to the middle of her back, if he remembered correctly. She was paler, too, and her less freckled face was probably what Jasmine looked like when the cold of winter forced her to stay inside most of the time.

Neither of them appeared to prefer black or silver clothes, though, and while Jasmine was wearing a green shirt, that didn't mesh with what Harry had found upstairs. They also seemed about as fond of him as he imagined he was supposed to be of them, so it seemed unlikely that they would willingly share living and closet space with him. Which left Harry no closer to solving that particular mystery, and increasingly uncomfortable about what the answer might actually be.

Forcing himself onto a new train of thought, Harry turned his attention to Remus, who sadly lacked both a significant other and children at present. Evidently this world wasn't any kinder to its werewolves than Harry's original had been. Hmm. Tonks… had just graduated from Hogwarts a month or two ago. While Remus was roughly a decade older. Not an unsurmountable difference, but potentially awkward all the same. Thinking back, Harry remembered Remus mentioning an interest in one or two of their fellow Order members during firewhisky-fueled moments of sharing. Maybe he could manipulate things so Remus met them again in this world, except without the shadow of war and painful death hanging over them to squash the romantic mood?

The werewolf was still a part of the extended Potter-Black-Lupin family, though, entertaining the twins with jokes as the group passed the soup pot and sandwich platters around. Lily would occasionally scold him for a joke that skirted the line of good taste, making Harry raise an eyebrow. His world's Remus had never been that relaxed in the four years he'd known the man. Fascinating. When she wasn't busy scolding Remus, Lily would engage Olivia in discussions about what Harry was pretty sure were the latest advancements in the field of enchanting; while he could cast spells with the best of them and even knew how most of his repertoire worked these days, that was one field he'd never gotten around to touching and so it was all Gobbledegook to him.

Sitting quietly between his mother and Olivia, Harry slowly worked his way through a delicious sandwich and a bowl of soup, enjoying the sounds of his happy family just as much as the simple but tasty food. His good mood came to an abrupt end, though, when he glanced up at Lily and found a pair of green eyes boring into his own. They were quite familiar; he saw them in the mirror every day. After all, he'd been told ever since he'd first entered the wizarding world that he had his mother's eyes. "Harry? What possessed you to wander off this morning before the rest of us got up? And where did you go? I had to call in Sirius and Remus, your father was late to work…"

"I… uhh…" Even as he filed away the useful tidbit that Remus was a 'call in' rather than a resident of the Manor, Harry racked his brain as he desperately tried to come up with an answer to give her. Nothing. Absolutely nothing came to mind to explain such odd behavior in a ten-year-old. Bugger. Maybe his mother had a sense of humor? She had to have one to be married to James Potter… right? "You don't need to know where he was this morning."

"I don't need to know where you were this morning."

"This isn't the son you're looking for."

"You aren't the son I'm looking for."

"He can go back to his lunch."

"You can go back to your lunch."

"Eat up."

"Eat up… eat up." The twins were giggling away, even as Olivia tried to affect a politely confused smile rather than admit she had no idea what was going on. Sirius and Remus seemed likewise baffled. His mother's lips quirked upward at his evasion attempt, but she didn't join the twins in laughing at his joke. "But fine. If you don't want to tell me, you can tell your father when he gets home tonight. And I'll let him set your punishment."

The way his sisters abruptly stopped laughing told Harry that doing as much would be a Very Bad Thing for him and his future in this house. "Um… can we discuss it after, then? You know, so I don't have to embarrass myself in front of everyone?"

Lily eyed him before nodding slowly. "Fine. But you'd better have a darn good excuse, young man." Picking her sandwich back up, she paused just before biting into it and let out a small snort of laughter. "I never should have taken you to see the trilogy when they were rereleased. Although the Jabba imitation you did the first time you met your cousin Dudley… that was hilarious." Thank God he'd actually seen the movies here. Harry hadn't even thought about that before trying his little joke out. That would have been a hell of an awkward explanation, to be sure.

When lunch ended, Harry decided to beat a hasty retreat with the twins so he could buy a bit more time to think of a decent excuse to give his mother. Returning to his bedroom, he couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of it. It was… well, huge. Especially for someone who had grown up in a cupboard under the stairs. But even comparing it to what real bedrooms he was familiar with, it was still huge. Possibly the size of both his and Dudley's bedrooms at Privet Drive, and easily half again bigger than Ron's room at the Burrow. And it was all his! The walk-in closet made his room seem even bigger by shunting his clothes out of sight and eliminating the need for one or more pieces of furniture to hold them, and he even had his own bathroom! Then the little details began to filter into his brain: he owned a Nimbus 2000 and a ridiculous amount of Falmouth Falcons quidditch memorabilia, but evidently not a desk or even a single book. Granted the elves could be relied upon to deliver a book at a moment's notice, but… he didn't even have anything in his room that he was working on as pleasure reading? Clearly this world's Harry was not an intellectual, or at least he hadn't been in the past. Because with all the knowledge Harry had brought with him, it would be hard to avoid being labeled as a bookworm unless he severely downplayed what he knew and could do… and that wasn't something he was entirely keen on doing.

He could ponder his future at a later date, though. For now, he had to decide what to do with his afternoon. Given the trouble he had caused with his appearance, laying low seemed like a good plan especially since he still knew almost nothing about this version of himself or the world he now lived in. Granted there was always legilimency, but getting in the habit of mentally invading his family and friends seemed like a terrible idea. So he decided to adopt Hermione's outlook on life… or rather, Hermione's original outlook on life. He somehow doubted copious amounts of shagging would solve any of his problems, after all. No, he left his room behind and headed straight for the house's library. Thankfully, history books were among those left out on the shelves and so he grabbed Modern Magical History and settled down to see what he might learn from this world's copy.

What he found shocked him. This Harry's parents had escaped Voldemort three times on the battlefield, but the house at Godric's Hollow had never been attacked at the end of the first war. Instead, Voldemort had attacked the Longbottoms and turned Neville into this world's version of the Boy-Who-Lived. But according to the notes scrawled in the margins in a looping, feminine scrawl? There was more to the story than most of the wizarding world. Neville wasn't the son of Frank and Alice Longbottom, but rather the son of Frank and a near-squib witch they'd turned to when Alice proved to be infertile. Having no interest in pureblood politics, she'd been willing to let Alice take credit for continuing the Longbottom line in exchange for a quiet life of relative comfort. 'Chloe' had been hired on as Neville's nanny after delivering him, and had been the sole adult home when Voldemort attacked. So while the wizarding world thought Neville himself had done something to disembody Voldemort, Lily suspected it had more to do with his mother sacrificing herself to try and save his life, especially since that matched up with an enchantment she'd been researching during the war. Harry was inclined to agree, knowing how things had played out in his world. From that day forward, Neville had been known as the Boy-Who-Lived, bearing a lightning bolt scar upon his forehead that marked him as Voldemort's supposed equal. Although assuming the prophecy here was the same, it confirmed a suspicion of Harry's and finally provided an answer to an ongoing argument of his with Dumbledore… not that he'd be able to tell the man now.

That raised two very interesting questions, though, and Harry abandoned the book he was reading in favor of hurrying off to his suite's bathroom. Closing the door behind him and locking it with magic, he leaned forward and peered into the mirror. The answer to the first question was immediately evident: from here on out, references to his scar would involve the past tense. Harry ran a finger over his unmarred forehead slowly before shaking his head and leaning back. But if the physical trace of his former connection to Voldemort was gone, what of the remnant of the man's magic that had clung to Harry even after the horcrux was gone? Turning, Harry waved his hand and conjured a small, silvery-red viper in the bathtub. "Hello?"

After turning back and forth to assess its surroundings, tongue flicking out of its mouth to taste the air, the viper raised its head to stare at Harry. Then it hissed… and Harry heard a hiss. Nothing more. No words. He wasn't a parselmouth anymore. Which meant that he would need a new way to access the Chamber of Secrets, but at least he didn't have to worry about accidentally freaking people out anymore. With a quick Vanishing Charm, the viper was gone and Harry made his way back out to the library so he could keep reading about the recent past. Or at least recent in so far as this world was concerned; losing close to a decade was playing havoc with his sense of relative time.

Moving on to just after Voldemort's fall, Harry discovered that Igor Karkaroff had again betrayed his comrades and provided the Ministry with a list of names. Lucius had again bought his way out of trouble, the Lestrange trio was in Azkaban, albeit for crimes unnamed… and Peter Pettigrew had not only been named, but captured and imprisoned? That was new. He was currently serving three consecutive life sentences in Azkaban for crimes also not listed in the book but was, at least at the time of printing, still alive. Harry checked the publishing information. A year ago. How that weak, pitiful, miserable excuse for a human being had been able to survive this long, even with the benefit of his animagus form, Harry had no idea.

It was so odd, finding himself in a place where things he'd taken for granted as 'fact' weren't anymore, while other things that had been completely and totally screwed up in his world were finally set to rights. Letting his thoughts wander down that path led Harry to wondering if his original self here had kept a journal, so he could get a better idea of how he was supposed to behave around everyone. Even if this wasn't really his family, it was the closest he'd ever get and the last thing he wanted was to be torn away because Dumbledore thought he was a renegade Death Eater impersonating Harry Potter or something.

As time marched on and day turned into night, Harry continued to read, totally unaware of the progression of time. Dinner passed without him noticing and it wasn't until his stomach rumbled noisily that he realized it'd been a while since he'd last eaten. Closing his book, he looked up and found his mother standing in the doorway with a plate of food. "Hi?"

"Hey, Harry. You missed dinner. And that explanation you owe me." Lily entered the library, setting his dinner down in front of him. "So… last chance. Your father will be home in twenty minutes or so and if I don't have something to tell him, he's going to come looking for an answer from the source. Be honest with me. Jasmine said she found you near the southeast corner of the lawn. Were you down near the beach again?"

Harry found himself studying his mother's tone and expression intently as she spoke… there was a bit of either fear or nervousness at the prospect of James confronting him, and exasperation at the beach. The former was worrying; was his father abusive? If not physically, then verbally and mentally the way Hermione had been? As for the beach… it was as good an excuse as any, since she almost seemed to be expecting it. He'd be sunk if she pressed him for details because for the life of him, Harry couldn't think of what a ten-year-old might find so fascinating along the nearby shoreline, especially if he'd grown up with it. "…maybe?"

Closing her eyes, Lily shook her head in resigned acceptance before reaching out and ruffling his hair. "I know what you think you saw that one time, but we're the only magicals for miles around. This flying, green-haired girl of yours is just a figment of your imagination. I used to humor you because it was a good way to get you out of the house for some fresh air, but if it keeps going the way it has? The only thing this obsession is going to get you is grounded. Do you understand me?"

Nodding slowly, Harry opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a soft and distant whooshing noise. With how open the floor plan was, he mused, the noise of the fireplace could carry remarkably far. "Okay, Mum. Thanks for the food. I think I'll take it and go hide in my room for a while." Lily opened her mouth to say something but Harry waved his hand. "He was angry when he left and I don't think he's in a better mood now. All the crazies come out at night, so he probably had more work than his normal shift. So it's probably better if I'm out of his hair until he relaxes a bit. Especially since it's all my fault."

Lily grimaced before nodding her assent. "Probably a good idea, yeah. All right. I'll check in on you later." As she made her way out of the library, her voice drifted back to where Harry was sitting. "One of these days, I'll figure out a way to avoid Azkaban and then I'll kill those damn Longbottoms for turning my husband into…"

Filing that little tidbit away for future consideration, Harry stacked his plate of food atop the closed copy of Modern Magical History and headed back to his room. The lack of useful furniture had him retreating all the way to his bed, sprawling out on his stomach and returning to his reading as he began blindly shoveling food into his mouth. It wasn't bad, all things considered, although the chicken was awfully bland. So were the vegetables, for that matter. Hopefully his mother was just having an off night because of today's excitement, because to be frank? He could do better. He just had no idea how he'd go about imparting what he knew on her so that the quality of food in the house would improve.

Eventually the clock struck nine, and Harry marked his place in the book as he heard his mother ascend to the first floor and start talking to Rose. They were all a bit old to be 'tucked in' per se, but that evidently wasn't going to stop her from making the rounds to ensure they were all ready for bed. It made him very glad that he'd managed to squash his paranoid instincts; Lily probably wouldn't have reacted well to finding an array of locking and privacy charms on his door.

As he changed into a pair of pyjamas, Harry frowned as he inspected his pudgy body. Once he figured out what chores were expected of him, he needed to figure out a way to take on more. Or maybe maybe he could organize regular family walks along the South West Coast Path, playing off his double's supposed fascination with an evidently non-existent green-haired girl. Because while he was nowhere close to Dudley's level of fatness, he had surpassed where Neville was back in first year in his old universe. He definitely had to start working out again; even if he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived in this world, he wasn't going to just sit back and let Voldemort run wild. Neville might be the only one capable of killing the bastard in this dimension because of Trelawney's damned prophecy, but that didn't mean he couldn't help. And kill a whole lot of Death Eaters along the way.

Hmm. Well, when in doubt, fall back on his normal Privet Drive workout: long walks that became long jogs that became long runs. Setting his alarm clock for five in the morning, which would hopefully get him up and out and back in before the rest of the family awoke, Harry crawled into bed and waited for his mother to arrive.

July 26, 2001
The Kitchen
Potter Manor
Fowey, Cornwall, England, United Kingdom

The next month at Potter Manor was fun for Harry once he managed to settle in and find his place. It was just like he'd always dreamed life in a world with no Voldemort would have been like. Well, almost. He would have preferred two loving parents but a loving mother and a distant father was close enough for his tastes. And the two sisters and cool older cousin made up for James's absence pretty well. It was like being back at the Burrow again, back in the days before Ginny became an obsessive stalker and his friendship with Ron imploded. Except here at Potter Manor, he didn't feel bad about a poor family taking in yet another mouth to feed and could relax and enjoy things more. He'd even found a journal, stashed under a floorboard in his room, filled with entries in wince-worthy mangled English by this universe's original Harry. Having read that from cover to cover a few times, he was now doing a much better job of fitting in… or at least he was only arousing a little suspicion as he subtly began changing their expectations of him to match who he really was.

With three house elves - Urðr , Verðandi and Skuld - to take care of a lot of the menial tasks, Harry had been unable to mask his desire to be more active behind chores. That left exercising in his room and running, both of which had to be carefully timed to avoid arousing the suspicion of his family. Returning from his five-mile morning run - which was actually a run these days, instead of walking an equal number of laps around the property like when he'd started - Harry looked at the clock and smiled. He'd shaved another few seconds off his previous best time. Excellent. The house was still as quiet as a tomb and so after using a few spells to freshen up until he could take a proper shower, Harry decided to treat his family to breakfast. After all, he was up and surely his mother would enjoy a break from cooking. That and after years of being forced to serve the Dursleys, it felt downright odd to be staying at home and not cooking every meal.

With the experience gleaned from years of cooking for Vernon and Dudley, Harry worked quickly but efficiently, cooking up portions of scrambled eggs, sausages, black pudding, bacon, fried mushrooms and tomatoes, baked beans, and hash browns suitable for his family of six. He'd seen in the past how much food his family could pack away, especially his father, although Jasmine and Rose weren't exactly pixies either. And none of the three could hold a candle to his cousin when it came to packing food away. As much as it looked like on the counter, Harry severely doubted there'd be anything left when they were done. Footsteps on the stairs alerted him that his family was awake, and Harry grabbed the serving platters and bowls, moving them to the table in the breakfast nook. His mother and the twins were the first to arrive, stopping dead in the doorway and staring in disbelief at the breakfast he'd prepared. "Morning."

Jasmine was the first to break out of her stupor, hurrying over to the table while eyeing the food hungrily. "Wow, Harry. I never knew you could cook."

"Uh, well, I can't. Or would that be couldn't? I found a cookbook in the library that had moving pictures so you could watch everything being done from all kinds of angles. After watching it for a month now, I decided it didn't look too hard and I figured I'd give it a try." Technically it was true… for the Harry of this universe. He'd had the elves locate said book for him, tried his hand at cooking as a form of apology for angering his mother with some sort of stupid prank, failed spectacularly, and even with the elves' help had barely managed to clean up the evidence before Lily came down to cook breakfast. This time around, though, Harry had succeeded, although it wasn't exactly his first time in the kitchen and he had actual skill rather than just having peeked at a book.

Lily just smiled in delight before leaning in to kiss Harry on the cheek. "Is that what you've been up to whenever I catch you in the library?" Err… not at all, but it sounded like a good excuse, so he nodded. "I'm so proud of you, Harry." He found himself blushing a bit as his sisters mocked him, but their amusement at his expense didn't keep them from descending on the food like Ron Weasley, serving up heaping plates for themselves that they began to devour. His mother followed suit, albeit a good deal more slowly and neatly. Biting into one of the fried mushrooms, she let out a moan the likes of which Harry had previously only heard when he interrupted romantic interludes while on patrol. Well then. Evidently she liked his cooking?

Stumbling into the kitchen, Nymphadora 'Dora' Black announced herself with a sleepy 'wotcher' before plopping herself down into a chair and fixing herself a plate. Finding out that she was the occupant of the second floor's nanny suite had been one hell of a shock. Unfortunately, the original Harry had avoided Dora like the plague after his first attempted prank on her failed and she responded with a merciless two week bombardment of humiliation, so she'd featured very infrequently in his journal entries and it had taken a bit of creative questioning, eavesdropping, and detective work on Harry's part to figure out why the young woman lived in his house. Evidently Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband had dropped by to 'chat' with her sister Andromeda shortly before the end of the war, executing Ted Tonks before turning their attention to Andromeda herself. Showing herself to be a true daughter of the House of Black, Andromeda had led them on a running battle through the house, making her way from the foyer to Dora's room, at which point she'd managed to actually overpower and blow through the anti-apparition ward her sister had cast over the house. She'd arrived in the lobby of St. Mungo's and promptly dropped dead from a burnt out magical core, leading to some back and forth legal wrangling that ended with Lily taking over guardianship of the orphaned Dora as a favor for Sirius. After all, she and James had plenty of room and experience with raising children - minimal as it had been at that time - while Sirius had no such experience and called a different hotel in a different city each week 'home'.

Dora began to choke and gasp and Lily rolled her eyes before drawing her wand and flicking it. A glowing hand appeared in the air behind the metamorphmagus before swinging down and slapping her hard on the back. Two chunks of half-eaten mushroom came flying out of her mouth to land on the table, eliciting squeals of disgust from the twins before Lily could vanish the mess. Tucking her wand away, the older redhead just rolled her eyes. "There's this newfangled thing called 'chewing', Dora. Try it for me, would you?"

Hair shifting from the long black curls of her base form to a long, straight, bright red mane, Dora ducked her head in an attempt to hide her blush. "Sorry, Aunt Lily. This is really good, though." After a few seconds, her hair shortened and lightened into the bubblegum pink spikes that Harry was used to seeing and she gave Harry a thumbs up before selecting a fried tomato, popping it into her mouth, and chewing with exaggerated slowness.

"Hey, what's that smell?" James was the last to make his presence known, stumbling into the kitchen with his hair mussed and standing up strangely. Or maybe not. Maybe he was just trying to do something new with it today? "Wow, Lily. You haven't bothered cooking a full breakfast for something other than a holiday in… Merlin knows how long, actually. What's the occasion?"

Shrugging, Lily swallowed another mouthful of mushroom before pointing her fork at Harry. "Ask him. He's the one who cooked it."

James almost missed his chair as he stared at Harry in disbelief. "What… Harry? Since when can you..?"

"Wow!" Everyone turned to look at Jasmine, who was staring at Harry with wide eyes. "I wanted to try everything first to make sure he hadn't gotten lucky… it's all great! Sorry, Mum, but Harry's a way better cook than you. No offense."

Rose nodded in agreement as James stared at his food suspiciously, looking from it to Harry and back several times. "Considering your mother has been cooking longer than Harry's been alive, I find that hard to believe." After serving up a bit of everything for himself, he decided to try a forkful of Harry's scrambled eggs first. After chewing slowly and swallowing, he turned to stare at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face. "Huh. I'll be damned."

Letting out a vaguely affirmative noise, Lily sliced off a piece of her fried tomato and popped it into her mouth before patting Harry's hand. "Sweetie, this is wonderful. Would you like to help me cook breakfast from now on?"

Looking up from where he was cutting up a piece of sausage for himself, Harry continued to blush from all the praise, only to freeze at the question. "Honestly, it was just going to be a one-time thing. I wanted to give you the morning off because you cook all the time."

"Can't you give me all the mornings off then?" Lily held up a piece of sausage speared on the end of her fork. "But no, seriously, this is amazing, especially for a first timer, and-"

Was it really fair to complain after deliberately showing off, Harry wondered, especially after he'd been thinking it was odd to not be cooking anymore just that very morning? "It's okay, Mum. How about I'll start helping out with breakfast or lunch a few days a week? We can cook together. You like my food, but I like your cooking too, you know." Well, it was enjoyable enough. Even after a few subtle hints, her stuff still trended towards the blander side of things, except for when she dove into the cookbooks that Sirius had brought home for her at the end of his world tour. What in the world was 'chicken fried steak'? He understood the 'fried steak' part, but what did chickens have to do with it?

Lily smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Okay. And thank you for cooking this morning, it was sweet of you. I'm sure the girls are going to be all over you when you're older. A man who knows how to be useful around the house is hard to find." James scowled at her comment but Lily quelled him with a glare and the family went back to eating, chattering about everything and yet nothing at all over breakfast.

The first to finish eating, James disappeared into his study for a few minutes, emerging in the red cloak of an auror and disappearing through the floo to go to work. Tonks likewise disappeared up the spiral staircase in the foyer before returning with a similar garment, subtle differences marking it as the cloak of a trainee instead of a full-fledged auror, and stepping through the floo herself. The twins finished next, disappearing back upstairs to change and get ready for their day, leaving Harry alone at the table as his mother began to levitate the dirty dishes towards the sink. Hmm. Now what? Shower?

Harry leaned down, doing his best to covertly sniff at his armpit without being noticed as Lily continued to bustle around the kitchen.

Yeah. A shower sounded like a really good idea right about now.

After emerging from the shower, feeling a good deal more human than when he'd entered, Harry went into his room and retrieved the copy of Hogwarts, A History he'd found in the library before curling up in a chair in the living room. Who would have thought the book was so interesting? Well, apart from Hermione? It also helped him see that, apart from who Voldemort had attacked, the only differences between the two realities were those in the last ten years or so. Slytherin wasn't suddenly a hero of the wizarding world, and it was still Helga rather than Herbert Hufflepuff or something bizarre like that. It was comforting to know that he could at least expect school to be familiar, even if the people around him weren't.

Now used to him holing up in the library to read about this or that, he was left largely alone for the rest of the morning by his mother and sisters. Shortly after the clock struck noon, though, the fireplace whooshed and two new - distinctly female - voices entered the house. One was young and unfamiliar. The other was neither, but why the owner would be at Potter Manor, Harry had no idea. As Lily led the conundrum further away down the length of the hall, Harry heard the rapid footfalls of someone racing through the kitchen and then up the stairs toward where he was. Evidently he'd be solving one of the new mysteries sooner rather than later.

Burst into the library, a tiny - even for their age - girl whose black hair was liberally streaked with platinum blond skidded to a stop a few feet from his chair. She stared at him with wide grey eyes as she bounced excitedly on her toes for several seconds before squealing and launching herself at him. Harry let out a grunt as she landed on his lap, and then abruptly looked up as the hem of her green dress inched upward due to her squirming in his lap. Finally, she decided on a comfortable position and curled up with her head resting on his shoulder. "Mmm. Tu es à l'aise."

"Hello to you too."

"Salut." Reaching out, she grabbed the book he'd been reading off the table and eyed it curiously. "Hogwarts, A Snoozer. I know I've been gone for two months, Harry, but are you really this desperate for something to do?"

While he'd been willing to wager a guess based on who the girl arrived at the house with, the time frame matched up with some of the entries in his other self's journal and allowed Harry to confirm her identity. Which meant that really was Narcissa Malfoy wandering the ground floor with his mother, and Altaira Malfoy was sitting on his lap. Tara to everyone else around her and vehemently so, but for some reason he was allowed to use her real name. Considering she was evidently the closest thing he had to a best friend, the journal he'd found had been short on useful details about either the girl or their friendship. What little Harry had found out from listening to idle chatter and a bit of gentle scanning of surface thoughts with legilimency when he brought her up in conversation had been… interesting.

Evidently they'd become friends through their respective mothers, the details of whose friendship were completely undocumented in the journal and Harry had no clue what to make of. The children's first few encounters had been both physically and magically violent, a pair of alphas - albeit miniature ones - sparring for dominance as they tried to figure out what to make of having a peer in 'their' domain who wasn't specifically there for their amusement. In the aftermath of scoldings, spankings, and a few repair and healing charms, Harry and Altaira had been left with a healthy respect for each other… and the realization that working together meant they'd have someone to help them torment their siblings. Or rather sibling in Altaira's case; Draco was the sole target of their mischief at Malfoy Manor, while Jasmine and Rose suffered equally when Narcissa brought Altaira over to 'play'.

That was an incredibly common occurrence these days, to the point that Altaira had her own room at the manor. Specifically, the one that shared closet space with his. Harry had absolutely no idea what to make of that, nor did he know where Narcissa slept when she stayed over, assuming she was an overnight guest as opposed to dumping Altaira on the Potters so she could get some peace and quiet. But while learning that the room wasn't the domain of his crossdressing alter ego had been comforting, Harry would have much preferred it be empty - or his second bedroom à la Dudley in his original world - than home to someone he only knew through journal entries.

it did leave Harry with a chicken and the egg paradox, though: did their semi-shared living space have something to do with why Altaira was evidently the sole exception to preteen Harry's 'girls are gross' policy, or had she been given the space by Lily after Harry decided she wasn't so bad? Then again, did it really matter? Either way, she felt that his lap was the best seat in the library and he was supposed to be okay with. Oh, and based on what he'd heard, Harry could also look forward to serving as the steed for the piggyback rides she routinely demanded. Nobody had any clue why that was, meaning Harry would just have to grin and bear it for the time being lest he bring unwanted attention to himself. Although once he started running into his friends from Hogwarts, Altaira was going to have to learn to share him with other girls…

A slender finger with a glossy green nail flicked his nose, pulling Harry from his thoughts. "Did you fall asleep sitting up from reading that thing? I've heard of people who talk in their sleep… are we having a sleep conversation?"

Rolling his eyes, Harry brought a hand up and batted at Altaira's finger as she tried to follow up with a poke to the end of his nose. "Har bloody har. I was thinking, thank you very much. But anyway, speaking of, how was France?"

"Very French. I don't know, the same as last time and the time before that? If you tell our mums that I said this I'll deny it, but… I think I believe you about the green-haired girl." After looking both ways, Altaira lowered her voice. "While we were in Monaco, Father took the family to a party that had both magical and muggle businessmen and their families at it. I met this Monégasque girl named Monet… she could run all the way across the room, snitch food from the buffet table, and be back at my side in the blink of an eye!"

So this world had what, superhumans? Faster then a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and so forth and so on? Or was it just supergirls? Because so far Harry had heard mentions of exactly two, and they were both young and female. Then again, if they were so well hidden that even most magicals weren't aware of them, who knew how many were out there and what they could do? "I don't want to say I told you so, but… actually, I do. I told you so."

Altaira stuck her tongue out. "Shush, you. If I hadn't seen Monet do it, I wouldn't believe in her either. Anyway, before we get any more off-track… still waiting for an explanation." Harry raised an eyebrow curiously and she groaned. "The book. Why are you in here reading instead of tormenting the twins or something?"

"I don't know, I guess I just realized that… in thirty-six days or so? We're going to be at Hogwarts. What's in that book is going to be our life." Taking the book back from Altaira, Harry used a bit of wandless magic to make it look like he was capable of holding it in one hand as he placed it on the table, using his other arm to keep Altaira from spilling onto the floor in the process. "I guess I just don't want to be Longbottom or your brother. Picking on my sisters - and Draco - is fun and all, but it's not going to keep me from getting in trouble because I got lost looking for the charms classroom. You know?"

Turning in his lap, Altaira leaned forward and ran her dainty hands over the cover of the book as she let out a thoughtful hum. "I never really thought of it like that. You're right, though. How about we go for a walk down to the beach, and then we can come back and you can read out loud to me?"

"Wait, why do I have to read to you? Shouldn't it be the other way around? You're better at it than me. In two languages, even."

"Because I'm asking you to? And I'm tiny and adorable and you're not?"

Well, when she put it like that…

July 31, 2001
Harry's Bedroom
Potter Manor
Fowey, Cornwall, England, United Kingdom

When July 31st finally rolled around, Harry got to experience another first: the first time his family had ever thrown him a birthday party. Or rather the first one that he could remember; presumably his real parents had celebrated his first birthday a few months before their death. While the party itself wasn't too different from the ones he'd spent with the Weasleys - apart from the people present, obviously - the fact that he was celebrating it with the closest thing he'd ever get to blood family made it all the more special for him.

For once, his father had actually remembered that he was a part of the family, and Sirius had come over with Olivia in tow. Remus had poked his head in briefly to hand off a gift before retreating, citing post-transformation tiredness, Amelia Bones and Susan had likewise made a brief appearance… and the Malfoys were there. Harry still wasn't sure what to make of what was apparently a very close friendship between his mother and Narcissa, although thankfully history was on his side in this world and he didn't have to play nice with Draco for the sake of appearances. So instead he'd spent his free time with Altaira, who was actually a fairly decent companion for someone who was close to half his age mentally.

His presents were nothing special and yet incredibly special at the same time: clothes, books that would serve as useful supplements to his textbooks when he began school that fall, trinkets from Zonko's… nothing of earth-shattering significance, but full of sentimental value in that they were the first presents he'd received from his parents. Well again, that he could remember. Presumably his first birthday had been full of clothes fit for an infant, charmed stuffed animals, and other presents suitable for a small child. Narcissa had even come through with a forearm holster for the wand that he'd soon be purchasing for school. Considering the frown that earned her from James, it might have made her more thoughtful than his own father. Wonderful.

Not that Harry was upset with the gift. He just wasn't wild about the idea that he might have missed out on owning something so useful if not for a woman whose presence he still didn't fully understand.

Later that day, Harry had received the expected owl from Hogwarts inviting him to attend and providing him with a very familiar list of necessary supplies. He'd faked jumping for joy and all the other antics he figured were probably appropriate for a kid his physical age - as if there'd actually been any doubt that he'd be invited to attend his parents' alma mater - and endured Draco's preening about the fact that he'd received his owl close to two months ago. His mother's smile seemed a bit strained, and it took him a moment to realize why: her first child was leaving the nest, even if it was only for ten months at a time. It had to be hard for her.

Finally, the party broke up and Harry headed up to his room. Closing the door behind himself, he headed to his closet to put away his new clothes, only to find the opposite door open as well and a familiar face puttering around in the mystery suite. "Altaira?"

"The 31st is an odd-numbered day, isn't it?"

"Yes?"

"That means you sleep in here."

What?

"What?"

"We're. Sleeping. In. My. Room. Tonight and tomorrow night, since months with odd numbers of days mean I get lucky twice in a row." Entering the walk-in closet, Altaira grabbed one of the few green shirts on 'his' shelves before turning and retreating to what was evidently her room. "Now come on. We can talk in here if you want, but I want to sprawl out and relax."

Ah yes, and there was the return of that lovely, utterly confused feeling that Harry had worked hard to banish over the past two months. Given that their entire relationship occurred while they were at Hogwarts, him and Luna had 'slept together' in the Biblical sense, but never in the literal sense. And yet evidently he was sharing a bed with Altaira often enough that they'd come up with a system to decide where they slept on any given night? What a strange, strange world.

Figuring that Altaira would likely be back for him and not wanting to get caught half-undressed, Harry quickly changed into an oversized shirt of his own along with a pair of pyjama pants. Even if it did raise Altaira's eyebrow, getting into bed with another girl - especially one her age - was going to be weird enough. He wasn't doing it with any less clothes on than that. Mere seconds after he finished changing, Altaira knocked a strange little rhythm on the door and - when Harry failed to respond quickly enough - opened the door and peeked her head in. Scowling, he reached out and ruffled her hair. "I could have been changing, you know."

"Yes, because clearly I care about that sort of thing." Altaira rolled her eyes before latching onto his wrist and dragging him into her room. Having already prepared for his arrival by turning back the covers, she proceeded to push him down into bed and tuck him in before circling around to the other side and climbing in herself. Quite literally; the mattress was high enough off the ground that she actually had to jump a little to get her diminutive form into bed with him. "So, have you decided what kind of pet you're getting when we go to Diagon Alley tomorrow? I asked Dora and she said that we're right about there being a loophole in the pet rule, so I don't want something I'll get too attached to. I know Mum likes cats, so maybe a cute little kitten? Leave it home with her next year when I replace it with something better?"