It was a quiet, thoughtful Harry who exited her room. Francis and Severus jumped to their feet and looked at her expectedly. Harry nervously tucked her hands behind her back and waited for them to say something. Her bra chafed her skin and her chest felt constricted in a tight band. On one hand, Harry supposed that was the purpose of the bra. It was a torture device, created by some man in revenge for being spurned, or something. Her underwear was snug about her waist and thighs, and very roomy in an area she was not accustomed to them being roomy.

"I don't like this," she said finally as Francis and Severus studied the fuchsia-colored robes she wore. The robes, unlike her underwear, were comfortable. There was room around her chest and her waist. Harry found moving in them easier to do, especially since she still had a little problem with her balance. Her center of balance was her waist now and, she supposed, her much-rounder butt, which was to counter her new breasts.

"I don't like being a girl," Harry said when Francis and Severus remained quiet.

"Well, you know," Francis began kindly, "when you're dressed in that color, it reminds me rather of Anastasia and Edwina." He smiled helpfully at Harry.

"Anastasia and Edwina," said Severus with a frown, "pulled their shoulders back."

Harry pouted. "Anastasia and Edwina," she said pointedly, "also had smaller breasts than me."

Francis shook his head. "No, Severus is right. You should pull your shoulders back. It would ease the strain on your lower back."

Harry grumbled under her breath for a moment before she threw her shoulders back and fell over backwards in the process. She landed on something knobby and small.

"AHHHH!" Pinky wailed as Harry quickly jumped to her feet and nearly fell over on Francis. He reached out and steadied her before she did.

"I'm sorry!" Harry cried. Pinky, crumpled on the floor with her wig crooked and her dress splayed out, continued to wail. She cradled her left arm close. Harry squatted down and tried to straighten the wig. Pinky weakly pushed her away.

"Oh dear," said Riddle behind them. They looked over their shoulders as he pushed his way past them and bent over Pinky. "It's quite all right," he said with a slight bit of impatience. He gently scooped her up in his hands and cradled her close. "Would you like me to take care of the pain?" he asked.

Pinky stopped wailing. She looked at him with shiny eyes as tears dribbled down her face. "Pinky hurts," she said moarnfully. She held out one bruised hand. Riddle carefully took it in his own.

"I shall give you a tonic to make it feel better," Riddle said as he turned around. He gave the others a pointed look, and then nodded his head in the direction of the hallway. He walked down its length, the others following suit. "You have been very helpful this evening; I am very proud of you." He spoke to Pinky as if she was a child who desperately tried to please him. "You deserve the tonic--"

"And cheesecake," Pinky put in hurriedly.

"--and cheesecake," Riddle said in the manner of someone who rolled their eyes as they patiently agreed to absurd demands, "which you may have a piece of--"

"With cherries,"

"And what is cheesecake without a cherry topping?" Riddle asked coolly. Pinky said nothing as she continued to gaze up at him with big eyes. They looked suspiciously full of worshipful love. "So I shall tuck you in bed with your cheesecake and tonic."

"With a picture book?" Pinky asked hopefully as she clutched at his robes sleeve.

"With a picture book," Riddle agreed. He stopped at a crossways between two hallways. He turned to Francis, Severus, and Harry. "I will meet you in the kitchens," he said. Francis nodded his head, and they parted. Riddle walked down one hall with Pinky tucked closely to his chest, and the others walked down the other one.

"Draco was right," said Harry as she looked over her shoulder. "That is one over-indulged house elf."

Francis, trudging in front of them, shrugged his shoulders. "Pandora saw house elves as little children. She didn't think they were supposed to be treated as slaves, and disapproved of their use as servants. I can remember her arguing with her cousin, Tacitus Malfoy, more than once about his own house elves. So, if someone gave her a house elf when it was just was a baby, I can see how she would indulge it."

"But why would Riddle treat Pinky like that even after Pandora died?"

"For many reasons, Harry, and most of which I could not imagine since they involve Riddle. The most logical one I can think of is Riddle treats Pinky the way he does because it's how Pandora treated Pinky. Why change something that works? It's how Pandora probably would have wanted it."

"Pandora," said Severus knowingly, "had a bad habit of indulging children."

Francis looked over his shoulder at Severus. He smiled brightly. "Do you speak from experience?"

"Of course." Severus sniffed. "She indulged me as she did any of the other neighborhood children. There were a few she never stopped indulging even after they grew up." He gave Harry a pointed look. Harry hurriedly looked away.

Francis did not notice the look. "What do you suppose Draco and the other Harry are doing right now?" He stopped suddenly. Harry tried to stop and not walk into him, but she lost her balance and nearly fell over. It was only Severus' quick grab that saved her from falling on her bottom.

"You're cold!" Harry wrapped her arms around herself and glared at Severus, who glared back.

Francis turned around to face them. "While I do, of course, realize that this may be a tad late to think of, but shouldn't we find some way to differentiate between you and the other Harry? It feels queer, calling him the other Harry."

"I call him Harry2," said Harry.

"Well, he too is Harry, yes."

Severus rolled his eyes. "One Harry has testosterone and a tattoo, the other Harry is female." He pointed one finger at Harry's chest. "What more could one need to differentiate between them?"

Harry covered her chest with her arms and turned her upper body away as she glowered at Severus. "Oi!"

"Oh, I suppose you're right," Francis said. "Well, let's go see what they're doing!" He spun about on his heels and skipped off down the hallway. Severus and Harry hurried to catch up with him.



Harry2 and Draco were just finishing their cleaning job when the others entered the kitchen. Draco looked up from where he was mopping up excess water around the sink. He put his hands on his hips and frowned. "What took you three so long in joining us?" He shook his towel at them. "Harry and I are nearly finished. I could swear you did this all on purpose. Ah well." He took two steps forward and raked his eyes over Harry's fuchsia-clad figure. "That isn't a good color on you," he said gently.

Harry frowned. "What difference does it make?" she asked. "The clothes are clean and comfortable. They work well enough for me."

"That may be true, but I don't think that color is a good one on you," Draco said. "They don't bring out the color in your eyes, or the highlights in your hair, or the--"

"I like the color," Harry2 said from across the kitchen. The kitchen broom he held was poised in mid-sweep.

Draco cast him a cool, yet patient, look over his shoulder. "This comes from someone whom I've noticed is wearing different-colored socks."

Harry2 looked down at his feet. Both socks were white, but there were two rings across the top. On one sock, the rings were red. On the other sock, the rings were blue. "Well, you'd wear different-colored socks too if your mom hadn't done the laundry in the four months you were away at Hogwarts."

"My mom," said Draco proudly, "had house elves to do the laundry, among many other household chores." He glanced quickly over the kitchen. "Which is what Pinky should be doing now instead of myself." He tucked his towel beneath one arm and held his hands up for inspection. "They're wrinkled and soggy," he said disapprovingly.

"Oh," said Harry2 with a falsetto twitter in his voice and a humorous glint in his eyes, "but they're so sexy!"

"Ha!" Draco did not look up from his inspection. "I know sarcasm when I hear it, Potter."

"Pinky," said Harry from where she stood in the doorway with Francis in front of her and Severus sticking half-way through the wall, "is being tucked into bed with cheesecake and a picture book."

"The cheesecake" Francis added quickly, "has cherries on top."

Draco looked at Francis and Harry from beneath his eyelashes. He dropped his hands and straightened his shoulders. "Cheesecake?"

"With cherries," Harry said helpfully.

Draco shook his head as he turned back to the sink and gripped the porcelain edge. "That house elf gets better treatment than most humans I know."

"Pinky," said Riddle behind Francis and Harry in the hallway before the kitchen, "deserves the better treatment than most humans I know." Harry and Francis moved away from the entrance, allowing Riddle to step across the threshold. "I happen to like Pinky more than I do 98% of the human population I have had the," he curled his lip back in a somewhat graceful sneer, "misfortune of meeting."

Tom Riddle was a dark, foreboding figure as he strode around the kitchen. He looked around, as if inspecting the newly-cleaned surroundings. He paused a moment at Draco's side and studied the kitchen sink. Draco growled beneath his breath. "If you tell me I missed a spot, I'll scream."

"I was going to say," Riddle said conversationally, "that you make a very good housemaid. You may want to consider a career in it."

Draco's face turned red as Riddle turned away from him to Harry2. Riddle smiled brightly at Harry as he crossed his arms before himself. Harry2 shrugged. "Mom thinks I make a good housemaid too. However, I don't intend to consider a career in it. I think I'd make a better butler."

Riddle's eyebrow went up. "Are you considering a career as a butler?" he asked.

Harry grinned and shook his head. "No, not really."

"What do you wish to consider?"

"Something that involves demolition." Harry2 propped the broom against his shoulder and crossed his arms around it. "I'm very good at destroying things, especially with my family's example."

As if reminded of Harry2's two aunts, Riddle's other eyebrow went up to join the other. He turned around and looked at Francis. "To change the topic," he said seriously as he tucked his hands into his robes sleeves, "can you show me anything of the past?"

Francis blinked owlishly. "Pardon?"

Riddle sighed. He gestured with one hand. "I have heard testimonies," his eyes flickered to Draco and lingered for a moment before flickering back to Francis, "of what a monster I have become in other realities, and what it may bode for this reality. I want more than just a description from someone who is biased and emotionally involved with the situation." Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously as his hand twitched closer to where his sword would be hanging. "I want to measure and assess the damage on my own level of discretion." His eyes flickered over Francis, Severus, and finally lingered on Harry.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably beneath Riddle's all-knowing gaze. She felt agitated that he would stare at her so, but supposed it could not be helped, since she was the one who initiated everything with the help of Pandora and the Mirror of Rebounds. "I think," said Riddle softly, without turning his eyes away from Harry, "it will be the deciding factor in whether I shall help you or not." The cool passiveness in his eyes barely masked a hot curiosity that seemed to burn Harry.

Francis stared at Riddle wordlessly for a moment, before he finally nodded firmly. "All right then," he said. He looked around at the others and helplessly waved his hands for a moment. "All right," he said again, "it's time for Cousin Quigley to make an appearance."

Severus growled audibly as Francis turned around and marched out of the kitchen. The others trailed behind him, with Severus following after Francis, Riddle following after Severus, Harry following after Riddle because she felt uncomfortable with the man at his back, and Draco and Harry2 bringing up the rear.

Francis led them as a mother duck led her ducklings. It struck Harry as being an almost comical scene, with the way Francis marched forward, Severus floated along, and Riddle trailed behind with a graceful dignity. A soft, feminine voice sang momentarily through Harry's mind. But the one little duck with the feathers on his back, // he led the others with a quack! quack! quack! Harry wasn't sure where the song came from, but the voice was comfortably familiar.

Great, Harry thought with a slight roll of her eyes, now I'm hearing voices that I don't mind. That might be a bad thing.

Harry tried to keep her mind comfortable blank as they made their way through Dinsmore's lower level to the mid-level that the parlor with the Mirror of Rebounds and Pandora's Box was located on. They entered the room and milled beside the door, reluctant to go near the two magical artifacts. Harry felt an ominous sense of boding as she stared at them.

"Any volunteers?" Francis asked nervously as he looked around at his companions. Draco and Harry2 exchanged glances before they hurriedly shook their heads no. Severus crossed his arms before himself.

"You know quite well what happens when I handle the Mirror of Rebounds, nor am I on good terms with my father as this moment." He spat the word father as if saying it left a foul taste in his mouth. Harry felt a sense of desolation at the thought. Up until this moment, she had not realized how sad it must be to finally have a father a person wanted the least, knowing full-well what misery and pain that person had caused. Without realizing it, Harry reached out to comfortingly pat Severus on the arm. Her hand passed through him, and he glanced at her, startled.

Harry withdrew her hand quickly and looked away. Francis threw his arms up in the air. "Fine," he said in a resigned voice. He trudged over to the Mirror of Rebounds and studied it for a moment. He poked the glass with one finger. "Cousin Quigley?" he inquired. Silence was his only answer. He poked the glass again. The mirror swung slightly on its hinges. "We know you are in there, and it's high time you come out. At least to help us. We need Tom Riddle to join us, and you're supposed to show him the past so he will."

Something flashed across the mirror's surface momentarily. Francis snatched his hand back and jumped back a few steps. He watched the Mirror of Rebounds with no small amount of trepidation. The Mirror of Rebounds began to sway back and forth.

Hmm? Cousin Quigley's voice hung freely in the air. With that sound, the Mirror of Rebounds zipped immediately into a blurred spin. White light filled its center and expanded. Cousin Quigley popped into view within the white light. "You want me to show you why Tom Riddle should join?" In the spinning Mirror of Rebounds, Cousin Quigley's eyes looked bloodshot from too much drink, or perhaps too much crying. He fiercely wiped his eyes and then listlessly dropped his hands. He leaned against the frame and looked at Tom Riddle. "You loved Pandora," he said. "Do you know what you did to her?" He looked at the others. In an incredible feat of audacity, Cousin Quigley visibly gathered his strength and squared his shoulders. He looked at the others with an unwavering gaze. "Who has the courage to see that which James witnessed?"

Severus' head snapped up. "That which . . ." He floated forward a step. "I do." He smiled mirthlessly. "I always wondered what Voldemort did to James." The smile disappeared. "It isn't going to pretty."

Cousin Quigley shook his head. "It never is," he said softly, his eyes filled with an incomprehensible amount of grief.

Harry glanced from Severus to Cousin Quigley, and then took a step forward. Harry2 followed suit with a shrug. Draco and Francis joined them in the tight half-circle formed around the Mirror of Rebounds. After a moment's hesitation, Riddle moved forward to stand between Harry and Harry2.

Cousin Quigley dipped his head in a nod. "Here we go," he said. He extended his hand out of the Mirror to Riddle. Riddle squinted at it, and then grabbed it. In the flare of light, the Mirror of Rebounds pulled them into it to see that which James witnessed.



It was silent. That was what struck Harry the most as she and the others saw the single event that shaped James' life. Though words were exchanged between the two little boys (James and Jonathan, Cousin Quigley had said) and Voldemort, they were not heard. The Voldemort who appeared was a twisted, darker version of Tom Riddle, almost as if he had been torn apart and then put together by a half-blind and half-drunk surgeon with as much grace as Neville during one of Snape's pop quizzes. They were tiny compared to the scene that played out. It filled Harry's entire vision. She had difficulty focusing on the entire scene.

Harry shot a quick glance at Riddle, but the anger in his face was enough for her to turn her sight on someone else. Francis' eyes were wide and his face was pale. Harry jumped and screamed when Voldemort tore Jonathan's head from his body. Harry2 winced and grabbed Harry by her shoulders as she swayed uncertainly on her feet. Draco looped an arm around her waist, his expression cold and his jaw clenched stubbornly. Harry dimly supposed that he was used to blood and death.

Jonathon's body fell against James and slid down. Blood washed over James, his eyes wide and face pale. He looked shocked and uncertain.

"I first saw this when I was James' age," Cousin Quigley said softly from the corner he stood in. The entire vision froze in that single moment. He looked at Severus and Harry. "This took place in Godric's Hollow." Cousin Quigley was seated on the solid, indeterminable surface the others stood upon. He had his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He looked fragile and much like a child, curled up in a tight ball as he was.

Severus winced and Harry felt a wave of nausea sweep over herself. The vision resumed. Voldemort bent over James and pressed a bloody finger to James' lips. A few moments passed, and then Anne, James' mother and Harry's grandmother, entered the kitchen. Harry could not imagine the horror that Anne must have felt as seeing Jonathon's head bump against her feet. Harry was unsure of what he felt when Anne tried to attack Voldemort. A flash of pride for her quick retaliation? Sadness, for knowing that Ann would never avenge her son's death as a dozen knives struck her in the chest and torso, and ripped away side to side?

Again the vision froze. They looked over at Cousin Quigley, who fiercely wiped his eyes again.

"Why is it silent?" Francis asked. His voice was amazingly steady. Harry looked over at him. Francis slumped over, looking truly tired and old. His jaw trembled and his shoulders bent forward, burdened by the weight of infinite sadness and pain of seeing his son's wife and son slaughtered.

"Because hearing it makes it all the more personal," Cousin Quigley replied as his head dropped between the crook of his knees. Francis gritted his teeth.

"This is my son's family. How can it not--" Francis stopped speaking as his voice broke. His throat flexed a few times as he swallowed desperately and fought down tears. "How can it not be personal?" he asked in a lost voice. He swayed about unsteadily on his own feet, but there was no one to steady him as there had been for Harry.

Cousin Quigley did not look stir. "Hearing it hurts all the more. You hear the emotions and know how they felt. It's more haunting than wondering how it felt. When I slept but never Wandered, it was always the sound of the thump and bumps and steel against bone that haunted me. Blood dripping, steadily. Drip. Drip. Drip. Of course, that was your blood that dripped. Makes no difference though. To me, all the visions were the same horrors.

"The silence was the most damaging for James. Voldemort told James to not say a word, and so James never mentioned his father for almost twenty years. It's almost symbolic. It's silent, because James was." Cousin Quigley gave them a clunky shrug without lifting his head. The vision resumed.

Francis covered his mouth when Oliver entered the scene with Jonathon's head. As a portrait, Oliver was always docile, passive, and very unassuming. Even here was no different. There was an immense sadness on Oliver's face as he cried, but there was no fight, no anger. Unheard words were exchanged between Oliver and Voldemort.

"He speaks of you," Cousin Quigley said. "Do you want to know that he speaks of how your body disappeared, with only your blood running down the stairs to tell the story of what may have happened? Drip. Drip. Drip. Do you want to hear the finality of his voice?" Cousin Quigley gave a high-pitched laugh that bordered on the line of hysteria. He shook his head and his arms tightened their grasp around his knees. "I need a drink awfully badly," he moaned softly.

Francis said nothing as Oliver lifted his hand and showed the first spark of defiance in the depths of his turquoise-colored eyes. Voldemort's reaction was for the knives that struck Anne down to bury into his back. As the knife points protruding from Oliver's chest, the defiance became clear on his face. The knives ripped completely through his chest, spun about in the air, and sunk up to the hilt in his stomach.

"He had an inner strength," Cousin Quigley said admirably as Oliver sank to his knees. "Pandora would have been proud of him." Francis said nothing as he squeezed his eyes shut, too late to stop the tears. The scene froze. "Francis, if nothing else, please watch."

"Why?" Francis opened his eyes. "I leave my children when they have just entered their teens, only that the next time I see them they're being slaughtered--torn apart!"

"I can send you away, if you'd like," Cousin Quigley said as he lifted his head and looked at Francis with a hurt expression, "so you don't have to witness this."

Francis took a ragged breath, then shook his head. "It hurts to watch." His voice sounded fragile enough to be shattered apart by a puff of wind.

"I know." Cousin Quigley looked away. "It hurt every time I had to watch, and there was never an end."

As the scene moved again, Harry watched Francis gather shards of strength together. He tucked his chin against his collarbone and watched as tears fell down his face. They watched as Oliver spoke, softly, and then forcefully, before he flung a bloody hand wide. For the first time, Voldemort lost his careful control to anger. His bitten snarl and the twisted rage on his face were followed by the knives ripping a gash in Oliver's stomach. His intestines spilled across the floor.

Francis choked and covered his eyes, but Cousin Quigley did not stop the vision or ask Francis to continue watching. Harry felt her legs give out beneath her. Draco braced himself to take her weight. That's how Francis would have died! Harry thought in horror as she remembered seeing Francis in the Mirror of Rebounds, stumbling through the hallway with his hands wrapped around his stomach to keep his own innards from spilling out. One single knife ended Oliver's misery with a slash across his throat.

The vision ended then, fading into black. Cousin Quigley, the Harrys, Draco, Francis, and Riddle emitted light, as if their skin enclosed a gigantic beam of radiance.

Cousin Quigley looked at Riddle. "There's more, of course," he said. "There is what Voldemort did to Anastasia and Edwina."

"What did he do?" Riddle held his hand up. "No, I think we get the message of his," here Riddle curled his lip back with disdain and disgust, though anger blazed brightly in his eyes, "ruthlessness; there is no need to show us. Just tell us, as I have a feeling that their fate was different from what happened here."

Francis slumped on the floor, a Sirius-like lost look plastered upon his face. His shoulders shook with a ragged breath. Draco gently allowed Harry to finish sliding to the floor. He sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. He pulled her back against his chest.

Cousin Quigley nervously wrung his hands. "Pandora came to Godric's Hollow about half an hour after this occurred," he said. "She found Jonathon's head where Voldemort had left it, but there was no sign of his body, or James anywhere. She went to the twins' flat to inform them of their brother's death, only to learn that someone had been there before herself." Cousin Quigley wrapped his arms around his knees again. "Anastasia and Edwina were all in pieces, but their heads were still attached to the torsos, and," he paused a moment, as if searching for the right thing to say, "and still alive. Still very much in pain." He closed his eyes. "Th-they spoke to Pandora, begged her to end the pain."

He sniffed and dabbed at his eyes. "This was always the hardest vision for me as a child. Pandora had just seen the damage done to Oliver and his family. When she went to the twins, to tell them about it as much as to lean on them for support, she did not expect to see them to have been attacked as well, but still alive, magically trapped in their bodies. Anastasia still had one arm. She reached out and grabbed Pandora's ankle, but she couldn't say anything because her vocal box had been torn out. Edwina was the one who spoke. Pandora went into hysterics and screamed and screamed. I'll never forget that sound." He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "She wouldn't stop screaming until after . . ." Cousin Quigley's voice trailed off.

Tom Riddle's voice was hard as stone. "Until after what?"

Cousin Quigley sounded very small. "Until after I came and had to kill the twins to end their misery."

"How?"

"I did what you were too cruel to do." Cousin Quigley climbed to his feet. He looked directly into Riddle's eyes. "I cast the Killing Curse to finish their lives as quickly and as painlessly as I could. I couldn't think of anything else to use."

Riddle's eyes narrowed dangerously. He stepped across the dark space until he stood directly before Cousin Quigley. Cousin Quigley hands clenched into fists as his side, refusing to flinch or wince as Riddle towered over him. Riddle's presence darkly hinted of how used he was to being in control, that he always was in every situation because he was the strongest, and everyone knew it, and he had little liking or use for Cousin Quigley. "The dead," he said softly, his voice almost too quiet to hear in the darkness, "do not have the power to use the Killing Curse."

Cousin Quigley bristled, as if angry, but his words were bitter and resentful. "I never died." His hands clenched into fists at his sides and his shoulders trembled. "I was never permitted to die. So I drank instead, because when I was drunk, the visions couldn't come. I couldn't Wander." He deflated. Cousin Quigley never seemed to hold on to his anger for very long. It was almost as if he never had the strength or energy to.

Francis stirred and spoke. "How?" In the darkness, his voice sounded like a little child begging to know the answer to what they felt was an unjust punishment

Cousin Quigley's eyes flickered over to Francis. His bitterness softened into a pensive regret as he wrung his hands. "There is always a slight difference in every reality. I am the only Cousin Quigley whom the Mirror of Rebounds preserved. The only one that was not allowed to expire." He turned his back to them and hunched over. "The only one." He looked at Severus. "I'm sorry," he whispered sincerely.

With those final words, the Mirror of Rebounds spat everyone but Cousin Quigley out.

"That's it?" Harry asked, feeling stunned and insulted. She stood up and stumbled over to the Mirror of Rebounds. "I mean, I know that I certainly don't want to see how Anastasia and Edwina died, but how did the Mirror of Rebounds preserve you?" She felt frustrated and morose after all she learned, nor did she have the strength to look at Francis. She reached out to the Mirror of Rebounds.

"Harry!" Severus jumped to his feet. "Don't you--"

"Come on! What's the idea behind hiding?" Harry poked the Mirror of Rebounds, and then remembered belatedly of what happened whenever she or Severus touched it.

Pandora's Box sprang open with a wild snap. Dark green power leapt out of it like a crazed animal. The Mirror of Rebounds jumped on the spot and tottered about wildly. The power slammed into everyone and Harry fell over from the impact, nearly blacking out at the burst of pain from her scar. She dimly heard Riddle cursing. In a mishmash of colors, she felt magic flare uncontrollably from where she knew Riddle stood. The Mirror of Rebounds rattled as magic crashed into power. The Mirror of Rebounds spun about on its hinge. A vacuum from inside of it sucked everything into it.

The world was a mess of jumbled pictures. The reality tunnel they fell through trembled from strain as the power and magic, battling against one another, ricocheted off the walls. Riddle's magic flared out of control again and slammed against the dark green power. Harry covered her scar with her hands and bit her lip to keep from screaming from the pain.

They fell out of the Mirror of Rebounds into a different reality. The landing upon wooden floors jarred Harry enough for the pain to somehow be shaken loose. The Mirror of Rebounds landed beside her with a clunk. A small wisp of smoke trailed out of its glass.

"Damn you," Riddle muttered from where he was a crumpled heap on the floor. He painfully pushed himself up on his hands and knees, swayed dizzily, and then fell on his face. "It's poisoned," he hissed. He lifted his head to glare weakly at Harry and the others. His mouth opened and closed several moments as he gulped for air. He wrapped one arm around his waist as he pushed himself to his other hand and knees. "It's poisoned. How can you expose yourself to such filthy rot?"

Francis sat up. He looked around the small sitting room of Dinsmore, and leaned against the wall. "We knew it was tainted," he said hoarsely, "but we did not know it was poisoned. Now you see what we're working with?" He grinned unexpectedly. "I guess this means that you are coming with us."

Riddle's sudden intake of air sounded painful to Harry. "That's my power in that box, and it's poisoned." He lowered his head and moaned.

"Your reaction," said Severus dryly from where he hovered next to the fireplace, "was rather violent towards it."

Riddle said nothing. He looked up and stared at the entrance just as someone stepped through it. Dumbledore looked older than Harry had ever seen him before. His face was a terrifying mask of anger, and his hand trembled from the force he clenched his wand so tightly with. His eyes were pinpoints of devastating fury as he surveyed the reality jumpers, though shock was apparent when he looked at Francis, and then at Harry and Harry2, but it was dismay when he saw Severus floating in mid-air, as transparent as always. When his eyes settled on Tom Riddle, who stared back with bold defiance, fury flared in them once again.

"You," said Dumbledore as he carefully stepped over to Riddle's side, until only an arm's length separated them. His voice shook and his eyes narrowed even more as he pointed his wand at Riddle. "Who are you?"

Riddle gave him a charming smile. "It's good to see you too, Albus Dumbledore," he said. Then he vomited at Dumbledore's feet.



author's notes: I have been away from my computer for the past few weeks. I winded up writing the next chapters and placing them in my email as a save file. ^^;; I realize that the past three chapters just drag because there is very little movement beyond Dinsmore. I do this because to move quickly, to have Tom Riddle agree immediately so they Jump along to another reality, would compromise Riddle's character as I write it. I find I cannot compromise characters and their personalities. It would go against my ability to write personable characters (not to mention how it is one of the most common things I complain about while reading other people's writing, so for me to do it would make me a hypocrite, and I have enough faults as it is).
I did take the opportunity of stalling to further Harry2's background. It's slightly shaky, but then he's a shaky character to deal with. I also tried to explain Draco's character a bit more, since I don't like the way he's falling a little flat. Lastly, the last two chapters are depressing. They're supposed to be. On the other hand, this one ended on a high note. =)

Acy: I am confused about what you are asking. Could you be a bit more clear? I looked over chapter one and couldn't find where it was said that Pandora betrayed Voldemort before Francis died. Unless it's about the protraits. Pandora betrayed Voldemort before he burned Francis' portrait.

Punisher: Where do I assume things? Francis' logic is based off of a level of thinking that goes in multiple directions. If he sorts through Pandora's information and reaches conclusions that's not what other people expected, it's because he has lived and worked with Pandora, as a partner and lover and spouse, that they understand each other as only two such people could. They're used to translating each other's words on different levels. I looked over chapters 10 and 12 in A Gutter Rat's Tale, and found nothing that could be confusing. At least, I didn't think so. On the other hand, the style I used for Severus Snape's voice is somewhat archiac, so it may not translate easily for you. The same relationship existed between [good] Tom Riddle and Pandora. Harry always assumed he was simply dreaming when he Wandered, and Tom Riddle had some doubts about his own state of wakefulness. Pandora's cane was solid and realistic, and laid the foundation for belief and confirmation.
And as for assumption, the entire art of writing is based upon assumptions. I can explore possibilities and chances where doing so in your field is otherwise extremely dangerous. A Gutter Rat's Tale was written based upon the assumption that this was how it might be if Severus Snape was a gutter rat rescued by Pandora. Pandora's Box is written upon the assumption that this is what someone of her personality would push people in to, assuming that Cousin Quigley was willing to use the events to his own cause. This is assuming that such people react in such ways. This is assuming this is possible in the Harry Potter universe. This is assuming characters that aren't mine is going to do as I want without corrupting their personality. This is assuming . . . Writing is assumption.
And as for having an intriguing pen name . . . =) Thank you. You are the first person to ever say this. I dug this name out because it was French for cute and graceful. I wanted something that wasn't based off of pop-culture or connected to the books. Just something I could call me. As a hindsight, I realized later it may be difficult for people to type, let alone spell right. >.>

Hana-chan: Draco as a girl is a frightening idea. Draco as a girl chasing after the two Harrys was a worse idea. As Harry2 said, "Better you than me. Or Draco, for that matter." Imagine a PMS-ing Draco with female hormones!