Chapter 2: Well, that's convenient

I don't own 'Harry Potter'


Dahlia peered into the mirror and realised she looked really fucking cute without glasses.

True, she was still in a ten-year-old body that hadn't had a decent meal in fuck knows when, her limbs were thin and spindly with knobbly knees and whatnot, not to mention the pinched look to her face from the clearly shitty life, but her eyes were really big and kind of glowed.

She totally had the puppy eyes down.

Her hair was a disaster zone unfortunately. If she remembered rightly – not that she could really remember much of what the fuck was happening when she was imagining not being there and praying for her escape from hell; she definitely wasn't reminding Brian of her crappy childhood at every possible opportunity, no siree – Aunt Petunia had been determined to keep her hair a bird's nest just so that she wasn't attractive in any way. Dahlia though that her aunt really needed to get over her inferiority complex from her youth, but perhaps she wasn't the best person to speak to about issues?

Nah. I'm a great person to talk to.

But back to the mirror. She had a totally cute face, even if she managed to look both like a girl and like her dad; was James Potter girly when he was a kid or something? She'd eventually learnt that growing her hair out made it infinitely more manageable than the mop that made her look like a boy wearing a skirt, so she really needed to grow it out. Like now.

"Severino …"

"Don't call me that!"

Why he keeps telling me that I'll never know. If I didn't stop the first thousand times, why does he think it'll happen now? For a supposed genius, he's kind of an idiot.

She turned around to see the man in question glaring at her, though she marvelled at the differences to last time. Apparently the lack of stress over whether or not he'd die at the hands of one insane man or another – Tom and Brian would both fill a Mind-Healer's pockets for life – had prompted him to actually care for himself, and his hair was free of grease from the various potions fumes – another point in the 'Potions is a stupid career choice' category – and his teeth had been fixed with some medical spells. Though she suspected that last part was Brian interfering for the fun of it.

It was also bloody weird to actually be in his personal quarters without him being forced to let her in. Dahlia Potter was in the personal living space of Severus Snape without him trying to kill her even the slightest bit.

Forget time travel and coming back to life, this was the biggest miracle she'd ever experienced.

Severino actually had rather ordinary tastes, everything in beige with chocolate accents. Who knew the infamous dungeon bat was a closet interior designer? He'd never bothered with this crap in the afterlife, but then again their weird little home had already been put together for them, so he hadn't exactly needed to do anything. She wondered if he found if therapeutic; you know, decorate the room instead of killing random kids when they pissed him off.

… When she thought about, she was pretty damn lucky to have survived as long as she did living in the same place as this arsehole.

He walked over to her and handed her a mug of hot chocolate topped with cream – just how she liked it – before frowning at her. "What do you want now, brat?"

She blinked up at him innocently, inwardly gleeful at the instant wariness that appeared in his onyx eyes. Yes, they'd more or less made up – being stuck together hadn't exactly given them much of an opportunity otherwise, though she would forevermore cherish the memories of him dodging her spellfire – but there was no way she would ever give up fucking with him. Firstly, he'd been a twat to her when she was younger. Secondly – and much more importantly – it was entertaining as hell.

"Well, I'd like to thank you for helping me get some clothes and contact lenses, it's quite nice to wear something that doesn't look like a tent. Not to mention actually being able to see. I hadn't realised I was quite that blind."

She shook her head and refocused, smiling widely like the innocent child she totally was. "Anyway, I was wondering if you might help me with a Hair-Growth potion. Right now it's a nightmare, and I miss my long hair.

"Please?"

Dahlia knew full well he wasn't really fooled, but nevertheless the man – was he really a man? She remembered hearing the vampire theory more than once, and it did kind of make sense – rolled his eyes and stalked back to his personal stores, grumbling under his breath as he did. He was probably bitching about her father, but why he thought she could control who she was born as, she had no clue.

Seriously, Lily Evans and James Potter being horny teenagers and getting married right out of school with a kid on the way at nineteen really wasn't her fault. And no offense to her parents – they did sacrifice themselves for her, after all; obligatory parental respect, and all that – but in what world did having a kid as teenagers in a war seem like a good idea?

Wizards had no bloody common sense, Dahlia was convinced.

A flicker out the corner of her eye caught her attention, and her hand flew to the object coming towards her face instinctively, catching the very thing Severino had thought would be funny to lob at her head at full speed.

Dahlia turned her fist over and opened her hand, looking down at the small vial in her hand. She grinned, the expression rather maniacal for such an innocuous-looking item.

It was all part of her plan, after all.


"Just a quick question before we start – 'cause I don't know about you, but I've got a feeling we're going to be stuck here for fucking ages trying to figure this crap out – am I even allowed to be here?"

"No."

She turned to the black-haired man and raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was blunt."

Brian smiled genially after sending his patented 'I-know-I'm-not-actually-your-grandfather-but-I'm-going-to-act-like-it-and-you've-done-something-stupid-that-I'm-going-to-keep-bringing-up-to-guilt-trip-you-into-doing-what-I-want-because-I-know-you-wouldn't-do-it-otherwise' look to Severino, and beamed at the room as he tried to take control.

Not that he really had it. Snape seemed to have given up caring at this point, and she didn't have a single fuck to give about the old man's power.

"Now, now, there's no need to become irate. While Severus was technically correct that you shouldn't be here in the castle as you're not yet a student, my dear, there is the fact that I am also the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Hogwarts is my official residence, so if somebody wanted to meet me, I am more than able to invite them to where I live to conduct an interview or have a discussion.

"Such as a discussion about a falsely-incarcerated prisoner of Azkaban."

Dahlia heard Snape snort in the background, but she was still trying to reconcile the casually-manipulative words wrapped in a blasé tone with the cheerful looking elderly man happily eating Kola Cubes.

"You're such a bloody politician."

Dumbledore frowned, though the twinkle in his blue eyes gave away his mirth. "How rude, my dear girl. I don't think I've ever been so offended."

"If you want, I could always add to the –"

"ENOUGH!"

Dahlia and Dumbledore turned as one to see an irate Snape pinching the bridge of his nose. She wondered if this was his go-to pose now, he did kind of seem stressed and pissed off all the time now. Maybe she should dial back the mischief before he got an ulcer?

Or not.

Brian absentmindedly offered her a packet of Kola Cubes, and she grabbed one and shoved it in her mouth. "You okay there, Severino? You're looking a little miffed about something."

"Indeed, he looks just like your grandfather did whenever someone insulted his name. Did you know he actually once spelled a professor bald upon being mocked? Ms Blishwick was never quite the same again after that, I'm afraid. I believe she went into self-imposed exile with thirty Kneazles on the Isle of Mann."

"Wow, that house must stink."

"Perhaps, though I was always under the impression that Kneazles were much more courteous about their bathroom habits than regular cats. Did you know that the delightful creatures have also been known to look for human help in times of peril?"

Before she could reply, Snape slammed a book on the table to get their attention. Which was so bloody rude, did he really think they were so unaware of things that he had to resort to violence just to be heard? It wasn't as if she did things like that, no she did not. (Dahlia maintained that she was not in fact a violent person, just one predisposed to the – very much needed – act of retribution.)

"Need I remind you that at this point in time, there is in fact an insane Dark Lord still alive and willing to murder anyone to succeed in his endeavours? That he will shortly be possessing one Quirinus Quirrell and be invading this school? That doesn't even to get into the multitude of Horcruxes lying about anchoring the insane man to this world. Have you two even thought about what we're going to do?"

Dahlia huffed and wrinkled her nose. "Way to bring the mood down, Severino."

"Indeed, it is always such a shame that people focus more on the negative than what is good in life," Brian said as he nodded his head sedately.

"Just so we're clear, I hate the pair of you, and you're both in dire need of psychological help."

"That's just rude," she said flatly.

"I am over a hundred, Severus. It would be stranger if I didn't have a few screws loose at my age."

The girl side-eyed the cheerful old man who'd just happily admitted to having mental issues and wondered if he should be so happy about that. Then again, Brian really didn't seem to care too much about what he should or shouldn't be happy about now. Ever since his journey of working through his issues – or the worst of them, at least; he was old, and Dahlia knew full well he had a crap ton of weird shit in his life, even without their magical journey back to life – he'd been even more wacked than usual, and his ability to care about certain things had been strained. Or it had just dissolved, she really wasn't too sure.

(Dahlia couldn't help but be grateful the old quack hadn't procreated, she dreaded to think of what his children would have been like.)

"So," she interrupted, "you want to plan for Tom-I-have-daddy-issues-a-mile-long-Riddle. How exactly do you plan on dealing with him? 'Cause as I see it, we legitimately only have the means to deal with the ring and the diadem right now.

"The locket is in Grimmauld Place right now so we need Sirius free – don't look at me like that Severino, even if you don't like him, you know full well spending a decade in Dementor Wonderland is punishment enough for the werewolf thing – so he can get it for us. Not to mention him being in charge of the Black family, that could really be useful at some point."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Dahlia dear, you do realise Sirius' grandfather Arcturus – Lord Black - is still alive at this point in time, don't you?"

She blinked bewilderedly. "Then why the fuck is Siri still in prison? What a shitty grandfather."

"Who cares?" Severino snorted before rolling his eyes at her glare. Immature twat. "The point remains – and it certainly galls me to agree with her – but the brat is correct. We lack the means to gain possession of the diary and the cup. Unless of course you two plan on robbing the bank and an ancestral manor blind?"

"Well …"

She and Snape turned to look at the old man stroking his beard thoughtfully, though the glint in the blue eyes made her a little wary. Jesus fuck, what's he up to?

"While it saddens me that crime is the path forward, we must make choices that don't always align with our personal beliefs."

"You can't be serious," Snape deadpanned. "Are you actually advocating for us breaking into buildings and stealing from people? You?"

"It's a shame Dobby isn't here," she muttered as she picked at her Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

A loud crack permeated the room, and the three human occupants looked to the middle of the floor in shock to see a small house-elf with a tattered pillowcase and tennis-ball green eyes, looking around the room with confusion as he fidgeted in place.

"How can Dobby be helping young Mistress he didn't know was Mistress?"

She couldn't help it. She started cackling and fell off her chair as she wheezed at the situation, losing herself in hysterics at Dobby's mere presence. How else was she supposed to react to something so convenient dropping into their laps from her musing? She felt tears in her eyes as she laughed, overcome at how bloody ridiculous their lives were now.

"I do believe that is plot-powered convenience."

Dahlia hiccoughed and snorted. Severino wasn't wrong, after all.

Welcome to the mayhem, Dobby.


After eventually calming down – she needed to start getting used to being a wide-eyed innocent kid again, even if the snarky bat kept sniping at her ideas – Dahlia was peering down at Dobby with a small frown as the creature was valiantly trying not to hyperventilate and praise the 'great Dahlia Potter'.

Poor thing. He had no clue what was to come.

She turned back to the Headmaster. "Any idea how this insanity came to be?"

Before the great and knowledgeable Albus Dumbledore could impart his vaunted wisdom upon her – and really, exactly how did their country get into the habit of never thinking for themselves? They all had their heads' so far up their own arses they were suffering from a lack of oxygen, that was clearly the only explanation – a familiar, yet irritating voice piped up from the corner.

"What party's complete without a mascot?"

Dahlia turned with dread to see who she assumed was Death – seriously, what was his actual appearance? – leaning up against one of the bookshelves underneath the frozen portraits, grinning maniacally and looking as carefree as can be.

What the fuck? "Okay, there are so many things wrong with this picture," she critiqued while she gestured round the room. "Firstly, we're alive again, so why are you here and not in the land of the dead terrorising some other poor sod who bit the dust or something? Secondly, since when were we a party? Don't turn us into some crappy version of whatever game you're focused on now. Also, Dobby is a Malfoy elf, why is he here? And lastly and most importantly, why the bloody hell are you dressed as a character from a game that doesn't come out until the mid-2000s?"

Death, also looking like a dead ringer for the protagonist Hero from Dragon Quest VIII – which she would admit was actually brilliant, and she'd lost so many hours trying to complete that bloody thing; why were the dragons at the end so hard? – waved at all three of them individually, nonchalantly ignoring the infamous Snape Death Glare – he should totally get that patented – and yet another attempt at disappointment from everyone's favourite barmy old man before he turned to her with a smirk. (Which was wrong, Hero didn't smirk, he was silent and calm, and this imbecile was ruining it.)

"In order: I'm bored and you all amuse me –"

"That is a most unfortunate way of entertaining oneself."

"– you are indeed my personal party, which I like to call 'Team: Living Dead' –"

"That's not how Necromancy works, you imbecilic twit!"

"– Dobby is here because I felt like helping with just this one little thing –"

"Why? What do you get out of it?"

"– and lastly, I felt like giving you a reprieve from your withdrawal symptoms. You know, the ones you have because every single game you adore hasn't been released yet and won't be for several years."

Dahlia glared. "I have no idea what you're talking about, I don't have withdrawal symptoms." She absolutely refused to remember or even acknowledge the scream of frustration and ensuing bout of depression she fell into upon realising that Final Fantasy VII didn't come out until 1997. Nope, didn't happen, no way in hell.

(She was still distraught, but come hell or high water she would be pre-ordering that when it was released, and if she had to buy an entirely muggle house to play the damn thing, she would bleed the Potter accounts dry.)

The girl knew full well the bastard in front of her was just being sadistic by mentioning her beloved games – and if he morphed into Cloud again, she would kick him the balls muggle-style, magical and mystical personification of Death he was, be damned – but there was no way she was going to give him the satisfaction of letting him see her misery.

Then there was the case of Dobby.

"Seriously, what the flying fuck do you get out of Dobby being here? I assume he's here to help with the diary, but isn't that a little too convenient?"

Hero-Death shifted and nodded with a bemused expression. "I suppose you're right in one respect, but honestly it was just because of Lucius Malfoy. Really and truly he was supposed to die during the Battle of Hogwarts, and it pissed me right off when he managed to make it through alive. You wouldn't believe how many people Malfoy Sr. could've saved if he weren't so self-serving."

"So what you're saying," Snape began with a shrewd look on his face, "is that you're willing to screw someone over for petty revenge?"

Death nodded with a grin. What a bastard.

"Am I wrong to assume you would do the same to us?"

The grin widened and Death stood up straight. "Of course I'd do the same to you! Where would the fun be otherwise?"

With an emphatic nod, the past denizens of the land of the dead were left alone with a comically-confused house-elf blinking at Dahlia with awe.

Said girl turned to her male companions with a raised brow. "Okay, diary down. What about the cup?"

"About that …"

Dahlia turned to the old man with a suspicious look in her green eyes, a look that was only deepened by the shifty look on his face and the way he wasn't meeting her eyes.

"Brian, I swear to fucking Merlin, what have you done?"

He huffed. "I have not done anything, my dear, I simply remembered something that might assist us in this matter. It might be best to get an inheritance test at Gringotts. My research only helps so far."

Dumbledore turned to her with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Have you ever actually seen a copy of your family tree?"

Oh sweet Jesus, this isn't going to be good.


A/N: Hey guys!

I apologise for my terrible sense of humour, but I seem to have given up at this point lol.

Yes, my idea for the diary was terribly convenient, but that was kind of the point. This story is ridiculous, so ridiculous things happen. (Does anyone think I should add a tag for Crack?)

I hope you guys like it, and I'll see you next time I have the time and motivation to write another chapter.

See ya!