Hey everyone. I know this was a fast update (sarcasm of doom) but I thank you for your patience. I had lots of stuff happening in my life that can be summed up by one word. Laziness. I did, however, start a new, better paid, and just generally fantastic teaching job. I also got engaged. Crazy, huh? Anyway, now that I've settled into my new circumstances, I hope to start writing regular chapters again.

And, once again, I apologize for the long wait. For whatever reason, there are many of you that really like this story, and I know the feeling when a story you enjoy goes on hiatus or the author just vanishes. So here's the latest chapter. Hope you like it.


I Feel Home

Sirius and Remus stood on Platform 9 and Three Quarters and watched the column of steam rise from the Hogwarts Express as it neared the horizon. It was the first time in fifteen years that either man had stood on the magical platform in Kings Cross Station. Even so it had taken some pleading from Harry for them to come see him off to his second first year. They both appeared to be lost to nostalgia as Arthur Weasley approached through the dissipating crowd of families.

"You two fancy a pint? Tom has a private room waiting for us, if you're interested."

Sirius started to answer affirmatively but caught the look Remus was sending him and relented. "Thanks, Arthur. I suppose we should probably floo up to Hogsmeade, though. It wouldn't be seemly to have the two newest Hogwarts professors show up pissed, would it?

Arthur nodded his understanding, wished them well until the next time they planned to meet, during the first quidditch game of the season, and departed with Molly and Ginny in tow to meet Amelia and the senior staff of the Department of Non-Magical Relations. Remus began to head for the disapparation point before noticing that Sirius was not next to him. Turning around, he saw his friend staring at his feet with both hands clenched at this sides. Slowly approaching the former convict, Remus gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

Sirius shook his head and looked up. "When do you think I'll be able to say 'yes'?"

With a sigh, Remus responded. "When you know you'll be able to say 'no,' I suppose."


November 27, 1990

The three wizards sat in a cafe in Cologne, Germany. Remus had argued against allowing Harry to join them, but between Sirius' completely illogical argument of repeating, "Come on, Moony!" and Harry's Hermione-like systematic presentation of various medical studies that proved limited amounts of alcohol would not impair his development, he finally gave up. Thanks to a few glamours, as well as a slight variation on the confundus charm which made it nearly impossible for muggles to place their accent or remember many details of their appearance, Harry had had no trouble gaining entrance to the cafe.

The three of them were currently debating muggle politics with a pair of extremely inebriated fellow patrons. The two older German men were fairly proficient at English, but the alcohol, subject matter and general noise level was limiting all of their thought processes. The taller man sitting across from Sirius was getting a bit red in the face, and Remus hoped that the color was from the beer and not in response to some idiotic, drunken statement about the American political system that Sirius was truly clueless about, yet continually discussed.

Harry, with the appearance of a young man just past his sixteenth birthday, was walking back from the toilets with a enough of a sway that Remus had to bite his tongue. Trying to discipline Harry was not only pointless, it was impossible. Harry was a grown man, even if he didn't look it, and in truth had lived a more dangerous, responsible and even (Remus had to admit) adult life than Remus himself. So, shaking off the urge to comment on how much of the strong German beer Harry had drunk, Remus smiled and nodded to the disguised time-traveler.

Harry glanced at him and grinned back, looking every bit the sixteen year old he was imitating. He'd seemingly perfected the role in the two months they'd been traveling in Europe. It was nearing Christmas at this point, and the trio had decided to head for Paris the next day to spend Christmas with the Flamel's after spending the first half of December traveling through magical France.

The first month had mostly been a tour of Ancient Magical Egypt and Mesopotamia, the oldest recorded magical civilizations. Remus had been fascinated by almost everything and had to be constantly shepherded onward by Harry and Sirius. Ancient temples and magical palaces hidden in the desert were not a rarity in that part of the world, and thanks to Rock's guidance, they didn't have to stumble through the hot sands searching for them.

Harry tolerated Remus' curiosity to the point that Sirius almost had a nervous breakdown as he stood around waiting for his friend to finish his inspections. Sirius did not have the same interest in historical magical areas as Remus, and the local magical culture was even more conservative and stuck in the past than England. Remus tried to explain that it was mainly attributable to fall of the magical Egyptian civilization as well as the rise of Persian and European magical cultures. Sirius explained it a bit more simply. "Bloody boring," tended to be one of the most common phrases the freed convict spoke during their weeks in the Middle East.

Sirius was definitely not unintelligent, thought Remus, as he eavesdropped on the debate his friend was still having with the two Germans in the cafe. He just did not have much natural curiosity, especially involving magical history. Remus amended that to include muggle history, as well, when he heard what Sirius was saying.

"Now, I may not be an American," exclaimed Sirius, gesticulating a bit drunkenly. "But I can tell you one thing. Those blokes in Mesopotamia," Remus winced a bit at the slip, but the muggles apparently were educated enough to know what he was talking about.

"They are a strange folk," Sirius continued. "And this Bush fellow knows what he's talking about. You can't let people like this mug- Minister they have start invading countries and whatnot without standing up to him. If you let him do what he wants when he's weak, who knows what he'll do in a year or two? Right? Am I right?" Sirius punctuated his statement with a large and somewhat messy series of gulps from his beer stein.

Harry sat down in the seat next to Remus and took a sip from his own beer before asking, "Are they still talking muggle politics?"

Remus nodded. "I just keep hoping that he won't say anything too bizarre for them, or we are going to have to skip out of here in a hurry." Harry grunted his agreement and glanced over at the men Sirius was talking to. He hadn't been able to hear what they were saying very well because of the music and crowd in the cafe. It wasn't shoulder to shoulder yet, but it was still early and there were definitely not enough seats for the current number of customers.

Just then the music began to die down a bit, and the volume of the crowd lowered correspondingly. Almost simultaneously, Sirius began to speak again, but at the same volume he had been using to be heard over the din of the cafe.

"I mean, you two know what I'm talking about! You had what's his name as a leader, right? Hippy? Hickler? What was his name? The guy with the funny mustache. That bloody wanker reminds me of the bloke with the funny hat down in the desert."

Remus could see that Sirius had no idea whatsoever that his voice was so loud it carried to the opposite side of the cafe. He looked toward Harry and saw him shut his eyes tightly and drain the rest of his beer in a few gulps. When Harry opened his eyes, he glanced around the suddenly silent room. Remus' eyes followed his and noticed that almost every face was turned in Sirius' direction while the two men he had been speaking to were gaping at him in angry confusion. He waited for what felt like forever for someone to speak before he was started out of his terror by the sound of Harry's chair screeching against the floor.

"Well, I think it's time we head back to the hotel, eh?" said Harry nervously as he placed a few more marks on the table than necessary and grabbed Sirius by the arm to urge him up. Remus joined him and the difficulty their friend had in standing upright made them realize how much he'd had to drink.

The crowd was ominously silent as the trio squeezed through the immovable throng toward the door. As they exited, Remus breathed a sigh of relief that no one had followed them outside. Sirius had been silent since they'd stood up, but with a blast of fresh air suddenly came back to himself and looked at Remus.

"What's going on? Did I say something wrong?"

Remus sighed again as Harry barked out a laugh and gave his godfather a squeeze around the shoulders.


Albus Dumbledore sat in the headmaster's chair at the head table in the Great Hall and watched the first years nervously skitter inside. There were four first years, however, that exuded a much different aura. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom did not seem nervous or scared. They appeared to be distracted. Although Hermione was gawking at the ornate banners and other decorations neatly arranged throughout the hall, she appeared to be examining them rather than being awestruck by them. Albus knew that Harry had shown her several memories in the past few weeks during which they had spent a good amount of time together, and he could only conclude that this was not her first experience with the Sorting Ceremony.

Ronald and Neville were not privy to Harry's time-traveling, but the past and future hero (for Albus had no doubt Harry would fulfill his destiny in this universe as well as he had in his own) was doing his very best to keep his new friends amused and not focused on the hundreds of faces that were focused on them. His efforts seemed to have met with some success. While Minerva quieted the students whose faces exhibited the usual shades between white and green, Albus noted that the four he had been discreetly observing only appeared to be vacillating between confidence and mild apprehension.

As Minerva placed the Sorting Hat on its stool, the Hall went silent and awaited its song. Though the timeline had been disrupted for over a year, the song itself was the same. Albus puzzled over that for a moment but resolved to ask the Hat about it when he returned to his office later that evening.

After giving the standard instructions to the new first years, Minerva proceeded to call them up to the Sorting Hat in alphabetical order. Albus watched with mild interest, wondering if any of the students would be sorted differently. Several students later, as they began to approach Hermione's name, nothing had changed from what Harry had shown him in his memory.

"Granger, Hermione." Minerva gave the briefest of smiles to the young girl with the wild hair who carefully walked up to the Sorting Hat. Hermione grinned back quickly and then took a deep breath as she sat down and waited for the hat to cover her head. She felt a slight breeze as the hat was lowered and shut her eyes as she began to take part in a thousand year old tradition.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Yes.... Yes, I know much about you already. But let me have a look for myself..." Hermione attempted to breath calmly as the Sorting Hat flew through her memories, causing a shiver to go up and down her back.

"Quite a mind you have here, Miss Granger. Indeed, you will certainly help Mr. Potter turn this world inside out. I wish you luck in GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat shouted the last word out loud and the Gryffindor table cheered and stomped their feet as the rest of the houses applauded politely, except for Slytherin, which stayed silent except for a few of the younger students and first years. Hermione sighed in relief, knowing that she would be in the same house as her first friend. She knew that Harry was depending on her, not only for help in classes and subjects that he hadn't studied in twenty years, but also to help him clean up any gaffes he made relating to his knowledge of classmates and schoolwork. Helping him appear to the other students in the dorms as a fellow child would be her main mission in the coming year. She would back him up on anything and everything. She just hoped it would be enough.


January 1, 1991

The international floo station in Chicago, Illinois was a madhouse. Minerva McGonagall raised her chin and did her best to ignore the pandemonium surrounding her as she calmly strode toward the customs desk. She was forced to dodge a few witches and wizards during the short walk, but arrived without incident. She handed the customs official her documentation and waited for the usual inane questions.

"Purpose of your visit?" asked the bored American witch without glancing up.

"I am visiting family," responded Minerva, shortly.

"How long will you be in the United States of Magical America?"

"Three days."

At her answer, the customs witch nodded and the quill floating next to her made an unreadable notation on a piece of parchment that Minerva assumed was a record book of some sort.

The witch handed Minerva her documents and finally glanced up with a false smile. "Enjoy your stay, ma'am. Next!" The last was shouted to the line behind Minerva, who shrunk her documents and continued on to the exit that would magically lead to the women's toilet in Chicago, Midway Airport.

Later that night as she entered her room at the Holiday Inn Minerva let out a small sigh and transfigured her dress back into her witches robes. She loved her nephew and his family greatly, but dealing with two very young children for several hours who wanted nothing more than to play with their 'Aunt Minny' exhausted the Transfiguration professor. She un-shrunk her bags and stepped into the bathroom for a moment. When she emerged, two people were sitting in the chairs near the window of her room.

"Ah!" The scream that escaped from her mouth was startled but her wand was out and pointed at the intruders within a second. Her eyes focused on her two uninvited guests and she let her guard slip just a fraction, recognizing that one of them was a child and the other was Remus Lupin, who would be taking over as the Defense professor in the fall.

Remus, she noticed, appeared a bit startled and was still eyeing her wand warily. The boy, however, was ignoring it completely and grinning cheekily at her. The familiar mischief in his eyes, as well as his general appearance, allowed her to identify him.

"Harry Potter?" she asked, lowering the wand completely, to Remus' relief.

Harry grinned at his once and future professor and friend. "Indeed, and you know Remus, I think?"

Minerva nodded and acknowledged the werewolf before staring at Harry again. He happily noticed she did not look at his forehead, but at his face and then into his eyes. Satisfied, Minerva finally placed her wand back in her robes and almost chuckled at the easing of tension from the older man next to Harry. She had only spoken to her former student briefly the previous summer when Albus had introduced him as the future Defense professor for the following year. Not being required to search at the last minute for a Defense professor was a novel change, but had not been eventful enough to warrant more than a few minutes of polite conversation.

Now she gave him a good look, and was pleasantly surprised. She knew of his affliction, of course, and had noted during their earlier meeting that he seemed to have aged much faster than most his age. Currently, he appeared much healthier and, to her eye, content. Minerva wondered how much the presence of Harry accounted for that.

Bringing herself back to the nascent conversation, Minerva gestured vaguely around her room. "How long have you been in here? I cannot imagine you just walked in while I was in the W.C."

She was looking to Remus for an answer and was somewhat surprised to hear Harry respond.

"We used my fathers old invisibility cloak. I'm sure you remember it."

"Remember it? I would say so," sniffed Minerva. "But that does not excuse the fact that you are in my room without permission. Is there anything that would have prevented you from simply knocking on the door?"

Remus coughed softly and looked down at the floor in what Minerva thought was mock contrition. Harry appeared not at all flustered by her question and again answered.

"Well, you can never be too careful and there's no need for anyone to know we're meeting you here." Harry nodded as if that was the end of it, but Remus spoke up for the first time.

"Harry also wanted to prove to me that your reaction time was better than mine. I never argued that it wasn't, but he kept taunting me all the same. Personally, I think he just wanted to surprise you." Remus said the last while looking at Harry somewhat smugly.

"I see," said Minerva dryly. "Would you care to explain why exactly you desired a secret meeting in my hotel room in Chicago?"

She looked back and forth between the two of them as they exchanged glances. Finally, Harry spoke.

"There's something I need to tell you about myself, Minerva. You should probably have a seat."

She watched as Harry stood and pulled a wand that he wasn't old enough to possess out of his pocket with one hand, and a shrunken case out with the other. He un-shrunk the case and then cast several verbal and nonverbal spells that Minerva couldn't identify save for an extremely strong privacy charm that she had thought only Albus Dumbledore and senior members of the Order of the Phoenix knew. She'd certainly not expected a ten-year old boy to have mastered it.

Taking Harry's advice, Minerva sat down. She didn't stand back up for a long while.


Albus beamed under his beard as Hermione smiled widely and almost skipped to the Gryffindor table. The next several first years continued the pattern of unknowingly repeating themselves from an alternate timeline. Finally, Neville Longbottom approached the Hat. His earlier confidence seemed to have evaporated and the poor boy was nearly shaking in fright.

Minerva placed a gentle hand on Neville's shoulder in another uncharacteristic display warmth. Neville glanced at her over his shoulder, took a deep breath and nodded. The Hat was placed on his head and Albus watched as the boy's shoulders shifted from tense and bunched into a more natural, relaxed position. Less than thirty seconds later, the Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville scrambled off the stool and was halfway to the Gryffindor table before he realized the Sorting Hat was still on his head. Laughing at himself, he turned around and gently handed the Hat back to Minerva who, to Albus' shock, actually chuckled with him and called the next student to be sorted.

As the boy finally sat down next to her at their new house table, Hermione thought back to the pensieve memories that Harry had shown her of their original sorting. The contrast between the two Neville's was extraordinary. She knew that Harry had given him a bit of a pep talk on the train, and she supposed that making a friend or two before getting off the Hogwarts Express would improve his disposition a bit. The boy sitting next to her, still smiling, still radiating confidence, must have had another altered experience from the original timeline. She'd seen the man he would become in Harry's memories, but it had taken years for Neville to get to that point. She wondered what the Sorting Hat had said to him in the brief time it had sat atop his head.


April 1, 1991

Kingsley Shacklebolt woke up early. That was a fact of life for him. The rare morning he was not up before the sun was usually a morning he had not gone to sleep before it rose. Kingsley knew today was going to be trouble. He just hoped that the trouble limited itself to harmless jokes and pranks, and not something he would be required to respond to as the new supervisor for the Non-Magical Interference Administration sub-department. As he got dressed and picked up his wand he wished again for a normal day, but if wishes were hippogryphs, Kingsley thought, beggars could fly.

His arrival at the Ministry went well in the sense that it was normal and ordinary in every way. His trip in the lift was similarly uneventful. There were a few memo-planes as well as a young wizard Kingsley recognized but didn't know the name of traveling along with him, but none of the memos exploded and the young wizard kept to himself. Walking toward the entrance to the Muggle Relations Department was an interesting experience, as it was every day. Candle and torchlight gave way to a bright, florescent glow. By the time Kingsley reached the door, if he didn't look behind him, he could easily think he was in a modern muggle office building.

With a relieved sigh, Kingsley walked through the door, thankful that there had been no April Fools jokes played on him or near him so far. Inside the office were about fifteen desks as well as a matching number of witches and wizards sitting at them. This was the heart of the Muggle Relations Department. Two large fireplaces sat opposite each other to Kingsley's right and left. These were used for the people in this room to make and receive calls involving magic and magic-users in the muggle world or muggles in the wizarding world.

The four corners of the room led to hallways which housed the four sub-departments: Government relations, Goods and Trade, Techno-magic research and his own Non-Magical Interference sub-department. He walked ahead and to the right, and after going through a couple of more doors, entered his office, where he was promptly hit in the back with a full-body bind and then wrapped in magical ropes.

With an inward sigh, Kingsley watched his mentor reveal himself Mad-Eye Moody cancelled a disillusionment charm.

"Kingsley, that was bloody pathetic! I didn't even need to make myself invisible, you were so wrapped up in your usual thestral shit!" Mad-Eye was spitting his disgust so vehemently that some landed on Kingsley's paralyzed face.

After a minute or so of heated lecturing, in which the phrase 'Constant Vigilance!' was used somewhat sparingly, Kingsley waited for Made-Eye to release the bind. As the scarred former-auror raised his wand to cancel the hex, he himself fell and landed next to Kingsley, paralyzed and tied up as well. The only difference that Kingsley could see, as he laid on his side facing where Mad-Eye had fallen, was that instead of ropes, the old man was tied-up with a vine which was covered in swiftly blooming pink flowers.

Two different laughs, one familiar to both former-aurors as that belonging to Albus Dumbledore, and another that sounded like a child's, filled their ears. The owners of the laughter appeared in Kingsley's line of sight and he watched in surprise as the child looked up at Dumbledore and taunted him.

"'I do not believe you will be able to incapacitate Alastor,' he says. You forgot about that duel we had during training last week."

Albus nodded seriously as he surveyed the two downed men in front of him. "I must admit, even with my knowledge of your abilities, I continue to assume that those with more easily apparent skills will be able to best you."

The bewilderment that Kingsley was unable to express facially were easily visible in his eyes and when Harry glanced down and met his gaze, he started his childish giggling for the second time. When he looked into Moody's single human eye, Harry didn't see confusion, he saw rage. Knowing that Mad-Eye would probably be able to break the bind soon enough, he let Albus take over.

"Hello Kingsley, Alastor. Harry and I have come here today to share information with you about what has been going on these past eight months or so. This is Harry Potter, of whom I believe you know. What you do not, could not know is that Harry has traveled back in time with knowledge of great importance. Now, Harry shall release the hexes that have rendered you unable to respond and then I will request you make use of the pensieve I have brought for the purpose of helping you believe and possibly understand this most unlikely story."

With easy, practiced movements, Harry released Mad-Eye and Kingsley from their paralyses. He waited a moment and watched them squirm in their ropes before releasing those as well. Predictably, Moody pulled his wand out before the ropes were completely vanished. Kingsley stood quickly and surveyed the three people in front of him. His mentor was as agitated as he'd ever seen him, which was understandable, as Kingsley had never seen anyone get the drop on the man before. Dumbledore looked calm and somewhat amused while the boy who was apparently Harry Potter lowered his wand and waited several seconds before Moody did the same.

Albus motioned toward a pensieve sitting on Kingsley's desk that he had placed while the proper occupants of the office had been immobilized on the floor. Inside the ancient stone bowl swirled the silvery substance that Kingsley recognized as memories. He glanced back at the old man and the child who were trying to calm Mad-Eye down and then returned his eyes to the pensieve. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and, after a slight spinning sensation that was familiar to him from countless experiences with recorded memories from when he was an auror, found himself facing himself. But the Kingsley sitting at a simple, yet obviously antique desk was very obviously an older, more well-to-do man than Kingsley had imagined until that moment. An old, bald man who he recognized as his current boss, Arthur Weasley, walked in with someone who could have passed for what Kingsley imagined Harry Potter's father looked like. Suddenly, everything clicked into place and the information given to him in the past few minutes crashed together in his mind.

If this was an April Fools joke, then Kingsley was thoroughly fooled.


"Potter, Harry," read Minerva from her list. Harry gave Ron a pat on the back and strode confidently forward toward the Sorting Hat. So far, with the exception of faster than previous sortings for Hermione and Neville, everyone was in the houses he remembered from the other timeline.

Of course, almost the entire Great Hall was whispering and pointing at him. Harry thought he spotted the Weasley twins placing a bet at the Gryffindor table a few seats away from the newly sorted first years. He glanced at the head table and gave Remus and Sirius, soon to be announced as the new Defense Professor and Assistant Transfiguration Professor, a grin and a wink. Hermione and Neville had been chatting animatedly with a young girl that Harry had difficulty identifying as Lavender Brown, but now were focused on him as he sat down in front of the Deputy Headmistress.

He felt a draft of air the second before the Sorting Hat was placed on his head and slid down to cover his eyes.

"Mister Potter, it's good to speak with you again. You have brought me the most entertainment I've enjoyed in quite awhile. I normally allow students to state their preference, even if it is often subconsciously, but I believe we are in agreement as to the house in which you would accomplish the most."

As he mentally agreed with the Hat, Harry thought he heard an amused snort in his mind right before the name "GRYFFINDOR!" exploded in his ears.


May 24, 1991

Sirius woke up and fervently wished he hadn't. He waited a moment to open his eyes since the heat on his face most likely meant he was facing the sun. He tried to remember the night before and with the effort came the realization that couldn't remember the past week. Oh, there were bits and pieces of memory that seemed to be jumbled together in some sort of nightmarish montage. The longer he thought about it, the more hazy memories rose in his mind. Along with the bile in his throat.

He rolled over and vomited, spitting and hacking for several moments afterward to get the last of the taste out of his mouth. Sirius could feel dried grass and dirt along his side, as well as the uncomfortable sensation of small rocks digging into his skin.

Finally opening his eyes, Sirius winced in pain at both the light and the tugging sensation of his eyelids coming unstuck from the gunk sealing them. After a moment to orient himself, he glanced down and visually confirmed what he had suspected from the physical sensations his body was sending his somewhat addled mind. He was naked. Or almost naked.

Wearing a pair of white underwear which looked as if they hadn't been washed in weeks, Sirius grimaced and looked around in the vain hope that he'd just had the desire to sleep without pants or a shirt. It wasn't so. He could see no sign of anything resembling clothes and decided he was in a park of some sort, though it was obviously a very run down, if not abandoned, one. After taking a moment to consider, he realized he had no idea of the day or his location.

He stood up carefully. Rising to a sitting position had been difficult enough, and he had no desire to fall back to the ground that he now saw was filthy and had garbage strewn about. His whole body ached and throbbed, especially his head and throat. His mouth tasted worse than any time he could remember and almost caused him to retch again.

Scattered memories of a horrified look on Remus' face as Sirius drunkenly shouted in his friends face clawed their way into his mind. He hoped that the multiple recollections of similar situations were all from the same event and not part of a prolonged alcohol induced argument as they seemed.

After stumbling forward for what felt like an entire day but, based on the painful sun's lack of change in position, had only been a half hour at most, Sirius approached what looked to be an exit from the park. He saw what looked like writing of some sort and a distant part of his mind recognized it as Chinese.

The memories started to come flooding back. Remus and Harry finding him in a narrow dark alleyway around the corner from the hotel the three of them were staying in. Remus asking him to stop, cajoling him, then finally begging. Nothing stopped him from pouring cup after cup of the disgusting but strong Chinese liquor down his throat. He remembered waking up in several different beds, sometimes with a woman, sometimes alone. His clothes had eventually gotten so odorous that eventually he only recalled waking up alone.

His friend and godson had tracked him down more than once, but neither had been willing to use magic to stop him since the Chinese's Magical Ministry was quite strict about foreigners using magic without permission, especially on another person. He had evaded them easily thanks to that.

As he approached the exit, he noticed a small bench. Gratefully, he took a seat and let his head hang back, not caring that his back and legs were sticking to the plastic due to the summer heat.

He woke up to his name being shouted and a slap to the face. Remus and Harry stood over him. Harry held two cloth sacks while Remus was holding his head up with one hand and preparing to hit him again with the other.

"I'm up! I'm up! Merlin, Moony! You don't have to hit me."

Remus dropped his hands to his side and straightened up. "Well, screaming in your face wasn't working, and after living on the streets of Wuhan for almost two weeks I wasn't sure you weren't still piss drunk."

Harry walked to Remus' side and dropped the two sacks next to Sirius on the bench, then crossed his arms, looking as stern as he could in his ten year old body.

"These are your clothes and what the police found in your pockets. Apparently a couple of petty thieves robbed you after you passed out last night but couldn't agree on how to split your meager belongings. The old woman called the police on the younger guy, and both of them got arrested. Muggle Police, unfortunately for them. Luckily, the police asked them where they saw you last."

Sirius shrugged as he dug through the first bag and pulled out his wand and wallet. He grabbed what was left of his watch and frowned at the cracked face and missing wrist band. Nothing else inside of the bag interested him after that. He didn't even have to pull anything out of the second bag to know that it held the clothes he had been wearing during his bender. The smell was evidence enough, like a stronger, professional version of his body odor.

Harry saw the look on his face and answered the question before Sirius could ask it. "No, we didn't bring any other clothes. You have to wear these and then we'll have them cleaned...or disposed of, in the hotel. It's not going to be a holiday for us, either. We have to ride in the taxi with you."

A retort would have normally escaped his mouth without thought, but Sirius was still too bemused at the situation to do more than grunt his understanding. Remus and Harry shared a worried look, something they had done so often in the past few weeks that it was becoming habit, and helped Sirius to a taxi.


The Sorting Hat had barely touched Ron's head when it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Harry's entire table erupted in cheers. They were led in volume by the Weasley twins, as well as Percy. Harry had not remembered Percy's enthusiasm either because of some slight difference in this universe or because he had been too overwhelmed to pay attention in his original timeline.

Ron trotted to the table excitedly and sat next to Hermione, who blushed after seeing the knowing look in Harry's eyes. She was too young at the moment, as was Ron, to imagine such things, but being the encyclopedia of knowledge that she was, knew what the relationship her alternate self had had with the red head meant.

Albus stood and the Great Hall quieted almost instantly. "Greetings everyone, and welcome to another wonderful year at Hogwarts! I have a feeling that this will be one of the most exciting and interesting years we have had in quite some time." Minerva, despite her best efforts, couldn't hold in a snort. It did not distract Albus, though his welcoming smile seemed to shift somewhat into one of amusement. "Most of the announcements I have can wait until after we eat, as I am sure from the looks on your faces that you are famished. However, I would like to introduce our two new professors.

"Remus Lupin is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and has extensive experience both in dueling and dark creatures of all kinds. His former classmate, Sirius Black will assist Professor McGonagall with Transfiguration and be available for tutoring those of you in your OWL and NEWT years. I ask you all to warmly welcome Professors Lupin and Black to Hogwarts!"

The students all knew the story of Sirius Black's imprisonment in Azkaban, and many were still scandalized that the Ministry had treated him so unfairly. The Great Hall echoed with the applause and shouts of four of the five tables, while Slytherin took its cue from their obviously displeased head of house and did their best to scowl menacingly. Harry cheered as loudly as he could, as did Hermione and Ron, who had taken it personally that Peter Pettigrew had chosen his family to trick into keeping him as a pet rat. A glance at Snape proved that working with the dour Potions professor would probably be even more difficult in this timeline than his original one with the two Marauders sharing the castle with the last living Potter.

"Now," said Albus as the noise began to die down. "It is time to enjoy yet another delicious opening feast." He raised his hands and the tables groaned along with the students at the smorgasbord which appeared before them.

"Please," Albus lifted his goblet, "dig in!"

Harry was distracted from his gluttony by Hermione alternately speaking to him and glancing disdainfully at Ron's eating habits. Harry knew her thoughts were straying from the present to her possible future of falling in love with the boy sitting next to her as he spit food from his mouth as he exclaimed over things he noticed or had been told about Hogwarts. Finally, she dragged her eyes from Ron's mouth and repeated herself to Harry.

"So how do you feel? It must be exciting to be at Hogwarts and be able to stay close to Professor Lupin and Professor Black."

Harry shrugged, doing his best to imitate an eleven-year old. "I guess. I spent most of the last year with them, so I wouldn't mind a bit of a break."

Ron nodded savagely and to both Harry and Hermione's surprise, swallowed the food in his mouth before speaking. "I know what you mean, mate. I love hanging out with Bill and Charlie, but if I had them at school with me, watching me all the time..." he shuddered. "I'd go batty. It's going to be bad enough with Percy and the twins."

Harry grinned at him and then returned his attention to Hermione. "I'm just happy, eh? I mean, we're finally here. I think there are worse things that could happen than have the two of them as our professors." Hermione nodded, knowing how truly accurate that statement was. Harry continued, "I haven't felt like this since before, you know? I feel home."


A/N: So, the thing that happens in the bar and to Sirius in China are both true stories, obviously altered to fit the story, but true, nonetheless. I thought they were interesting, and pretty amusing though Sirius' descent into alcoholism is not.

A/N 2: McGonagall's family in Chicago is inspired by Harry McGonagall, by Witowsmp. It's a fun story. Check it out.

If you have any questions, write a review! Or send me a message. The e-mail account I use for this story is back online. And if you catch any mistakes (as this is unbeta-ed) let me know.