20 August 1971
~Harry McGonagall~
After a month of research and piles of books stacked high on their coffee table, they had nothing to show for it. All except the constant craving for ridiculous amounts of caffeine at all hours of the day and a twitch of irritation under Hermione's left eye that wouldn't go away. Something that, in the past, would have had Harry laughing at her constant need for answers and physical reaction to not knowing everything. Now it was the only familiar thing he could hold onto that left his sanity at least partially intact, the nostalgia of Hermione's studious personality.
Hermione was punishing herself because she couldn't find the answer to what had happened or how to reverse it before it was too late. Watching her berate herself made Harry feel all the more guilty, after all, wasn't it his fault they went into the Forbidden Forest in the first place? His best friend - his sister - was worrying herself sick trying to find a solution to their time travel problem while Harry was more apprehensive of the incoming school year, a role reversal that was not lost on him. Of all the people he wanted to know that would be arriving in less than two weeks.
Harry felt selfish.
He wasn't rushing to get back to their time like she was because there was hardly anyone for him to go back to in 1998. He'd broken up with Ginny before they had left for the Horcrux hunt months earlier, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had disappeared with Dudley at the start of the war and he had no other living family to speak of, not that he'd ever consider going back to the Dursley's. Just friends who were barely holding themselves together and little Teddy, who had no idea just how much he'd lost in his short life. But thinking of abandoning his friends to fight and die at Hogwarts, of leaving Teddy alone, grew the shame he felt tenfold.
How could he sit there, the war feeling like a million kilometres away, when everyone he knew was in the thick of it back in 1998? Harry looked into his cooling tea cup and tried to push the feelings of guilt because he knew that even if it ate him alive, he would still be in 1971. But the feeling prevailed and Harry missed the Hogwarts he had left behind.
He knew that in her mind, Hermione still had hope that returning to their time could mean winning the war and finding her parents. Although Harry knew she wasn't certain that there was any way to reverse the Obliviate that sent them away, Harry couldn't imagine her not trying.
He could vividly remember nights in the Forest of Dean, huddled together in the magical tent, Hermione curled up outside while she kept watch with a book of memory spells sitting open in her lap. Harry would silently cast a warming charm over her before turning in for a restless night, pretending like he couldn't hear her cry helplessly when she hit another dead end. All he wanted was to comfort her but he knew there was nothing he could say to make her feel better.
Harry sat, cocooned into the warm chocolate coloured couch in their shared common room. McGonagall had kept her word and the two of them had a cosy, flat-like space buried behind a corridor tapestry. There was a living area, with earthy browns and fresh greens, the offset kitchenette with traditional muggle black and white tiles on the floor that Hermione loved and a looping staircase that led to their bedrooms and a shared bathroom. It was comfortable and felt safe. More safe than Harry had felt in years.
"There's nothing!" Hermione gave a pained groan as she slammed the thick volume shut. Running her fingers down the spine almost apologetically, she stared at Harry. "I've looked through dozens of books and all I have is more questions. There's only untested theories about prolonged time travel by some bonkers authors and pure fiction. No one mentions age regression and there isn't a single entry that's backed by more than just theory about how to jump forward correctly."
"You mean like how we went back in time almost thirty years, how we're in our eleven year old bodies again, that type of fiction?" Harry held up his fingers as he listed them. His eyes watching the roaring fire in the hearth in concentration. "How McGonagall is Headmistress two decades before she's supposed to be and how we're now her legal niece and nephew when she never had a niece or nephew in our time?"
Glaring at him, the little girl huffed, "Those would be a start. Merlin, Harry, we've already started changing things here."
Harry noticed the way she wrung her fingers anxiously and the deep bags under her green eyes, like she hadn't slept since their stay in the hospital. Although, he knew she had with the help of sleep draughts that Harry was sure Madam Pomfrey slipped into their breakfast tea. A forgotten croissant was pushed away from her, pieces flaked and picked off like an uninterested little bird. They had spent enough of their lives together for him to recognize the signs of her exhaustion.
"You should eat something," Harry nodded at the pastry with hopeful eyes. Hermione waved him away as she reached for another book instead. Movements sluggish and shaken as she recoiled from the small plate he tried to place in her hands. "Please, 'Mione."
"Don't call me that," she snapped suddenly. Her eyes widened when she faced his shocked expression. Pulling at a loose thread in her sweater, Hermione softly said, "I mean- I don't know what I mean. I'm sorry, just, don't call me that anymore. It upsets me."
Chewing on his lip, Harry smiled reassuringly. He and Ron had started calling her 'Mione during their early years at Hogwarts and it had caught on with their other friends and the Weasley family. People they may never see again, at least not in the way they knew them in 1998. He could understand why she wouldn't want to be reminded of the life they had left behind.
Harry made a mental note to avoid calling her by the painful nickname. He'd think of something else, something new but just as special.
"How are you holding up with all of this?" she asked. Her mothering instinct kicking in. "I can't imagine how hard this must all be for you. Knowing that your parents and Sirius are alive." Hermione paused, looking at him with wide, apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright, I haven't been able to not think about it. I get to meet them and talk to them. I can play Quidditch with my dad and Sirius, I can go to Hogsmeade with Remus and my mum." Eyes sparkling as he thought about all the things that were possible for him. "This time they're real and not just a production of the Mirror of Erised or a dream I can wake up from. I can be with them."
Hermione nodded with understanding before she looked at him with worry. Shaking her head, she pushed aside the thick books. "You aren't thinking about changing the future to prevent everything that's going to happen, are you?"
Standing up from the couch in a rush, Harry tried to keep his voice down. "Of course I am! How could I not be? We may not want to admit this but we were losing the war, Hermione. Half of wizarding Britain was in ruin when we left, a demented tattoo artist was having a field day killing Hogwarts students by the dozens and everyone we care about was gone. What exactly are we trying to save by going back?"
"You want to meddle with time? What if we end up erasing ourselves from the future or we make it worse? We could create a paradox that swallows up our entire existence." Jumping up from her own seat, Hermione waited for Harry to deny her accusation but when he didn't, Hermione pulled his pacing body to a stop. "Running into action without thinking through all the possibilities is what got us in this mess in the first place! We need to think everything through."
"No, Voldemort is what got us in this mess. Now we have a chance to save my parents and my godfather and Remus and countless other lives, to destroy his horcruxes and prevent his rise to higher power altogether." Harry looked at her with renewed hope, something she hadn't seen on his face in a very long time. "We can do this, Hermione."
"We change things, then what? Where do we even start? Who do we tell about the future?" Hermione asked before softly grimacing. "What if we get erased?"
"It's a risk we have to take, too many lives are at stake not to try." Hermione nodded her agreement but inside she was screaming. She couldn't lose her only family, not Harry.
"It's insane and too risky to attempt." Hermione whispered.
"The entire wizarding world is insane." Harry tried to reason with the panicking girl. "We have dragons, invisibility cloaks, merpeople, instant teleportation, and a slew of barmy things that could kill us in this very school. Not to mention we're literally in the past right now."
"Harry, you can't be serious."
"I don't know how you aren't considering this."
"Of course, I've considered changing things!" Hermione threw her hands up and she took a deep breath before continuing. "We can't know what consequences meddling with time will have on the rest of the world. Say we save Regulus and he decides to hide the locket somewhere else where we can't find or destroy it later."
"I get the picture," he grumbled. "But I still think it's worth trying."
A knock on their door broke them away from the argument with a start. It was too dangerous to talk about things like Voldemort and changing the future when someone could overhear them. Harry mentally chastised himself for not putting a stronger silencing charm on their door. Picking her wand off the table, Hermione followed behind Harry as he headed to the door. A disarming spell at the tip of her tongue.
She visibly relaxed when the door swung open to reveal Minerva.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" The Headmistress asked with her eyebrows curiously raised. "I apologise for not stopping by sooner this week, I've been busy preparing for the school year. So many letters to send and staff to oversee before the students get here."
"Not at all," Harry lied almost convincingly. "What can we do for you Professor?" At McGonagall's stern look, Harry blanched and corrected himself quickly. "Aunt Minerva."
Harry felt an odd sense of relief that she still had the same ability to scare him with a single look that she did when he was actually eleven. What a funny thought that was.
Harry stepped aside from the doorframe as Minerva swept inside the room, scrutinising eyes following the scattered papers and opened treatises.
"I see you've been looking into your current situation more in depth." she said, clearly amused by the overwhelming amount of texts. "Find anything interesting?"
"I'm afraid there's been little success," Hermione conceded.
"It has been brought to my attention that you need school supplies and the correct sets of robes for the coming year. I thought perhaps that the three of us could take a trip to Diagon Alley today and get whatever it is you need." Their aunt offered kindly. Eying the wand hanging loosely between Hermione's fingers, she smiled. "We aren't going to make a stop at Ollivanders then?"
"Actually, I need to get a new wand. I technically stole this one." Harry looked down at Draco's wand and quickly looked away to avoid the memories that came with their time in Malfoy Manor. Subconsciously he glanced at the unblemished skin of Hermione's inner arm, trying to find the disgusting slur and relaxing when he saw nothing but her unblemished skin.
After Minerva practically threatened to glue their mouths shut if they continued to argue with her about Galleons, it was decided that she would be paying for everything they needed. As she was their family and their guardian now, she'd said. Together the three of them stepped through the floo in their common room and found themselves walking through the Leaky Cauldron.
The two children were distracted by the sight before them.
Diagon Alley was more colourful and alive with noise and colour than Harry remembered ever seeing it. Bright shoppe signs hanging over the doors, announcing themselves as a place to buy sets of quills, brooms or textbooks for Hogwarts classes. Young First Year students hung onto their parents' hands as they walked quickly between stores, taking in the view with large eyes. They all pointed at merchandise windowsills and dragged laughing parents to look at baubles and trinkets. He wondered when the magic of Diagon Alley had worn off for him.
Harry remembered the first time he had been here, with Hagrid, to collect his supplies after his eleventh birthday. It was so long ago in his mind that everything seemed like a dream, hanging in the back of his head where the little remnants of his childhood wonder remained. Hogwarts and being away from the Dursleys for months were the most important things to him at the time. Now he knew better than to let himself be wrapped up in the beauty of magic. Because there was a darkness coming and Harry was determined to stop it this time around, before it spread too far. No matter what Hermione told him, there was no world where he couldn't try to save the people he loved from their fates.
They moved from shop to shop, picking up pewter cauldrons, telescopes, glass phials and every book on the list. Much to Minerva's surprise, Hermione flipped through the pages to make sure there weren't any drastic differences from the ones she had memorised. Harry just rolled his eyes and told her that it was, in fact, like that every time they went into Diagon Alley together.
Their aunt was beyond pleased to know that they were both talented in Hogwarts subjects, Hermione more so than her brother, and had an interest in continuing their studies of choice after graduation. Harry as an auror and Hermione as a professor.
Aunt Minerva left them to be seized for their robes, needing to take care of some Headmistress business, equally as important and secretive of a task. Harry waved to his best friend as they were separated into a boys and girls section of the fitting room. Which still didn't make any sense to Harry since they were getting the exact same robes, but he was never one to nitpick.
Harry sighed while Madam Malkin's assistant pinched and pinned the black clothes over his legs. Harry ran his hands through his hair, not able to hold his eyes over his own reflection for too long. He missed his dark hair, it had always felt like a piece of his father with him, and it was a bit on the frightening side to see oneself as a child again.
"Don't touch that, you rotten child!" A woman's screech came from the front door.
Harry's head snapped up, afraid that he had accidentally pushed something over in his distracted state. In the mirror he saw a pinch faced woman and her son walking through the door. It took him a moment to realise why he had been so alert when he heard the voice. He would recognise that screeching anywhere from his time at Grimmauld Place. Her onyx hair flowed freely down her shoulders, an elegant curl at the end, and several tendrils having turned grey. She wore expensive robes, glinting jewellery caught his attention before he continued to study Walburga Black. She didn't have as many wrinkles or anger spots on her face as the painting in 12 Grimmauld Place did, although her horrid shrieking was still as loud and unpleasant. At least this time she wasn't going on about Pureblood superiority and cursing his family.
Harry almost didn't notice the short boy standing by his mother's side, hands clasped tightly in front of him as he avoided looking at anything that wasn't his shoes. A black fringe covered his forehead and he blew it lightly out of his eyes. Harry stared at his godfather, an eleven year old boy who looked scared of his mother instead of outwardly rebellious. He had a round face, still slightly pudgy but Harry knew he would outgrow it. His midnight coloured hair was unnervingly messy, just like the man Harry remembered, he wondered if Sirius had always simply enjoyed the quiet rebellions throughout his childhood.
Sirius had talked about Walburga a handful of times while hiding out in Grimmauld Place, never once calling her his mother and right now, Harry understood exactly why. Walburga was not a kind woman, let alone mother to him. She didn't move to comfort her jittered child or stop glaring at him as he quietly apologised for touching a colourful vase by the front desk.
"Wait for Madam Malkin right there-" Walburga pointed at an ottoman next to the platform Harry stood on. "And don't cause any trouble or else you'll find out what happens to misbehaving children." She pushed him in the direction of the seat and Sirius followed without a word.
When his mother disappeared through the door, presumably to find Orion and Regulus or do some shopping of her own without her eldest, Harry turned to his future godfather eagerly. It was so strange to see the haunted man Harry knew in his teens as a young boy, not troubled by the deaths of his best friends and imprisonment in Azkaban. Even after the verbal lashing from his mother, he looked more alive than Harry ever remembered seeing him.
Harry held out his hand as he whispered, "Hello, I'm Harry McGonagall."
"Sirius Black," The boy shook his hand, a small smile curling his lip, and Harry noticed the redness on the back of his fingers. Likely from a hit with his mother's purse. "McGonagall like the Headmistress of Hogwarts? Are you a First Year too?"
Harry nodded, wondering if there was a scale of oddity for his life and where this encounter would rank if he were to ever write it all down. "She's my aunt. What House do you think you'll be sorted in?" Harry asked with a hidden smile.
Sirius looked bashful, but a frown twisted his face. "I'll be sorted into Slytherin. Where do you think you'll end up?"
"Gryffindor," Harry tried not to give away anything as he continued to smile at his future godfather. "Why do you think you'll end up in Slytherin?"
"Family tradition," he said simply.
They lapsed into a pregnant silence and Harry couldn't remember a time when he didn't have something to say to Sirius, but now was different than what Harry knew. He waited another moment and when the silence grew thicker still, he jumped to the first subject to cross his mind. "Did you hear that the Bulgarian team is trying to make it to the World Cup this year?"
Sirius snorted, tense shoulders dropping, "Ruddy job they've been doing this season. No chance for them to even see the World Championship Cup, let alone take it home."
He relaxed as Sirius did. They talked about Quidditch for a while, who their favourite players were and the best plays they've seen. Harry kept up as best as he could since the majority of his Quidditch knowledge was years away. He didn't have to try very hard to keep Sirius talking, the boy came alive the longer they talked. It had been so long since he was able to talk to him, an even longer time since he had passed, but hopefully it would never happen now. The Department of Mysteries and the Veil. Harry would get to talk to Sirius whenever he wanted now.
"Are you almost finished?" Hermione called out from behind him, a large bundle of folded summer and winter robes in her thin arms. When she spotted the second boy, Harry saw her face twist in confusion before she identified the dark head of Sirius. "Oh, hello there."
Harry watched his godfather sweetly smile and wave at the petite girl, thinking quickly he introduced the two of them. "Sirius, this is my twin sister, Hermione."
"It's really nice to meet you, Sirius." Hermione held out her hand towards him, trying to balance the clothes in the other.
Sirius shook her hand gently, before pulling it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles and repeated her sentiment. Harry was well on his way to being shocked, Sirius in their time was sarcastic and crass. The boy he had met today was quiet and talked back politely. Harry wondered if his attitude would change once he met James and Remus or if it was hidden somewhere inside, waiting to be given the freedom in Gryffindor to do as it pleases.
"Do you have any siblings?" Hermione asked politely. Even though both she and Harry knew that he did, this time around Harry would make sure that Sirius had the chance to protect his brother from the Dark Lord and make amends for their mistakes with each other. Harry wondered if there was something he could do to create his own protection over the Black brothers.
"I do, his name is Regulus, he's a year younger than me so he won't be at Hogwarts until next year. But he's great, the quiet sort though." Sirius grinned as he thought about his younger brother and Harry's mind solidified in his promise to keep Regulus safe in any way.
"Does he like Quidditch too?" Harry asked, his tone making it clear that it was a deal breaker if Regulus didn't feel the same love for the sport that the he and Sirius do.
Sirius shrugged. "Not really, he loves flying and watching though. Sometimes I think that when he gets on a broom he'll never come back down." His voice was tinged with affection.
Hermione's brows scrunched up and Harry recognized it as her thoughtful expression. Her face lit up and Sirius smiled back sheepishly. "So I suppose that makes you the Quidditch star and him your number one fan, then?"
His godfather nodded quickly before inclining his head to the side, blinking his eyes before speaking clearly. "I'm not sure, I don't really like Quidditch."
Harry blanched. He remembered talking to Sirius about his time on the Gryffindor Quidditch team with his dad, it was one of the things that still made Sirius smile after his time in Azkaban. It was his favourite thing to write to his godfather about when he was away at Hogwarts, besides his parents. "What?!" he gasped.
Sirius laughed, throwing his head back freely, "I'm only joking! I love it. I'm planning on trying out for my House team as soon as I'm able."
Harry breathed out a sigh of relief and waved his hand frantically in front of his face soundlessly. Hermione stared at him oddly then turned back to Sirius with a playful scowl. "Way to go, you almost gave my brother a heart attack."
"Apologies, mate." Sirius clamped his hand over Harry's shoulder in a show of comfort. The boy turned towards the curly haired girl, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at her. "Hermione, do you like flying and Quidditch too?"
Harry snorted, rolling his green eyes, "She's terrified of brooms."
"I am not scared of brooms! I'm scared of falling hundreds of metres to my death off a bloody broom!" Hermione stomped her foot childishly, turning her nose up at her brother. "And if I have to, I can fly a broom just fine, thank you very much."
Harry remembered their flight through the Room of Requirement, fiendfyre swallowing up piles of forgotten and unused things. His ears rang for a moment as he pictured Malfoy's outstretched hand as Harry swooped down on his broom to grab him. Hermione had been there too, flying between the roaring flames with elegance even when she was more terrified of the height than the unyielding fire.
Sirius stepped up on the platform to take Harry's place and the magical tape measure spun around him, noting the size he would need. Harry watched curiously when Sirius swatted at the thing when it bumped his nose before turning back to Hermione.
Harry looked at her for a quick second before switching away from his line of thought. "She doesn't even like watching Quidditch, I think I would need to threaten every book in Britain to get her to ever play a friendly game.."
"That's blasphemy. A witch who doesn't like flying or the best sport in the world." Sirius stared at her in horror that Harry could tell was authentic. "How are you a witch?"
"My bad, boys, didn't know Quidditch was a requirement to attend Hogwarts or have magic." Hermione finally dropped her new clothes on the counter before checking the time on her muggle watch. Sirius looked at her wrist curiously, waiting for something magical to happen and the wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened when nothing did.
"Bloody well should be." Harry said.
"You're both mental, chasing balls around on cleaning supplies." A vibrant crimson flush covered her cheeks as she insulted their favourite sport. "Might as well sit on a vacuum and take a tour of London while you're at it."
Sirius' jaw dropped as he continued to stare at the shorter girl. "You did not just say that."
"You're no sister of mine." Harry deadpanned.
"You're both entirely too dramatic," Hermione said with a smile at them.
When Walburga poked around the corner, Hermione stiffened. She was usually the target for the paintings' mad ravings and her eyes dropped to look at her forearm with barely concealed anger. Thankfully, Sirius didn't notice the way Hermione's attention snapped away from them the second his mother made an appearance, as he was busy putting his old robe back on.
Walburga inclined her head towards her son and gave a sharp jerk, sighing Sirius started picking up the rest of his things while his mother paid. He turned to them and Harry could see a little tick of nervousness when he waved to them. "I'll see you at Hogwarts! Bye Harry, bye Mya."
"Mya?" Hermione asked in confusion. "Did you forget my name already, Sirius?"
Sirius shrugged his shoulders and folded his cloak over his arm. Looking embarrassed, he turned back to Harry and a surprised Hermione standing next to him. "Hermione is too long and friends give each other nicknames. Don't they?"
Although Sirius didn't say it outright, Harry could read between the lines of what he was trying to do. Sirius was only eleven worried about making friends at Hogwarts, much like Harry had been, and this was his way of trying to have someone who knew him as more than just the Black heir. "I like it. I suppose I had better think of one for you as well."
When he was gone, Harry grinned back at her, And that answers my question on who decided to give all the Marauders codenames in school."
"Ten galleons says he also thought of 'Marauders'."
By the time Minerva had come to collect them again, Harry was sure that his second chance at Hogwarts couldn't have been a mistake. This was a chance to right the wrongs done to his family and perhaps, this time, he could know more than just stories about them. He just needed to convince Hermione that it was worth risking their lives and the rest of the world to try and save it.