Revelations
They had been released back upstairs shortly thereafter, though they were then faced with the task of introducing the boys to the rest of the family. They found them all upstairs in the drawing room, undoubtedly waiting for them.
It was almost an awkward family photo, the four of them standing in the doorway. Lily was missing, of course, but the feeling was no less there. Every eye was fixed on them, with the exception of Mrs Weasley, whose attention kept darting back to the desk that was vibrating ever so slightly.
"Really, Molly," he said, far more secure than he felt, "I could deal with that boggart for you. It's really not a problem."
"You can't do underage magic," Sirius said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're already in trouble with the Ministry."
"See, here's the thing," Harry said thoughtfully, gesturing for his family to enter the room. "I definitely did magic when I woke up in the last place I should be this morning. I've no doubt about that. And yet, no threatening letters have come my way."
The boys were in awe of their father's nonchalantness. It was Remus, however, who spoke. "I take it you have a theory."
Harry took a deep breath. "When I went to sleep last night, I was a grown man. Married, kids, job, the whole nine yards. And yet when I woke up this morning, I was fifteen years old and definitely not in my own home." He held up a hand when he saw several people opening their mouths to speak. "I would really appreciate you letting me get this out before you say anything, because I only intend on saying this once."
The room fell silent and still again, waiting for him to continue. "I come from the other side of this nightmare. Yes, there is one. No, it does not come without great cost. Where I come from, ironically, I work for the Ministry. I was part of the team who rebuilt it. I'm an Auror by trade, but really I'm a family man. And I've been getting exponentially better at parenting since I almost lost my kid to a time travel accident last year."
Harry smiled at Albus, who sent his same tight smile back. "We've got to work out a way to get home. And until we can work out how to do that, we're stuck here - me, Al and James." Each boy held a hand up in turn to indicate which one they were. "We'd really appreciate both your help and your protection while we work this out."
The room was silent. In any other situation, the room would have been full of questions, but oddly no one seemed to have any.
"... Can we take that as a yes?"
No one had a chance to answer - the doorbell rang again, and everyone looked at Mrs Weasley. Everyone except Harry, who threw his head back and rolled his eyes. It had been more than twenty years, but he remembered this summer like it was yesterday.
"Bloody Dung," he muttered, to the surprise of his two sons.
All heads turned to Harry, who sighed and rolled his eyes. "He's bought a load of stolen cauldrons."
"He's what?!" Mrs Weasley was suddenly on her feet. "Stay here," she said to the room at large, who were still staring dumbfoundedly at Harry, who was now rubbing his temples in a way that reminded everyone he was much older than he appeared.
As she headed out the door, Mrs Weasley said over her shoulder - and the screeches of Mrs Black's portrait, "I'll bring up some sandwiches."
"Ooh, yum," James commented absentmindedly, heading for a spare dusty old pouffe in the corner. "I live for Grandma's sandwiches."
Now everyone's attention was undividedly on James.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the words tumbled out of Sirius' mouth. "Grandma?"
James looked back to Harry, sheepishly starting to curl up into himself. "Was I not supposed to say that?"
Harry sighed again, still rubbing his temples. "I was going to ease them into it," he quipped. "But I suppose the ripping off the bandaid method works, too."
"The what?" Ginny asked him, clearly confused.
"It's a muggle thing," Al shrugged, heading over to a rickety old chair beside his brother. "You'll get used to it."
Silence. The adults looked from Harry, to Ginny, to the boys and back, while the three Weasley boys were staring dumfoundedly at the boys.
Ron stood up suddenly, turning to face the duo in the doorway. "Wait a minute - you and you?"
Harry was rubbing the back of his neck now, the one tell that Ginny already knew he was uneasy. "Uh ... yeah," he said lamely. At the look on the three brothers faces, he added, "Not yet, though."
Ginny, who had already worked this out for herself, had to stop herself from giggling. "I don't think that helped," she told him in a mock whisper.
"This is not funny!" Ron all but roared, rounding on his sister now. "He - he defiled my sister! Twice!"
That had Harry's attention. "Okay, firstly, we're married."
"And secondly?" George asked sarcastically.
"Uh ... there'sactuallythree."
The words came out as one, thought everyone understood them without needing any further explanation.
Assessing his future brother-in-laws faces and deciding it was safe to do so, Harry gingerly added, "Our youngest is a daughter. Lily."
Remus smiled. "Named for your mother. Very sweet of you."
"If you think that's sweet, wait 'till Ted-"
"Yes, thank you, James," Harry cut over his son with a glare. "We don't need to go spilling everyone's secrets."
They would have continued the conversation, of course, except for Mrs Weasley shouting at the top of her voice. "WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!"
"I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else," Fred said, a satisfied look on his face. "It makes a nice change."
"- COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT OUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE -"
"They're letting her get in her stride," James said, shaking his head. "You've got to head her off early otherwise she builds up steam and goes on for hours."
George nodded. "And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, sister's husband."
"And there goes Sirius' mum again," Ginny sighed.
Harry gestured for Ginny to step into the room and followed behind her, shutting the door behind him. Just as he made to close the door, an ancient looking house-elf edged into the room.
It took absolutely no notice of anyone, muttering as though none of them were there. "... smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's not better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my mistress' house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do ..."
"That's quite enough, Kreacher," Harry said with authority in his voice.
To everyone's surprise, the house-elf stopped in his tracks. With an expression on his face showing he clearly did not understand what was happening, he turned and sank into a low bow. The Kreacher of this time would have kept muttering insults under his breath, but the house-elf said nothing.
While Sirius stared dumbfoundedly at Harry, the boys looked at each other with wide eyes.
"That can't be Kreacher," Al said, still staring at his brother. "He's ... mean."
"Yeah," James added. "Where's the Kreacher that fluffs our pillows and told us bedtime stories?"
"Bedtime stories?!" Sirius yelled disbelievingly. "He's an awful little -"
"- Sirius," Harry cut over his godfather, who was so surprised he had to blink a few times before he realised it actually was Harry who spoke. "That's enough."
"Enough?" Sirius asked his godson in a very carefully even tone. "Enough? Who do you think you are -"
That was when Kreacher, who was still low in a bow, spoke. "Kreacher doesn't know this master."
All movement in the room stopped.
"Stand up, please, Kreacher," Harry said kindly. "You'll hurt your back."
"Hurt your -!" But just as Sirius went to protest, the house-elf stood up.
"... Harry?" Remus asked, confused but quickly putting the pieces together. Sirius, however, was quiet - and had gone white.
"I told you we lost good people," Harry said quietly, looking both men straight in the eyes. "People we loved."
Hermione's gasp was audible. The Ron suddenly looked like he was going to be sick. Harry, however, had simply closed his eyes. His left hand, however, was seeking out Ginny's. When he found it, he held on for dear life.
"I didn't want to tell you," he continued quietly. "Apparently elf magic wants to do it for me."
To the house-elf, Harry said, "On your way, Kreacher."
Kreacher quickly scuffled out of the room, heading for who-knows-where - but definitely somewhere far away from this strange, unknown master.
No one said anything more for a very long time. It wasn't until Al, who had been carefully observing the tapestry on the far wall, spoke that they all started to gather themselves together again.
"Sirius," he said, gesturing to the tapestry, "you're not on here."
It looked like the kind of memento that was older than time itself, and the Doxys (and whatever else was living in that room) had defintiely gnawed it in places. The golden thread connecting the generations together glinted in the limited sunlight. At the top, it read:
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
'Toujours pur'
Sirius shook himself out of his thoughts and observed the lookalike Potter carefully.
"I used to be there," he said, pointing at a small, round charred hole in the tapestry. "My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home - Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."
"It's not a story he's told us," James said conversationally, jumping off the ancient pouffe so he could take a closer look at the tapestry. "It looks like a cigarette burn."
One raised eyebrow from Harry, and he added, "Not that I'd know what that looks like."
"Uh-huh," his father nodded, quite clearly not believing a single word his son said. "We're gonna have a discussion when we get home, you and I."
"You know, we were doing just fine before your hands-on parenting," James said defiantly.
"You were doing just fine," Harry corrected him. "That's because your trouble making gets you all the attention."
Ignoring his father and brother, Al looked back to Sirius and asked, "You ran away from home?"
"When I was about sixteen," Sirius nodded, joining the young Potter in observing his ancestory. "I'd had enough."
"Where did you go?"
"James' place," Sirius said with a faint smile. "His parents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son. Yeah, I camped out with the Potters in the school holidays, and when I was seventeen I got a place of my own. My Uncle Alphard left me a decent bit of gold - he's been wiped off here, too, that's probably why - anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr and Mrs Potter's for Sunday lunch, though."
"My great-grandparents," Al said, thoughtful. "I've never really thought about them."
"Well, maybe you should look into the Potters when we get home," Harry suggested. To a confused look from Remus, he added, "He's fascinated by family history. Knows all there is to know about the Evans', and the Weasleys."
"How about we learn the truth about our own dad before we start learning about dead people."
That had come from James, and it earnt him a glare.
"What?" he said defiantly. "I'm supposed to finally be learning all about you in History of Magic this year. You never talk about anything. Random people on the street know more about you than we do. Why do you think I even took that class?"
"You and I both know Minerva made History of Magic mandatory."
"Yeah, but why do you think it's the only class he's never cut?" Al offered quietly.
Harry stared at James, a look of wonder on his face. "There's a class you've never cut?"
"Funny, dad," James retorted.
"Look, boys," Harry said, moving toward the two and putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "There's a reason I never wanted you to know. But our current circumstances means you're about to find out more than I ever wanted you to."
"So, where are we?" Al looked up at his father expectantly.
"We know this is Grimmauld Place," James offered. "But why are we here?"
Harry sighed, looking over to Remus and Sirius, who both nodded. This was exactly the same conversation they'd had to have with his fifteen-year-old self just last night. And apparently, it didn't get easier.
"Where we come from, this place is a museum." Ignoring Sirius' indignant scoff, he continued, "In 1995, this is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."
"Wait a minute - that actually exists?" Al asked, dumbfounded. "It's always just been a legend!"
"There are some things we wisely chose to keep out of the history books," his father confirmed. "Just in case we ever need them again."
"But ... but the Order is legendary," James breathed. "It's a secret society shrouded in mystery. No one's ever been able to confirm its existence."
"Well, you're looking at it," Harry told him. "They're all right here."
"You're telling me my Grandma was in the Order of the Phoenix?" James asked, clearly not believing a word he was hearing. "Gran, of all people?"
"Yes, Gran," Harry laughed. "Granddad, too. And all of us, when we were old enough."
They would have continued, but the arrival of Mrs Weasley and a plate of her famous sandwiches stole James' attention.
"Lunch," Mrs Weasley announced, placing the tray carefully lowering the tray onto the coffee table in the centre of the room.
Harry remained by the tapestry with Sirius, who was lost in his family history.
"I haven't looked at this thing in years," he said. "There's Phineas Nigellus ... my great-great grandfather, see? ... least popular Headmaster Hogwarts ever had ... and Araminta Melifula ... cousin of my mother's ... tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Mugglehunting legal ... and dear Aunt Elladora ... she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays ..."
"A tradition we have put to rest, thank God."
Harry's comment earned a pause and a small smile from Sirius, though he was still lost in his own little world. "Of course, any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. I see Tonks isn't on here. Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take order from her - but he does take them from you."
Sirius really looked at Harry now, closely observing his every move. The way he stood, the way he spoke, the air about him, even the look in his eyes - it was clearer than ever that this was not a fifteen-year-old boy. This was a fully grown man, who'd seen things no one wanted to see and survived a war at great cost. This was a father, worried for his children and whether or not they would get home. And, though he wasn't Harry's father, that was something he could identify.
Before he realised what he was doing, he'd pulled his godson into a hug. "We're gonna get you home," he promised. "We'll find a way."
"It was my fault," Harry whispered, clutching at Sirius in the hug. "All my fault. I was young, and stupid, and I walked right into the trap."
Without his having to fully explain it, Sirius instinctively knew what he was talking about. "Don't you dare blame yourself. I won't let you."
They pulled apart then, both trying very hard to make the tears in their eyes disappear.
That, however, was when Harry's eyes fell on a name he knew he couldn't help but recognise.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," he said. The name couldn't help but conjure up bad memories, for Harry and Al alike.
"They're in Azkaban," Sirius said shortly.
From the other side of the room, Al met Harry's eyes, fear the only emotion present.
Still on his family history lesson, Sirius added, "Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus came in with Barty Crouch junior," he said in the same brusque voice. "Rodolphus' brother Rabastan was with them, too."
Al had made his way back over to them now, fear still in his eyes. "She's your cousin?"
"Does it matter if she is?" Sirius snapped. "As far as I'm concerned, they're not my family. She's certainly not my family. I haven't seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D'you think I'm proud of having a relative like her?"
"He didn't mean it that way, Sirius," Harry said calmly, deciding he needed to step in to diffuse the situation.
"It doesn't matter," Sirius mumbled. He turned away from the tapestry, his hands deep in his pockets. "I don't like being back here," he said, staring across the drawing room. "I never though I'd be stuck in this house again."
"No kidding," Harry mumbled.
Sirius sent him a look, clearly meant to be an apology. For a moment, he had almost forgotten that this was not his same Harry.
"It's ideal for Headquarters, of course," Sirius continued as though the look had never happened. "My father put every security measure known to wizardkind on it when he lived here. It's unplottable, so Muggles could never come and call - as if they'd ever have wanted to - and now Dumbledore's added his protection, you'd be hard put to find a safer house anywhere."
He was distracted then, observing James interacting animatedly with the twins. There we no denying the kid was the spitting image of James Potter - and he bore his name, too.
While Sirius was lost in his thoughts, Al whispered to his father, "Dad, what if Delphi -"
"- This has nothing to do with her, Al," Harry reassured him in a low voice. "She hasn't even been born yet."
This seemed to reassure Al somewhat. Though they had set history back to its proper path, it would be a long time before the teenager finally came to accept what had happened so he could move on from it. Maybe their time in the past might be good for something, after all - at the very least, it would be a distraction. In a very strange way, Harry found himself becoming grateful for their journey to the past.
Though their visitors were extremely unexpected, they were viewed - in Mrs Weasley's eyes, at least - as a welcome extra set of hands. For the next three days, they joined the rest of the family in cleaning out the drawing room. Finally, the only undesirable things left in it were the tapestry of the Black family tree, which resisted all their attempts to remove it from the wall, and the rattling writing desk. Moody had not dropped by Headquarters yet, so they still weren't convinced of what was inside it.
"Really, Molly," Harry had said more than once now, "I'd be more than happy to deal with the boggart."
In fact, he'd said it so many times that his future mother-in-law had become accustomed to Harry using her first name. Her response was always the same: "Thank you, dear, but we'll wait for Mad-Eye."
They'd moved onto the dining room after that, which was significantly easier to deal with. James was thoroughly enjoying the destruction of the Black family china, which Sirius was unceremoniously throwing into a sack. He'd even made a game out of it - by the end of their war against the china, he could easily throw a teacup over his shoulder without looking and have it land perfectly into the bag. Needless to say, Sirius was kept well entertained with his favourite new Potter around.
Al, however, was sticking very close to his father. If nothing else, this misadventure in time had become a bonding experience for the pair, who were spending more time together than they ever had.
Ron was finding the similarities between father and son incredibly eerie, though his attitude toward Harry did soften again as they waged war on the dining room.
"If she has to marry someone," he finally conceded, "at least it's someone we know."
Hermione couldn't help but lecture him for the next forty-five minutes. Al couldn't help but sneak looks at his father, who found himself avoiding his sons eyes for the fear of bursting out laughing. Some things would never change, after all.
And then there was the Ginny of it all. Though she wasn't the same Ginny he had left behind, Harry found himself still gravitating toward her to keep himself grounded in the midst of his nightmare. She didn't seem to mind, at least on the outside. They appeared to have come to an unspoken agreement: They weren't going to talk about anything to do with their future, but they were enjoying spending more time together. This was the year, after all, that he got to know Ginny as a person, as opposed to the Ginny he knew as Ron's little sister.
Various members of the Order flitted in and out, with the doorbell ringing several times a day. The teenagers - Harry included - were kept thoroughly out of the loop, which was beginning to really annoy the man who had built his life around being an Auror. Though, there were some people he was grateful not to have yet come face-to-face with - Snape came to mind. Minerva McGonagall had been past a few times, greeting him as "Potter," which she hadn't done in many years. Though, it was a welcome change to the regular "Mr and Mrs Potter," he heard when called in to discuss their sons' antics, or the letters he occasionally received with no greeting at all - simply a "Your son has now exceeded the amount of detention you served in your own Hogwarts careers, and he is only a third year." That had been a fun letter to receive.
Tonks had joined them for a memorable afternoon in which they found a murderous old ghoul lurking in an upstairs toilet - her appearance alone had both Potter boys' eyes alight with wonder. They'd loved spending that afternoon with her, hands on. It was a story they would be telling their cousin Teddy the moment they got home. (And they would definitely be getting him to imitate her famous pig nose. They were determined to see if he had inherited her ability to entertain a dining table full of cooped-up teenagers).
Remus, on the other hand, had really made a connection with Al. Maybe it was their similar reserved dispositions, or maybe it was their shared interest in historical events, but there was something about that duo that made Harry smile. The two had worked closely the day they had repaired the grandfather clock that had developed an unpleasant habit of shooting heavy bolts at passers-by. Even Harry admitted he wanted to take a photo of the look on James' face when a bolt had hit him square between the eyes.
Despite the fact he was sleeping badly, unaccustomed to being alone in his bed, and the fact that his scar was prickling at those awful dreams of the long corridors with locked doors, Harry was thoroughly enjoying spending quality time with his family. It wasn't until the day before the hearing that it occurred to him he would be facing the full Wizengamot again - as the subject of the trial, rather than the lead prosecutor.
He felt as though a brick had dropped into his stomach when Mrs Weasley turned to him during dinner on Wednesday evening and said quietly, "I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight, too. A good first impression can work wonders."
Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny, and the boys all stopped talking and looked over at him. Not realising the delicacy of the situation, James boldly asked, "What's happening tomorrow?"
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. Quietly, he answered, "I have a hearing at the Ministry."
"... But you're not an Auror yet." Al's words were innocent, but thoroughly confused.
"No, I'm not." Forcing out the words, he managed to say, "I have a hearing for underage magic."
"What?!" both boys burst out.
"And you lost your mind at me when I got that warning last summer!" James protested.
"Yes, because your warning was real," Harry answered, seamlessly slipping back into what the twins had termed 'dad-mode'. "My warning wasn't me, it was Dobby."
"Dobby?" James asked, confused. "You mean the house-elf at Hogwarts that's weirdly obsessed with you?"
"He's not obsessed," Harry countered. "He's a friend. A very old friend, who once levitated a cake over my aunt and uncle's house guest when I was twelve and got me a warning from the Ministry."
"And how is that different from my little incident with the house turning upside down?"
Harry all but growled, "That was you intentionally breaking the rules, James. And you broke your mother's good china."
All eyes were on Ginny now, who found herself holding up her hands in mock defence. "That's on their Ginny, not me," she said, shrugging. "I don't own any china."
"It was a wedding gift," Al explained helpfully. "From Uncle Ron and Aunt -"
"- You know what?" Harry spoke straight over the top of his son, silencing his almost very spectacular slip of the tongue. "That's not the point. This dementor incident should have been my warning, but it's not. So now I have to go and front a hearing at the Ministry."
Looking back to Mrs Weasley now, he continued conversationally, "Am I correctly assuming I'm going to work with Arthur again?"
She was momentarily gobsmacked, but Mr Weasley - who was surprisingly acclimating to their new situation without any problems - said, "You can wait in my office until it's time for the hearing."
Harry look to Sirius, whom he was all too aware wanted nothing more than to accompany him disguised as his animagus form, but before he could say anything Mrs Weasley had stepped in again.
"Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius to go with you, and I must say I -"
"- Think he's quite right," Sirius finished for her through clenched teeth.
"When did Dumbledore tell you that?" Harry demanded, knowing full well the Headmaster had promised to keep him in the loop.
"He came last night, when you were in bed," Mr Weasley told him.
"And when is he coming back?" Harry demanded. He got no answer other than a shrug.
