On this bright and beautiful morning, Harry found history was repeating itself in a particularly psychedelic fashion. He had thought that his introduction into the wizarding world had brought a paradigm shift of unparalleled magnitude. He now knew he was wrong. On this day, a fundamental tenet had fallen, shaking him to his core. Ordinarily, he would have been able to compensate, like a videophile adjusting color balance, but shortly thereafter, a second cornerstone of this understanding had crumbled. This, too, could have been overcome with an alteration in perception, like an audiophile adjusting an equalizer to compensate for channel noise. However, these changes were followed by the removal of a keystone of his understanding. This required a complete change of attitude, like a chionophile condemned to the seventh circle.

Once more, the boy found himself dragged to Diagon Alley by a would-be Prometheus. He could easily recall that the first time, Rubeus Hagrid had dragged Harry from suburban servitude into chains of wizarding destiny. Even if he had wanted to resist, there had been nothing the lad could have done to escape; the shaggy half-giant was simply too strong. This time around, it was Andromeda Tonks, a beautiful witch, perhaps twenty years his senior, who was compelling him through sheer force of will. While both of the adults had introduced themselves by barging through a closed door, Harry conceded that Hagrid had managed the greater impression, having removed the door rather than opening it.

Harry had no time to ponder on the discovery that being overpowered by a half-giant was less embarrassing than losing a battle of wills to a master debater.

Not wanting to leave his mother's familiar unclaimed for any longer than necessary, Harry had asked to start at Magical Menagerie.

Andi had declared that no ward of hers would be seen in public looking like a scarecrow.

Harry had countered that he would need only a few minutes to retrieve the cat.

Andi had promptly informed him that their first stop was going to be Madam Malkin's.

Harry had pointed out that they shouldn't be letting his last living family member languish.

Andi had countered that the cat had waited a decade; another hour wasn't going to make a difference; their first stop was going to be Madam Malkin's

Harry had then reminded her that their next stop would be the goblins; thus, it only made sense to get the cat first, drop it off at his room, then go get new clothes.

Exasperated, Andi had given him a look. Their first stop of the day, was of course, Madam Malkin's. Harry wasn't entirely sure how he lost that argument, but it hadn't been too long before he was standing inside the clothing establishment. Apparently, they were the only customers; as soon as they entered, the owner herself stepped up to greet them.

"Good morning," Madam Malkin said with a smile on her face. "How may I help you today?"

"Harry here needs a new outfit," Andi answered. "He needs a new wardrobe, but we are pinched for time; so, we will settle for just the outfit for now."

Madam Malkin eyed the youth who was doing his best not to be noticed, before nodding her head in agreement. "I'd be more than happy to put something together for you. Do you want to take the time for a proper fitting, or shall we be charming items off the rack?"

"We are in a bit of a hurry." Harry suggested hopefully.

"The proper fitting will have to wait." Andi agreed, turning to address Harry she added. "Go into the changing room and remove those rags. I'll get your new attire and pass it along."

Grumbling, Harry complied, going into the sartorial confessional with a door that didn't quite reach the floor. Wanting to finish quickly, he stripped off Dudley's discards.

It wasn't long before some folded garments floated under the door.

"I'm not a Slytherin." Harry called out, noting the color of the shirt.

"You're not a leprechaun, either. You are also not at Hogwarts at the moment," Andi returned. "This is not your school attire; green does not make you a Slytherin. I have several red dresses that I am fond of; they do not make me a Gryffindor."

"I suppose not." Harry sighed. This was taking too long and he wasn't about to make it longer by arguing over the color of his clothes.

"Pass me your old things," Andi commanded.

"Okay." Harry pushed the old garments under the door with his foot.

"Underpants as well."

"I need those."

"You will find a new pair in the stack you just received," Andi said with a no-nonsense tone.

"Um . . ." The chagrin dripped out of Harry's voice.

"I am a mother," Andi huffed, "It is not something I haven't seen before."

"I can keep the old pair in one of my pockets," Harry suggested.

"Pass them here." There was steel in Andi's voice; so, Harry relinquished the ratty material under the door, positive that he would soon die from embarrassment.

"That wasn't so difficult, now; was it?" Andi scoffed.

Beet red from head to toe, Harry scrambled into his new clothing. When his fresh green shirt was halfway on, he started sniffing the air in alarm. "Do you smell smoke?" he called out in alarm.

"That's just your old rags'" Andi called back. "Nothing to worry about."


Narcissa Malfoy was finding that her home provided no shelter from the storm of outrage. The first complaint was lodged soon after breakfast, and as soon as one petitioner finished, another occupied the floo, demanding their pound of flesh. The foundation of the Malfoy's power base was being jackhammered away. Allies carefully purchased over the years with promises of free galleons were being converted to enemies in one coordinated attack. The onslaught was carried out by someone who should have been securely incarcerated . . . Sirius.

The worst part was that the Malfoys had left themselves wide open to the attack. They had known that Sirius would spend the rest of his days rotting in Azkaban, rendering him completely impotent. With Narcissa as the de facto head of House Black, Lucius had access to galleons that he could otherwise not touch until Draco came of age. Although they could not be spent outright, Narcissa could authorize loans in the name of House Black. Lucius had borrowed that wealth to buy the loyalty of like-minded individuals whose tastes outstripped their means. Although their lackeys knew that the money was being lent, Lucius had taken great pains to assure them that the terms of their contracts were not being strictly enforced.

Literally overnight, what had been a solid alliance had come crashing down. In a move that obviously had taken the majority of his time since he had escaped, Sirius had launched a simultaneous reckoning on all of the debtors. It was obvious that Lucius must have insulted one too many goblins; otherwise, they wouldn't have suggested this course of action. There was no way Sirius could have thought up this one by himself. There was no way he would have known about the loans without having them pointed out by the goblins.

What was more galling was that the Malfoys had counted on Sirius to act like the Gryffindor that he was. They had never even dreamed that he would act as if the war were still raging. Had he not been taking matters that single mindedly, he would have dragged out the attack. It was more his style to savor the discord being sown and stretched out over the course of months. This tactic was starving out the less-affluent pureblood families. With the hand of the Malfoys no longer feeding them, those afflicted had to bite.

For the entire morning, Narcissa had been fielding floo calls from soon to be ex-allies demanding that the gentleman's agreement on repayment be honored. Despite her confident reassurances, she knew there was nothing she could do in the short term. The goblin bank was fulfilling its orders, and not even Sirius' death would stop them. Only a lord of the house could change things, and while the potions that Lucius had been feeding Sirius would ensure that Draco would attain that title when he came of age, the alliances would be dissolved long before then.

Since it was clear that Sirius would be unrelenting, the Malfoys were left with the illusionary options of either leaving their mercenary allies to their fates or making good on the gentlemen's agreement by drawing funds from the coffers of House Malfoy. As a practical matter, there was no choice. The debtors were sure to demonstrate their displeasure. Although it would take years to recover from the sudden loss of assets, they would not only maintain the loyalty of their allies but also forestall any assaults from those families. While it was certainly difficult and unpleasant to recover from such a large loss of gold, it was historically almost impossible to recover from loss of life.

A crystal decanter of firewhisky was already on the sitting room table when the floo flared green yet again. Narcissa suppressed a sigh of relief when, instead of another angry caller, it was her husband exiting the flames. At a glance, she determined that his morning had not gone any better than her own. Her suspicion was substantiated when Lucius flung his walking stick at the wall in a fit of rage; it was the walking stick concealing his wand, no less.

Instead of commenting on the violence inflicted on the seemingly innocent bit of wood, Narcissa took a sip from the tumbler of firewhisky she held while pouring two fingers into another tumbler.

Lucius stared at his discarded weapon for a second before striding over to pick it up. He then sat down across from his wife and reached for the newly-poured liquor. "Your cousin has fired his opening salvo. He has already contacted the ICW, claiming line theft."

Narcissa took in a sharp breath. "Line theft? Sweet Merlin, just the implication alone . . ." She cut herself off as her thoughts ran wild.

"I checked with the records department. He removed Draco from the inheritance line pending a vow from you and me to the effect that we did nothing dubious to ensure Draco would be the next lord." Lucius sneered.

Narcissa calmly looked at her husband and made a guess at Sirius' next move. "I bet he's going to blood adopt the Potter boy. He still needs an heir to stop Draco's children from inheriting; that's how he'll go about it."

Lucius leaned back in his seat and took a sip. "He has already reinstated your sister. The main line is to continue through her daughter."

"A halfblood." Narcissa bit her lip. "Aunt Walburga is spinning in her grave as we speak."

"I have enough influence, and there will be enough doubt to ensure the line theft claims won't stick," Lucius said, leaning his head back. "But the Black fortune is going to be out of our grasp for at least another generation. There will just have to be a series of unfortunate accidents."

"That won't work." Narcissa shuddered. "Sirius is a Black; he has already taken out a failsafe contract. If he and his heir meet an untimely end, so shall we."

"He's one of Dumbledore's puppets; he doesn't think that way," Lucius countered.

"I wouldn't have thought he'd contact the ICW or call in all of the loans either." Narcissa shook her head. "We cannot assume we know what this new Sirius Black will and will not do."

"He called in the loans?"

"Yes, I've been getting floo calls all morning."

An expletive rent the air as the tumbler Lucius had been holding was temporarily airborne before shattering against the fireplace's bricks.

"Lucius." Narcissa ignored the outburst. "How sure are you that the line theft charges won't stick? I needn't remind you; the penalty for attempting that against a Noble and Most Ancient House is the veil."

"There are a few loose ends I should tie up, just to be safe." Lucius thought out loud. "Otherwise, we should be fine. He may suspect, but he has no proof."

"We need to keep this as quiet as possible," Narcissa said before correcting herself. "Or at the very least, get out in front of it. Having the Daily Prophet insinuate that Sirius has gone mad from exposure to dementors should be our first move. And we need to do that fast before the editor realizes that the shares we held over his head belong to Sirius."

"Would you handle that?" Lucius asked, "I need to take some other precautions. We are going to be on the defensive and if things go really wrong, we may need to flee the country."

Narcissa took another sip from her tumbler. "Egypt has no extradition treaty in place. I hear the Nile is lovely this time of year.


"You think they know each other?" Harry asked Andi as Crookshanks the cat and Snuffles the dog both lay on the bed, giving the humans expectant looks.

"It would seem so." Andi nodded. When they had entered the room, after Snuffles had greeted the humans, he had also accepted the cat without skipping a beat. Andi was sure that they were well acquainted with one another. "I remember your father had a large black dog. I'd hazard a guess that Snuffles is the selfsame creature. I cannot say what Dudley knew along those lines, but it stands to reason that he would gather as much of your family as he could. Having both your mother's and father's familiars would be immensely beneficial."

"You think Snuffles belonged to my father?"

"It is possible," Andi said. "Though, if I remember correctly, your father called him 'Paddy'."

At the mention of the name, the dog snapped his attention to Andi and wagged his tail excitedly.


He looked at the letter in his hands for the umpteenth time. It had been waiting on his bedside table when he had awakened this morning, and, at first, he had thought it was from his mother. The fact that it was on funny paper, the type he had seen his cousin using, soon disabused him of that notion. He almost hadn't read it for that reason alone.

Imagine his surprise when he found out it was he who had written it to himself.

It was freakiness.

Pure freakiness.

Then, he read what he had written.

His life would never be the same again.


Harry was well aware of how fast things could go tits up without any warning. After all, it was a reoccurring theme in his life; he really should be getting used to it by now. What had happened in Gringotts should not have been as much of a surprise as it had been. It really shouldn't have.

Being told by the teller that he was late for his meeting should have been his first warning. They had obviously been kept waiting; he had just hoped he would live long enough to tell Mrs. Tonks "I told you so; the clothes could have been taken care of later".

He surely hadn't been prepared for the mob of goblins that had ambushed him in the halls on his way to his account manager. They could have at least had the courtesy to speak English when they swarmed him. That would not have made a big difference, as they ignored his yelling as they dragged him into a room and strapped him to a stone table. They must have used magic as well, since he couldn't move his head.

Where was Andi? Why had the goblins attacked? How long did he have to live? Why was that goblin cutting his forehead with a knife?

"You can stop screaming now," the goblin standing over him said in disgust.

"No, I can't; you're going to kill me."

"Kill you? Why would I do that? I may be irritated that you were an hour late for your surgery but I'm not that incompetent."

"Surgery? Is that why you attacked me with a knife?"

"That's not just any knife." The goblin slapped some paste on his forehead. "It's a scalpel."

"That's a bloody big scalpel!"

"Isn't it though." The goblin agreed. "Head wounds bleed a lot, but you shouldn't need blood replenisher."

"Blood replenisher?"

"If you insist, I can give you a dose."

"This is a surgery?"

"Was a surgery." The goblin nodded. "The patient was extremely fussy but it was a success otherwise. The scar tissue has been excised."

"You cut out my scar?"

"Didn't I just say that?" The goblin wiped the paste off with a clean white cloth "Skin's grown back nicely; it will be tight for the next few days."

"This was a surgery?"

"We covered that already."

"What was with dragging me in here with no warning?"

"You were late. Time is money."

"You dragged me in here to cut my scar off; didn't you think for a second you should have stopped to tell me what you were doing?" Harry snapped.

"Why? You were scheduled; it's not my job to remind you what you were signed up for."

"No one told me I was supposed to come here for no bloody surgery! I wasn't given a time to be here. All I know was I was jumped by a horde of goblins!"

"Your guardian didn't tell you why you were here?" the goblin shrugged. "Also, not my job. By the way, you need at least twenty to be considered a horde; there were only seven of us."


Ted Tonks had decided to call it an early day. Given the gravity of the situation, he had shown up at the office just long enough to fob off any essential tasks. It was now time for the hard part, waiting for Andi to relay news from the goblins. If they were lucky, they would be able to spare Nymphadora a heart attack or a nervous breakdown.

He was lounging in his favorite recliner, reading the morning paper when he heard the familiar crack of displaced air. "Andi?" Ted called out toward the front foyer where his family was apt to apparate. "Nymphadora?"

His inquiry was met with the sound of retching.

"Are you all right?" A distressed Ted stood up, discarding his paper into his vacated seat.

"We're fine dear." Andi's voice was pitched to be heard over the pitiful sounds of sickness. "It would appear someone is not accustomed to side-alongs."

"Oh," Ted headed towards his wife's voice. "A guest? How did it go at the bank?"

Andi had a thoughtful look on her face as Ted rounded the corner to see her standing over a black-haired boy who was obviously the individual who needed practice being a passenger.

"I can honestly say that there is no single word or phrase that can encompass the . . . enormity of this morning." Andi finally gave her feedback.

"That bad?" Ted winced.

Andi took a deep breath before asking, "Are you done yet?"

"Yes." The boy gasped. "Sorry about the mess; I'll clean it up if you show me where you keep your cleaning supplies."

"Scourgify," Andi intoned with a wave of her wand. "At least you managed not to get any on your new shirt. Ted, would you mind escorting your new son-in-law to the kitchen and preparing some tea? We are going to need it but first I should pop back to get the dog and the cat."

"Dog and cat?" Ted asked.

"I hate magical travel. Everyway hates me."

"You get used to it," Andi assured the boy. "It is markedly less nauseating when you do it yourself."

"So, son-in-law?" Ted interrupted. "I take it you are Harry Potter."

"Yes, sir." Harry gave a weak smile, before visibly wincing.

"Something the matter?" Ted asked.

"Um, I kind of forgot that I'm supposed to be married." Harry admitted.

"You forgot you were married?" Ted raised an eyebrow.

"I missed the wedding," Harry said dejectedly.

"How could your matrimony slip your mind?" Ted asked skeptically.

"There was this goblin with a knife." Harry winced. "He said it was a scalpel, but I know a knife when I see one."

Ted studied the serious look on the lad before asking, "Tea?"

"Yes, please," Harry said as a crack announced Andi's departure.

"Well, this is awkward." Ted didn't move, despite the offer of the beverage. "You're not happy being married to my daughter? Is that why you look like someone took your last butterbeer?"

"What? No, I haven't really thought about it. I haven't even met . . . Nymphadora? . . . yet. It's just . . . Well, I found out the headmaster has been keeping a lot of things from me, a lot of important things. I'm positive I can't trust him, now."

"Must be big if it takes your mind off being married." Ted said.

"Yeah." Harry nodded with a distant look on his face. "My parents specifically said that I wasn't to live with my relatives. Dumbledore knew, and he still left me with them, and he keeps insisting that I go back."

Ted tilted his head, studying the boy. "Shall we get that tea, then?"


"Mum!" Nymphadora exclaimed almost before the bang of her apparition had dispersed. "Dad! I need help!"

"We're in the kitchen, dear."

Rushing toward her mother's voice, Nymphadora attempted to put her thoughts into words. "Mum! You're not going to believe what happened! I can't believe what happened! I'm not sure how, but somehow, I'm . . . oh hey there. Company? Wothcer, pleased to meet you."

"Hello, I'm . . ."

"Woof! Woof! Woof!"

"Ack!"

*Crash!*

"Get it off! Get it off!"

"Bad Paddy! Down boy! Don't maul the nice lady . . . with your tongue! She doesn't need a bath!" Harry called out in something approaching panic. "Well, she didn't a second ago. Did you aim for the trash can?"

"I am going to venture that Paddy remembers Nymphadora." Andi took a sip of her tea. "If I had any remaining doubts over him being your father's familiar, they have been laid to rest."

"That's Nymphadora?" Harry asked.

"Call me Tonks! Argh! Call off your dog!"

"Nymphadora, you have a perfectly serviceable and beautiful name," Andi scolded. "When are you going to stop being so childish about it?"

"Mum, I'm not! Bleah! The dog! Come get the dog!"

"You may want to let him finish off the tuna casserole first. That's about to mutate, after sitting in the cold box for a week." Ted suggested helpfully. "It just doesn't make your hair look fetching."

Harry got off his chair and scrambled over to grab Paddy's collar. Pulling with all his might and weight, he said. "Sorry about that; he did the same thing to me earlier." His apology was the only help Nymphadora received, since the skinny, underfed boy lacked the muscle, the mass, and the gravitas to slow the assault.

"Gah! Blah! Help!" Nymphadora sputtered.

"Paddy!" Andi's voice cracked like a whip. "Enough!"

"Wuf?"

"Don't give me those puppy eyes. You're not a puppy anymore," Andi scolded.

"Wuf!"

"And wagging your tail at me isn't going to get me to change my mind either. Let Nymphadora get to her feet. We have things we need to discuss."

"Woof!" Paddy said, taking a few steps backward, wagging his tail wildly.

"There you go; he's off." Andi gestured to the empty seats across the table. "Now, why don't you and your husband have a seat? Like I said, there are things that we need to bring you up to date on."

"Ah! Wha? Hus?" Nymphadora said, using the counter to pull herself to her feet. Then she took a deep breath before asking, "Why am I married? Why did I wake up this morning, go to work, only to be told that I'm a married woman?"

"Take a deep breath, dear," Andi said. "Come over, calm down, and have a cup of tea. There is no one in this room who deserves to have your anger directed at them."

"But!"

"You are going to want to be sitting for this." Ted spoke up. "They'd only just started explaining to me when you showed up."

"Ah . . . um . . ." Nymphadora looked around the room in confusion before her eyes landed on Harry. "You're my husband?"

Harry nodded warily.

"I suppose you are cute enough. How'd you pull it off? Keep in mind that there may not be divorces in magical society but there are widows."

"I just found out about it this morning." Harry took a few hasty steps back. "I swear I had nothing to do with it."

"Nymphadora! Do not threaten your husband." Andi snapped. "I have already told you that there is no one in this room deserving to be vented on."

The pink-haired woman took a deep breath with her eyes closed before saying, "Sorry. I've had a stressful morning." She opened her eyes and looked at Harry. "I over reacted. I'm sorry. Er . . . this really isn't the greatest of first impressions. All things considered. Could we start over please? Hello, my name is Tonks."

"Nymphadora," Andi corrected.

"Mum!"

"What?" Andi asked, exasperated. "You can't even go by 'Tonks' anymore. It's your maiden name."

"Pleased to meet you," Harry said hastily. "May I call you 'Nymph', if you don't like your full name?"

"Remember what I said about widows?"

"Er . . . Dora?"

Nymphadora deflated as the fight left her. "Sure, let's go with that. Though I consider 'little honey bunny' to be less agitating."

"You're bigger than I am."

"You'll grow." Nymphadora returned with a sly wink. "And as I said earlier, you are cute." She then transformed to an olive-skinned girl Harry's age with straight bangs. She transformed her work clothes into a casual pink t-shirt and orange shorts. Perkily, she said, "Hola, soy Dora."

Harry stared at the woman, shocked at the about face her personality just took. "Ah . . . English, please?"

"Nymphadora! Stop monkeying around!" Andi said from the kitchen table. "Flirting and joking are just her defense mechanisms. As her mother I can tell she's feeling off balance and unsure of herself."

"Mum!"

"As much as she trips over her own two feet; is it fair to ever call her balanced?" Ted mused.

"Dad!"

"Woof!"

"Don't you start on me, too. You're just a dog!"

"Now that introductions are out of the way," Andi said, "come have a seat. We have learned a lot of disturbing things today, and now, more than ever it comes down to family looking out for family."

"Don't I get any slack for being blindsided by my own marriage?" Nymphadora huffed.

"Dear, that is the least shocking thing we have to cover." Andi informed her.

Nymphadora sighed before stretching her hand out to Harry. "Shall we?" she asked with afriendly smile.