The next day was school. Harry woke up around noon, a little groggy, his trunk packed, everything set to go. The feast started sometime around seven, so Harry wouldn't have to get going until maybe fifteen till. He decided that was when he would take a shower, wear his uniform and do his hair. Sirius was already gone, since teachers had to be at the school for all of September 1 (most of them did their arriving on August 31, but Sirius could walk to Hogwarts and tunnel inside the school, so he could spend August 31 doing what he wanted).

Harry climbed out of bed and changed from his green pajamas into his oldest jeans and T-shirt. It was the last day he could savor not having to wear a uniform five days of the week. He went down to the kitchen, where Barbara was cooking Harry's last pre-Hogwarts meal—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and apple pie. Phoebe was in her downstairs crib, fast asleep; she was wearing a ballerina-pink onesie with a skirt and hearts on the front, plus a bow on her head. She was also wearing a bib that read "I Love You a Latke."

"Isn't that the nicest thing?" Barbara said, pointing to the bib. "Bubbe Goldberg sent it to me."

"What's a latke?" Harry asked.

"Like hash browns, but with more starch," Barbara replied with a grin. "Haven't you heard that Hanukkah story—there wasn't enough oil to light the lamp because all of it was used for cooking latkes?"

"Now I have," Harry told her, and sat down at the table to wait.

…

Several hours later, though, things weren't looking up. Harry had already walked in on Barbara breastfeeding, and it had happened again today. There wasn't much to see, because Phoebe's head was in the way, but it still wasn't something he wanted to walk in on, especially when an unpleasant image of Sirius doing the same thing entered his head.

Only thirty minutes later, the milk wasn't sitting right with Phoebe, apparently, and Barbara seemed a lot more lost without Sirius than they had previously thought. She was simply howling up in her crib, and Barbara brought her downstairs. She burped up milk all over Barbara's shoulder, then cried some more.

"Do you know the Scouring Charm?" Barbara asked desperately. Both she and Phoebe were covered in baby barf.

"Huh-uh," said Harry, pinching his nose.

"How does Sirius do this?" Barbara said to nobody in particular, holding her screaming daughter in her arms. "How am I supposed to know what to do next?! How am I supposed to know what she wants?!"

Sirius usually seemed to know what Phoebe wanted, but Barbara had gone blundering into motherhood unprepared.

"Hmm…" Harry frowned. "We don't need to call your mother, do we?"

"She's not allowed to come into Hogsmeade, Harry," Barbara reminded him. "You should know that."

"What about Andromeda?" said Harry on a sudden inspiration. If anyone knew what to do to calm a fussy baby, it would be Andromeda.

Within the hour, Andromeda had arrived at Harry's house via the Floo, calmed Phoebe and put her to sleep, sat Barbara down on the couch with a blanket, some hot chocolate and the TV, washed everyone's clothes, cleaned the house and put little decorative soaps in all their bathrooms. Then she sat on the couch next to Barbara and Harry.

"Andromeda," Barbara said tremulously, "will you stay with us forever?"

"I'm afraid I can't," Andromeda replied with a little laugh. "Eventually, I'll have to go home."

"I don't get it, though," Barbara told her, and she sounded sad. "Sirius is so good at parenting, and I stink at it. He's always telling me I'm doing a 'good job,' but he's just lying, I'll bet."

"Listen, Sirius has practice." Andromeda gestured to Harry. "Sirius was always naturally good with kids and animals, but we all are beginners once. He looked after Harry almost as much as James and Lily did. And even when he was around your age, Harry, he would sometimes help with my daughter—he'd feed her bottles sometimes and carry her around on his shoulders and tickle her."

Harry pictured thirteen-year-old Sirius, only one year older than he was now, sitting on a couch and feeding a bottle to a baby version of Tonks, the same way he did with his daughter now. Then it was a little easier to understand why he wasn't so keen on the idea of her sleeping with his best friend. After all, as with Harry, he didn't get to see her grow up.

"It's going to be hard for him, speaking of Tonks," said Harry conversationally. "I mean, now that she's sleeping with Remus—"

"She's what?!" Andromeda cried.

"You—you didn't know?" asked Harry feebly.

"No, I didn't!" said Andromeda. "She didn't tell me! He's thirteen years older than she is! That's over a decade!"

"That's what Sirius said," Harry told her.

"Well, I'm going to have a talk with her about this!" Andromeda said furiously. "There is no way she is just running off with him like that at such a young age!"

"Andromeda, listen to what you're saying," said Harry with a smirk. "You ran off with a guy. How can you be angry with Tonks for doing something you did when you were around her age?"

"Harry Potter," said Andromeda sardonically, "you don't understand one thing about parenting, do you?"

…

When Andromeda went home, Barbara put some treacle tart in the oven and instructed Harry to take it out after thirty-five minutes. Then she went shopping with Phoebe in her baby carriage. Harry wondered if, after all this exposure to shopping at such a young age, Phoebe would end up being as bad as Barbara.

After Harry took the treacle tart out of the oven he ate half of it in one sitting. Then, feeling a little heavy, he realized the food coma was setting in. So he headed to his bed and set an alarm for five in the afternoon. He would wake up then, get his shower and do his hair, and there would be plenty of time to reach the feast by seven.

Harry didn't remember falling asleep or having any dreams, but he didn't awaken until he felt Barbara shaking him.

"Wake up, Harry!" she was saying over and over again. Phoebe was crying.

"W-What?" said Harry groggily, sitting up. Why was it that after you took a nap, you expected to feel energized, when really you felt like you were just rising from the dead?

"Why are you still sleeping? Look at the time!"

Harry looked at the clock. 6:30! He had slept through his alarm! It would take about ten to fifteen minutes to tunnel into the school through Honeydukes, and another five to get down to the Great Hall. There was no time for Harry to style his hair or even get a shower. But he could tell that he didn't smell very good. Panic began to set in. Phoebe's screeches weren't helping.

"I can't go now!" Harry cried out in desperation. "I'm not ready! I'm barely even awake! I look like something out of Night of the Living Dead!"

"Well, at least let me comb your hair, honey," said Barbara, taking a brush out of her enchanted purse and trying to comb Harry's hair, but it was so messy that it hurt.

"OW!" Harry shouted, and waved her away. "What am I going to do? My uniform's packed away in my trunk!"

Barbara threw open the top of Harry's trunk and slipped some black Hogwarts robes over his head. Then she rushed into his bathroom and sprayed him with his Old Spice cologne and stuck his Hogwarts hat onto his head.

"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. "I'm just going to put on my special earrings and we can go."

Harry waited by the door with his trunk while Barbara strapped Phoebe to her chest with Sirius's body-baby-carrier thing. Then she put on her earrings that would get her past all the anti-Muggle wards of Hogwarts; Harry wanted to show Phoebe off to all his friends at the feast, and Sirius said Barbara could come, too. They wouldn't come for every meal, but they might come for the special occasions. Regulus was going to be there, too. Of course, he thought at first about catering the affair, then realized that would be an insult to the hardworking house-elves in the kitchens.

…

Rushing to Honeydukes with Barbara wasn't so bad. She resisted her impulse to shop, which Harry appreciated. Townsfolk gave them smiles as they walked. Everyone knew she wasn't his mother when they were in the Wizarding world, since everyone knew that the Boy Who Lived had parents who did not live. Several people wanted to play with Phoebe and told Barbara what a beautiful baby she was; Barbara thanked them earnestly, but said she was in a hurry.

She was holding Harry's hand, pulling him slightly. The truth was that she didn't hold his hand very often; perhaps she was afraid he wouldn't want it. Harry could only really remember her doing that once before, when Sirius had his heart attack at Reggie's Pizza Empire.

Harry was the one who led Barbara into Honeydukes, through the trapdoor and all the way to the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor on the third floor. By the time they got to Hogwarts, Harry's watch told them that they were running very late. Barbara was afraid to run too fast because she was afraid it would be dangerous to Phoebe somehow. But it was ten past seven by now. The Sorting was most likely over and Dumbledore was probably giving out the announcements, if he hadn't begun the feast already. Sirius was probably sitting at the High Table, wondering where everyone was.

"Okay…now what?" said Barbara, looking a little fearful as her fingers toyed with the messy locks of black hair on her daughter's tiny head.

"Down," Harry told her. "Everyone always eats in the Great Hall. Hopefully we can kind of sneak through a side door, I guess…"

Harry could never understand why the staircases moved. It happened to him and Barbara once on their way down to Hogwart's Great Hall. Harry was used to it, so he wasn't that surprised, but Barbara let out the most terrible scream, which caused Phoebe to wake up, and soon both of them were screaming. Luckily Harry was able to guide his godmother and sister all the way down to where the students were, indeed, already eating. But soon enough, they were stopped by Snape.

"You're late," he said.

Harry swallowed. Trouble didn't seem like a good way to start off the year. But what was he supposed to say, I overslept?

"How did you get in here?" Snape continued, glaring at Harry.

"Through the—" Barbara began, but Harry cut her off.

"Let her finish, Potter," Snape said nastily. "What were you saying, Miss Raffelovich?"

"That's Mrs. Black to you!" she said indignantly, but Harry knew she couldn't get too angry with him, because he was the one who had first consented to brew Potiogravida-PN for her, way back in January when her early pregnancy symptoms were threatening to do her in. For all they knew, Potiogravida-PN was what had prevented another miscarriage, and Barbara said she didn't think she could suffer that terrible grief again. The memory still drove her to tears, even years later, so she was definitely forever thankful that the baby strapped to her chest now was alive and well.

What other ways were there to come into the castle besides the front doors—ones that students were supposed to know about, that is? Barbara was going to blow the secret; Harry figured she thought that if Sirius knew about the passageway, probably all the teachers did.

"How many points should we take, then?" Snape mused to himself. "Well, you were late, and as for getting into the castle, I'm sure that godfather of yours—"

"So I see you've done your job, then, Kreacher," came a smooth voice from behind Snape.

"What?" Snape snapped, turning around. "Lord Black?"

"We were Housemates, Severus; you may call me by my first name," said Regulus lightly. Harry saw that he was holding Kreacher in his arms the way one might hold a toddler. He was wearing emerald-green silk robes, embroidered with the Black family crest. Unlike Harry's, his hair was tame, combed and gelled, and he smelled of expensive aftershave. But if Harry looked like the dog's breakfast, especially in comparison, Regulus didn't say so.

"Regulus Black," Snape corrected himself. "What are you talking about?"

"They got here by Kreacher's ability to Apparate inside the building," Regulus explained. "Isn't that right, Kreacher?"

Harry was surprised when Kreacher nodded.

"Then why did your elf arrive with you, Regulus, and not Potter and your sister-in-law?" Snape demanded, turning away from Barbara. Harry got the feeling he didn't like to be reminded of what he had done for her and Sirius, yet the evidence was right there strapped to Barbara's chest.

"She had an incredibly smelly diaper," Barbara spoke up. "I was going to take her into a bathroom to change her before the feast, but we got lost."

"How could you get lost?" said Snape. "Potter has had one year to get acquainted with the school."

"Yeah, but I don't use the witches' room," Harry pointed out. "So how could you expect me to find that?"

Snape didn't seem to have an answer to that, so Regulus, who had never stopped smiling pleasantly, set one hand on Snape's shoulder (they were around the same height, with Regulus being a couple inches taller).

"I suppose that answers that question, then," Regulus said. "Why linger in doorways, Severus, when you can be enjoying a delicious Start-of-Term feast? Especially when you made your best applesauce for us, didn't you, Kreacher?"

Kreacher nodded again, this time looking very pleased with himself as he wrapped his skinny arms protectively around Regulus's neck. Snape looked like he had no choice after that, so he strode into the Great Hall, all the way up to the High Table where the teachers sat.

"So why were you really late?" Regulus asked with a grin as he escorted Harry and Barbara into the Great Hall, much slower than Snape.

"I overslept," Harry told him. "It was really weird. I set my alarm for five, but I didn't wake up until half-past six when Barbara and Phoebe came home from shopping."

"That is weird," Regulus agreed, "especially considering nobody was home to turn off your alarm…"

"I'm going up to the High Table to see Sirius, okay?" Barbara said. "I want to explain why we're late to him, too."

"I'll go with you," said Harry.

Regulus nodded goodbye, and Harry was surprised to see that he and Kreacher sat down at the Slytherin table instead of at the High Table. As soon as Sirius saw Harry and Barbara approaching, he stood up and walked over to them.

"There you all are," he said. "I was starting to get worried."

"Harry's alarm didn't go off," Barbara explained. "But we're here now."

"I see we are." Sirius reached his arms out for Phoebe, and Barbara (not without some difficulty) disentangled the baby from her chest. Little Phoebe stayed asleep as she was handed from one parent to another, and Sirius held her against his shoulder, one hand stroking her thick black hair as the other held her in place. "Did Pheebs give you any trouble?"

"Yes, actually," Barbara said honestly. "It's so much harder to manage her without you there! I don't know how I'm going to take care of her all those days you're at school, Sirius."

"I think you're doing a great job," Sirius said. "It just takes some practice, that's all…Besides, this is the whole reason we moved to Hogsmeade, so that I could be nearby to help you with the baby. And I have a crib in my teacher's quarters, so every so often she can spend the night with me, too. Her formula bottles are charmed to refill themselves."

Harry remembered how at Sirius's old studio, his plethora of hair potions had all refilled themselves. This was probably the same spell he put on the bottles, most likely. Barbara sat down at the High Table next to Sirius, and Sirius conjured a kind of high chair they could set Phoebe in while they ate. Meanwhile, Harry went to find his friends at the Gryffindor table.

"Hi, guys," he greeted them. Hermione and Ron moved over to make room for him.

"Hey," said Ron. "Where were you?"

"I overslept," Harry explained for the fourth time that day.

"You didn't get up until just before the feast?" Hermione said in disbelief.

"No, I was awake, but after I ate some treacle tart I got a food coma and got really drowsy," Harry told her. "I set an alarm, but it didn't go off for some reason—maybe I set it for AM instead of PM, I don't know. So by the time I got up, it was too late."

Harry hoped Hermione wouldn't notice the smell of him. Even though Barbara had sprayed cologne on him, he still probably smelled bad underneath.

"Well, I'm sure you won't get in trouble," she said. "It was an honest mistake."

For that evening, Harry enjoyed his first dinner since Phoebe's birth without any discussion of all the gross things newborn babies did. They discussed anything that came to mind, though; just being together was enough.