"Well." Dumbledore handed Francis' letter back. They were all seated in a different room this Dinsmore this time, filled with various couches and fluffy chairs. Riddle was sprawled across one couch, his head on one armrest and his feet hanging over the other armrest. A bowl rested on the floor next to him and a damp cloth on his forehead as one arm drooped over his eyes.

Harry and Harry2, sharing a couch together, could not summon the sympathy others had for Riddle. "He's not the only one effected by the power," Harry2 had said defensively as he pointed at his scar. Harry nodded her head in silent, morose agreement.

"Well, at least this," Dumbledore lifted his cup of tea to his lips, "explains why you are here."

"It needs some rewriting," Francis said as he looked over the letter. "We found a good Tom Riddle. We also have a disguise here for Harry," he nodded his head at his grandson-turned-granddaughter, "and that should probably have to be explained." He looked hopefully at Dumbledore, who smiled for the first time since they entered the current reality.

"I," said Dumbledore with a hint of cheer, "wouldn't mind writing you this letter in the least." Francis grinned and handed it back to Dumbledore. "As long as I know that a reality succeeds where this one failed." His cheer dissipated. He stared at the letter for a long time. His air of vigor, which Harry always made Dumbledore seem young, was gone. He then looked over at Harry and Harry2. "It's good to see how young and peaceful you look," he said softly. He hurriedly rubbed his eyes. "Well, I need some parchment and a quill with ink." He stood up. "I shall be right back."

As he exited the room, Harry sighed and slumped against Harry2. "How very depressing all of this is," she said in a moment of insight. She sniffed and rubbed her nose. "So when are we going to be home?" she asked finally.

Severus laughed mirthlessly from where he floated beside Francis' chair. "Depends on whether or not Riddle's reaction is the same for very jump. This could take a long time."

Riddle stirred. He dropped his arm and lifted his head to give Severus a cold scowl. "That magic is mine," he said finally, "and it's tainted, poisoned. It's vile and corrupt, and I felt it grab at me and try to leech my own magic."

"Which didn't go over too well," Francis said.

Riddle settled down and drooped his arm over his eyes again. "No; my magic fought rather bravely against it."

"But all of it can't be your own magic," Francis pointed out.

Riddle's finger wagged at Francis. "Oh no. I can sense Pandora in it as well." He shifted his body into a more comfortable position on the couch. "It makes well-enough sense. If she stripped the power of Voldemort, she would have to use her own to bind it."

"Is there enough?"

"Hmm?" Riddle peeked at Francis from beneath his arm.

"Is there enough power there to get us home?"

Riddle smiled. His white teeth were a sharp contrast against his bronze skin. "Oh yes," he said pleasantly. "There's an infinite source of power there. Pandora must have used all of her magic to drain my own." Severus' head snapped about at those words. His eyes were wide, but he remained silent.

"How did she drain it?" Francis asked.

Riddle continued to smile. "I don't believe you want to know," he said cheerfully. "Trust me on this."

Francis' face turned bright red at those words. With an unhappy grimace, he clasped his hands together in his lap and stared morosely down at them.

"Shouldn't we be in my reality?" Harry2 asked. He shrugged as the others gave him panicked looks as they instantly recalled who his mother was. "I mean, we were at my reality before we jumped to the good Tom Riddle's. What are we doing here?"

Francis rubbed his cheek. "It may be we are skipping an odd number of different realities. In which case, we may just fly past our own." He frowned thoughtfully. "On the other hand, Riddle's reaction may have knocked us off-course."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Harry said.

"True, true. Interaction from other magic which may occur during a Jump would, perhaps, nudge us a little off-track. I noticed that there were several realities that were in direct contrast to the average reality we jumped through. One trend that occurs steadily throughout the realities is Harry's, ah, preference for, um." Francis' face turned red again.

Severus' mouth twisted. "We can cope with it just being called a preference," he said.

Draco snorted. "I'll have you know," he said firmly, "that it is not a preference, nor a choice. We are what we are. It is completely natural. There is nothing we can do to change it any more than we can change our gender."

Harry threw her cushion at Draco. It bounced off his forehead.

"Ah." Draco rubbed his forehead as Harry crossed her arms before her chest and glared. "Bad choice of words."

Francis waved his hands for attention. "Yes, yes. The thing is, there were five realities that stood in direct-contrast to the others realities we Jumped through. Firstly, the reality Harry, Severus, and I all originate in. Cousin Quigley claims to be the only one of his sort in all other realities. Going from there, it is also the only reality where Severus was pushed through time, or I was pushed through time, or Harry does what he does because he is part Snape. Secondly, your reality." Francis pointed at Harry2, who nodded. "Your reality is the only reality where you, as far as we know, is a fire demon who got adopted by another demon. You two Harrys are the only Harrys that we met and we know does not have the preference we were discussing earlier." Francis paused a moment. He studied Harry and Harry2. "Right?" he asked, sounding unsure.

Harry and Harry2 nodded their heads vigorously. "Absolutely," they said together.

Francis nodded to himself. "All right. Now, there may have been a few realities that we Jumped through that this may not have been the case, but we don't know because we were passing through--"

"As quickly as possible so we wouldn't get killed," Severus cut in.

Francis nodded. "There is that. Thirdly is Draco's real--" Francis stopped just as Dumbledore entered the room. He carried a parchment and a quill.

"Don't mind me," said Dumbledore cheerfully as he sat down in the chair as earlier. There was something light and hopeful about the movement of his hands and twinkling in his eyes. Youthful hope brought color to his papery skin.

Francis looked at Dumbledore as the old headmaster set the ink before him and rolled open the parchment. "We were discussing a few theories," Francis said to Dumbledore, who merely nodded and dipped his quill into the ink. "Thirdly," Francis turned back to his companions as Dumbledore ignored them in favor of the letter he was writing, " and fourthly is Draco's and she who we have termed 'Amazon Ginny's' reality. We've only been through another like it, where Harry married someone who survived, but Harry was dead because of a battle with Voldemort, and Nagini was left alive to finish destroying those who stood before Voldemort and, seemingly enough, everything else that exists. The fifth and final reality is Riddle's. For other such obvious reasons for its differences, it's also the only other reality we've ever been through where we know I married Pandora."

"But still died when you fell off your broom and broke your neck," Severus snidely pointed out.

Riddle shifted on the couch. "Odd that," he said in a cheery voice.

Francis frowned suspiciously. "Yes," he muttered with his eyes trained upon Riddle, "odd that, indeed." He shook himself as a wet dog often does when it comes out of a moisture-ridden environment. "Isn't it odd that we should go from a reality where Draco is twenty-two to a reality where Draco is still in school?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Draco is how old?"

Harry2's eyes widened as well. "When was Draco still in school?"

Severus straightened. "In the reality where both Francis and Black were engulfed by Fawkes, the Severus Snape I sought out was instructing potions--Draco was one of the students."

"Wait." Harry scratched her head. "When did you tell Francis this when I wasn't around to hear it?"

Francis leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "When you were inquiring after a good Tom Riddle in the reality where Severus was Harry's father. Anyway, after the reality with that very odd phoenix happenstance," Francis shuddered, "we went to the reality with the Amazon Ginny, which was another abrupt time jump. After that reality, everything was following pretty much the same pattern we were going through before we Jumped into Draco's reality. After some more jumping, we reached Harry's and Marcia's reality. It's almost if there's a gap between those realities, just as if there seems to be a gap between the Draco and Ginny realities."

Riddle snorted. He slowly lifted himself into a seated position. He swayed side-to-side for a moment, looking slightly green around the mouth, but after a few deeps breaths the color disappeared. "Don't mind me," he told Dumbledore as he transfigured some lint he found in his robes pockets into a sheet of parchment and a quill. He dipped his quill into Dumbledore's ink and drew a circle on the parchment. "Since," he said without looking at the others, "we are on the subject of theories, I'd like to toss this out for Francis to munch on."

Francis craned his neck in an attempt to see what Riddle was drawing, but the parchment curled backwards. It effectively blocked Francis' view. Francis sighed and fidgeted in his seat. Severus floated to Riddle's side and peered over his shoulder at what was being drawn. "You're a much better artist than Francis," he said.

Francis winced. He muttered something under his breath of how drawing was never his forte. After some time, Riddle finished his drawing. He re-transfigured the quill back into a bit of fluff (albeit damp with ink, which he rubbed between his fingers), and handed the parchment to Francis.

Francis glanced over it, and then at Riddle. He tilted the drawing so Harry and Harry2 could see it. It was a drawing of a cross of arrows, with the top arrow pointing at N, the bottom arrow pointing at S, the right arrow pointing at E, and the left arrow pointing at W. "The point of this is?"

Riddle sank down against his armrest. He propped his elbow on it and supported his head. "Think of your original reality as a point somewhere on the map. Think of your destination as a different point in this compass; say the center, for reasons of clarity. Measured in a straight line, to go from one point to another, you must travel in the same direction. If there is only a little difference between the realities--because, from what I understand as Harry has explained it, it only takes a single difference for realities to break apart--then, for someone who was passing through and not looking for the multiple tiny differences, the realities would appear the same. For all intents and purposes, because you are heading in the same direction, the path you follow allows for a recurring theme."

Francis looked immensely interested as he glanced down at the drawing. "That's true," he said finally. "Harry's preference is a recurring theme. Except for those few realities, it remains consistent." He frowned and tapped the parchment. "If that is so," he said, "then it means that there were places where we were knocked off the path, and then back on." He looked up. "There was too much of a difference between Draco's reality, and then the next reality, and then Ginny's reality, and then the next reality after that for it to remain on the same line. Not with the timelines being the way they were, at least."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, attracting everyone's attention. Francis looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said as he sheepishly fiddled with his goggles. "I didn't mean to leave you out of the conversation."

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Not at all," he said. "I understand that all of this is over my head because I don't know how or why all of this occurred, and it's probably too long of a story to explain." He handed his written letter to Francis, who silently rolled it up along with Riddle's drawing and stuck them in one of his pockets. "You should be going now," Dumbledore said as he looked over his glasses at them. "It's a long journey you still have."

Francis nodded. "Yes." He stood up. "Is, is there anything we can do for you before we go?" he asked as the others stood up, Riddle moving the slowest.

Dumbledore reached out and patted Francis' upper arm, his eyes bright. "Seeing you, alive after so many years, still thinking and still looking for solutions, has done me good." He looked at Harry and Harry2. His mouth trembled as he looked at them with no small amount of wistfulness. "It's enough." After a moment, he turned to Riddle. "And you," he said with a warning in his voice, "best do well."

Riddle smiled and bowed, his arms spread wide. "Don't I ever?" he asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's a matter of personal opinion," he said.

Francis led the way back to the parlor room they had the Mirror of Rebounds and Pandora's Box. He stared at them with trepidation. "Well?" he asked the others over his shoulder.

"Well, what?" Severus asked.

"Are we ready?"

There was a familiar chorus of No's. Francis rolled his eyes. "I'll take that as a yes," he said. "Deep inside, you all secretly know you want to get over this as soon and as fast as possible. Severus, Harry, if one of you would be so kind?" He stepped to the side and gestured to the Mirror of Rebounds.

"Wait," said Dumbledore. He looked over Riddle's figure, and then offered him the large tin bowl that had sat beside the couch Riddle had laid upon. "You may need this in the future." Riddle's expression was sour as he reluctantly accepted the tin bowl.

Severus pointed one ghostly finger at Harry. "It's your turn," he said firmly.

Harry's mouth drooped downward. "But I started the Mirror of Rebounds last time!"

"I know; through sheer stupidity. It's your turn to do it properly."

Harry grimaced. She silently questioned that logic as she walked over to the Mirror of Rebounds. She pressed the flat of her hand against the dark glass. Pandora's Box rattled and Riddle flinched. Nothing happened. Harry dropped her hand and gazed at the Mirror of Rebounds. She could see a faint outline of the reflected surroundings in the mirror. She prodded the frame. Again, Pandora's Box rattled, but nothing occurred. Harry looked at the others with wide eyes. "I think it's broken," she said in a guilty voice.

With those words, she was abruptly sucked into the Mirror of Rebounds with no further movement from either it or Pandora's Box.

Draco broke the silenced shock. "What just happened?" he asked as he rubbed his temples. "And where did Harry go?"

"That," said Francis as he approached the Mirror of Rebounds, "was not normal." He bent over to peer at the dark glass.

"What do we do now?" Harry2 asked.

Francis straightened up, "I have no idea."

"It's Quigley," Severus said darkly. He stalked-floated over to the Mirror of Rebounds. "How much do you want to bet he had something to do with this?" He picked up the Mirror of Rebounds. The lid of Pandora's Box flew open. The power slammed into others, knocked the tin bowl out of Riddle's arms, and roared with fury. The Mirror of Rebounds sucked Severus into itself. Suspended in the air, it drew Francis, Harry2, and Draco in as well.

Riddle and Dumbledore stood firmly against vacuum. Power rippled in the air. It flowed out of Pandora's Box, a stream of dark green and baby-powder blue, and circled the room twice before it disappeared into the Mirror of Rebound's spinning vortex.

"Aren't you going?" Dumbledore shouted over the resulting roar.

Riddle looked decidedly ill. He gulped twice. "I felt someone activate this entire scene," he shouted back. He paused a moment to take a steady breath. "Something is leading us on." His eyes narrowed dangerously. Magic sputtered around his form, only to be sucked into the vortex. "And we shall see where it takes us." He took two unsteady steps forward, his magic sputtering and flaring sporadically. He paused and looked at Dumbledore. "You may want to duck." He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and shouted wordlessly as magic exploded around him and enveloped the area in a blast of neon green.

When the color cleared, everything was as it was before the reality-jumpers had arrived. Dumbledore looked around with wide eyes, shrugged, and then left the room. A few minutes after he left, Cousin Quigley and the Bloody Baron emerged from the shadows.

"I'm glad," Cousin Quigley said weakly, "that I had grabbed this when I had a chance." He stared morosely at the bottom of the tin bowl he held. " I'm sure Tom Riddle won't mind in the least if I borrow it for a moment."

The Bloody Baron sneered at Cousin Quigley. "And what did happen to Harry?" he asked.

"Oh, Lordy, don't ask me," Cousin Quigley replied as his head bowed

over the bowl. "Somewhere into the past of this reality." He moaned, and then dry-heaved once. "I better go get him," he said. The Bloody Baron nodded his head.

"See that you do. In the mean time, I'll have the others wait."

"Do, please." Cousin Quigley steadied the bowl in one hand as he wiped his mouth in the other. "They're in the past as well. Riddle threw enough power at the Mirror of Rebounds that I managed to jerk them back to Harry's and Francis' original reality. Except there was a bit of an imbalance, and the Universe was being stubborn, so they're really far back into the past. To get them out, I'll have to send them to a separate reality when they Jump again. Before that happened, I must have Harry with them."

The Bloody Baron frowned. "I don't like the sound of that," he said.

Cousin Quigley lifted his head and smiled sweetly at the Bloody Baron. "History now comes to play," he said sagely. The Bloody Baron looked at him with narrowed and suspicious eyes.

Marcia ran down a Hogwarts hallway. Sirius, perched upon her shoulder, clung to one ponytail to remain seated. Nandin followed after Marcia, a silver shadow compared to Marcia's dark blur. She skidded around a corner and slammed unexpectedly into a dark torpedo. As she fell backwards against Nandin, she caught a glimpse of a speeding green hand.

"That does it!" Marcia jumped to her feet, drawing Nandin's sword in a single movement. Nandin ducked before the swinging weapon accidentally decapitated him. "I'm going after that creepy thingy! Take Sirius!" She shoved Sirius into Nandin's hands, and then followed after the gigantic green hand as it slipped through realities and hurled backwards through time, guided by its own mysterious power and a faint idea of where to go.

Harry trudged through the dark forest. Even with the stretched branches and their large leaves, cold rain still drenched Harry to the bone. It was night out, and she was alone in a forest that she was glad to believe that was not the Forbidden Forest. It did not feel dangerous, as Draco's world had felt. She just felt lost.

"Where am I?" she yelled at the branches overhead. As if to mock Harry, the branches trembled from a sudden gust of wind, and released their accumulated moisture. It was as affective as dumping a gigantic bucket of water upon a drowning person, but Harry recognized mockery when she saw it.

With a quiet grumble under her breath, Harry wrapped her arms around her fiercely-shivering form, and trudged forth in search of shelter. The robes she wore were soaking wet. Rivulets of water ran down her face and neck, and when she moved forward, droplets fell from her hair. Harry squinted in the darkness as she moved her feet carefully.

When she first appeared in this reality, she had landed face-first in a shallow pool of rain water. As if that wasn't enough, it started to rain, and a chilly wind blew. It sucked all remaining warmth away from Harry. At the moment, her fingers and feet felt like blocks of ice. Harry reasoned that as long as she kept moving, she would remain warm. It did not feel she was warm at the moment, but movement kept the creeping chill from invading too quickly.

Harry knew that she should wait around for Francis and the others to show up, but she also knew that there had been something wrong with how she had even happened into this reality. It felt like a hand had pressed against her back and shoved her forward as the Mirror of Rebounds opened up. Francis was not around for her to tell this to.

"Well," she groused under her breath, "he can just come looking for me." With that thought firmly in mind, she continued to move. "I'm freezing cold." Any place had to be better than just standing still. Harry tucked her hands under her armpits and quickened her pace slightly. She tried to go in as straight a line as possible, not wanting to get lost or walk around in circles.

Harry stopped only three times. Twice to sneeze, and once to trip over a hidden root. She skinned her hands against other roots, banged her knee on a stone half-buried beneath old leaves, and mashed her breasts against the soppy ground, which was what hurt the most. With a low growl, she stood up and viciously kicked the root, nearly falling over from the abrupt shift of balance. Her foot was too frozen and too numb for her to feel anything. She whirled around, stumbled again, and stormed away from the root. Anger sizzled inside of her. She knew, on one hand, it was irrational to be mad at the root. On the other hand, she was cold, wet, and decidingly miserable. It felt good to feel irrational to an inanimate object that could not defend itself. She stopped walking and gently massaged one sore breast. It ached from the cold and from the fall she took.

She continued to trudge through the dark forest. It took Harry a few moments to realize the trees were beginning to thin. She stopped and squinted at the dark trunks. She rubbed her blurry glasses. She looked around the sparse trees, and stepped over some brush that snagged at her robes. She tugged her hem free, and hurried forward.

A light emerged from the dark. Drawing closer, Harry saw it was a candle burning steadily on a windowsill. Eagerness exploded like lit fireworks inside Harry. With a desperate laugh, she lurched forward and hurried to the dark house that blended so well with the darkness she had not noticed it earlier.

"Harry!" a voice yelled above the constant drip-drip of rain.

Harry stumbled to a halt. "Huh?"

Cousin Quigley hurried out of the darkness. "Harry, we have to go back."

"What?" Harry jumped out of Cousin Quigley's reach as he stretched his hand out to her. "Do you know how I got here?"

He instantly looked uncomfortable. "Um, yes."

"You stay away from me!" Harry stumbled backward away from Cousin Quigley and toward the house. "Ever since I met you, I've been miserable!" She stopped when she realized she was shouting. "Well, maybe not since, but that's nothing compared to now. I'm cold, I'm wet, I hurt, and I want something hot and stiff to drink!" She reached the side of the house. She ran her hands along the side and looked for a door.

"Um, Harry, I wasn't the one who made you come here though."

"No. You never make anyone do anything." Harry glared at Cousin Quigley as she ran along the side of the house, her hand flat against the wet wood. "You just manipulate them as easily as a Slytherin does! You make a good Snape!" Cousin Quigley winced and looked ready to burst into tears. Harry immediately felt awful for what she said as she regarded how much her barbed words had hurt him. She stopped running. "I'm sorry," she said nervously. Cousin Quigley gazed at her with pained eyes. "I'm just not having a very good time, you just happen to be a good source to take things out on, and I don't mean it, really? It'll pass eventually," she ended with a hint of optimism.

The look of sympathy that passed over Cousin Quigley's face was surprising not only in its swiftness, but also from the nervousness that flashed through his eyes. "Oh." He glanced over Harry's figure. "Ooooohhhh."

Harry placed her hands on her hips. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, her irritation returning once more.

"You just said that you're not having a very good time."

"I'm not."

Cousin Quigley nodded knowingly. "I understand," he said as he walked to Harry's side. "I was married. I know greatly about women's passing moments. I was married at one time, and had an older sister myself." He patted Harry's arm comfortingly. Harry rolled her eyes and continued around the house in search of a door.

"Um, Harry?" Cousin Quigley hurried to keep up. "We really should be going."

Harry ignored him as she spied steps. "Ah hah!" She hurried over to the steps to see they led to a door. "Hah!"

"Harry, I don't feel comfortable."

"Neither do I," Harry replied nastily as she mounted the steps and lifted her hand to knock.

Cousin Quigley's eyes flickered about as he anxiously wrung his hands. "But you don't know who could be here!"

"I am cold," Harry said fiercely. "I am wet. My breasts hurt, and I'm not used to having them, no thanks to Francis and his 'let's-disguise-Harry' idea. I'm getting out of this rain now!"

"But, Harry!"

Harry turned to the door and banged it smartly with her fist. "I don't care of Voldemort himself opens this door! I want out of the rain!"

"Oh, lovely!" a voice declared on the other side of the door. It swung inward. Harry squeaked and jumped back against Cousin Quigley. He braced himself against her weight. Together, they stared with horror at the dark and twisted creature standing before them. "This makes introductions easier," Voldemort said with a dangerous gleam in his slanted red eyes. "Do come in out of the rain. Wipe your feet off on the rug, and mind that step there." He stepped backward and watched Harry and Cousin Quigley with an interest that could only be described as hungry. "It's a doozy," he said in a husky voice. Harry briefly wondered if it was too late to flee into the rain. The slight narrowing of Voldemort's eyes and the way his hand twitched to his wand, Harry had a sneaking suspicion it was not a decidedly safe option.

Harry was all too aware of Cousin Quigley's unhappy glare as they reluctantly entered the house. The floor dipped below the threshold and Harry tripped and would have fallen over if Voldemort hadn't caught her sleeved shoulder with a strong arm. The warm air inside the cottage was a startling contrast from the cold outside. Harry began to shiver immediately.

"Hang your cloaks so they may drip-dry," Voldemort said cheerfully. He gestured at the coat rack on the wall beside them. Cousin Quigley, with only a small bit of hesitation, took his cloak off and hung it on one of the hooks. They looked expectedly at Harry. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to control her violent shivering.

"What?" she asked through gritted teeth. "It's not as if I was prepared for being landed here in the middle of--of--ah, ah ahplooooghghgh!" Voldemort kindly handed Harry a handkerchief after Harry up righted herself from her balance-losing sneeze. "I don't feel good," Harry whimpered.

Voldemort glanced from Harry to Cousin Quigley. "It's that time," Cousin Quigley said pointedly.

"Ah." Even Voldemort looked at Harry sympathetically. Harry wiped her nose, trying not to wonder what they meant by that time, or where the handkerchief had been before Voldemort's pocket. Voldemort's hand twitched. He withdrew his wand and pointed it at Harry. Her breath stopped in her lungs as color drained from her face. Next to her, Harry felt Cousin Quigley's hands suddenly grab her shoulders and pull her back into a protective embrace.

Amusement glinted in Voldemort's eyes as he cast a drying charm on Harry's clothes. "Interesting," he purred as he placed his wand back into his pocket. He cocked his head to the side and tucked his hands into his sleeves. "You both seem to know who I am, and that I am someone to be frightened of. Very few people do now. I am rather curious as to why that is."

Harry decided it was safe to breathe once more. "Why is what?" Her voice came out as a breathy squeak.

"Why? Because I've barely just begun my mission, and few people know of me. Yet." Harry shivered at the darkness that ran beneath the word, a hint of the evil destruction Voldemort planned for the future. "Come." His words were now normal and held no trace of the darkness he spoke with earlier. "A hot tea should warm you up after being out in the rain."

Cousin Quigley's hands reluctantly fell from Harry's shoulders. "Your father," he muttered as they trailed after Voldemort, "is going to do the one thing no one has ever done before, but no doubt is a common desire for many."

Harry took passing note of how the house was sparsely lit from an unknown source of light. The small waiting room they stood in led to a branching of rooms. The room to the left had various stuffed chairs, sofas, and a single rocking chair in the middle, as if to lord over all the other chairs. To the right, the room had two long tables, one of which was covered with various potion ingredients and cauldrons, beakers, ladles, and bottles. Directly before them, the room Voldemort had entered, was a kitchen.

"What's that?" Harry muttered to Cousin Quigley out of the side of her mouth

"Kill me."

"How can he? He's dead."

"I know that. You know that. Even he knows that! It wouldn't stop him if he and Dominic were to team up together though."

Harry shot a quick look over her shoulder. "Dominic?" she asked curiously.

Cousin Quigley's blue eyes held a warning as they flickered over to Voldemort. He stepped close to Harry and dipped his mouth close to her ears. "We don't want him to know anything. Less is better." Again, his hands clasped her shoulders, as if to steer her forward. Instead, he pulled her shoulders back, slowing her steps. "We do have to get out of here. Now."

"Oh no," said Voldemort as he turned around. Cousin Quigley and Harry jumped guiltily. Voldemort smiled. It was a gentle smile, but it did not reach his eyes. "You must stay for tea." Something dangerous gleamed in his eyes. "I do so insist."

Pain flared briefly in Harry's scar. She gulped and looked over her shoulder at Cousin Quigley for guidance. Cousin Quigley's hands gripped her shoulders tighter. He leaned against her. "Knowing you the way we do," he said slowly to Voldemort, "please forgive us for being reluctant."

"And that," said Voldemort cheerfully, "is why I must insist you have tea with me. I am curious as to know why you two would know about me."

Harry felt the first inkling of anger stir in her chest. Cousin Quigley dropped his hands from her shoulders "Do you really want to know?" she asked. Voldemort turned around and walked over to the sink. He turned the faucet on as he reached for a tea kettle. Harry followed after him, her hands as tense fists at her side. In her mind, she easily recalled what he had done to her aunts, uncle, and cousin. How can any monster be so causal?

Cousin Quigley reached out and grabbed her arm. Harry jerked to a stop. She contemplated grinding her heel into his foot until he let go, but the pleading look he gave her calmed her anger enough for her to put aside the idea. Harry was not sure if she could take comfort in Cousin Quigley's presence. What would happen if Voldemort attacked them? Would Cousin Quigley defend her? Come to think of it, Harry was unsure what being a different gender did to her magic.

Voldemort moved to put the teakettle on the stove. With that finished, he turned around and observed Harry and Cousin Qu8igley with open hunger. "Now," he said with deceptive cheerfulness, "I believe now would be a good time for introductions. As you know, I am Tom Riddle."

Cousin Quigley and Harry exchanged puzzled looks.

"I'm Harry P--Evens." Harry cringed at stuttering out the lie, but she had switched abruptly because it was a bad idea to let him know what her real name was since she probably was not even born yet.

"Harry Pevens? An unusual name."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, well, so's Voldemort."

He chuckled softly at that. "It is, but it suits me well." He looked at Cousin Quigley, who flinched and dropped his gaze on the floor. "And you?"

"Um." Cousin Quigley shuffled his feet. "Um. I'm Quigley."

There was a slight pause as Voldemort waited for Cousin Quigley to continue. "Quigley what?" he asked softly.

"He," said Harry hurriedly, "is my cousin."

"Ah, yes." Voldemort smiled. "I can see the family resemblance."

Harry twisted around to look at Cousin Quigley with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Where?" Cousin Quigley's face fell. Harry looked away from him with disgust. "Never mind," she muttered.

Voldemort tilted his head to the side. "You two do not get along very well, do you?"

Cousin Quigley bowed his head. "No one gets along with me," he said mournfully. He looked at Voldemort from beneath his eyelashes. "I don't suppose I could have a hot toddy to go with the tea, may I? 'Tis a very cold night out."

Voldemort nodded his head in agreement. "Yes. It is very cold. I could do with one myself."

"It's not so much," Harry said to Cousin Quigley, "that I don't get along with you--it's that you're, well, you're like Francis said--you're dismal. Oh, don't give me that look. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. If you don't want to be thought as dismal, then try to be a little less dismal." Harry remembered something that Francis and Severus had told her earlier. "Don't slouch," she said. "Pull your shoulders back." She smiled proudly. "Look every inch the fine Hufflepuff that you are!"

Cousin Quigley looked at Harry as if to wonder if hypothermia was affecting her brain.

"Ah, a Hufflepuff!" Voldemort clapped his hands together. "A fine House! And you, Harry? What is your House?"

"Ah." Harry's eyes flickered over Voldemort's tall, dark form. "Well, the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin." She hesitated a moment. One of Voldemort's thin eyebrows arched upward. "But I didn't want to go because there was this atrocious boy who got Sorted into the Slytherin house before me."

Voldemort's lips pursed together. "How atrocious was he?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I'm sure that if I had pigtails, he would have dipped them in inkwells."

"But Harry," said Cousin Quigley, "boys generally only do that to girls if they like them." Harry's face turned red as she vividly remembered both the Draco of her reality, and the reality-jumping Draco who was accompanying them. Cousin Quigley thought about what he said, then looked at Harry's figure. "Oh."

The teapot whistled shrilly then. Voldemort turned to pick it off the stove. He turned the heat off with a single flick of the wrist. Humming off-tune beneath his breath, he turned to a cupboard to withdraw tea cups. He puttered about the kitchen, gathering the cream and sugar bowls close, as well as a bottle of liquor to add to the tea for a hot toddy.

With the condiments gathered next to the tea pot, Voldemort finally turned to Harry and Cousin Quigley. "How many lumps of sugar?" he asked.

Harry said nothing as she stared at him in wordless shock. This was the man who would devastate the British Wizarding world in only a few years? This was the man who killed her parents? This was the man who slaughtered Oliverand Anne and Jonathan? He was too domesticated.

And then it struck Harry why it was too difficult for her to comprehend how he could be so casual knowing what he was going to do in the future.

He didn't care about anyone beyond himself. "You," she said furiously, "are si--"

Cousin Quigley slapped his hand over Harry's mouth before she could continue. "Three for me," he said. "A bit of cream as well, and be liberal with the liquor." He gave the bottle an eager look, and then winced as Harry viciously bit his hand. "And I don't think Harry is in the mood for tea." Harry flayed her hands. Cousin Quigley threw his other arm around her shoulders, trapping her arms against her sides.

"Yes." Voldemort gave Harry a searching look. "It seems she would do something questionable to my tea cups." He glanced at the tea cup he held. "I find I am rather fond of my china." Harry snarled something behind Cousin Quigley's hand, and then elbowed him sharply in the side. Cousin Quigley grunted and rolled his eyes. "Someone," he gasped, "wants a body bind!"

Harry stiffened. Her eyes rolled in her head. She twisted around to give Cousin Quigley a glare that would have made Severus proud. "I'll let you up with you don't cause trouble," he promised.

Behind his hand, Harry screeched words that would have made Cousin Quigley blush. He sighed. "I don't want to do it, Harry, but I will cast the body bind if I must."

Harry quieted then, but she still glared at him. Cousin Quigley slowly dropped his hands. She harrumphed and crossed her arms before herself. She glared at him and Voldemort. Voldemort seemed unperturbed by Harry's anger. He handed Cousin Quigley the hot toddy. Cousin Quigley looked at the drink with an expression of profound happiness. He cradled it close with shining eyes.

The Bloody Baron popped into existence at Cousin Quigley's side. "WHAT ARE YOU DRINKING?"

Cousin Quigley jumped guiltily, and then shoved the drink into Harry's hands. She grabbed it in surprise as it sloshed over her hands. "I was only going to taste it!" Cousin Quigley cried as he covered his head and refused to look at the Bloody Baron.

The Bloody Baron shook with fury as he paced the kitchen between Voldemort and Cousin Quigley. "How DARE you--"

"Oh," Harry gave the Bloody Baron her glare from earlier. He froze in mid-pace. "You hush! All you do is complain and pop up to cause trouble!" She glared at the tea, and then took a quick gulp. It burned pleasantly as it slid down her stomach. "This isn't bad," she said thoughtfully as she took another sip. Cousin Quigley looked ready to burst into desperate tears as he stared hungrily at the tea cup.

"How good?" he asked. He ignored the Bloody Baron, who sputtered angrily. Harry finished the rest of the tea, and then handed the tea cup to Voldemort. He took it without touching her hand. "That's good." She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I could use another like that."

The Bloody Baron crossed his arms before himself as he looked around. "Why are we cavorting with the enemy?" he asked Cousin Quigley in a normal voice.

Cousin Quigley contrived to look guilty. "Because the enemy told us to come in, wipe our feet, but watch the first step because it was a doozy?"

"Or," said the Bloody Baron darkly as he leaned towards Cousin Quigley, "is it because the enemy offered you a drink."

Cousin Quigley guilty dug his toe in to the ground. "Not really," he said slowly.

"These are good," Harry said as she accepted the tea cup from Voldemort. He leaned against the stove and watched her with a hint of amusement. Reminded of the good Tom Riddle, Harry gulped down the hot toddy, and then held it out to Voldemort. One eyebrow went up at the speed she polished it off. She giggled as he took the tea cup from her. "This is all so very odd," she said as she giggled again.

The Bloody Baron looked at her. "Are you drunk?" he asked after a long moment.

Harry thought about that. "How much alcohol is going into these hot toddies?" she asked as she accepted another from Voldemort.

Voldemort glanced at Cousin Quigley as he replied. "A liberal amount."

Harry hiccupped as she finished the toddy. "Really good!"

"I think you've had enough," Cousin Quigley said as he gave the tea cup a pleading look.

The Bloody Baron sighed as he shook his head. "While Harry is getting drunk and you are here gallivanting with the enemy, Francis and the others are getting chased by heathen Indians who seem fascinated with the shade of Francis' hair." The Bloody Baron's smile was clear on how he rather enjoyed the idea of Indians chasing after Francis to render him scalpless.

"I think it is high time we are going," Cousin Quigley said to Harry as Voldemort grabbed the cup from Harry. Their fingers brushed against one another. Pain exploded in Harry's scar as Voldemort's flesh smoked and peeled. The tea cup fell to the floor and shattered. Voldemort's eyes flashed red and magic welled in the small kitchen like a swelling balloon. Harry toppled over backwards, off balance. She fell against Cousin Quigley, who grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her.

Cousin Quigley's voice was tense and high-pitched. "Defintelytimetogo! Bye!" He pulled Harry close and disappeared with a pop. The Bloody Baron looked stunned at Cousin Quigley's swiftness. And then he was bowled over by an explosion of magic.

author's notes: Blah. My joints hurt, I can't breath, and if I move, I think my head will fall off. Luckily, I don't believe in spreading my misery (or sickness, when I can help it).
The scene where Harry says she doesn't care if Voldemort himself opens the door, and he does of course, is something I have been burning to write since this whole reality-jumping began. =)
Although I have been quite busy in the past with my college classes, I have been working as steadily as I could with Pandora's Box. I've also been working on a few seperate ideas for future stories, most of which I won't actively write until this is finished. I don't plan on Pandora's Box being longer than thirty chapters. I shall also be, in a few hours, changing the story summery. It will be more clear than what Pandora's Box currently has.

Burning Light: The Mirror of Rebounds and pandora's Box were introduced on the spot purposely. You can't build up to someone's parting gifts when that someone departed rather abruptly, although I did plan on their having a purpose from early on in A Gutter Rat's Tale. Remember, Francis disappeared without any clue as to where he went and only the most blatant guesswork about his fate. I did plan on having him pulled into the future. There is also Severus' fate. By now, you know that Severus is Dominic's son. So how else could a wizard such as Severus possibly catch Pandotra's interest? Blood called to magic, but blood also called to blood. Severus did not know how he winded up on the streets, with no memories earlier than standing before a resteraunt's window with his fellow gutter rats. Perhaps the main reason the Mirror of Rebounds was not mentioned earlier was because I was still juggling the idea for depth and background. I didn't want to introduce it hastily, when I still did not have a very good idea as to what it was going to be like. I did try to leave openings for people to recognize if they ever were to reread A Gutter Rat's Tale. Pandora's Box was certainly never mentioned before, because it never existed until she used it to store Voldemort's power within.

I feel honored that anyone considers my story worthy enough to take the time and read. Time is an important accomadity, and I greatly appreciate knowing that people enjoy it, as I do love to entertain people.

Punisher: Unnatural darkness is an interesting concept, of and in itself. Most of the time, the potential for it exists, and while it can be nurtured for a certain concept, people often preempt themselves to their fates, so unnatural darkness can only really be nurtured for so much. Soymilk: