Chapter 12: A Displaced Witch's Guide


It was a pompous little sign, neatly lettered by hand, the sort of thing that Percy Weasley might have stuck on his bedroom door:
Do Not Enter
Without the Express Permission of
Regulus Arcturus Black
—Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling


Pain.

I awoke with a low groan, almost certain I'd been placed under the Cruciatus Curse again. I felt utterly dreadful—like I'd been plowed over by the Knight Bus. I curled into a tight ball beneath my blanket as I mentally took inventory of the damage. My body ached and twinged all way to my fucking bones, and my head pounded and rattled as if I'd had a bad encounter with a Bludger. My eyeballs felt dry and tight in their sockets. As I attempted to open my eyes, I noticed I'd neglected to draw the hangings of my four-poster. The light streaming through the open windows assaulted my vision with white-hot ferocity, forcing my eyelids shut. I tried to moisten my chapped lips, but my tongue felt like it was covered with fur. My mouth was parched and tasted acidically foul, causing my already queasy stomach to give an angry roll.

What fresh hell was this? Had I been tortured, then Obliviated?

But as I kneaded my fingertips to my pulsating temple, last night swam hazily to the forefront of my memory.

Firewhiskey. Many, many refills of Firewhiskey, plus a bit of Muggle alcohol, courtesy of Peter.

I was experiencing my first hangover.

Fucking brilliant.

"Good morning, my lovely little rays of sunshine!" a shrill voice cried from the middle of the dormitory. "Up and at 'em!"

Four simultaneous moans of displeasure sounded throughout the room, including my own.

"Oh, come on," the voice, which I now recognized as Alice's, continued. "Just because you lot got pissed last night doesn't mean you can waste an entire Saturday. It's a beautiful day outside and it's already almost noon!"

I yanked my blanket over my head in an effort to soften her cheerful call, which was like a knife to my tender eardrums.

"Fuck off, Alice," said Marlene in a muffled voice. Evidently we'd had the same idea.

"Or at least close the bloody drapes," croaked Lily.

I heard the scraping sound of curtains being drawn and a sigh of relief from Lily. I guessed it was now safe to emerge from my dark refuge. I sat up gently, rubbing my eyes and letting the blanket fall away. I cracked my stiff neck as I glanced down and saw that I was still clad in my party attire. Apparently I'd been too knackered, or too intoxicated, to be bothered with pajamas. With a strangled gasp, I noticed that the charm on my arm had weakened and a faint trace of the horror I was concealing was visible. I scrambled frantically for my wand, finding it still securely holstered around my thigh, and cast the charm in a rush. I breathlessly looked around to see if my panic had been noticed.

It hadn't.

Thank Merlin. Everyone was too focused on their own woes to register anything strange. It seemed that no one had remembered to draw their hangings, or perhaps Alice had decided to open them all before we woke. Alice, fully dressed for the day, was sitting on the edge of Mary's bed, attempting to coax her from her slumber. Lily was leaning back against her headboard, bleary-eyed and also still in her dress from the night before. Marlene was sprawled face down on top of her bedclothes, completely nude except for a pillow covering her head.

"Expecting company, Mar?" Lily called in her best attempt at a drawl. "Sorry to disappoint, but you're not quite my type."

Marlene simply wiggled her naked bum and tossed the pillow in Lily's direction. Lily laughed weakly as Marlene sat up groggily, completely unabashed with her state of undress. Her face was smeared black with the charcoal that had lined her eyes and her blonde curls were matted to one side of her head. Reminded of my own, I reached up and felt not the sleek waves of the night before, but a bushy, tangled disaster. I ran my fingers through my hair but succeeded only in trapping my hand in the frizzy mess.

"I need a sodding shower," Marlene grumbled as she stumbled out of bed and off to the washroom.

Alice snorted. "Damn right you do. You all reek of sweat and booze."

Mary mumbled incoherently as she rolled out of bed as well, sheet still tangled around her. She lumbered through the door of the washroom, trailing her makeshift toga behind her. Alice rolled her eyes at the sight and muttered something about irresponsibility as she left for the common room.

"A shower. Not a bad idea," I agreed, throwing off my blanket and stretching my arms high over my head. Lily, who was already standing and slipping into her dressing gown, froze suddenly, eyes fixed unblinkingly upon the unblemished skin of my left forearm. My own eyes widened as the memory returned.

I told Lily.

Well, not everything, but certainly more than I had intended to reveal this soon.

Fuck.

I sank back into my pillows, covering my eyes with my hand. Shame prickled hotly at the back of my neck.

I'm never drinking again.

I felt a weight shift beside me. "It's okay," Lily whispered into my ear. "I'm a fantastic secret-keeper." She placed a small, warm hand on the spot where she knew my scar was hidden.

I scrubbed my hand over my face and opened my eyes. Lily was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring down at me, green eyes shining with sincerity. I searched them for a moment before nodding, and she smiled kindly.

"Where did this come from?" Lily asked suddenly, voice returning to normal volume. I sat up and followed her gaze.

There was a large goblet of water on my bedside table, and alongside it sat a tiny vial of sunshine-yellow potion.

That certainly wasn't there yesterday.

A corner of folded parchment was peaking out from beneath the base of the goblet. We both immediately turned and found the same items left for Lily as well. I slid the parchment from beneath the goblet and unfolded it.

It was a note, scratched out hastily, but in an elegant, angular script.


Kitten,

I thought you might be in need of assistance this morning. The bottle contains James Potter's 'Tried and True, Never Fail, Better Than Any Hair-Of-The-Dog' Hangover Remedy, brought to you exclusively by The Marauders, with a special thanks to Slughorn's personal stores. Take the potion and chase it with a bit of water, and you'll be as bright-eyed as a Niffler in Gringotts.

Don't worry, we've been using it for years and haven't died yet.

See you later,
SB

A postscript had been added in a distinctly more untidy scrawl.

In conjunction with James C. Potter, Potions Extraordinaire


I laughed aloud when I reached the end and looked up from my note to see Lily gaping down at her own. She stared at it for a moment longer before wordlessly handing it over for me to read, and I passed her mine. She had a very similar letter from James, although the tone was a bit cockier.

"Well, this is unexpected," she said softly as we traded our notes back. We both glanced around to see if any little bottles had been left for the other girls, but it seemed we the only recipients. "Marlene won't be happy about this," she continued under her breath. "Better drink them quickly before she gets back."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "So you think these are safe?"

She chuckled quietly. "Potter may be an arsehat, but he's damn good at Potions. Not quite as good as me, but..."

I nodded, and we both tipped the opened vials into our mouths. The yellow liquid coated my tongue and tasted delightfully of pineapples. As I sipped from my goblet, a cool tingle washed over me, starting from the top of my head and descending slowly until it reached the tips of my extremities. The bass drum inside my skull ceased its cadence instantly and my gurgling stomach calmed. I even felt completely rehydrated.

"Wow," I breathed, standing finally and stretching my now pain-free body. "I feel perfectly fine now."

She agreed happily as she tucked the empty vial and note into a drawer. I did the same, but my eyes lingered on the folded bit of parchment. A swooping sensation tickled in my abdomen.

It was just a kind gesture, I chastised myself sternly. No need to get all of a dither.


It seemed that Alice had exaggerated the lateness of the hour when she roused us, because an hour later, it was a little past noon and all five seventh year girls were enjoying lunch in the Great Hall. Well, enjoying might have been a bit of a stretch for some. I felt a tad guilty as I ate my ham and pea soup. Mary was resting her head on the table, banging her forehead periodically against the wood and ignoring all suggestions to eat. Marlene seemed to be in better shape, but was extremely grumpy, snapping at anyone that dared to speak to her. She was wearing her Quidditch training robes and grumbling under her breath at the audacity of scheduling practice on the first Saturday of term.

"Good morning," James said cheerfully as he slid onto the bench beside Lily. "Great to finally see you lovely witches." He was in his Quidditch kit, but his hair was already windswept, suggesting he'd been out for a morning fly.

"Thought we'd have a bit of a lie in," Lily replied with a smile. James seemed taken aback at first by the lack of her usual hostility, but quickly grinned back. The look in his eyes as he gazed down at the redhead displayed complete adoration.

Yes! Progress on the Jily front!

Or should it be 'Lames'?

I hid my smile behind a cup of tea, shaking my head at my mental one-liner.

"How are you on this fine Saturday?" Sirius asked. I started, not realizing he'd taken the seat beside me. He'd evidently been out flying with James, for he was also clad in his scarlet robes, long hair tied back and a sheen of sweat still on his brow.

Marlene looked up from her lunch, eyes blazing at Sirius. "Don't ask idiotic questions, Black," she replied through gritted teeth. She wrinkled her nose. "God, take a fucking shower. You smell like a wet dog."

Sirius gave his usual barking laugh, further accentuating his canine semblance, and poured a goblet of pumpkin juice. Suddenly, I felt a soft pinch on the side of my thigh, causing me to jump again. Sirius looked down at me with a conspiratorial smirk. "And you, Hermione?" he asked quietly as he leaned closer, warm breath tickling my ear.

How was it possible for his breath to always smell of spearmint?

I couldn't help but smile as the fluttery sensation in my stomach returned. "Not too bad, I suppose," I replied, unable to suppress a playful grin. "I don't really get hangovers." He looked extremely pleased as he gave me a quick wink and turned to begin his meal. I brought my cup of tea to my lips again, cursing my silly, misplaced hormones.

He's already spoken for, you time-traveling slag.


I managed to escape to the library on my own after lunch. As much as I enjoyed the company of my new friends—were they friends?—it was ridiculously difficult to find a chance to slip off alone. Thankfully, Gryffindor's first Quidditch practice of the season was an opportune distraction, although I still felt guilty from the disappointed looks both James and Sirius had given when I said I wouldn't be able to make it today. Honestly, I didn't quite think I was up for it yet. I wasn't sure how to handle watching Gryffindor Quidditch without Harry or Ron on the pitch.

I found a table in the most sequestered corner of the library, shadowed between shelves pertaining to sixteenth century Goblin Rebellions, and formed a wall of stacked books to shield me from sight. I desperately needed to get my thoughts on parchment—a list of everything I needed to accomplish.

I began writing, brain whirling as ink flowed from the tip of my quill.


A Displaced Witch's Guide to the 1970s:


- Convince DD to allow to join OOTP (v, v important)

- DESTROY HORCRUXES: at present, 5?
How - Basilisk venom (CoS), Fiendfyre (dangerous), similarly destructive method (but what?)

1. TR's Diary - likely in possession of L Malfoy, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

2. Marvolo's Ring - Gaunt Shack, Little Hangleton; WARNING: DO NOT ATTEMPT TO WEAR - CURSED

3. Slytherin's Locket - cave by the sea, when first placed there unknown; where TR tortured Muggle children from orphanage; defenses tested using Kreacher in 79; RAB v, v important; note - research mind-addling/torture potions

4. Hufflepuff's Cup - likely in possession of B Lestrange (née Black), Lestrange Vault, Gringotts

5. Ravenclaw's Diadem - Room of Hidden Things, RoR, Hogwarts; hidden by TR the night he requested DADA post; easiest to acquire (will retrieve soon)

NOT YET CREATED:
6. Nagini - snake, created in 94, murder of B Jorkins
7. Harry? - boy, accidentally created in 81, murder of L Potter (née Evans); scar?

- Kill TR, destroying last remaining fragment of soul; How - hell if I know. Get close enough to AK him? Leave it to DD?

- Ensure P Pettigrew doesn't join DE; (never DE, never betrays Potters, Potters live, H has family); NEVER ALLOW TO BE SECRET-KEEPER

- S Snape - almost certainly loyal to OOTP in 98 (insane plot concocted by DD?); Befriend? Prevent from joining DE?

- R Black - (v, v complicated); betrays TR upon discovery of immortality plans after Kreacher's cave visit; death by Inferi in 79; Befriend? Track? Let die? (note - revisit this point later)

Deaths & Important Events:
- G+F Prewett - date unknown, five DE, Dolohov* (MINE)
- M McKinnon + family - family mentioned in letter by L Potter, ~31/07/81 (H 1st bday); M killed before family?
- Meadowes (first name?) - date unknown, murdered by TR himself (threat to TR?)
- Benjy (surname?) - "bits of him"
- C Dearborn - missing, never found
- E Bones + family - date unknown
- Prophecy - S Trelawney to DD, overheard by S Snape, relays to TR; Potters/Longbottoms
- J+L Potter - 31/10/81, Fidelius Charm, betrayed by PP
- 12 Muggles - murdered by PP
- Sirius Black - Azkaban 01/11/81; INNOCENT
- F+A Longbottom - tortured to insanity after Potter murders; R+B Lestrange, Rabastan L, Crouch Jr.


I sucked on the end of my quill as I contemplated the list. Certainly not comprehensive, but it was more than enough for a good start. I had to admit that there was a good bit of guesswork involved, and many details were fuzzy at best. Much of the information was gleaned from snippets of conversations I'd overheard throughout the years. When the timing was right, I was unashamedly skilled at covert eavesdropping, something that perhaps only Ron had ever noticed. I suppose it arose from my aversion to ever appearing uninformed. However, it was troubling that I could recall the exact phrase Wormtail had sobbed in the streets of Muggle London in order to frame Sirius, but the surname of Benjy—a wizard who had been blown to bits working for the Order—completely escaped me.

"Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?"

I shuddered as I realized that I no longer heard those words in Fudge's quiet rumble, but rather in the voice of the young Peter Pettigrew—a boy I'd begun to grow rather fond of.

I shook away the disturbing thought and traced the letters of Harry's name with the tip of my finger. The possibility of a bit of Voldemort's mangled soul residing within my best friend had been festering in the recesses of my mind ever since I'd discovered that Harry had gone into the forest alone. Well, if I'm honest with myself, I'd been considering something to that effect for years—ever since his dream of Mr. Weasley's attack. I just knew there was more to his scar than Dumbledore let on. The mental connection between Harry and Voldemort was just too strange. Then when we learned of Horcruxes… Secrets of the Darkest Art had warned of how unstable the rest of one's soul can become by creating a Horcrux, and when Voldemort visited Godric's Hollow, he'd already made five. What if his soul had become so mutilated, so volatile, that whenever he cast the Killing Curse upon Lily, another fragment of soul had broken away? When his body was destroyed, had a part of Lord Voldemort latched onto Harry's pure and unblemished soul?

Had Harry become an unintentional seventh Horcrux?

This concept had been too unsettling to dwell upon. I'd suppressed my speculations over the past year, but it was why I'd urged Harry so strongly to apply Occlumency against the unnatural connection. During our lonely months in hiding last winter, I'd attempted to teach myself the obscure branch of cerebral magic so that I might be able to help Harry learn to effectively shield his mind. My work was all for naught, however, because it soon became clear that Harry had no intention of relinquishing the advantageous insight into the mind of his foe.

It wasn't until the Final Battle that I received shaky confirmation of my theory. Harry never would have sacrificed himself in such a manner without good reason. Something within Snape's deathbed gift of memories must have made Harry conclude that his death was the only way to defeat Voldemort—the only path to victory, even if it wasn't his.

If only he'd been right.

And then there was Snape. Where had Professor Snape's loyalty truly been? Recent evidence certainly suggested that there was much more to the story than I'd been privy to. From what I've observed, it appeared that Severus and Lily had once been close friends, something I doubt Harry had ever known. And yet, Severus had been the one to convey the contents of the Prophecy to his Master, ultimately leading to the murders of Lily and James. Had he felt remorse? Disavowed his beliefs and turned double agent out of regret?

If all of this were true, then was there a way to prevent him from siding with those that loathed the woman he loved?

My fists clenched, almost snapping my quill, as my eyes reached a certain Death Eater's name—Antonin Dolohov. I harbored a particular hatred for the vile, cruel man. The curse he had used in the Department of Mysteries was only one of the many marks on my skin, but it was the first I'd received. The web of purple lines that radiated like macabre lace across my ribcage was just the beginning of my journey. Even more than my own meager sufferings, Dolohov had been the one to kill Remus, as well as Gideon and Fabian. I didn't even want to think of the many other atrocities attributed to his wand. For those reasons, I decided that he was mine to handle.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared down at the drying ink. I felt utterly overwhelmed.

Was I capable of changing all of this?

Was I out of my depth?

But I wasn't alone in this seemingly impossible task, I reminded myself. I had Dumbledore—the only one he ever feared. As wary as I was to fully trust the man, I still wholeheartedly believed what I'd told Harry: Albus Dumbledore had loved Harry Potter, almost like a son. Dumbledore was… complicated. He trusted very few, of that I was certain. But for a wizard of his caliber, in addition to the troubles of his past, that wasn't necessarily abnormal. Would he trust me enough to allow a proper partnership to form? Would he consider me an equal in the mission that lay before us?

As I thought of Dumbledore, another alarming thought occurred to me.

Dumbledore cannot be the one to kill Voldemort.

A duel between the two most powerful wizards alive should not be allowed to occur. Tom Riddle should never come that close to possessing the Elder Wand. Even if it wasn't his focus during the First War, the possibility of Lord Voldemort becoming the true Master of the Third Hallow was utterly unfathomable. With his Horcruxes and an 'unbeatable wand,' he would truly be immortal.

He would become impossible to defeat.

A sigh escaped my lips as I laid down my quill. Well, there was little more I could do until my first meeting with Uncle Albus. I tapped my wand to the parchment, charming the list so that ink was only revealed with the correct passphrase, much like the Marauder's Map. It seemed only appropriate for the word to be Harry. I tucked the list inside the rear cover of my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard for safe keeping, and opened Spellman's Syllabary to begin my translations for Ancient Runes.


As I was polishing the conclusion of my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay, I heard shuffling a few shelves away from my secluded corner. My quill stalled against the parchment mid-sentence and I sank lower in my chair, listening closely. Very few students frequented this section of the library. Whoever it was, they were likely here for one of two reasons—a clandestine snog or some other sort of secret rendezvous. The unknown person was now skulking along the row nearest to me, walking very slowly and seemingly snatching books from shelves at random, replacing them almost instantly. A second pair of footsteps soon joined the first and both halted. They stood in silence for a moment before one of the pair spoke.

"Were you followed?" a male asked in a rough, low whisper. I held my breath as I strained to hear, wishing I could extract a pair of Extendable Ears from my beaded bag, but I knew the commotion might reveal me.

"No. Now do you mind telling me why the fuck I'm here?" the second person replied. This wizard's voice was softer, but he sounded highly irate.

"You've been avoiding me, Black," stated wizard number one.

Black?

Weren't there only two Blacks at Hogwarts in 1977?

I peered cautiously around the barrier of books surrounding me and through a small gap in the shelving. A black-haired wizard stood with his back to me, facing a square-jawed blonde with strangely squinty eyes who was gripping a weighty tome in his meaty fingers. The blonde wizard wasn't necessarily unattractive, but something about his features seemed off. Both looked to be in sixth or seventh year.

The dark-haired boy was shorter than Sirius, so I could only presume him to be Regulus. He folded his arms over his chest and straightened his posture haughtily. "The fuck I have. Term just started, you moron."

"Watch your tongue," said the other wizard, henceforth known as 'Squinty Arsehole,' harshly. "Remember to whom you're speaking."

I could almost hear Regulus roll his eyes, which seemed to annoy Squinty Arsehole.

"He requires an answer and his patience is wearing thin. He won't wait any longer." Squinty advanced slightly, and the menacing look on his face clearly conveyed that he was not in the mood to deal with a smart mouth. I didn't think it possible, but his eyes narrowed even further as he glared expectantly down at Regulus.

He should really visit Madam Pomfrey to have his eyesight examined. That squint looked unhealthy.

Regulus was silent for a beat. "Tell him I said yes," he said slowly. "I accept his offer."

There was no doubt in my mind as to what the offer was. My heart ached, knowing how much this would hurt Sirius, as well as what accepting would mean for Regulus.

Squint-face's attitude changed abruptly and his face relaxed into a smile. I cringed, a vestige of being raised by dentists, as he displayed rows of crooked teeth. "Good man, Reg. You know where to meet us." He clapped Regulus on the shoulder approvingly.

Regulus shifted uncomfortably and lowered his voice. I nearly slipped from my seat as I leaned further to eavesdrop. "No, actually. I don't," said Regulus steadily. I got the impression that he was being intentionally thick.

But, why?

Mister Bad-Vision ground his teeth. "Forest. Thursday at midnight." Regulus nodded curtly in understanding, and Squints glanced up and down the row of shelves. I shrank even lower into my seat. "I'm going that way." He jerked his thumb to the right. "You wait one minute, then go the other."

Squints McGee departed quickly in the direction of the library's east exit. Regulus ran a hand through his shiny black hair and slumped to the ground against the bookshelf. I stared in surprise at the place where his head had been, my quill still immobile against parchment, hardly daring to breathe. Almost two minutes later, he stood, resumed his usual cavalier stance, and slowly began strolling down the aisle of shelves. When he paused at the end, I came to my senses and hastily resumed my essay. I cursed under my breath as I saw that my lax quill had left a large inkblot on the parchment. I used my wand to siphon the ink from the essay, and when someone dropped into the seat across from me, I maintained an impassive expression, not even glancing up.

I knew whom I would find.

Goddamned Blacks.


GTTN BONUS: Snuffles


Summer, 1976 — Potter Manor


"James? Sirius?" a magically-magnified voice called in the distance. "Where are you? It's almost time for dinner!"

Amongst the foliage of a small wood near a handsome manor house, a majestic, russet-colored stag halted mid-canter, hooves skidding against the earthy ground. A shaggy black dog, who had been rutting on his back in the tall grass of a nearby clearing, stiffened, paws in the air, before rolling over to sit back on his haunches. The dog's ears perked and his snout rose, sniffing wildly as the scent of Sunday roast wafted toward the two animals. The stag shot an unnatural, humanlike look of panic at the dog, and then suddenly, the stag was no more.

In its place stood a lanky teenaged wizard, black hair even more untidy than usual, clothing rumpled and dirty from the jaunt outdoors.

"What the hell, Sirius?" said James Potter, brushing a bit of grass from his hair. "Change the fuck back. Mum's holding dinner for us."

The dog acknowledged the wizard with a bark, and then stood stock-still, a look of intense concentration in his steely gray eyes. James watched expectantly.

But nothing happened.

The canine relaxed and turned to James, eyes wide with shock.

"You can't change back?" asked James. The dog shook his head. "Well why the fuck not?"

The dog gave James a significant look.

James groaned. "You've gotten into Dad's stash of Firewhiskey again, haven't you?"

The dog barked once more in response.

James seemed to take this as an admission of guilt. He smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand in exasperation. "Bloody-sodding-hell, Padfoot. How many times have I warned you not to transform after drinking? And you didn't even share? I'm going to have to come up with a really great lie for this one…"

The dog simply wagged his long tail happily and began to trot toward Potter Manor, which was perched proudly on a hill in the distance.

"Hold up, you mangy mutt!" James called as he jogged after the dog.


Dorea Potter was waiting in the expansive garden that led to the rear entrance of her home. She was a venerable-looking witch, garbed in elegant French-made robes, graying hair swept into a polished chignon. A trace of the haughty disposition of the Black family was discernable in her otherwise kind features.

As her son approached, she eyed his disheveled state suspiciously. "What kept you? Where is Sirius?" She paused, noticing the massive black dog at James's heel. "And where in the name of Merlin did you find a dog?"

James's eyes darted rapidly from his mother to the amused-looking dog in silent alarm. "Er—hey, mum. Sirius is…" He broke off, minding working frantically. "Visiting Remus! Yeah, he decided to have dinner with Remus's family this evening." He gave a nonchalant shrug, obviously playing for time. "You know how he is, always has to be out somewhere doing something."

"And the dog?" Dorea asked again, eyes appraising the panting animal. The dog's tail began to wag even more rapidly.

"And the dog—" James repeated slowly, waiting for the answer to miraculously come to him, "—is Peter's! He asked me to watch it today while he's, er—away."

James rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, very aware that this was undeniably the worst lie he'd ever attempted.

His mother raised her eyebrows skeptically at the poorly delivered fib. "So Sirius is at the Lupins—without notifying anyone—while you're at home, acting as pet-sitter for Peter," she surmised, giving James a pointed look.

"Er—yes?"

Dorea was evidently accustomed to her adolescent son's antics. "Well, if you say so. Tell Sirius to inform us next time. A mother must always know where her children are."

James nodded in relief as he followed his mother through the double doors of the stately manor. Sirius, still in his animagus form, padded along behind the two Potters, tail still wagging eagerly.

"So, does this—" She turned to scrutinize the canine, wrinkling her nose at the muddy paw prints sullying her usually pristine marble floors. "—dog have a name?"

Another wave of panic washed over James, but out of nowhere, he recalled a television program he had watched years ago with a kid from the nearby village. Alfie, the Muggle neighbor boy, had called it a cartoon.

A wicked grin spread across James's dirt-smudged face.

"Yep. Sure does." He reached down and patted the dog's shaggy head. "This here is Snuffles."

The dog gave a loud, indignant yelp.

"Snuffles?" repeated Dorea, arching a dark eyebrow. "I think you should have a talk with Peter about what is and what is not a proper name to give a pet."

"I'll get on that," James replied, scratching the dog placatingly behind an ear. "Maybe we have some dog biscuits for you somewhere," he said to the dog in a babyish tone. "What do you think, Snuffles?"

Dorea Potter brought a hand to her mouth to hide her smile as the great black dog rolled his eyes.

She was proud to have such brilliant sons.


A few hours later, the two teenaged wizards sat cross-legged on the floor of James's bedroom, sharing a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey over a game of Exploding Snap.

"So… why Snuffles?"

"No fucking clue, mate."

Sirius threw down a card. "You know, dog biscuits really aren't half bad."

The card Sirius had just played exploded with a loud bang.

James roared with laughter.


(A/N): God, it feels like ages since I've gotten a new chapter out! I apologize for the delay, but I had a huge exam to study for (med school ain't no joke, y'all), so I had to take a short break from writing.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Lily is playing nice with James, but will it last? Very little Hermione/Sirius interaction, but it was definitely significant. And we finally have Regulus coming into play. Who do you think Squints McGee is? What do you guys think will happen between Reg and Hermione? And finally, what about Marlene and Delia?

So many questions left to be answered.

As for the little bonus content, I recommend a quick Google search of "Hanna-Barbera Snuffles" to understand the reference. I thought I'd give a little insight into why Sirius was so surprised last chapter when Hermione slipped up and called him "Snuffles." Also, I'm aware that James's parents are canonically Fleamont and Euphemia, but I really like the headcanon of Charlus and Dorea, which was popular before the Pottermore article, and it works well for my story. Creative license, and all.

As always, please review and let me know what you'd think! Anything you'd like to see or wish I'd avoid?

-liz