Leah woke up with a massive pain shooting through her head. Looking around,
she took in the dark décor. This was not where she was BEFORE the blackout.
She had been at home. Rachel and her had just eaten dessert. Rachel.
Rachel! She had blacked out. Leah jumped up from the concrete floor she had
landed on, looking around desperately for any sign of her baby sister. Her
racing heart hit the finish line as she spotted the tyke curled up in a
ball not a few steps from her, her head resting on her arm, the other one
clutching an invisible Harriette. Feeling stronger than she had before the
location change, she struggled across the room to her sister, whispering,
"Rachel, Rache? Come on, wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open immediately and surveyed her surroundings. "Leah, where are we?" Leah, overjoyed at the prospect of her being alert once again, did not even register the question. She took the gray, dingy hallway into perspective. There were locked doors on either side. "I don't like it here, Lee. I want to go home."
They creeped further down the hallway together, scared and still weary after their plight. If she didn't know any better, she would say that they were at . . . but why? No, they could never be there.
Suddenly, they stopped, hearing footsteps down the hall. Someone was coming; the footsteps were brisk and as it came closer, Leah recognized it as two people, whispering and giggling. A high-pitched female voice and a deeper male one. As the voices got louder, Leah was sure they were going to round the corner soon.
Leah's first instinct was to run backwards, to the black area where they could not be seen, dragging Rachel behind her. Before Rachel could protest, Leah instructed, "Shhh, we don't know where we are. Into the shadows. Follow me." Rachel knew when Leah meant business, and this was no time to throw a tantrum.
They ducked down, surrounded by blackness as a pretty young brunette girl in Hufflepuff robes and a blonde haired boy came into view; they paused briefly as he bent down to kiss her in a most unappealing way, the brunette pulling his head down, tongues clearly visible to the children a corridor down. "Is she eating his face?" whispered a horrified Rachel. Leah suppressed a giggle as her sister bemoaned the picture before them with a constant stream of "eeew."
The girl pulled away, pushing the blonde boy's hair out of the way. His face was still half in darkness, although Leah could clearly see the brunette as being very beautiful. "You were good tonight, baby," simpered the Hufflepuff. "Cowboy, you can ride me anytime you'd like."
"I aim to please," the boy answered, rather egotistically.
Leah's ears perked up. The voice was extremely familiar. Rachel clearly recognized the voice also, as she started, "That voice, that voice belongs to-"
"Hush, Rachie," commanded Leah. She needed to figure out whether these people were people who could possibly help them.
"Alana, we need to call it a night - perhaps we can make a date to see each other sometime soon." His voice clearly expressed that no such thing would ever happen in the near future.
"But - I thought . . ." sputtered the girl named Alana, "I thought we were going to make a night of it in the Astronomy Tower. 'You, me, over and over? You're special to me.' Isn't that what you told me?"
"What can I say?" The boy released her from his grasp. Leah could clearly see the date was over, and the poor girl, rejected, was the last thing the boy wanted in his sight. "I lied." The girl had tears streaming down her face (Leah painfully sympathized with the puffy eyed Hufflepuff), but unable to form a sporting comeback, she took off running - towards the Hufflepuff Tower, Leah surmised.
The boy, alone, stood there for a second, clearly taking in what had just occurred, before stepping in the direction of the dormitories, towards the girls huddled in the blackness. Leah had long figured out that were in the Dungeons of Hogwarts - the Potions room was somewhere close by. She panicked all of a sudden, not wanting to be seen by what was obviously a student and answer a roundabout of questions. The moon bathed the dark hallway in a soft light.
"That voice belongs to-" attempted Rachie again before Leah clamped a hand on her mouth.
The boy stepped into the moonlight.
Leah gasped.
Rachel made a break for it, running towards the blonde haired boy with a patently confident look on his face. Leah had no chance to keep her close.
"That voice belongs to - DADDY!"
"DADDY!" echoed down the corridor as the whirlwind called Rachel made her way towards Draco. The blonde Slytherin did not even know what was coming before a minute person no taller than a house elf clamped herself onto his leg. Leah sprinted right behind her, so absolutely relieved to see her father. Her father would make everything all right. Her father ALWAYS made everything all right.
As if a rabid dog had just attached itself to his leg, Draco attempted to remove the child so ferociously grabbing at his limb, kicking futilely. What Draco did not know was that Rachel was graced with his fine upper body strength. "What in Merlin's beard is going on here? Get off me, you little rat!" he screamed.
Leah paused. Her father would never react like that. Something was very wrong. She bent down towards Draco's well-buffed shoes, whispering, "Rachel, let go, please. Dad said so." At her sister's behest, a fearful Rachel got up and ran behind Leah, afraid of her father for the first time in her short life. She sized up this boy with a younger version of her father's face. Well kept clothing, blonde hair in place with what must be a pound and a half of Hair Keeper, gray eyes not unlike the ones she saw in the mirror. He was her father all right, but younger, ruder, and a whole lot more difficult to be around. What was going on?
"What house are you in?" Draco asked, peering down at the redhead, obviously a first or second year and her blonde. . . sibling, was it?
"Ravenclaw."
"Typical," snorted Draco. "I expect nothing else from you twits. And the rat? I assume she does not attend Hogwarts with us?"
"You're a smart one, you are," responded Leah, venom spouting. "Unless she was - gods forbid - a mini ogre masquerading as a little girl?"
"I do not need any cheek from a first year and her sidekick. When you talk to a Prefect, you talk with reverence." This version of her father sounded exactly as she had heard him the few times she had visited Widikul, listening in on business meetings.
Rachel took this opportunity to get her sass back. "And the name is Rachel, Daddy, not rat."
Draco sighed contemptuously. "I am not your father, rat." He looked at Leah. "Does she have some comprehension problems?" There was no pause for an answer. "Your names? Rachel and . . ."
"None of your damn business." Suddenly, she saw in her father everything that Uncle Bill, on the few times they had been together at a family gathering, detested her father for, and this boiled in her veins. He was gruff and rude . . .to two girls whom he had never met before.
"You do NOT speak to a Prefect like that. You do NOT speak to a Malfoy like that," in an eerily sinister voice.
"Why not?" She stuck out her hand and threw all caution to the wind. "Pleased to meet you. The name is Leah Malfoy, and my little sister Rachel Malfoy." He gasped. "We ARE Malfoys - well, to be more specific, your daughters. Perhaps the impeccable bloodlines allow us to speak to you like that."
His eyes widened.
And then he became desperate. To say something, anything, to somehow ignore what these two little girls that resembled him had said. "But you're in the halls after hours. Professor Snape will surely take major house points from Ravenclaw."
"Don't be stupid, Dad," responded Leah. "You take house points off Ravenclaw, then I'll be forced to go to Dumbledore and report where YOU were when you found us. Cozying up to some Hufflepuff underling? For shame. And out of your dorm past curfew. I sense some major point loss for Slytherin. Don't you?" She looked at Rachel.
"At least fifty points. Maybe even a hundred for making her cry!" shouted Rachel excitedly.
The redheaded one surprised him with her cunning. If they were Malfoys, then they were indeed chips off the old block. The two of them stood defensively, hands crossed, smirking, gray eyes sparkling, clearly sure that they had won this battle. He laughed internally: they looked exactly as he did whenever he had encountered Harry Potter. Draco knew he had lost but was unwilling to deal with his offspring (his offspring?!) right now. "Let's go to Dumbledore, the ancient beast will know what to do. And you mention anything about where I found you and you will suffer pain unlike anything you have experienced."
"'K, Dad," answered Rachel, perhaps instinctually taking his hand as they walked towards Dumbledore's office. "And when you say pain, you don't mean you are going to get Uncle Vince and Uncle Greg to beat us up, right? 'Cause I don't think they'd do that. They don't hit little girls, only tickle 'em."
Uncle Vince and Uncle Greg? What in the name of Voldemort was going on? Crabbe and Goyle would never touch these two little girls. His weapons were useless against Rachel and Leah, even if they weren't his children as they claimed. He quietly led them upwards to the faculty end, looking thoroughly defeated.
*******
"I've been to Dumbledore's office only once, and I remember it being somewhere around here," Draco muttered, frustrated that the rat would not let go of his hand. He found it, said the password ("Sherbet lemon!"); the staircase revealed itself, and the three of them climbed it.
It was brightly colored, with a bird in the corner. Adorned with books and little knickknacks Leah had never seen before, she was immediately mesmerized.
"Where are we?" Rachel asked, walking towards the beautiful red bird in the center of the room.
"Why, child, you are in my office," came a playful voice from behind them. They looked behind them instinctually, as Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore presented himself.
"Professor Albus Dumbledore!" Rachel said with a sense of awe in her voice. She had never actually MET any wizard from her Chocolate Frog card collection. Leah smiled. This place was not dangerous, it was a safe haven. There was no need whatsoever for her to be afraid.
"So you two have arrived!" he started, clapping his hands joyfully. "We have been expecting you for some time - both of you, Leah and Rachel." Draco cleared his throat, waiting to be acknowledged. "And Mr. Malfoy! Thank you so much for bringing the children here. I am sure Professor Snape will give you no trouble upon your return to Slytherin Tower."
"Are they - are they who they say they are?" Draco questioned quietly.
"Leah and Rachel? Of course they are! Unless you two have different names your parents call you by?" Dumbledore scratched his head, confused.
"No, I mean, I mean, are they Malfoys, like they said?" He stuttered the question, then shielded his eyes, as if dreading the answer.
"Mr. Malfoy, sometimes it is easier to deal with fiction rather than fact. I hope you are one of those Slytherins who has a strong grasp on reality." He paused for a second. "Leah and Rachel are indeed your children. Born in the future." Leah noticed that Dumbledore did not tell him WHEN she would be born. Her father was a Prefect, a Seventh Year. By doing simple math, Leah would be born not long after the end of his graduation from Hogwarts. "I would appreciate it if you would not say anything to anybody about this. Especially to your fellow cohorts in Slytherin or Gryffindor. Now if you'll excuse us-"
Draco clearly had more questions, but at Dumbledore's unsubtle insistence, he slinked out. "And sisters Malfoy, you will no doubt be encountering your mother here at Hogwarts. Telling your father who you are is one thing - he is so petrified at the moment, I doubt he will tell anyone, your mother though is a different story. I trust you will not divulge your identities - your last names - to her right now. She has been through much too much recently . . . I need you two to do that for me."
Leah took this in, and retreated into sleuth mode. She needed to find out what was going on. "The headache, the blackout, the queasiness - was it all your doing, Professor Dumbledore?" Leah asked.
Dumbledore smiled. "The headache, yes. The blackout, yes. The queasiness, no. All your doing, my dear. I had no role in you two consuming three cartons of Fudge-eriffic following your cranberry tart."
"Where are we, Professor Dumbledore? Hogwarts, obviously, but my father - he, he is very, very young."
"Why, we have brought you 13 years in the past." He gave the girls a moment to take this in. Rachel, befuddled as ever, had enough sense to wait and ask Leah what EXACTLY was going on here later when they were alone.
"Why are we here, Professor? School does not start for at least another month, and besides, Rachie is years too young to attend."
"Sometimes, the answers we seek are not found in the solution, but in the journey to find it," answered Albus in typically cryptic fashion. "Be rest assured, though, that your presence is absolutely integral to the situation at hand." He sat down in his chair behind the desk, reading a piece of parchment, a sure sign that this conversation was over.
Leah stood there puzzled, as Rachel cautiously moved towards Dumbledore. "I like you a lot, Professor Dumbledore. Thank you for making me feel better. My tummy doesn't hurt anymore." Not being used to such young children (he primarily dealt with teens on the verge of a hormonal breakdown), Dumbledore was surprised when she hopped on his lap and kissed him on the cheek, using her mouse-like hands to straighten his cone shaped hat.
"Girls, I have summoned a Gryffindor to come and fetch you. We have two spare beds in Gryffindor Tower, but also one bed available in Hufflepuff and one in Ravenclaw. I would think though after the very hectic day, you two would rather be near each other during the nighttime, but Leah, perhaps you would like to be in your own familiar Tower. . . ."
"Gryffindor will do just fine, Sir," Leah said. And this was one of the moments where Leah knew what Dumbledore was thinking, because in that second, her mother, all brown eyes and red hair, cautiously walked in the door.
Her eyes fluttered open immediately and surveyed her surroundings. "Leah, where are we?" Leah, overjoyed at the prospect of her being alert once again, did not even register the question. She took the gray, dingy hallway into perspective. There were locked doors on either side. "I don't like it here, Lee. I want to go home."
They creeped further down the hallway together, scared and still weary after their plight. If she didn't know any better, she would say that they were at . . . but why? No, they could never be there.
Suddenly, they stopped, hearing footsteps down the hall. Someone was coming; the footsteps were brisk and as it came closer, Leah recognized it as two people, whispering and giggling. A high-pitched female voice and a deeper male one. As the voices got louder, Leah was sure they were going to round the corner soon.
Leah's first instinct was to run backwards, to the black area where they could not be seen, dragging Rachel behind her. Before Rachel could protest, Leah instructed, "Shhh, we don't know where we are. Into the shadows. Follow me." Rachel knew when Leah meant business, and this was no time to throw a tantrum.
They ducked down, surrounded by blackness as a pretty young brunette girl in Hufflepuff robes and a blonde haired boy came into view; they paused briefly as he bent down to kiss her in a most unappealing way, the brunette pulling his head down, tongues clearly visible to the children a corridor down. "Is she eating his face?" whispered a horrified Rachel. Leah suppressed a giggle as her sister bemoaned the picture before them with a constant stream of "eeew."
The girl pulled away, pushing the blonde boy's hair out of the way. His face was still half in darkness, although Leah could clearly see the brunette as being very beautiful. "You were good tonight, baby," simpered the Hufflepuff. "Cowboy, you can ride me anytime you'd like."
"I aim to please," the boy answered, rather egotistically.
Leah's ears perked up. The voice was extremely familiar. Rachel clearly recognized the voice also, as she started, "That voice, that voice belongs to-"
"Hush, Rachie," commanded Leah. She needed to figure out whether these people were people who could possibly help them.
"Alana, we need to call it a night - perhaps we can make a date to see each other sometime soon." His voice clearly expressed that no such thing would ever happen in the near future.
"But - I thought . . ." sputtered the girl named Alana, "I thought we were going to make a night of it in the Astronomy Tower. 'You, me, over and over? You're special to me.' Isn't that what you told me?"
"What can I say?" The boy released her from his grasp. Leah could clearly see the date was over, and the poor girl, rejected, was the last thing the boy wanted in his sight. "I lied." The girl had tears streaming down her face (Leah painfully sympathized with the puffy eyed Hufflepuff), but unable to form a sporting comeback, she took off running - towards the Hufflepuff Tower, Leah surmised.
The boy, alone, stood there for a second, clearly taking in what had just occurred, before stepping in the direction of the dormitories, towards the girls huddled in the blackness. Leah had long figured out that were in the Dungeons of Hogwarts - the Potions room was somewhere close by. She panicked all of a sudden, not wanting to be seen by what was obviously a student and answer a roundabout of questions. The moon bathed the dark hallway in a soft light.
"That voice belongs to-" attempted Rachie again before Leah clamped a hand on her mouth.
The boy stepped into the moonlight.
Leah gasped.
Rachel made a break for it, running towards the blonde haired boy with a patently confident look on his face. Leah had no chance to keep her close.
"That voice belongs to - DADDY!"
"DADDY!" echoed down the corridor as the whirlwind called Rachel made her way towards Draco. The blonde Slytherin did not even know what was coming before a minute person no taller than a house elf clamped herself onto his leg. Leah sprinted right behind her, so absolutely relieved to see her father. Her father would make everything all right. Her father ALWAYS made everything all right.
As if a rabid dog had just attached itself to his leg, Draco attempted to remove the child so ferociously grabbing at his limb, kicking futilely. What Draco did not know was that Rachel was graced with his fine upper body strength. "What in Merlin's beard is going on here? Get off me, you little rat!" he screamed.
Leah paused. Her father would never react like that. Something was very wrong. She bent down towards Draco's well-buffed shoes, whispering, "Rachel, let go, please. Dad said so." At her sister's behest, a fearful Rachel got up and ran behind Leah, afraid of her father for the first time in her short life. She sized up this boy with a younger version of her father's face. Well kept clothing, blonde hair in place with what must be a pound and a half of Hair Keeper, gray eyes not unlike the ones she saw in the mirror. He was her father all right, but younger, ruder, and a whole lot more difficult to be around. What was going on?
"What house are you in?" Draco asked, peering down at the redhead, obviously a first or second year and her blonde. . . sibling, was it?
"Ravenclaw."
"Typical," snorted Draco. "I expect nothing else from you twits. And the rat? I assume she does not attend Hogwarts with us?"
"You're a smart one, you are," responded Leah, venom spouting. "Unless she was - gods forbid - a mini ogre masquerading as a little girl?"
"I do not need any cheek from a first year and her sidekick. When you talk to a Prefect, you talk with reverence." This version of her father sounded exactly as she had heard him the few times she had visited Widikul, listening in on business meetings.
Rachel took this opportunity to get her sass back. "And the name is Rachel, Daddy, not rat."
Draco sighed contemptuously. "I am not your father, rat." He looked at Leah. "Does she have some comprehension problems?" There was no pause for an answer. "Your names? Rachel and . . ."
"None of your damn business." Suddenly, she saw in her father everything that Uncle Bill, on the few times they had been together at a family gathering, detested her father for, and this boiled in her veins. He was gruff and rude . . .to two girls whom he had never met before.
"You do NOT speak to a Prefect like that. You do NOT speak to a Malfoy like that," in an eerily sinister voice.
"Why not?" She stuck out her hand and threw all caution to the wind. "Pleased to meet you. The name is Leah Malfoy, and my little sister Rachel Malfoy." He gasped. "We ARE Malfoys - well, to be more specific, your daughters. Perhaps the impeccable bloodlines allow us to speak to you like that."
His eyes widened.
And then he became desperate. To say something, anything, to somehow ignore what these two little girls that resembled him had said. "But you're in the halls after hours. Professor Snape will surely take major house points from Ravenclaw."
"Don't be stupid, Dad," responded Leah. "You take house points off Ravenclaw, then I'll be forced to go to Dumbledore and report where YOU were when you found us. Cozying up to some Hufflepuff underling? For shame. And out of your dorm past curfew. I sense some major point loss for Slytherin. Don't you?" She looked at Rachel.
"At least fifty points. Maybe even a hundred for making her cry!" shouted Rachel excitedly.
The redheaded one surprised him with her cunning. If they were Malfoys, then they were indeed chips off the old block. The two of them stood defensively, hands crossed, smirking, gray eyes sparkling, clearly sure that they had won this battle. He laughed internally: they looked exactly as he did whenever he had encountered Harry Potter. Draco knew he had lost but was unwilling to deal with his offspring (his offspring?!) right now. "Let's go to Dumbledore, the ancient beast will know what to do. And you mention anything about where I found you and you will suffer pain unlike anything you have experienced."
"'K, Dad," answered Rachel, perhaps instinctually taking his hand as they walked towards Dumbledore's office. "And when you say pain, you don't mean you are going to get Uncle Vince and Uncle Greg to beat us up, right? 'Cause I don't think they'd do that. They don't hit little girls, only tickle 'em."
Uncle Vince and Uncle Greg? What in the name of Voldemort was going on? Crabbe and Goyle would never touch these two little girls. His weapons were useless against Rachel and Leah, even if they weren't his children as they claimed. He quietly led them upwards to the faculty end, looking thoroughly defeated.
*******
"I've been to Dumbledore's office only once, and I remember it being somewhere around here," Draco muttered, frustrated that the rat would not let go of his hand. He found it, said the password ("Sherbet lemon!"); the staircase revealed itself, and the three of them climbed it.
It was brightly colored, with a bird in the corner. Adorned with books and little knickknacks Leah had never seen before, she was immediately mesmerized.
"Where are we?" Rachel asked, walking towards the beautiful red bird in the center of the room.
"Why, child, you are in my office," came a playful voice from behind them. They looked behind them instinctually, as Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore presented himself.
"Professor Albus Dumbledore!" Rachel said with a sense of awe in her voice. She had never actually MET any wizard from her Chocolate Frog card collection. Leah smiled. This place was not dangerous, it was a safe haven. There was no need whatsoever for her to be afraid.
"So you two have arrived!" he started, clapping his hands joyfully. "We have been expecting you for some time - both of you, Leah and Rachel." Draco cleared his throat, waiting to be acknowledged. "And Mr. Malfoy! Thank you so much for bringing the children here. I am sure Professor Snape will give you no trouble upon your return to Slytherin Tower."
"Are they - are they who they say they are?" Draco questioned quietly.
"Leah and Rachel? Of course they are! Unless you two have different names your parents call you by?" Dumbledore scratched his head, confused.
"No, I mean, I mean, are they Malfoys, like they said?" He stuttered the question, then shielded his eyes, as if dreading the answer.
"Mr. Malfoy, sometimes it is easier to deal with fiction rather than fact. I hope you are one of those Slytherins who has a strong grasp on reality." He paused for a second. "Leah and Rachel are indeed your children. Born in the future." Leah noticed that Dumbledore did not tell him WHEN she would be born. Her father was a Prefect, a Seventh Year. By doing simple math, Leah would be born not long after the end of his graduation from Hogwarts. "I would appreciate it if you would not say anything to anybody about this. Especially to your fellow cohorts in Slytherin or Gryffindor. Now if you'll excuse us-"
Draco clearly had more questions, but at Dumbledore's unsubtle insistence, he slinked out. "And sisters Malfoy, you will no doubt be encountering your mother here at Hogwarts. Telling your father who you are is one thing - he is so petrified at the moment, I doubt he will tell anyone, your mother though is a different story. I trust you will not divulge your identities - your last names - to her right now. She has been through much too much recently . . . I need you two to do that for me."
Leah took this in, and retreated into sleuth mode. She needed to find out what was going on. "The headache, the blackout, the queasiness - was it all your doing, Professor Dumbledore?" Leah asked.
Dumbledore smiled. "The headache, yes. The blackout, yes. The queasiness, no. All your doing, my dear. I had no role in you two consuming three cartons of Fudge-eriffic following your cranberry tart."
"Where are we, Professor Dumbledore? Hogwarts, obviously, but my father - he, he is very, very young."
"Why, we have brought you 13 years in the past." He gave the girls a moment to take this in. Rachel, befuddled as ever, had enough sense to wait and ask Leah what EXACTLY was going on here later when they were alone.
"Why are we here, Professor? School does not start for at least another month, and besides, Rachie is years too young to attend."
"Sometimes, the answers we seek are not found in the solution, but in the journey to find it," answered Albus in typically cryptic fashion. "Be rest assured, though, that your presence is absolutely integral to the situation at hand." He sat down in his chair behind the desk, reading a piece of parchment, a sure sign that this conversation was over.
Leah stood there puzzled, as Rachel cautiously moved towards Dumbledore. "I like you a lot, Professor Dumbledore. Thank you for making me feel better. My tummy doesn't hurt anymore." Not being used to such young children (he primarily dealt with teens on the verge of a hormonal breakdown), Dumbledore was surprised when she hopped on his lap and kissed him on the cheek, using her mouse-like hands to straighten his cone shaped hat.
"Girls, I have summoned a Gryffindor to come and fetch you. We have two spare beds in Gryffindor Tower, but also one bed available in Hufflepuff and one in Ravenclaw. I would think though after the very hectic day, you two would rather be near each other during the nighttime, but Leah, perhaps you would like to be in your own familiar Tower. . . ."
"Gryffindor will do just fine, Sir," Leah said. And this was one of the moments where Leah knew what Dumbledore was thinking, because in that second, her mother, all brown eyes and red hair, cautiously walked in the door.