Once more Harry was blessed with the blissful sensation of feeling and hearing nothing. It lasted a perfect minute. Then, the silence was broken by a soft ringing in his ears.

It was the kind of ringing you get after subjecting your ears to loud noise; a soft buzzing that gets louder the more you focus on it. Then a thudding joined it, it sounded like a machine. The Thuds! came rhythmically and were in perfect synchronisation with his heartbeat. More sounds quickly followed; the blowing of the wind, soft voices in the distance, a bird singing and -

an alarm started blaring. It was not particularly loud, just way too close to Harry's ear for comfort and he winced at the piercing sound. It did not take long before he heard footsteps rushing closer and the sound of a metal door swinging open reached his ears.

There were hushed voices and the footsteps came to a startling halt next to his… bed? Harry resisted the urge to crack his eyes open and give his surrounding a full-blown inspection. Last time he checked he had not been in bed and he had not been able to dream up such accurate impressions of the Cruciatus curse. Well, not counting his "visions".

"Is he… awake?" A young, female sounding voice asked tentatively. He heard more shuffling and barely contained the urge to flinch when he felt something cold and wooden press against his neck; a wand.

Deciding that moving with a wand held by an undetermined owner pressed right against his throat was not the best move he fought to keep his breathing even and feign being asleep.

"No." A more crooked sounding voice, most likely belonging to an elder woman said curtly:"Awake, he clearly is not; Conscious, perhaps. Check his blood pressure, magical stability; run the usual tests. Let's see if pretty boy over here has decided to join the world of the living."

The blanket he only now realised he had been lying under was forcefully torn from his body. He realised he was wearing clothes. The fabric was soft but not extremely so; he assumed they were pyjamas. He was desperate to find out just what trouble he had managed to get himself into this time.

Unfortunately for Harry, the witches/Death Eaters/Demons did their work in a professional silence and only the occasional:"Pass me this!" broke it. He had hoped they would be spilling their deepest and darkest secrets with the belief their patient was asleep; they did not.

After being prodded by wands and being injected more times than Harry would like to admit the witches finally reached a conclusion. Harry could not have cared less if they declared him a hopeless case bound for imminent death if it meant the witches/Death Eaters/Demons would leave his company. He wanted nothing more than for life to go back to normal. Step one would be being able to actually see and stop pretending to be asleep.

"Looks like we will be making a couple of parents very happy today." The elder witch/Death Eater/Demon said. The other, younger one chuckled and replied:"Indeed, do you wish for me to inform them?"

Her elder companion remained quiet for a minute, then she supplied:"Yes, but do not give them false hope. We do not know when he will wake up, we do not know if he will be sane and we have no idea what, if any, explanation will come from him."

Harry suddenly felt an incredibly bad-timed and inconvenient urge to sneeze well up. The tickling sensation started faintly at the back of his throat, but as he tried to repress or at the very least procrastinate sneezing until the witches had left the room the tickling got more intense. He had to repress the urge to giggle and he almost sighed in relief when he heard footsteps making their way into the distance.

When he heard a door swing open he did a mental little celebration dance but then;

ACHOO!

He sneezed, and he sneezed loudly at that. His eyes sprung open from the sheer force of his sneeze. He glanced at his surrounding in horrification. The room he was in was white; too white. He copied Regulus's habit and did a mental: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten.

It did not calm him down in the slightest. He quickly pressed his eyes down shut but it was too late; an amused voice sounded to his right:

"Bless you handsome."

Harry cursed his luck and his eyes flicked to the source of the voice. He glared at the pair of them as they chuckled. The older witch/Death Eater/Demon had a kind face, a plump build and reminded him strangely of Madam Pomfrey. The younger was a pretty girl. She had big, round brown eyes that dominated her face and held a certain degree of mirth.

No matter how kind and innocent they looked, with their chuckling Harry had not yet rejected the idea of them being Death Eaters or Demons yet.

"Thank you." Harry said stiffly, deciding that even if they were Death Eaters or Monsters, it would not do to forget his manners. The nurses started making their way over and Harry took the few seconds of peace it gave him to study his surrounding.

He was sitting on a bed, it was simple, white and an equally simple blanket was covering him. The room was also simple; it was a perfect square with numerous medical machines and a single window (which was also a perfect square).

His clothes were the polar opposite of his surroundings. They looked expensive, Merlin, they felt expensive. The fabric was soft and light, yet perfectly capable of keeping him warm in the considerably chilly room. They were a midnight black and fit him perfectly.

Harry had not wanted to break the silence and had wanted the witches/Death Eaters/Demons to do it for him instead. But they had long since reached his bedside and were now staring at him with big eyes full of expectancy.

"Where am I?" was the sensible first question Harry decided to ask. He had a small dozen number of questions that were a lot less sensible and could possibly get him locked up into the Mental Ward of St. Mungos.

"You are at St. Mungos love." the elder witch answered him helpfully. Harry blinked, perhaps he had subconsciously voiced his not sensible questions and had already been locked up in the Mental Ward.

That certainly was a surprise. He had always known he was not normal; he had never before considered himself crazy.

"Why am I at St. Mungos?" Harry asked next, deciding to stick to the safe and sensible questions first. He figured at least outwardly appearing to be slightly sane would be his best chance of getting out of the Mental Ward.

The two witches (Harry had officially discarded all suspicions of them being Demons, he was still banking on them being Death Eaters in disguise) shared a look. Then the younger one spoke up:"I believe introductions are in order first, don't you think?"

She smiled gently at him and said:"I am Emily McKinnon, this here is Madam Pomfrey - she is a healer at St. Mungos. I myself am an intern, we already know who you are of course."

Harry was not surprised; the woman both bore an uncanny resemblance to the woman he knew with the same last names. He nodded numbly and deadpanned:"Nice to meet you, I am Harry Potter."

The witches both gave him an odd look and Emily McKinnon said funnily:"No you're not."

It was Harry's turn to give them an odd look but he did not comment. He was not ready for another mind-blowing revelation. He had had plenty of those for one day, thank you very much. If they wanted to load an identity-crisis onto his plate they could do so tomorrow.

So instead of commenting on them claiming he did not even know his own name he decided to resort to the last sensible question on his list:"How long have I been here?"

The two witches apparently agreed to putting his identity-crisis on hold for another day because Mrs. Pomfrey smiled slightly and answered:"3 months, 4 days… and counting! We will not be releasing you any time soon sweetheart."

Harry wanted to snap at the woman to stop calling him pet names but being stunned by the fact that he had been passed out for over three months took priority. He simply stared at her; no doubt resembling a gold-fish. Eyes wide, mouth open and breaths coming in ragged. He started mentally listing all the thing that could have gone wrong in his three months of being dead to the world

When he had finished calculating the statistic procentual probability of Hogwarts being blown up (an alarming 7%) the nurses reached the conclusion he would not be gracing them with a response and decided to disturb his calculations and apocalyptic thoughts.

"Listen sweetie, you have been passed out for three months. You must have many, many questions and it is our belief that it would be better if your parents are there when you ask them. Besides, we do not want to miss your reaction when you see that pretty face of yours in a mirror."

Harry almost choked. His confusion was rocketing to new levels entirely. His parents? He debated informing Mrs. Pomfrey of the fact that his parents were dead, and had been so for the past decade.

His head felt like a Buckbeak had unceremoniously trampled over it and Grawp had hit him repeatedly with a stick. He could not be arsed to grace the witch's inappropriate joke with a comeback.

So when Mrs. Pomfrey sighed and told Emily McKinnon to get him a Dreamless Sleep potion he did not protest. He greedily downed the potion and it was only when he was lulling into sleep that he realised he probably should have checked if the witches were Death Eaters before downing the potion.

- SABB -

Many, many hours of sleep later Harry slowly returned to the world of the living. He startlingly realised there was a conversation going on around him. Harry swore that if he woke up in a different place from where he had gone to sleep again he would never close his eyes again.

"Mrs. Pomfrey, surely he can be released sooner…" a familiar voice demanded. Relief settled in his system at hearing that he was at St. Mungos still or, at the very least, in Mrs. Pomfrey's care.

"Maybe, maybe not. It all depends on how stable his magic proves to be." Mrs. Pomfrey stated simply, not to be perturbed by the other unidentified woman's demands.

There was a huff:"I do not see why he can not be treated at home, we would be able to pay of course…" the voice said haughtily. The voice was familiar; in a bad way. He knew who that voice belonged to, it had screamed at him for hours on end, insulted him in the most colourful ways imaginable and had belonged to portrait of the deceased Walburga Black.

Harry mentally emphasised the deceased.

He added Walburga's voice being completely out of context and in St. Mungos on his list of things-that-have-not-made-sense-these-past-30-Hours. With his perfectly matched socks at the bottom (his socks never matched) and his unceremonious, unexpected and very painful yet still inexplicable torture session at the top.

"He needs to be able to be treated quickly if an emergency comes up, just because he is stable now does not mean he will be tomorrow. You do not want a magically unstable child in your house, let alone an eleven-yearoldone." He pictured Mrs. Pomfrey shuddered as she said the last part.

The not-a-portrait Walburga Black was unperturbed by Mrs. Pomfrey reasonable suggestion:"I will decide what I do and do not want in my house." she said haughtily, then she continued:"But I will permit you to keep him in your care for another three weeks. His attending Hogwarts will not be compromised by this, I refuse to allow it."

Harry briefly wondered if they were discussing him or if there was some other patient in the room that Harry had yet to identify. Because if not-a-portrait Walburga Black was defending his, Harry Potter's, proud half-blood, defender of Muggle-borns and overall blood-traitor, right to attend Hogwarts the only explanation would be that he had landed himself in an alternate dimension.

Which, considering recent events, was not even that crazy an idea.

Mrs. Pomfrey sighed and complied:"Very well, I will see to it that he will be fit to attend Hogwarts. But if his magic proves to be unstable I have no choice but to keep him here, which I am sure you understand, as any reasonable witch and mother would."

Either Mrs. Pomfrey was quite skilled at the delicate art of manipulation and was forcing Walburga Black to choose between forcing her son home and looking like a good mother, or nobody had bothered to tell Mrs. Pomfrey that Walburga Black was not a reasonable witch and was not a reasonable mother either.

Whichever one it was, her method proved to be effective. Mrs. Pomfrey changed the subject and Harry was horrified to hear her say:"It is about time we wake him up, don't you think so Mrs. Black?"

Then, without warning and without waiting for Walburga's approval a needle pinched into his arm and Harry's eyes flung open as a shockwave of adrenaline coursed to his body. He blinked, feeling disoriented and propped himself up on his elbows.

Probably not half as disoriented as he would have felt if he had been asleep in the first place; Harry was slightly angry at being woken so unceremoniously.

"Oh Regulus!" Walburga cried and he was forcefully pulled into a tight hug. "My poor, poor baby!"

Harry's brain paused.

The entire world paused.

If Regulus had not already been dead, Harry would have killed him.

He had not realised how literally he should apparently taken the boy's statement that someone would be able to "take his place."

He felt the urge to laugh manically, break something and take a long nap all at the same time. Apparently the urge to break something triumphed because a loud Crack! sounded in the room.

Walburga reluctantly let go of him… her son. Harry mentally groaned at the thought and decided then and there that he would learn to resurrect the dead just so he could give Regulus a piece of his mind.

An occupant he was only now noticing spoke up:"Is his magic not stable yet? I thought you said it was stable." The man looked like a mix of Sirius and Regulus; or rather, they looked like him.

Harry used his amazing skills of deduction to conclude that the tall, dark-haired man who looked to be in his fifties and was clad in robes of the highest quality was Orion Black. Or, Harry supposed, his newfound father.

Mrs. Pomfrey faced him with an odd look but did not speak up. She whipped out her wand in a matter of seconds and started running what Harry assumed were tests.

Either that or they had found out that Harry was pretty much possessing Regulus's body and the tests were actually an exorcism.

Walburga voiced his question by snapping:"What are you doing to my son?"

The plump nurse did not answer. She simply stared at Harry with an incredulous look:"His magic is stable…"

"Don't be silly! He just blew up a window. By Merlin, is that what you consider stable around here?" Walburga reprimanded the girl and from the corner of his eyes he saw Orion nodding in agreement with her.

Then Walburga's eyes turned to Harry and her eyes softened:"Regulus are you all right? We were so, so very worried about you when we found you with that pool of blood next to you, weren't we Orion?"

After an obedient :"Yes dear." from Orion she continued:"You missed so many things! Your brother will be joining us tomorrow unfortunately. I told him he would not get to see you until he seriously reigned in his behaviour, you will not be able to avoid him at Hogwarts of course… but best not let him rub off on you."

Harry wanted to comment on the fact that a) yes, he was all right physically now b) he wanted to see Sirius Black c) enquire about just what exactly he had missed and d) inform her that he would be murdering her already dead son at the earliest convenience.

He decided to ask his questions in chronological order and kicked off with:"Yes mother" testing the word and letting it roll of his tongue like a foreign dish "I feel all right."

He was ready to move on to part (b) of his little questionnaire when Orion Black spoke up:"That's good to know son, you gave us quite a scare."

Harry let a not-entirenly-but-still-mostly-fake smile grace his lips. The man's concern was touching, but the fact that the concern was actually aimed at the very man Harry was planning to murder shot him straight back into his grumpy mood.

"Thank you father." He answered, the words sounding as strange coming out of his mouth as calling Walburga mother had.

Then, getting back on track he resumed his little entourage of questions:"What happened to me?"

He decided the question was specific enough to get him the answers he wanted; but vague enough to not come off as a loony in case recent events were not the way he remembered them to be.

The four adults in the room all shared a look, most likely mentally drawing straws. Harry's mood went from bad to worse but slightly brightened when it looked like Orion drew the shortest mental straw.

"It is quite a story. We found you the day after we dropped Sirius off at the Platform on the floor; you were unconscious and the entire room was in ruins. There was a growing pool of blood on the floor next to you so we took you here. We-" he signalled at himself and Walburga "expected you to wake within a 24 hours time span so we were not worried at first. But then you would not wake up, for a week, then for a month and we were starting to worry you would not wake at all… Then your magic spiralled out of control, even though you were unconscious. You had to be locked up in some of the more… constrictive rooms at St. Mungos. When your magic finally stabilised we noticed something had changed in you appearance; you had lost weight naturally but your features were changing and… well let's just say you look like you have just gone through a blood adoption ritual." Orion took a deep breath and concluded:

"In short, we haven't got the foggiest just what happened to you."

Harry nodded slowly, not all that surprised by Orion's explanation. When he had asked the question he had been fully prepared to hear anything ranging from a curse cast by Voldemort to an unexpected Nargle epidemic.

He would rather have taken the Nargle epidemic. There was something intensely annoying about not knowing just what the bloody hell was going on and he once more reached the conclusion that he hated Regulus Black with a passion for putting him in this situation.

Then another part of Orion's little explanation settled down in his brain and he promptly exclaimed:"What do you mean, you look like you have just gone through a blood adoption ritual?"

Orion and Walburga shared a look and Mrs. Pomfrey suddenly looked a fair bit like a deer caught in the headlights:"We thought it would be better if he found out with the two of you there."

Walburga did not waste any time. Her eyes were scanning the room like a predator on the hunt. When she did not spot what she was looking for in the immediate vicinity she shot Mrs. Pomfrey a questioning glare.

"I am afraid we do not have any large mirrors in this part of the hospital. Security measures you see, some of our patients are not here on on an entirely… voluntary basis." She shot back at the haughty woman.

Walburga's face morphed into looking like there was a particularly nasty smell, then, with a long suffering sigh she said:"Kreacher!"

It did not take long for the first familiar face to appear in the white, square room. The Elf was less wrinkly yet equally as ugly as Harry remembered the Elf being. Harry had been convinced of the fact that the Elf's face was permanently stuck in a face of disgust and contempt.

The opposite was currently displayed on Kreacher's face; his big eyes were wide and he stared at Harry, well, Regulus really, like the second coming of Merlin himself was sitting before him.

"It is true! Young Master is awake…" The Elf muttered, mostly to himself. Walburga did not put any value in the House-Elf's an emotional breakdown so she cut him short:"Fetch a mirror Kreacher." she snapped.

Kreacher gave his big head a wobbly shake and bowed down deeply before disappearing with a POP! reappearing with another Pop!, but with a large mirror in his hands.

The Elf was almost falling over under the weight of the far-too-heavy mirror. It was a full-body mirror, complete with luxe, wooden frame. It was a miracle the Elf had not broken the bloody mirror yet.

Mrs. Pomfrey quickly relieved Kreacher off the mirror since Walburga made no attempt to do any such thing. Then she shot Harry a reassuring smile and beckoned him closer. Meanwhile she was struggling to hold the large mirror upright.

Harry swung his legs of his bed with difficulty. It was only now dawning on him that if he had been in a magically induced coma for three months his muscles would have weakened severely. He carefully slid down on his feet and when Mrs. Pomfrey remembered the state of his muscles - or complete lack thereof she exclaimed:"Emily, be a dear and help the poor boy stand."

A fierce blush tinged Harry's blush at the prospect of not being able to stand on his own. Harry had never liked being dependent on others and this…well, it was the very epitome of dependancy.

Emily's eyes widened and she shot to his side. Walburga and Orion pursed their lips in distaste, whether they did not like the thought of their son not being able to stand or they were simply disgusted by Harry being touched by the likes of Emily he was not sure. She helpfully took a firm hold of his shoulder. Harry was sitting upright in his bed with both legs dangling off it. He slowly lowered himself and his weight onto the floor until his feet were flat on the floor. Emily then took both his arms by the elbows firmly and Harry stood up.

Or, tried to at least.

It took him a minute to regain his balance after which (whilst still heavily leaning on Emily) he made his way over to Mrs. Pomfrey and the giant mirror. He barely lifted his feet off the floor and was practically dragged to the other side of the room by could see Walburga twitch, probably repressing the urge to scold him for dragging his feet. He was baffled momentarily that the woman knew that now would not be the best time to comment on him dragging his feet but all bafflement over that particular piece of information was washed away when he looked up into the mirror and looked straight into…

Emerald eyes?

Familiar almond-shaped and sparkling green eyes were staring back at him with a look of confusion dominant in them.

He tore his eyes away from his eyes and gaped. He heard a few amused chuckles in the background but barely registered them. The face staring back at him did definitely not belong to Regulus Black.

Or anyone else he had ever seen before for that matter.

He studied the strangers face in front of him. He felt a hand on his shoulders and saw Walburga's smiling face in the mirror. Her face was beaming with pride and… caring? Two expressions he had believed to be foreign to the haughty woman's face.

"You look like your grandfather." Orion's voice sounded with equal pride. Harry returned to the important task of studying the strangers - his new face. There were signs of Regulus's aristocratic features; the straight nose was there, the pale complexion, the rosy lips.

Then some features that Harry definitely recognised as his. The most obvious one being his eyes, but it seemed he would be cursed with the Potter hair for all eternity. The black mop of hair on top of his hair was not nearly as messy as it had been initially; apparently Regulus's sleek, silky hair had tamed it somewhat, and the result was a head of hair that was a happy in-between.

"He looks handsome, does he not?" Walburga beamed proudly. Harry was so utterly confused by looking in the mirror and seeing a face that was not his own that he muttered a quick "thank you." then he said "I would like to get back into bed."

The adults instantly sprung to action and, probably to prevent Emily from doing it for her, Walburga helped Harry shuffle back to the hospital bed.

When Harry was settled back down in bed he fought to repress the urge to scream and let out all his frustration and confusion. The rational part of his brain however urged him to move down the list so, promptly ignoring any new information revealed to him he dutifully sticked to the list and said:"I do wish to see my brother."

Calling Sirius his brother was a great deal more enjoyable than calling Walburga and Orion his parents. Harry supposed the dog animagus had always been more of a big brother than a father to him and he figured that the one good thing that came from this… situation would be the chance to finally have the relationship with Sirius he so longed for.

Walburga huffed and moved closer to him to press an elegant hand to his forehead to check his temperature:"Regulus, dear, you are sprouting nonsense. Why don't you get some rest hmm? We will talk more later, you are obviously not feeling like yourself yet. Why, you had a massive falling out with Sirius only mere hours before the… accident." she said.

Harry opened his mouth to protest but a warning look from Walburga made him close it. The discussion was not over, however, and Harry was determined to see Sirius as soon as possible. The only reason he did not demand to see his Godfather, well, brother now was because he frankly did not know if he would be able to deal with it. His brain was already handling more than it should and could and he did not want to add seeing and talking to a younger version of Sirius Black to his to-do list.

He conveniently moved on to the next part of the list, vowing to touch onto the matter later again. He resigned himself to his fate and asked the worried looking woman:"So then, what did I miss?"

Orion actually groaned and looked at his son as if he'd he strongly suspected the boy had hit head a little too hard. Which, considering Harry was currently residing in St. Mungos was actually a decent suspicion to have. Walburga's beady eyes glistened excitedly and as she opened her mouth to speak Mrs. Pomfrey and Mrs. McKinnon quickly excused themselves.

Walburga took a seat on the tiny chair stood next to Harry's - well, Regulus's now, bed. She folded her hands on her lap and positioned herself properly to tell whatever exciting piece of information she wished to share with her son:

"Oh Regulus! You would not believe it, you have been the talk of the town! Everyone, literally everyone, is talking about you. Well, the rumours have died down after the first month but now that you are awake and looking as you do now you will be sure to have some more moments in the spotlight. And you will be conscious to experience them at that! The marriage contracts will come rolling in for sure. Speaking of marriage contracts, the most outrageous thing happened to Mrs. Nott, why, it is to be expected of someone of her standing but -"

Harry tuned her out after that and, judging by the dazed look in his eyes, so did Orion. As a matter of fact, Harry dozed off and fell into a peaceful sleep. His last thought being that he did not get to finish his list; he still needed to inform Walburga of her son's death, resurrection, and then murder by yours truly.