Hello again, and here is the next installment of my new obsession.

Harry Potter and Co. belong to J.K. Rowling; Severitus' Challenge (which this is kinda an answer to) belongs to Severitus; and if there was anything else, it would belong to me. Hm . . . maybe the plot?

Now, since I know there are probably a lot of people out there who, like me, don't bother to read the answers to the reviews at the bottom of the page, I have constructed a miniature FAQ:

Q1. What's with Henrietta and Harry and other-Harry and . . . argh! It's so confusing!! @.@
A1. Henrietta is Harry Potter from an AU in which she was adopted by the Malfoy family and the rest of the wizarding world believed that their child saviour had died. Until I named her, in order to refrain from giving away her name I called her other-Harry. Just for reference, as of this chapter the 'real' Harry will be called Harry, Harry Potter, or Jamie, while Henrietta will be known as Harry Malfoy, Harry Evans, Lucia, or (as rarely as she can get away with) Henrietta.

Q2. Slash or no slash?
A2. I've got a few (as in, like, three or maybe four) relationships figured out . . . I think. As it goes, one or maybe two are slash, two are not. Thus, there will probably be a bit of both. But until the characters are snogging their hearts out (and perhaps even then), I reserve the right to change my mind as to who gets whom. And no, no one is getting any hints! Currently, nothing much is going on, and it'll probably stay that way for a while. I don't do romance too well.

Q3. Oniisan? Japanese? Huh?
A3. This requires a bit more of a backstory. Henrietta grew up a pureblood, even if only by adoption. As such, she was encouraged to get a 'well-rounded' education, though her father really never paid quite as much attention to her as he did to Draco. For some reason, one of the languages she chose to learn (in addition to French), was Japanese. She was most likely attracted by its complexity and the uniqueness of its writing system.

So, to the point--she is fluent in spoken Japanese, although she does not know enough kanji to qualify as fluent in written Japanese as well. Oniisan, meaning older brother, is a nickname she attached to Draco when she was at the stage where she thought that nicknaming all sorts of things in Japanese was cool--even if she was the only one in the house that really knew it. And the name stuck, becoming a combination of pet name and inside joke.

Or, if you want the boring reason . . . I gave Nice!Draco that nickname so that I wouldn't be required to go to great lengths to refrain from giving him a name until I was ready to. To create a bit of suspense, I suppose you could say. :)
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~*~Gryffindor's Newest~*~
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A brief announcement, please. Breakfast the first day. Most people were there, and those who weren't would certainly receive the news through the school rumour mill. As Dumbledore had noted at the end of Harry's first year, it's supposed to be secret, so, of course, the entire school knows'. That went double for things that weren't hidden. I'd like to take a few moments to introduce a new student. He gestured and Harry Malfoy stood up.

They had discussed the matter with Snape and, surprisingly enough, he had raised several pertinent points. For one, he had pointed out that neither Lucius nor this particular Draco Malfoy would take too kindly to suddenly gaining a new member to their family--especially not one who was identical to the despised Boy-Who-Lived.

So Henrietta Lucia Malfoy was now Henrietta Lucia Evans. A distant cousin of Harry's who had been living in Japan--chosen because Harry Malfoy was effectively fluent in that language--for the last fourteen or so years. Certainly more believable than claiming that she was Harry Potter from a dimension in which she had been adopted, unknowingly, by the Malfoy family and the rest of the wizarding world had believed she was dead.

You forgot a part. She had said when he introduced' her to Snape. I'm not just the Child-Who-Lived. I'm the Child-Who-Lived-But-Was-Thought-To-Be-Dead,-Due-To-An-Unfortunate-Incident-Involving-A-Leaky-Bottle-Of-Ketchup. She said the whole thing in a single breath, then gasped.

How did you end up being named Harry', more or less, then, if the Malfoys didn't know who you were?

Oh, that . . . She grinned. According to Mother, she had no idea what to call me, although she was inclined toward Lucia. So she brought oniisan in to meet his new sister. He took one look at me, giggled, reached for the fluff on my head--already spiking all over the place--and said hairy!' And it stuck.

The two Harrys burst out laughing, and even Snape smiled.

This is Henrietta Evans. She's joining us this year from Japan as a new Gryffindor. I'd like you all to extend her a warm welcome.

So, I suppose you're in Slytherin? Harry asked idly. Snape had gone and come back with the good news that Survival would now be an official course this year. He was now at a desk in the corner of the room, sifting through and revising the lesson plans he had drawn up two years previous.

At this, he looked up slightly, before seeming to return his attention to the papers on his desk. His attention was now divided, though, between the papers and the conversation.

What gave you that idea? She asked, sounding almost angry. Is it because I'm a Malfoy? Honestly, Jamie . . .

That's not what I meant, Lucia. Harry groaned. They had decided, at least between themselves, that using middle names was easier than dealing with the weirdness of addressing someone who looked just like them with their own name. The other Harry had immediately shortened' James to Jamie; Harry hadn't quite gotten to the point where he was willing to shorten Lucia--a name he rather liked--to Lucy--a name that made him think of brainless blonde bimbos. Unfair, true, but no matter how he looked at it, he just couldn't see himself addressing the other Harry as Lucy'.

Well, sort of, but not in the way you mean. It's just, you know, the Hat would have put me in Slytherin if I had let it the muffled thud was Snape's jaw hitting the desk and I figured that, being a Malfoy, you wouldn't have objected, so it would have put you in Slytherin.

I wouldn't have objected. I was actually rather hoping for it, so that I'd be in the same House as oniisan. But the stupid Hat insisted that I would do best in Gryffindor. Didn't even mention Slytherin, actually. She pouted, then sighed. Unfortunately, it was probably right. I never would have become nearly such good friends with Hermione or Ginny or any of the others otherwise.

She smiled at the gather crowd, at ease among all these people she knew even though she really didn't. Not this incarnation. Hello, everyone. I'm really excited to be a part of Hogwarts this year. This is such a wonderful place, it feels like I know you all already. Her smile became a grin. I ask that you please call me Harry, though. Whenever I hear the name Henrietta', I immediately start looking around to see what I've done wrong now. That garnered some laughter.

Again, I can't thank you enough for welcoming me this way. I hope to have a wonderful year.
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Remus Lupin watched from the High Table. The resemblance between Harry Evans and Harry Potter was simply astounding. With the exception of their individual facial scars, they seemed completely identical. What's more, he passed her by on the way in, and she smelled identical to Harry, too, with the exception of certain gender-based pheromones. And . . . something familiar in the girl. Something he couldn't quite place . . .

No one smelled that similar. He had had younger brothers, once. Twins. And they had had a base scent far more different than these two Harrys. Something was going on.

And too, was the way there had been something worrying Harry the previous evening. He had been around the boy enough (even if that had been over a year ago now) to be able to pick up certain aspects of his body language. It had been subliminal worry, one that he had seemed unaware of, but most definitely a worry nonetheless. And now that worry had dissipated completely. Even the suppressed anger and sorrow that Lupin had associated with the events at the end of the previous year was . . . muted.

The girl, on the other hand, despite her outward cheer, looked to be holding in a very deep anguish of some sort. He had never seen anything like it. Or . . . no, that wasn't quite right. He had only once seen it, or, more specifically, felt it. The only thing he could compare this . . . almost aura . . . of hers to was the heartrending grief he had felt when he learned of James' death.

Then there was Snape. His greasy old schoolmate looked shellshocked, and Lupin didn't think that reaction was just because he now had to deal with two identical Harrys. He considered. Harry had changed, and the new Harry was far less likely to confide. He'd be more likely to get Snape to let something slip (though he was still doubtful as to what useful information Snape could possibly know about the situation)--at least there, he still knew the buttons to push.

He positioned himself so that he exited the hall at much the same time as the Potions Master. Rather well done, he thought, until Snape looked up. What do you want, werewolf?

Dang. I was just wondering what had happened. You're not yourself this morning. Even by morning standards. He smiled his nicest smile and crossed his fingers.

Sod off, Remus. Snape muttered. I'm not in the mood.

Aw, c'mon, Snapie. He pulled his best wheedling voice out of storage and brushed nearly twenty years' worth of dust off. Now you have me really curious. Promise I won't tell anyone. Another winsome smile. Ah, annoying Snape. It made him feel eighteen again.

Snape was doing a rather good werewolf impression himself. Fine. You're not going to leave me alone until you find out, are you? Lupin endeavored to look innocent. Somehow, he got the idea it didn't work too well. I learned last night that the Sorting Hat tried to put Harry Potter in Slytherin. Happy now? He turned on his heel and stalked away.

Lupin blinked. Well. And blinked again. Indeed.
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Self-consciously, Harry put his arm around his twin'. He knew from experience that, despite appearances, it took more time than she had had to recover fully from the effects of the Cruciatus. She said nothing, just tossed him a grateful look and leaned a bit further against him, though unobtrusively, allowing him to support her. They walked along toward Gryffindor together.

Ah, Mr. Potter, Miss Evans. A word, if you would? In unison, the two turned to face the Headmaster, whose voice it had been.

Yes, Headmaster? They both asked politely. When he said nothing else, only turned, they fell into step behind him, and continued that way until they reached his office and stepped inside.

Severus has told me that both of you would be interested in a course he is interested in offering. This is true?

Yes, Headmaster. This time, they were slightly out of synch, Lucia replying a fraction more quickly.

Good. Good. Now, Harry he blinked Potter, that is, I'm afraid you will be forced to drop both Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. You may pick another elective as you still have one free period; unfortunately, the right level of neither of those electives is offered at that time. He handed a slip of paper to each. Harry Potter, this is your modified schedule. Harry Evans, this will be your schedule for as long as you're with us. He smiled genially. You may both leave now. He paused. Actually, one thing if you would . . .

On the verge of turning away, the two returned their attention to the Headmaster. Seeing as this is a new elective, not many people know of its existence. If you would post this in your common room? He held out a small scroll of parchment. After exchanging a quick glance with his twin, Harry Potter stepped forward to take it.

Thank you, Headmaster. The two smiled and left.

Once outside the door, they looked at each other, shrugged, and continued on down the hall. So, what's your other elective? Harry asked, giving his schedule a cursory glance. His free period was now, Monday mornings.

Lucia replied quietly. The first year. She frowned slightly. There's a note on the schedule . . . the first class, today, has been canceled. I wonder why? A shrug. Anyway. I used to take Muggle Studies, but it's not offered at the right time. And this way . . . She trailed off.

I may just join you. Harry remarked. It sounds interesting enough, and there probably aren't too many other electives at the right time. This way . . . it's kind of a gesture of remembrance for your oniisan? I think Hermione mentioned something about him being in her class at one point. Harry shut his mouth abruptly. Sorry. I didn't mean . . . to remind you . . .

She sighed. I'll get over it . . . eventually. I won't be so hypocritical as to claim that I'm over his death already . . . heck, I'm not even over Cedric's death! . . . but I'm beginning to cope. She shook her head. But you've got to learn, Jamie, that not everything is your fault. Yes, you could have come through the mirror earlier--if you had even realized that it was possible!

But even then, there's the possibility that you would not have saved him. You might have just gotten yourself killed instead. What you said about my being a symbol of hope . . . well, that's at least ten times as true for you. Most people where I come from are still under the mistaken impression that Harry Potter is dead.

Harry made a noncommittal sound. I just wish . . . that I wasn't, sometimes. I mean, I have no problem with fighting evil and all that . . . erm, that is, no problem that can't be overcome by a suitable application of foolhardy Gryffindor bravery . . . but it's the expectations that weigh me down the worst.

I've known since I was eleven that everyone viewed me as something special, but somehow I've never quite seen it. He waved his hand around, as if indicating the whole of the world. Everyone expects that I will be the one to strike the finishing blow. Well, that's all well and good, I suppose, but what about everyone else. There are hundreds, thousands, at least of wizards who are far better trained and easily more powerful--at least right now--than I am. So, why me?

I don't have any relevant objection to striking the final blow; I like my revenge quite as well as anyone else, after all. I just wish it didn't sometimes feel like the entire wizarding world was just sitting around on their rears waiting for me to take care of the problem.

Lucia smiled slightly. I'm glad I never had to deal with that. Of course, I encountered a whole different sort of flack from both sides of the equation by being a Malfoy in Gryffindor, but at least the only expectations people had of me were to be a nasty Death Eater-in-training. And once they figured out that I wasn't, a lot of the ambivalence--and the unreasonable expectations--died down. Still . . .

Harry grinned suddenly, wryly. I wonder if there's a lesson in there somewhere. First Law of the Universe: Harry Potter's life must, in some way, form, or fashion, be crap.' He paused, then added, First Corollary: Home life must also be seriously screwed up.'

Lucia snorted. I would not be at all surprised.
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They managed to make their way into the common room fairly unobtrusively; most people had already come to get their supplies and left for their first class of the day. Of the fifth year Gryffindors, however, only those who took Ancient Runes (Hermione and, surprisingly enough, Seamus) were required to be anywhere the first class of the day.

Ron was seated in a chair over by the fire, staring moodily into the flames. Harry began to head in his friend's direction, before noticing a sudden stiffness in Lucia's posture. Shrugging, he reminded himself to ask her later. Then, something occurred to him. Lucia . . . he whispered, trying not to disturb Ron. . . . have you ever seen pictures of my parents? Ours, he tried to make his eyes say.

She shook her head. Come with me. His mood improved, he began the process of dragging Lucia up to the fifth year boys' dorm.

What are you, crazy? She hissed as he shut the door. Dean and Neville were off somewhere--Harry couldn't find it within himself to care, much less try and find out where--so the two had the dorm to themselves.

This is part of my subtle campaign to forcibly seduce you. He replied calmly, offhandedly, as he dug through his trunk. Sudden silence. His head raised and he rolled his eyes and sighed. That was something known as sarcasm, Lucia. No, I'm not crazy. I just wanted to show you something with less of a chance that the whole rest of the world would be watching. After a few minutes more of digging, he finally found and pulled out a rather large, leather-bound book. Here it is. Come on over, sit here. He patted a space on the floor next to him.

Lucia, who had been sitting on Ron's bed--right next to his--slumped down to the floor next to him. With a nearly silent sigh, her head fell to his shoulder. In an almost instinctive motion, Harry smiled. Lucia's presence by his side just felt so . . . so right. He would never have guessed how much better it made him feel just to know that there was someone who had been through nearly everything he had; who really could understand.

That's our father. He pointed out James Potter with a fond smile. I've heard that I look just exactly like a younger version of him, except with my mother's eyes, of course.

Perhaps you did before you grew your hair out. Lucia commented, looking between his face and the face of the grinning man in the pictures. She brushed a lock behind his ear. Now, though . . . She snorted. We look more like . . .

Like Snape! Harry laughed, throwing out the most unlikely name he could think of, the first that came to him.

It's true, now that you mention it. Lucia nodded. We do actually look a lot more like Snape than James Potter.

After a short pause, Harry brushed it off. Yeah. I bet it's the greasy hair, the fact that I haven't been outside nearly all summer, and my recent growth spurt. He made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. Damn, but I hate adolescence. I think it was created solely in order to convince children that no, they don't want to become adults after all.

Lucia's laughter was far from sympathetic. Finally, thankfully, she stopped. And that's our mother? She pointed out the young auburn-haired woman at James Potter's side. The resemblance is a lot more distinct there. The eyes, of course, but I think there's something of her nose and perhaps a bit of her facial structure in our faces as well.

They continued to flip through pages. Finally, as Harry reached the end, his thumb brushed against something he had never noticed before--the edge of the page was, in fact, two. Gently, he pried the two apart. Within were pictures he had never seen before. Oh, Lucia, look! There's a picture of all the Marauders!

The what?

Harry blinked. You know, the Marauders.

Oh, right. The ones that created that map of Fred and George's. How do you know what they looked like?

Harry blinked again. You don't know? He squeaked. Embarrassed, he tried again. How could you not know about the Marauders? Surely you know about Sirius Black being your godfather . . .

The murderer who wasn't actually one? I heard his story out, then decided to believe him. Oniisan thought I was absolutely nuts, but I let him go. We correspond occasionally, but he certainly never mentioned being my godfather.

Harry hit his head with the palm of his hand. Duh. Of course you wouldn't know. Sirius is Harry Potter's godfather, not Harry Malfoy's. He probably didn't ever figure out that you were one and the same, not as a Malfoy.

Lucia nodded. So, Sirius is one of the Marauders? I assume that's him. She pointed out a somewhat taller and rather more conventionally handsome looking black-haired man. You--our father was one. The brown-haired young man, he's . . . Professor Lupin? She pursed her lips. And the fourth. Peter Pettigrew . . . Wormtail? But how? I thought the Marauders were good.

Harry frowned darkly. Indeed. Padfoot, Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail. He touched his finger lightly to each picture in turn. They should have been. But Wormtail was too weak. Or jealous. Or something. And he turned.

He caused the death of our parents. Lucia's hand closed over his own. Don't worry, Jamie. We'll get him. Someday. She stood, somewhat shakily. Now, what do you say we go explore a bit? See if we can discover any new rooms.

I'm game. He, too, stood. They wandered out of the room, leaving the album open on the floor behind them.

In the last picture, a young Lily Evans sat, leaning against a tree, engrossed in the book she held in her hands. After a time, a young man wandered onto the scene. Holding an apple, he glided over to where she sat and lowered himself beside her.

His chin hovering slightly above her shoulder as he munched distractedly on the apple, he too began to read. Her only indication that she noticed his presence at all, one of her hands raised and gently tucked a lock of long, straight, intensely black hair behind his ear.
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They wandered along the halls, careful to try to avoid the ones in which classes were currently being taught. In low tones--more to avoid disturbing the ambiance of the halls than to avoid being overheard; who was around to overhear them, after all?--they discussed their lives, marveling at the similarities and examining the differences closely for reasons.

So if no one knew you were Harry Potter, then how did you become the fourth Triwizard Champion? Harry asked, intrigued.

Lucia brought her free arm around to rub embarrassedly at the back of her neck. That. Well, Harry Potter did become the fourth Champion, but no one stepped forward to claim that they were him'. I was actually the fifth, technically.

But how?

That's the embarrassing part. You see, oniisan, Hermione and I snuck down one night to enter our slips. We used the Invisibility Cloak, then used the Floatation Charm to waft our slips past the Age Line and over the Goblet. Then we dropped them. Thing is, I had been kind of distracted when I wrote mine out. So I ended up being the only entrant for Howgarts. Her face was red with embarrassment.

Harry laughed. He couldn't help it. He finally gasped out. But . . . becoming a Triwizard Champion . . . because of a spelling mistake? He chortled. It's just too funny!



They came upon a door. Like the intrepid explorers they were--or foolhardy Gryffindors at least--they opened it and peered inside. Darkness.

Muttered by two voices at the same time with the same intonation. The two lights flared, brighter than had ever been summoned before by either, before dimming back down to their usual strength. Blinking spots out of their eyes, the two shared a curious glance. Unable to think of any good reason why that had happened, they shrugged and dismissed it, turning instead to look around the room.

It was a smallish room, and rather cluttered with all manner of things. Mostly old, nearly all broken. The only intact object in the room seemed to be an old trunk, so it was towards that the two automatically headed.

Y'know, Jamie, there could be something seriously nasty hidden in there. Lucia commented idly. Harry grunted. Yeah, I didn't figure you cared either. So go ahead, open it.

As the lid was lifted, they found the trunk disappointingly empty, not noticing a darkish misty substance that drifted upwards. Indeed, they had nearly turned to leave when Lucia, looking briefly upward, caught sight of something that made her whimper. Harry looked in that direction, but saw nothing harmful, only the moon.

Only the moon. There was something wrong with that statement. But what?

Oh, right. There was no such thing as the moon appearing indoors. Silly Harry. But then, what was this moon doing here? He noticed for the first time that Lucia clung to him, hiding her face against his chest. Evidently, though, this moon did not achieve the reaction it was looking for. It began to waver again, shifting to something else.

Shifting. A boggart. Of course. Then it completed its shift, and Harry felt cold shivers run down his back. A dementor. Already, the screams began. He closed his eyes and brought out his wand, unconscious of the fact that Lucia had moved away from him and was doing the same thing.

Happy memory. Happy memory.

Ah!

. . . he took one look at me, giggled, reached for the fluff on my head--already spiking all over the place--and said hairy!' And it stuck.

Both Harrys laughed.

And even Snape smiled.

It was a scene of quiet comfort. Strange, that Snape could be associated with something of that nature. But . . . in his fifteen years of life, he felt that that moment was perhaps the closest he had ever come to obtaining something that he had always, deep in his heart, wanted.

A family. And . . . home.

Home.

EXPECTO PATRONUM!

Light. Brighter than that of a thousand Lumos'. A light that felt like it was burning away his eyes even through the scant protection his eyelids provided. Slowly, the light began to fade, eventually reaching the point where he felt it safe enough to crack open an eye.

Utter and complete darkness. Oh. Of course. The lights they had summoned had gone out. This time, although he blinked his eyes shut just in case, there was no unexpected flare. He looked around. No trace of the boggart.

Did we just do what I think we just did? Lucia asked in a hushed, almost awed voice.

Get rid of a boggart. Without using Riddikulus. By using the Patronus Charm, which supposedly only works on dementors. Harry's voice was flat with disbelief. Bloody hell. That was . . . that was . . . He obviously couldn't find any words that came even close to describing his feelings about the situation. Has your Patronus ever done something like that before?

Even before she shook her head, he had known what her answer would be. She just looked too shocked. About as shocked as he felt, and probably looked as well.

I think. Her voice a bit shaky. His had probably been too, but he had been too . . . well, shaken . . . to notice. That I would like to return to Gryffindor Tower now.

He nodded. Perhaps a bit too fervently. That sounds like a wonderful idea. She returned to his side and they each wrapped an arm around the other, a position they had quickly become accustomed to.

At the doorway, Harry suddenly remembered the first shape the boggart had become and turned to frown, puzzled, at his twin'. Lucia . . . He could think of no good way to find out, except to ask. . . . are you a werewolf?

Her eyebrows raised in considerable surprise. A puzzled look began on her face as well. Of course. Then, more cautiously, Aren't you?
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. . . Look, I'll sneak around in the depths of darkness when it's necessary, but that doesn't have to mean that I think it's right. Frankly, I see it as cheating and . . . well, wrong. If I thought I could have gotten away with it during the day, I never would have even considered sneaking out that night.

I don't see why. It's only sensible to use what concealment is available when it's available. And to try to arrange events so that it is available.

Remus Lupin, wandering down the hall, vaguely in the direction of his rooms, stopped as the sounds of conversation fell upon his ears. He'd have thought that most students would be in class right now--or if not there, then in their particular Houses. What were two doing out wandering the halls?

But . . . it's not honourable.

It's sensible. If, say, Wormtail were to appear in front of you right now with his back turned, and you had your wand in your hand, are you trying to tell me that you'd warn him? Lupin's interest in the conversation sharpened tenfold. They had mentioned Wormtail, when most students here didn't even know of his existence.



You're crazy, Lucia.

As are you, Jamie. Shall we just agree to disagree?

I suppose so. I certainly seem to be having about as much luck convincing you--

--as I am at convincing you. Indeed.

The two turned a corner, bringing them face to face with Lupin. He blinked. Just listening to them, it had almost been like hearing a Slytherin and a Gryffindor--if, that is, it ever came to pass that someone from each House could bear to hold a civil conversation with their rivals . . . dealing with such volatile subjects as their individual frames of mind, even!

Instead, what (or rather, who) he found in front of him was Harry . . . and Harry. Potter and Evans.

The two blinked, identical eyes that looked rather different than he remembered them being, although he could not pinpoint the difference. In fact, Harry as a whole looked rather more different than he remembered. He no longer looked like a carbon copy of James Potter. Still, he somehow managed to look even more Harry than before.

Hullo Professor Lupin. The two chorused. . . . erm, I mean, Remus. The Harry on the left, the male one, Harry Potter, added guiltily. Both looked rather dusty, somewhat mussed up, and rather more tired than they really ought to be at this time of day.

Good morning, Harry. He returned cordially. No class this morning, I suppose?

A cheery smile. Herbology after lunch, but we're free until then. I was just showing Lucia around.

He wondered where that particular nickname had come from. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Evans. He cringed inwardly. That last name just didn't sound right attached to anyone but Lily . . . even if the person in question did have Lily's eyes.

It is a pleasure to meet you as well. She said with a smile. It was Harry's smile, just as the intonation was Harry's and the voice, if it had been only a bit lower in pitch, could also have passed for Harry's. It was rather disconcerting. Jamie has told me much about you. The smile changed, subtly, to Lily's I know something, but I'm not telling you, so there' smile, brimming with hidden mischief.

So, how are negotiations going? Harry asked. Anything interesting that's not, you know, top secret confidential or anything?

Frankly, nothing has happened yet, much less anything that would be sensitive enough to be confidential. Lupin said with a deprecating laugh. Negotiations haven't even really started yet. I think Dumbledore wanted to wait until all the House Heads were back from vacation so that he could consult with them as well--and that necessitated waiting until the school year began.

Harry's eyes narrowed in sympathy. Ouch. Having to present in front of Snape? I weep for you, Remus.

The girl elbowed him sharply. Honestly. Snape is not that bad. Confronted with two frankly disbelieving looks, she threw her hands up in the air. I give up! Jamie, I'll meet you back at the Tower. I need a shower. She brushed one hand through her hair in evident disgust, turned on her heel, and left.

Lupin asked.

Harry shrugged. We figured that it would be easier than referring to each other as Harry'. That would be just too weird. For some reason, she insists that I look more like a Jamie than a James. I haven't bothered to argue.



They stood, a few feet away from each other, for a moment longer. I probably ought to go on, too. Harry finally said. In case she . . . forgets the password . . . or something. A brief laugh. Not to mention the fact that I probably ought to get a shower as well. He lifted locks of straight black hair that fell limply back against his face as soon as he let go. I'm beginning to feel like Snape.

Don't tell me the Great Harry Potter is turning into a greasy slimeball?! Lupin gasped, hand to his heart. Your father must be spinning in his grave! Both laughed.

The problem, Lupin reflected, as he watched Harry walk off, was that Harry was beginning to look rather like Snape. And he had no idea how, why, or even if it was nothing more than his overactive imagination.
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It was Remus, wasn't it.



But . . . the Wolfsbane Potion . . .

Does not take effect until one transforms fully into the wolf. On the night of a full moon, I foolishly went to try to find him, to get help for one of my DADA assignments. I entered just as he was in the middle of transforming. Maddened, insane, animalistic, he struck out with the claws that had already come out and slashed me across the chest.

She unbuttoned her robes just enough to where she could pull down the neckline far enough to show him. Much like her scar, they were pale lines that nevertheless stood out against her only slightly less pale skin. Four, diagonal, across the right side of her chest just below her shoulder. He winced sympathetically. She covered herself back up and continued.

As soon as he realized what he had done, he sunk into a morass of guilt, despite the fact that the fault was entirely my own. Once he was brought to the point where he could look at me without turning away in shame at his own actions, though, he provided an invaluable help to me in my process of adjustment.

Who knew? I mean, considering the uproar when certain people found out that Lupin was a werewolf at the end of the year . . .

Hermione and oniisan, of course. I could hardly hide from them the fact that I fell ill once a month--'Mione would probably have figured it out almost right away anyway, and oniisan would have found out when our parents were told at the very latest. She pursed her lips. Um. Dumbledore--it was another one of those situations where you got the idea that he already knew.

Harry nodded. He could sympathize with that sort of feeling.

Oh, and Professor Snape.



Her look had what are you, stupid?' written all over it. He had to know to brew more Wolfsbane Potion. She explained patiently. Now Harry really did feel stupid.

Well, this Snape doesn't know. Harry said, rather unnecessarily. He perked up. So, what do you look like?

According to Professor Lupin--for obvious reasons, he's the only one around when I change--I'm a very deep black. We think I have the same green eyes, but as a wolf he's somewhat colorblind in that area of the spectrum, so we don't know for sure.

Harry cocked his head to one side. I wonder what I'll be.

What are you talking about, Jamie? Whatever you're thinking . . . it's insane, isn't it.

Well, you know, you really ought to have some company. And with the negotiations and all, Remus isn't always going to be around--especially if you don't want to tell him. So, since even with the Wolfsbane Potion, it's not necessarily all that safe for me to be around you as a human, I figured I'd take a leaf out of my father's book and become an illegal Animagus.

Lucia groaned, turned, and started hitting her head gently against the wall. I knew it. Jamie, you are absolutely insane.

The black-haired boy looked not at all phased by her judgment of his character. Thank you!
**
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Throughout Herbology (with the fifth-year Ravenclaws, for a change), Harry had caught Lucia sending Ron suspicious looks. He might not be the brightest at figuring out relationships, but even he could figure out a hint that obvious.

Walking back toward the dorm, he slowed down. Lucia matched paces with him, head tilted slightly in question. As soon as the rest were out of sight, he turned to her. Does Ron know? He asked.

Why on Earth would I tell that . . . that . . . she spluttered. Well, anything?! He'd have found a way to get me expelled if he had caught even a hint!

Ron?! Are we talking about the same person here? Ron would never do something like that!

Of course he would. The first time we meet, okay, he seems rather nice. I'd heard everything Father had to say about the Weasleys, of course, but I didn't put much thought into it. I mean, I already knew he was wrong about Muggles. She shrugged. And then oniisan comes to sit with me like we had arranged.

So, everything seems to be going fairly well, until oniisan introduces himself. Then the prat totally flies off the handle, saying that I was trying to trick him into something nasty or something like that! She threw her hands up in the air. It's like being a Malfoy made me lower than dirt to him!

And then, we end up in the same House! He's been trying to make my life hell ever since! She smirked. Especially when I got made Seeker, the position that he wanted. Best part of Quidditch, being able to shove in his face that I'm a better flier than him.

Harry shook his head. I've been friends with Ron since my first day. Sure, he sometimes jumps to conclusions and he has a bit of a temper, but I've never known him to hold a grudge for that long. Except against Malfoy. A part of his mind whispered. Yeah, well, Malfoy deserves it. He answered back, uncomfortably aware that the retort didn't feel nearly as sure as he had meant it to. It sounds to me almost like Ron and Malfoy switched attitudes.

Don't tell me that Weasley is the one that guided you through the wizard chess match back in first year?

Yes, in fact, he did. Harry sighed. Look. You've got to believe that my Ron is different. I suppose it's too much to expect that the two of you would become friends, but . . . could you at least stop glaring at him so, well, openly?

I'll try. She sighed. Then her eyes widened. Him and oniisan switching attitudes . . . does that mean . . . 'Mione and . . . him?!

Her resounding echoed through the now-empty hall. Making the connection, Harry found he could only just barely restrain himself from joining in. Hermione . . . and Malfoy?

That was just plain sick.
**
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When's the next full moon?

Lucia closed her eyes. If the lunar cycle is the same in both worlds, it should be in about two weeks. Fifteen days, to be exact. She raised an eyebrow. Plotting out just exactly how obsessively you're going to have to study in order to be an Animagus in time?

Actually, I was trying to figure out how much time we had in which to inform Snape of your condition'. But that works too. Harry grinned.

Lucia sighed. Have I told you that you're insane recently?

Not in the last five minutes. Harry chirped.

You were right about informing Professor Snape. The sooner that gets done, the better. I just keep on forgetting that he doesn't already know. She nodded firmly. I'll go do that now. No, you don't have to come with me. I am my own person, and I can take care of myself just as well as you can, you know.

Yeah, I know . . . I'm just worried, you know? You're the closest thing I have to real family, and now that I know you, I don't want to lose you. Harry sighed. But . . . I know that being treated like that would drive me absolutely nuts--and I'm certain I'd be much less nice about it than you have been. I'll try not to smother you quite so much. He grinned. After all, I should know better than anyone that Harry Potter can take anything life throws at him--or her. Or so the popular mythology goes.

They reached a split in the corridor. One branch headed in the general direction of the dungeons, the other more towards the main section of the school and Gryffindor Tower. See you later, Lucia.

Later, Jamie. They each turned in their own separate directions and walked away.

Upon reaching Gryffindor Tower, Harry was sprung upon by two very familiar people. Hermione cried, apparently offended. A dream! Really, I'd have thought you could confide the real reason in us. How long have you known Miss Evans, really?

It was the truth! Just not the whole of it. I dreamed of her on my birthday, only since we look so much alike, I thought I was dreaming about myself. I never met her face-to-face until last night. It just feels like we've known each other forever.

So what's your schedule like? Ron snitched it easily from his pocket. What? You've dropped Divination? You're leaving me to suffer alone?! His voice was plaintive. And what's this Survival' you have marked on here?

Instead of answering directly, Harry took out the notice Dumbledore had given him to post on the common room bulletin board. He walked over and posted it in the center of the so far empty board with a quick, simple sticking charm.

Ron and Hermione wandered over behind him, reading the notice over his shoulder. Three times a week for one class? Are you insane, Harry? His redheaded friend asked.

He rolled his eyes skyward. Why do people persist in asking me that? I'm taking Survival because I think it will be useful to me, and I dropped Divination because I didn't have room to keep them both. Care of Magical Creatures just didn't fit in my schedule--it was at the wrong time. I'm thinking of taking up Arithmancy instead.

Good for you, Harry. Hermione smiled. Arithmancy is a quite educational course. And after all, of what possible use could Divination be, anyway?

An easy good grade? Ron offered helpfully. Sorry, Harry, but I don't think I'll be joining you. Three times a week is just a bit much--you'll have practically no free time at all!

Hermione, too, looked regretful. I'd like to join--assuming they're still taking new students--but I'd have to get rid of too many of my other classes. Harry assumed Snape was still taking new students, as the class had only been made a part of the curriculum the previous evening.

He was rather regretful that his friends would not be joining him in the class--he'd probably need all the moral support he could get, with Snape teaching the course--but at least Lucia would be there.
**
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She knocked on his office door timidly. If this Professor Snape was anything like hers, he would have left the classroom as soon as possible for the sanctity of his office. That is, excepting the times when he had detentions to supervise.

Potter. What do you want?

Same irritated voice. She smiled at the familiarity. Some things, it seemed, never changed. That's Evans, sir. She corrected mildly, looking up into his face. The man was far too tall for her liking--especially being such a midget as she was. She kept hoping she'd grow out of it eventually.

Did his face soften slightly? It was rather hard to tell; she had never grown very adept at reading her secretive Potions instructor.

Could we talk inside, please? She requested, glancing around the hallway. No one was around, but she still felt a bit on edge. Perhaps it was just the sheer strangeness of talking in the doorway like this. Her Snape knew her well enough that he would let her in without a second thought.

After a long moment, he nodded curtly. Come in.

She followed him back in, closing the door softly as she entered fully into the room. Once inside, she made a beeline for the further away of the two more comfortable chairs that made this office their home. Thank you, Professor.

You're welcome, I suppose. Funny. He hadn't been thanked this much in years. You seem to know your way around my office rather well. Were you really that close to my counterpart? Him, acting as a father-figure towards a Gryffindor?! The thought still boggled him.

She cocked her head. I wouldn't call it close, exactly. You were just . . . always around. I'd come to you with my problems--the more serious of them, at least--because you were the professor I felt most comfortable confiding in, you being oniisan's godfather and all. We'd talk, and you'd berate me for being a stupid, foolhardy Gryffindor who always thought with her heart instead of with her head like a normal, sane, reasonable person. She grinned.

Snape honestly couldn't help the very slight upward curve to his lips. The sentiment . . . even the presumed inflection . . . was so very himself, after all. That word, though. He never had quite figured out what it meant. What does oh-knee-sahn mean?

She looked genuinely startled. It's Japanese for older brother. It's what I always call . . . called . . . my brother. Her eyes darkened. His birthday was in early October. My parents had no idea what my birthday was, so they decided to make it the day my mother found me--Halloween, that is. So, in effect, I've lived my life thinking I was about nine months older than I actually am.

She smiled slightly, and Snape found himself surprised that he was relieved that the darkness had faded somewhat from her eyes. It's going to be so strange, not turning sixteen until next July. We always held joint birthday parties, oniisan and I. This will be my first birthday without him since . . . well, my first birthday.

He really meant a lot to you, didn't he? What am I doing? Snape was never this sympathetic, not even to his first-years.

He was my life. She said quietly. . . . I guess I now have conclusive proof that I was his, too. We were such total opposites--myself, Gryffindor and dark to his Slytherin and pale. Yet we never argued. A halfhearted smile. Except those times when he bawled me out for acting insanely Gryffindor'. Those sessions would turn into shouting matches, as Hermione stood off to the side and tried her hardest to get us calmed down.

Her smile was becoming more real now. Usually around that time, you'd glide up and fix us with one of your long-suffering Looks and say, Dear me, what trouble have you just gotten yourself out of now? A point off, Miss Malfoy, for being insufferably Gryffindor. See that it doesn't happen again.'

Snape snorted. That, too, sounded like him . . . except it sounded too, well, lighthearted. Almost teasing. He began to suspect that, beneath the surface, there truly were a certain number of differences between himself and the other Snape.

They settled into a comfortable silence. Was there a reason you came down here? Snape asked, finally. Surely she hadn't come just to talk to him.

She looked down at her hands, suddenly ill-at-ease. That's right. I feel so at home here that I keep forgetting that you're not the professor I've grown up around. She brushed her left hand through her short hair. I'd like to come back some other time just to talk, but you're right, I did have a purpose in coming here. You're going to need to keep a larger stock of Wolfsbane Potion.

Snape's brows furrowed. Is the Dark creatures', he said the words with a delicate sarcasm that reflected more subtly the same disdain towards that particular title that Harry had shown, delegation going to increase? I hadn't heard anything.

She shook her head, no. What then? Professor Snape . . . I, too, am a werewolf.
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Kaji, Patchfire, Ice, Dynast's Girl, Annie P, Creamy Mimi-- Thanks! ^_^

PiperX--I dunno. Remember, Harry is a bit stressed. He's been having weird dreams of himself as a girl and reliving Voldemort's rebirth every night. Then, Cho asked him how Cedric died--as if that, not Voldemort, were important. Since I think that's rather how Harry feels about the situation, too, I think it was just too much for him . . . and the dam broke.

Artemisu--I think, in this case, the chapter speaks for itself. :)

Hana-chan--I hope that the explanation, though something of a cop-out, was at least semi-satisfactory? -_-;; About nice Draco . . . yeah. *mourns* I really really really wanted to save him . . . but . . .

AtieJen--Glad you like it! Survival is going to be fun. I've already got Snape's introductory speech planned out in my head . . . *chortles evilly* . . . and the first class activity . . . BWAHAHAHAHA!

nixale--It's all up in the air. And I'm keeping it that way for now.

Laurie--Henrietta/Lucia is only Draco's adopted sibling. No actual blood connection . . . unless, that is, Draco and Sev are related somehow. Hm . . .

10 September 2002