There was little to distinguish Room 11 from its brethren. The headboard of the comfortable bed and the doors of the wardrobe were solid oak, polished to a mirror gleam. Its fireplace crackled cheerily with a warm, orange flame, and its window afforded a view of the hustle and bustle below. Any seasoned travel critic would have judged it to be simply adequate.
Although he had spent but a single night there, he considered it nirvana. He knew that it was not much larger than the closet under the stairs, but it represented far more than what was contained by its four walls. He felt as though the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt as though a light had dispelled the darkness of his despair. He had finally found the treasure of Pandora's Box. He finally had hope.
While he had escaped his incarceration at the Dursleys', he was not truly free. He had promised the Ministry of Magic that he would not venture into muggle London. However, the wizarding world was open to him. The entirety of Diagon Alley was his to explore, and he had the rest of the summer holiday to do so.
Worries over being expelled for underaged magic melted away under the spray of hot water as Harry indulged in the freedom of a satisfying shower. Its cleansing warmth was a far cry from the frigid moments his aunt allowed; those brief minutes needed for the boiler to catch up were all he had known from the muggle world. For the first time since stepping off the Hogwarts Express, Harry was feeling both relaxed and unencumbered.
Harry was, therefore, in high spirts, when he left his room to make his way downstairs for breakfast. As he had learned to expect, things did not go according to plan. Harry was just passing an open doorway when the surprise jumped him in the guise of a large, black, slobbery, and overly friendly dog.
"Gahhh!" was all that Harry managed to get out before his back met with the floor
"Snuffles!" a laughing voice called out from the room. "Let him up!" The voice wasn't one that Harry recognized, yet it was familiar for no apparent reason.
Not wanting to appear rude despite feeling immensely relieved that the animal behaved more like Fang and less like Ripper, Harry let out a relieved laugh as he climbed to his feet. "I'm okay. He just caught me off guard."
"He's happy to see you again," the voice said
"I've never met him before," Harry protested, peering into the room to see a man dressed in muggle clothes sitting at a food-laden table for two, with one empty seat.
"You've met him before," the man said. "That is an important part of what I need to talk to you about."
Tilting his head slightly as he observed the stranger, Harry asked. "Do I know you? You seem familiar."
"You do." The man smiled grimly. "Unfortunately, when you figure it out, it will give you far too many reasons to distrust me."
Harry took a step backward at those words. "I need to head downstairs for breakfast. It was nice meeting you."
"I've ordered room service." The man gestured at the table. "You won't go hungry. Besides, I figure I owe you at least one good meal before the end."
"End?" Harry's panic and determination leaked into his voice. He started to backpedal only to find that the large dog had planted its forehead into the small of his back and was pushing him forward. There was a desperate grab for the doorframe as they passed it, an attempt that was ultimately futile.
Smiling and probably inwardly laughing at the scene, the man offered some respite. "That did sound wrong, now that I think about it. I meant my end, not yours."
"You're dying?" Harry asked, finally managing to brace himself against any further forward movement.
"Something like that," the man admitted. "Let's not dwell on it, though. Have you figured out who I am yet?"
Harry split his attention between the man and the dog who had hurried over to close the door. "I'd feel better if you'd let me out." He ventured, "I'm sure I'd think something up if we went downstairs for breakfast."
"No can do." The man said, "This needs to stay private. Don't look so nervous; hurting you is the furthest thing from my mind. If it helps any, you can do magic while I can't. Heck, I can't even find this pub without having one hand on Snuffles here."
Harry narrowed his eyes at the stranger.
"Don't forget; the trace doesn't work in high magic areas. Besides, you are always allowed to use magic in self-defense, something you should have been told a long time ago. If you are threatened, curse first. Then, when the citation comes, write back saying you dispute the charge and are willing to submit a memory of the incident."
"What do you want?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"To help," the man said, leaning forward to place his forehead in his hands. "Talking to you is my last and, arguably, most important task."
Harry scrunched his brow in concentration as his memory was tickled, letting him make a leap of intuition. "Uncle Vernon has a brother? I didn't know he had a brother."
"Took you long enough to catch the family resemblance." The man smirked. "I'm not his brother; I'm his only son."
"Dudley?" Harry's eyes shot wide open.
The man only nodded.
Having heard more than enough, Harry bolted for the door. With a herculean tug he tried to wrench it open, only to find that the dog was lying against it, preventing his egress.
"I know I deserve that reaction." Dudley wilted. "I can't blame you, but it still hurts to think that I used to be someone capable of eliciting that response."
Harry stared at the man in disbelief.
"Harry," Dudley said, "Hermione did not send me back in time just so our past history would cause you to run away."
Harry gave the dog's collar a few fruitless tugs. "Likely story. How do I know Hermione was the one who sent you?"
"Calm down," Dudley said. "I have a long list of things to tell you to prove my good intentions. Now take a seat; she wants you to take notes."
Harry let go of the dog's collar and let his shoulders droop with a sigh. "Yeah. Hermione sent you all right."
Dudley had a surprised look on his face as he watched the boy shuffle over to take a seat at the table. "Seriously? That's all it takes?"
"You've meet Hermione."
"I . . . can't argue that point with you, but still."
Harry sighed again and picked up a piece of toast. "Please pass the marmalade." After receiving the jar, he added, "What was it you wanted to tell me?"
Dudley gestured meaningfully at the quill and parchment conveniently placed nearby. "You have just thrown me for a loop," He admitted. "I expected getting you to listen would be more of a headache."
"I can't get out and you haven't tried to kill me yet." Harry reached for the bacon. "I've got nothing to lose by hearing you out."
"Right, then." Dudley nodded. "First things first, so you know, I've already put plans in place so you won't have to go back to my parents' house, no matter what that old man says."
Harry's head snapped up. "Really?"
"Yes. Secondly . . ."
"You're not having me on?"
"No."
"I don't have to go back?"
"No, you don't but we have other . . ."
"Okay, I'm willing to forgive you for being a lifetime git."
The dog whined from next to Harry's chair, having abandoned his position in front of the door.
"Harry listen!" Dudley showed a hint of his former temper. "Don't trust Dumbledore! Go see your goblin account manager! Go to the pet store; your mother's cat survived the attack and he will be Hermione's familiar. Half knuckles live a long time. You need to trust Sirius Black and put Remus Lupin on the right track. You have several items to find and destroy. Change your electives; don't go for the easy choices." By his last word he was clutching his head, the tears flowing freely. "Too much, too fast," he muttered.
"Are you sure I don't have to go back?" came an excited voice.
"Will you write down what I told you already?"
There was no sign of a sigh as the boy reached for the quill.
There was an unexpected envelope waiting on the desk for Amelia Bones when she entered her office first thing that morning. "Unexpected" really wasn't the proper word. "Dreaded" was much more accurate. It was from the records department and having something from them this early was not normally a good sign. After all, they had standing orders to expedite reporting any major status changes for any and all of her personnel. The downside to this was that there generally were really only two such changes that happened after hours without any prior warning. Since, as far as she knew, none of her force or their wives were expecting, the odds that this was a notice of someone qualifying to be called a parent were slim. No, it was more likely the other sudden status change, the inevitable one.
With a steady hand, hard earned from experience and not a little emotional fatigue, Madam Bones reached for the envelope. She was making plans to clear her schedule and personally contact the next of kin before she even broke the seal on the missive. With control earned after years of practice, she held down her bile as she scanned the change of status notification that spoke of an alteration in one of her subordinate's lives.
Then, slowly, Amelia Bones blinked.
A second passed before she looked around her office as if searching for answers that weren't there. Finding nothing, she looked back down at the parchment in her hands. Another slow blink followed as Amelia took a minute to absorb the news.
The words "what the bloody hell" were never spoken, despite hanging heavily in the air. One thing was certain; Amelia Bones needed answers. Therefore, she was going to get answers.
Turning on her heels, Madam Bones stormed from her office to scrutinize the main Auror area. Within seconds, her eyes locked upon the new recruits milling about in an aisle, awaiting their instructor and the start of their day. Heedless of the fact that she had already drawn the attention of her more observant Aurors, Amelia Bones initiated the encounter.
"Mrs. Black!"
More than one looked at her inquisitively, excluding the object of her irritation.
Taking a deep breath, Madam Bones barked louder. "Mrs. Black!"
The entire room quieted, an instinctual understanding that the boss lady was not happy swept through the room. Yet, the person being addressed made no hint of answering.
"NYMPHADORA!"
A flash of anger streaked across the pink haired woman's face, but was quickly schooled. It was replaced by shock as the woman pointed at herself as if to ask, "Who me?"
"Care to explain?" Madam Bones demanded, marching up to the intimidated recruit. Anyone would have been forgiven for mistaking which of the two was a few inches taller by the way the director loomed over the recruit.
"Yes ma'am. No ma'am. Explain what, ma'am?" stammered the woman, positive she was about to lose her job.
Not one to beat around the bush, Madam Bones showed faked patience as she asked, "Your marriage?"
"What?" asked Nymphadora Tonks.
"I asked if you cared to explain your marriage," Madam Bone snarled.
"Ah… What?" came the intelligent reply.
"Your marriage," Madam Bone prompted, her voice barely above a whisper yet clearly audible in the unnaturally quiet abode of the Aurors.
"Um . . . Who am I married to?"
"Are you telling me that you managed to snag the Boy-Who-Lived and had no knowledge of it?" Madam Bones snarled.
Nymphadora Tonks stared at her boss with wide eyes. Then, slowly a smile spread across her lips. "You almost had me," she said, "right up to the 'Boy-Who-Lived' part. I didn't think you were the type for a good prank. I have to admit that was sneaky."
Amelia Bones did not smile back.
Nymphadora Tonks shuffled her feet, feeling exposed and nervous.
Wordlessly, Madam Bones handed the recruit a piece of parchment.
Nymphadora Tonks looked at the paper and blinked.
Nymphadora Tonks produced her wand and cast a spell to check the authenticity of the document she held.
Nymphadora Black nee Tonks got a confirming blue glow.
Nymphadora Black frowned and recast the spell.
She got another confirming blue glow.
Nymphadora Black held out the parchment, giving it several good shakes
Nymphadora Black frowned and recast the spell yet again.
Yet again, she got another confirming blue glow.
Nymphadora Black sat down.
It might have been more graceful if there had been a chair nearby . . .
. . . or, for that matter, any other furniture.
Even a wall to lean on would have been a marked improvement.
Nymphadora Black asked, "What the actual and literal . . ."
Without a doubt, goblin tellers were no strangers to angry fuming witches and wizards. It honestly would come as a surprise to no one that they kept score, a monthly tally where the winner got free drinks courtesy of the less provocative performers. It was therefore an inwardly smiling teller who had a lucky start of the day.
Even before the witch reached his window, Gibberscreech could feel a wrath simmering beneath her skin that a blind flobberworm could not have mistaken. Setting the tone to his liking, Gibberscreech made a show of studying his open ledger. One would have thought, after all these years, at least one human would have caught on. They understood that wasting a goblin's time was an insult, yet they failed to connect that to the shameless disrespect of being made to wait. To point, he was starting to get impatient as it took the witch a full minute to address him.
In a remarkable show of self-restraint, the witch glanced at his nameplate before snapping, "Teller Gibberscreech." Good, he had gained a point right out the gate with this one.
Sighing, Gibberscreech placed his quill back in its inkwell and looked up at the human, pleased to see the barely contained rage. "How may Gringotts help you today?"
"I need to talk to Sawtooth," the witch said pleasantly. Well, she tried for pleasantly but didn't hit her mark.
"Do you have an appointment?" Gibberscreech asked neutrally.
"No," the witch admitted.
"I shall check on his availability," Gibberscreech reached down for an automatically updating appointment log. "Name?"
"Andromeda Tonks, nee Black," the witch said shortly, a response that may very well have been worth a point by itself. On top of that, she was a Black by blood, a family known for both their outbursts and their aloof public façades they held right up until those outbursts showed themselves. While they weren't worth as much as a member of the Greengrass family, there was definitely a multiplier for this points acquisition.
"I see," Gibberscreech said after checking the appointment book. "You are an hour early. Please have a seat."
"An hour early?" Andromeda asked.
"For your appointment." Gibberscreech placed the appointment book back where it belonged. "Please have a seat."
"I told you I don't have an appointment," Andromeda snapped.
"Clearly you are mistaken," Gibberscreech said, again neutrally. "It is in one hour."
"I need to see Sawtooth," Andromeda snapped.
"And you will," Gibberscreech said. "In an hour. When it's time for your appointment."
Face darkening, the witch took a menacing step toward the teller. Then, thinking better of it, she started reaching for her wand. She was lucky that she regained her senses before she had drawn her focus. "I will speak to Sawtooth now," she said, ostentatiously taking a step back. Excellent, that was worth another three and four points, respectively. And if she did have a multiplier, the free drinks were as good as Gibberscreech's.
"He is busy." Gibberscreech sneered. "Be thankful that he has set aside time for a scheduled meeting. Now, I can have you taken to a private room, where you can wait. However, you will have to . . ." His point collection was brought to a screeching halt when a runner charged up and handed him a note. Gibberscreech glanced at the paper before turning a tooth filled smile on the witch. Hiding his disappointment, he said, "Sawtooth will see you now."
It was a slightly befuddled Madam Bones who sat behind her desk. Her cup of tea was untouched, thus denying her the caffeine that would have undoubtedly granted her the mental agility that the current task required. She wasn't unintelligent; she would not have attained her current position if she were, but she also wasn't a morning person. The excitement of an adrenaline surge had brought with it the inevitable crash afterward. It would take a few minutes for her mind to fully boot up, but she did have things to ruminate over while that happened. In short, it was much too early in the morning to have this conundrum that she would have happily lived without. Unfortunately, there were two prominent perspectives one could use to interpret the situation. It was no secret that more than a handful of witches would love to lay claim to the last Potter. At her age, it was not inconceivable that Tonks would take a crack at that undertaking. There were witches older than Tonks that would not hesitate to join in on that battle. Candidly, there were witches older than Amelia herself who would not balk at that challenge.
This marriage would be the perfect coup for Tonks, the age difference notwithstanding. It wasn't even that large, since they were within a decade of each other. The main contradiction to this theory was the girl's reaction to the news. Amelia did not think Tonks had the acting skills to convincingly pull off the scene they had both gone through. She believed the younger woman when told that she had only just then learned that the wedding had occurred, a worry all by itself. While it was neither impossible nor unheard of, it wasn't common. Thus, Amelia had sent Tonks to be examined by the healers. Hopefully, they could rule out memory charms or other less than ethical routes of achieving that goal.
This brought the other angle of contention into focus. To be brutally honest, Tonks and her talents were the very definition of the ultimate sex toy. Not that Amelia expected that amount of ingenuity out of, a what, thirteen-year-old boy. He was in Susan's class, so thirteen was close. Did boys even notice girls at that age? It had been too long. Yes, thirteen sounded about right. If that boy managed to corral his hormones and somehow force a marriage on a 'prize' like Tonks, then Amelia would march up to Hogwarts and demand he be sorted into Slytherin immediately. Someone like that deserved to have a warning label.
Either way, the Tonks situation was . . . Maybe she should stop thinking of her as "Tonks". It wasn't exactly accurate anymore. It was "Black" now, after all. Amelia could do without the hassle of calling her Nym . . . Wait! Black! How did Amelia miss that? Moody would rightfully demote her to patrol duty for that pitiful oversight. She didn't see the angle, but somehow, there was a connection.
There was a knock on the door just before Amelia's secretary stuck her head into the office. "Ma'am. A letter just arrived for you, and I thought you'd want to have it as soon as possible." She held out an envelope bearing the crest of the family about which Amelia had just been thinking.
Seven minutes and one pepper-up potion later, Amelia Bones was wishing she could go back to fretting over the unexpected marriage.
"Sawtooth," the witch snarled as she entered the office.
"Andromeda Tonks," the goblin elbow-deep in paperwork snarled back. "You're early. The pensieve is over there."
"What?"
"I said the pensieve is over there." The goblin used his quill to point at the artifact in question. "It's the memory of a memory, but needs must. I have things I need to accomplish, so stick your face in it, and save us both the convoluted conversation."
Andromeda glared at the goblin who hadn't even raised his head to acknowledge her. "I have a bone to pick with . . ."
"Face. Bowl. Now," Sawtooth snapped, scribbling something on one of the pages before himself.
Andromeda continued to glare at the goblin who continued to ignore her. Throwing up her arms in disgust, Andi marched over and made use of the pensieve.
"Temperamental female," Sawtooth grumbled as his guest lost her perception of his office.
Gibberscreech was dutifully marking down the last transaction he had carried out when the wizard blustered up to his window and slammed some papers on top of the still-wet ink in his ledger, screaming, "What's this!" Ah, two more points, pity it was minus one due to the human already being so mad as to have cut in front of the impatiently waiting customers.
Ignoring the new paperwork on his desk, Gibberscreech pointedly looked at the five humans in line. "Don't you know it's rude not to wait your turn?"
"Don't give me that," the wizard snarled. "I demand answers. What is this?"
"I see your bad attitude and raise you two halberds." Gibberscreech was blatantly copying Yellowclaw's tally-winning statement from the previous month, but it worked.
On cue, the enraged wizard turned around noticing the two grinning guards who had made their way to stand directly behind him. Each was wielding one of the promised weapons. Gibberscreech loved it when humans turned that white.
"Now," Gibberscreech gestured, "may I suggest waiting in line?"
Red was a satisfying color as well, now that Gibberscreech thought of it.
"No, that's all right. I'm good," said the first witch in line.
"Could do with a bit of morning entertainment," said the wizard immediately behind her.
"If he goes to the back of the line, I won't have a reason to stay around and watch the show," said the next wizard.
The next witch in line looked young enough to only have recently graduated, an impression that was reinforced by her raising her hand to ask a question. "May I cast sonorous? I know not to draw my wand in the bank, but I've heard that if you ask nicely permission might be given. Not that I'm trying to be rude, but I thought I'd ask."
The final wizard just made a shooing gesture, indicating he couldn't care less.
"I am sorry, as much as I would like to give you permission, it would be a breach of several protocols," Gibberscreech addressed the witch with her hand in the air, ignoring the wizard who was rapidly turning purple. That was a rare one, worth a point all on its lonesome.
"It would seem that the other patrons are politer than you." Gibberscreech waved the guards off. They took a few steps backward, a move that was known to cause some relief for humans. A goblin, on the other hand, would be distinctly cognitive of the reach of halberds. "How may Gringotts help you today?"
"What is this?" The wizard jabbed a finger at the paperwork he had slapped on Gibberscreech's counter.
Gibberscreech scanned the paper briefly before asking, "Mr. Carrow?"
"Yes." The wizard actually trembled slightly as he fought with his anger.
"This is a notice of the loan you have allowed to reach default and thus is called due in full." Gibberscreech smiled, showing his teeth.
"Why you . . ." The human took a threatening step forward, but stopped when he heard the thumping of halberd butts on the marble behind him. That was another three points.
"With interest and penalties," Gibberscreech added.
The wizard took a deep breath, trying to center himself. "Lucious Malfoy assured me that payments would not be necessary and that repayment could be made at my leisure."
"Irrelevant," Gibberscreech said dismissively. "This loan was against the Black accounts, not the Malfoy's."
"You cretin," the wizard thundered. "Draco Malfoy is the Black heir."
"You are mistaken." Gibberscreech smiled once again as he turned back to read the notice Carrow had provided. "Tell me, are you still in residence at your parent's property?"
"Not that it is any of your business, but yes."
"There was not enough money in your vaults to cover your debt unassisted," Gibberscreech said coolly. "If you like, I can spare the owl the trip and issue the eviction notice right now."
It was a pity that the wizard didn't pull his wand when he charged. The lack of that action restricted the guards' retaliation. Still, the sound of solid wood hitting the base of the wizard's skull was satisfying, not to mention it was worth another three points.
Andromeda's composure had somewhat reasserted itself after she had left the pensieve and sat in the chair in front of Sawtooth's desk. "How is this possible?" she asked soberly.
"Do I look like I have the needed understanding of the relevant schools of magic involved?" Sawtooth checked a parchment before making a note.
"Why was that the memory of a memory?" Andromeda pressed.
"Because the original memories are from the traveler. Grindsand doesn't want anyone else entering the originals. There is more than a little risk involved at this point."
Stiffening slightly, Andromeda coldly asked, "What has you so involved that you won't discuss my business?"
"Business for your lord." Sawtooth grunted. "He has me calling due all of the defaulted loans authorized by your sister."
Defying logic, Andromeda stiffened further. "Nissy is going to throw a fit."
"She won't be the only one." Sawtooth grinned evilly.
For a minute, the only sound was the scratching of a quill. "What happened to the traveler?" Andromeda asked, getting to her feet.
"He's at the Leaky Cauldron, Room Eight. He has one last task to complete."
"I shall see myself out then," Andromeda said, heading for the door. "Oh, and Sawtooth."
"Yes?"
"Tell Sirius that I'm not going to kill him, but he can still expect a serious beating."
"Why would I subject myself to the obvious pun he will make if I tell him that?"
"Repeat that for me," Dudley said. The pain had stopped, but he wasn't all there anymore.
Harry stopped writing long enough to examine his cousin. Dudley was as opaque as he had been when Harry had first entered the room yet at the same time he was faded. That was the wrong word for what was happening, but the word to accurately describe the current state of his cousin's future self did not exist in the queen's English. He was there and yet, at the same time, he almost wasn't. Any lingering doubts that Harry may have had were long gone by this point.
"Would you like to take a break?" If asked just a few hours ago whether he could have concern in his voice when it came to his cousin, well, he would have called you crazy to even consider that.
"There's no time," Dudley said. "Read that back to me."
Examining his notes, Harry intoned, "Hogwarts bylaws state that you may have more than one pet under certain circumstances. Inheriting a familiar, such as a freaking big black dog would be one of these."
"You may have embellished a bit," Dudley chided.
Ignoring the reprimand, Harry continued. "Do not take Snuffles with me on the train. Keep him out of view until I set Moony straight, Moony being the new defense professor, who was a friend of my father and is a werewolf."
"Think you can handle that?"
"I have no idea where I'm going to keep him while I go about the task of getting to school," Harry said with a scowl.
"The answer will be obvious. Trust me."
"It's not like I have a choice."
There was a knock at the door. Before either could stand, the door opened and a woman brandishing her wand entered without asking permission.
Instead of being bothered by the intrusion, Dudley grew a large grin. "Andi, I can't tell you how happy I am to see you."
Andi looked at Dudley in shock, the almost not-thereness of the man was like nothing she had ever experienced. "Hello," she said cautiously. "I'm . . . I'm really not sure how to proceed."
"Start by closing the door," Dudley suggested.
Not taking her eyes off Dudley, Andi reached behind herself and swung the door closed.
"Is she a friend?" Harry asked.
"More than that," Dudley said. "Well at least for me she was. Er, we found comfort in each other."
Andi gasped and brought a hand to cover her mouth while Snuffles made a weird wuffing sound.
"I - I - I would never," Andi stuttered. "I would never cheat on Ted."
Dudley sighed. "You never would and you never did."
The conversation going nothing like she expected Andi sputtered some more. "B - b - but you would have been so young."
"Pickings were slim. We were hiding and had nothing else to do." Dudley shrugged. "I know it doesn't mean as much to you as it does to me, but I'm happy you are here. Seeing your beautiful face before I go, well that's something special, very special."
"I . . . Um . . . I . . . had some questions," Andi stuttered.
"It's too late." Dudley shook his head. "As soon as you walked into the room, I felt something snap. This is it."
"What? No."
"Don't grieve, I'm sure I've managed to change the past. I've done what I've set out to do."
"You can't just say things like that and then leave." Andi said fiercely.
"I can feel myself slipping away," Dudley said, no regret in his voice. "I think I only have time to say one last thing."
"Don't you go just yet." Andi stamped a foot.
Dudley smiled. "Mischief managed."
In Room Eight of the Leaky Cauldron, there was a woman, a boy and a dog -no one else.
