Later that night once Sirius Black had had a chance to get over some of his shock from the revelations his godson had dropped in his lap he began to plan like a Marauder. It was hard to believe that one kid had gone through so much. But really it was just Potter luck. James had a knack for getting into sticky situations as well and apparently Charlus had the same problem in his younger years. One of the reasons that Dorea was attracted to him in the first place according to her stories the first summer he had stayed with the Potters.
God, he hadn't been back to this house since his 16th birthday. It has become almost a decrepit ruin. Something needs to be done about this. Harry deserves better than this. Even if I don't.
Juno was happy
Her desk was finally free of paperwork, and with a bit of foreknowledge, she was certain she could keep on top of things. The anticipated increase in staffing was just a bonus. At this rate, she wouldn't even need to pry the secrets of the paperwork Jutsu from Minato.
Lydia was bemused.
Finding herself back in finishing school with several years of memories from the future would come in quite handy. She had no idea that this had been slipped into the contract, but since she was a member of the Destiny Repair team, she supposed it was fitting, alas, unlike Cordelia she was never one to memorize lottery numbers in case of accidental time travel. Perhaps she could persuade her former Real Estate Developer father to invest in a few up and coming stocks…
Beetlejuice was haunting a mirror.
And completely oblivious to Lydia's future memories or the changes to their relationship that they could bring. After all, the last thing the Ghost with the Most needs is a leg up on future events, he causes enough trouble as it is.
Harry was reading.
The Handbook for the Repeatedly Deceased turned out to be a rather amusing read once Harry got into it. Lydia and BJ had obviously had a hand in its creation and most of its advice and information seemed particularly relevant to his situation. Though he was not quite sure what the book meant when it said "Geographical and temporal parameters: Functional parameters vary from manifestation to manifestation." After all, he was fully alive again though technically out of his own time, he was unsure what functional parameter could be affected by his temporally displaced memories… Perhaps he would have to ask one of them about that when next they meet.
Tom was plotting.
In Albania a spirit possessing a small serpent felt a chill and slight weakening of its hold on the host mind. Though Tom was no more a seer than most, he like many powerful mages before him had something akin to a danger sense, one that was telling him he should be moving on… Perhaps it was time to return to England after all. A new body wouldn't build itself and as limited as his abilities are at the moment, he can only possess the willing and small animals. Perhaps seeking out a loyal follower would be worth the risk.
Dumbledore was panicking.
The Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was not having a good evening. He had just returned from one of the summer sessions of the ICW to find that his spinning, smoking, whistling, and plopping silver objects in his office had all ceased moving, making sounds and smoking. All but one, and all it did was tell him that Harry Potter was still alive. The wards around Privet drive were gone, and could not be rebuilt. But what was even more worrying was that all of the tracking and monitoring charms set up on young Harry were also disabled. Only a witch or wizard with curse breaking or Auror training could have removed all the spells he had layered on the boy for his own safety. The books with the needed spells were all on the ministry restricted list and were not even available in Hogwarts library. Going to the cabinet where he kept his Pensieve he opened a well-hidden drawer and pulled out a blood red stone. He was going to need a pick me up before all of the casting he was going to have to do to find the boy and get him back where he belongs.
Hermione was Dreaming.
In a rented chateau on the beach of the Gulf of Saint-Tropez, a breeze blew through the opened window carrying the scent of the sea and a cool moisture laden air into the warm room. Hermione was having a strange dream; even for her considering how strange her dreams had been of late. Giant snakes, cat people, trolls, and Knights in oversized hand-me-downs had all featured in her dreams of late, but tonight she dreamed of Ring Wraiths by the score, hippogriffs, strange hybrid creatures, vicious dragons, Ball gowns and a tall dancer, drowning in the cold dark waters of some deep lake, and a cruel man with an electric blue eye.
Starting awake, Hermione struggled to keep the vivid images clear in her mind as she reached for her Dream Journal. Having read ahead for her upcoming classes this year, she had decided to start Journaling her dreams early to get a head start on the rest of the class. After getting the images, and the feelings associated with them down, and reading back over what she had written, a sense of unease began to settle in the pit of her stomach. For a little light reading, she had also gotten a modern book on dream interpretation and understanding types of dreams, and this did not seem like a Symbolic dream, it was far more like a dream of things remembered, yet, several of the things she had dreamed, she was sure she had never encountered before, but the images were so vivid in her head.
The feelings associated with the images were so disturbing that she felt she simply had to talk to someone, and her parents were right out. She was lucky they hadn't pulled her from Hogwarts after the Petrification incident last term, especially now that they had had the displeasure of witnessing Pureblood Prejudice first hand during Mr. Weasley's confrontation with Mr. Malfoy. Normally she would go to McGonagall with something like this, but she had made her opinion of Divination clear when Hermione had turned in her requested class list. Perhaps she should …. Hedwig flew into the room through the open window.
Silent as only an owl can be, the snowy white bird settled onto the foot of the bed and gazed at her with those amber eyes before lifting an empty leg towards her and placing it down. She then flitted to the top of the wardrobe and appeared to settle in tucking her head under her wing as though saying, Take all the time you need.
Harry, he had been in her dreams more of late, especially since she learned he almost died killing the Basilisk. They had exchanged phone numbers, but she was only home for a couple days before her parents vacation began. They had been in France the last two weeks, and while it was in part a working vacation (Dental conferences are so boring) a lot of time had also been devoted to fun on the beach and improving her tan. Well, as much as an Englishwoman can that is, spending most of the year in northern Scotland had not done much for her complexion. They had stopped in Paris and visited the Rue de la Magie and then spent time in Dijon before heading to the beach in Saint-Tropez, but there had not been anywhere to send a post owl from since Paris. After taking a moment to clear her thoughts, Hermione gets a roll of parchment from her book bag and a fountain pen and begins a letter to her best friend.
