Both Minerva and Sally-Anne realise something's wrong by the end of the fifteenth. Damn them both.
Minerva remains quiet, waiting to see if it effects my performance, and unsure of just what to do. Sally-Anne gives me a hug after class. I smile, and thank her.
I need to talk to her foster parents, but… we'll wait to see what the fallout of this is.
0x0x0x0
Four Slytherins, six Ravenclaws, and one particularly retarded Gryffindor.
The Gryffindor didn't try anything to cover his tracks.
Three Slytherins used block lettering, and the fourth made an attempted forgery by hand, trying to lay the blame on a sixth year Hufflepuff.
All six Ravenclaws used variations on a single forgery charm, and all six of them were jealous of my age, knowledge, and skills. Four of them were in seventh year, and two in sixth.
All of them are surprised they were caught. Honestly.
They are standing in my classroom. The notes are spread across my desk.
Minerva is, once more, under the Potter cloak at the back of the class. She knows my funk isn't from the death threats, but wants to make sure I don't take it out on them with my wand.
Sirius and Filius were both livid at the staff meeting on the sixteenth, and even more livid when I stated I'd deal with all of the students on my own. Severus was merely quiet, and nodded curtly at my statement.
It's a quiet five minutes, filled with fidgeting, before I start to talk.
"Children," I begin. My tone is insulting. I'm talking down to them, like they're five. As far as I'm concerned, they are. "Each and every one of you is the worst insult imaginable against your own house. Mister Pierce, your brash and stupid plan demonstrates the thoughtless, brainless actions that only a Gryffindor could achieve."
I point to the group of Ravenclaws.
"You six. Your plan was exactly the same. You all used variations on the same charm. Your witless, idiotic incompetence is shadowed only by your lack of individuality. You are nothing more than copies of the same text, that which has been endlessly copied into meaningless scribbles upon a crumbling page. You are all buffoons, playing at a game meant for geniuses. Children, playing a game for adults-"
"You aren't any older than I am!" shouts one of the Ravenclaws.
"Which does not change the fact that you are an ignorant child, Mister Brocklehurst. One who does not know to wait his turn. Your mother did teach you to wait your turn, didn't she? How to wait in line for something? Or are you just another ignorant pureblood, believing everything and everyone belongs to you? Not a very intelligent belief, if you ask me."
Brocklehurst, along with the others, holds his tongue.
"If I were a child, Mister Brocklehurst, you would be expelled. Each of you has threatened my life. As stupid, meaningless, and foolhardy as these threats are, McGonagall still has every right to have Hagrid drag you by the scruff of your neck, and throw you out the front gate like the ignorant dogs you are barely more intelligent than."
"Instead, I have asked her for leniency. Each of you, at this moment, are a black mark on the Pride and Name of Hogwarts Herself. Each of you are an insult to this institution, something far grander than any of us. Each of you would attempt to take Her name, and drag it through mud and sludge, just because you are petty, jealous fools."
I give them a moment to let that sink in, then turn to the Slytherins.
"Your attempts were mundane, unimaginative, and without skill. Your pathetic beliefs as to your own cunning are more amusement than actually worrying. The fact that you even tried to warn me of my supposedly impending doom is an embarrassment to your house. Do not make threats unless you are actually capable of fulfilling them."
"I assure you, none of you are capable."
The glare I give them, along with a simple cooling charm, makes them shiver. I get to their actual punishment.
"Each of you have detention with me. Five in the morning, Monday through Friday, until you have completed the two exercises I will assign for your detention. If you are not in this classroom at Five AM, I will not attempt to find you. Instead, I will merely use the summoning charm, and your injuries resulting from this are you own problem. During these detentions, you will receive instruction in silent and wandless casting."
They looked at each other, thinking this won't be that bad, when one of the Slytherins asks the million dollar question.
"How will we be learning?"
"An unexpectedly intelligent question. For silent casting, your feet will be stuck to the floor, your mouths covered in spello-tape, and I will cast stinging charms at you until you successfully cast a Protego. Your wandless casting, as you might imagine, will be similar."
I got this from a deranged Romanian Dark Lord, whose method was somewhat similar. Instead of the Protego, he required the disarming charm; mostly because instead of stinging hexes, he cast the Cruciatus. To my understanding, he generally cast it with a visible erection.
There were some people I was more than happy to remove from God's Green Earth.
"If you fail, you fail. You do not graduate Hogwarts. The sixth years will be expelled. Is that understood?"
They all swallow.
I dismiss them.
"Was that acceptable, Minerva?" I ask.
"I think I mind your threat of the summoning charm, but I question if even you can summon another person from somewhere else in the castle. I do request, however, that you give them five minutes to arrive before casting that charm."
I nod, but let it go.
0x0x0x0
When they arrive the first morning, all of them are on-time or early. I lead them out into one of the school's many and various courtyards, and inform them they'll be meeting me here every morning from now on.
Sally-Anne is incensed with me about my punishment for the Idiot's Eleven, as I've started to call them, at least until I tell her what they're being punished for. Then she starts showing up to help cast the stinging charms.
"Come on! I can do this, why can't you?" she asks of them, all the while casting charm after charm. I'd say something about this, but Pomona gives her full permission for it to happen, citing something about "breaking her out of her shell."
It's Pierce, of course, that I have to summon from Gryffindor Tower at the midway through week one. His screaming wakes half the castle, as he's dragged from his bed and around the outside of the castle. I levitate him, and leave him in the courtyard, shaking in terror, and cast a warming charm on him so he doesn't freeze to death. Then I start casting stinging hexes on him until he realises what's going on.
It takes fifteen minutes.
Minerva, at least, no longer doubts the veracity of claims towards my summoning charm.
All four Slytherins get the silent casting down within the first week, while Pierce gets the wandless casting within two days. None of the Ravenclaws figure it out, and none of the other students in the school are helping them figure out their problem. Either I'm well liked, or nobody wants to get on my bad side. I'll take what I can get.
Sally-Anne eventually does start to take pity on them, and begins to help them. Except, well, I think I've been rubbing off on her.
"I can't do it, I can't do it!" she whines in a childish voice. "Little wonder you can't do it, if you keep saying you can't do it! Quit listening to yourself whine, and cast the spell!"
One of the Slytherins, Flint's older brother Garrett, is the first to get it down both ways. He's soon followed by the other three Slytherins and Pierce.
That leaves the six Ravenclaws, in the third week, unable to perform either way. Hermione informs me they can always be found in the library, examining whatever literature they can find on wandless and silent magic. The one useful book in the library is presently sitting in the top-right drawer of my desk. Madam Pince agreed to this solely because McGonagall signed off on it.
Really, there's no use to it. Sally-Anne did actually give the best advice on the matter. The problem is none of the Ravenclaws are willing to listen to a person, and instead have to read it from a fucking book. Ravenclaws are (predominately) dumb like that. It's the reason Hermione's in Gryffindor, I realise.
Luna, as I understand it, went into Ravenclaw because her family's always been in Ravenclaw. I could see her in Hufflepuff, really.
We'll see how long it'll take before they crack.
0x0x0x0
The invitation is for the Potters. It openly states Tonks will be there. I suppose Sirius hasn't gotten through the Obliviation yet.
This… isn't it, but it's certainly going to come close. Not late enough in the year to be the surprise. I'm still waiting for it.
I sigh, and have Hedwig tell them I'll be there. She's occasionally missing again. I think she's been visiting Tonks. Or the Potters. I'm not rightly sure at this point. I don't begrudge her of this. She looks out for me, far better than I ever could.
It is thusly that I find myself in Godric's Hollow, staring at a cottage that I've never seen truly whole. The Ministry actually took the cottage, claiming it as a historical site. When I took the deed to them, they stated it was under the prevue of the historic landmarks act of 1782, which was passed to prevent some random descendent of Slytherin from claiming rights to all of Hogwarts, and they'd used it on me. The house had been in the Potter family for five centuries, and it was stolen by the Ministry. I checked the paperwork, and there, at the very bottom, was Dumbledore's signature.
I was unsurprised. By that point I'd already found and questioned his journal.
What was one more betrayal on his part?
He must have seen it as a stroke of genius, cutting me off from everything my family ever owned, including the family house. I couldn't access the family vaults without my guardian's permission, and my legal guardians were Petunia and Vernon. Except, because they were Muggles, they couldn't receive any banking statements from Gringotts, let alone set foot in a vault. They never knew about the money they were supposed to receive. In fact, they never received any of the funds set aside for my caretaker. Gringotts regulations, to "prevent damage to the wizarding economy."
The goblins are on my shitlist. Greedy little fuckers, the lot of them. I just don't have a good enough excuse right now to burn the fuckers to ash.
I enter the graveyard, my feet crunching on the snow, and walk through it. I ignore Ignotus' grave, and instead look down at the simple tombstone of Remus Lupin. Friend, Brother, and Protector, it reads.
He's buried here, because the Lupin family refused to take him. I learned that James had set aside plots for Sirius and Remus, since their families refused them, when Remus and Tonks were buried together.
That Tonks... That Tonks is dead. Along with Andromeda and Teddy. And Hermione, and Ron, and Fred and George and-
Can't happen now. IT CAN'T HAPPEN NOW.
I quiet myself. It's been a few years since my head tried to run away from me. I'm almost tempted to find the ring, but it's hidden right now. I'd have to go and get it, and by then I'd realise how stupid I'm being. Better to just save myself the trouble and not try.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to the gravestone, and head back to the cottage. I can see the lines of new versus old material, where the house was rebuilt.
Hedwig lands on my shoulder, and I walk up to the door to knock. I can feel the wards pressing down on me. They don't like me. I suppose being cast out of the Potters is the reason, but I ignore it. Azkaban is worse.
I suppose I'll have to explain how I broke Bella out, too. Bugger. Well, I suppose that's what I get for meeting two Aurors.
I knock twice, and James opens the door. He doesn't smile at me, and his wand is in his hand. I'm horribly tempted to use the cliché of "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now," but somehow I think it'll fall flat. Instead, I'm vaguely nice.
"Hello, Mister Potter. I suppose I have a fair amount to explain?"
"That you do. I don't suppose if I attempt to arrest you, you'll come quietly?"
"Not in the slightest," I reply. "Nearly everything I did over the summer, I did without regret."
"Nearly?" asks Lily.
"I didn't kill Albus personally, but I doubt I'd have been able to pull it off. By the way, thanks for not doing anything to the Dursleys."
"Why?" asks James, glaring at me.
I smile. It's an evil smile. Sally-Anne recognizes it, now.
"If we can borrow McGonagall's Pensieve, you can find out. Can I come in, or are we going to talk though the front door?"
"Let her in, James," says Lily.
I step into a house I've never seen whole. Both of them realise I'm looking around, and I can barely keep the awe from my face. I see pictures, photos, artwork, and other things that I partially recognise from my own trip through the house, or don't recognise at all. They don't make the connection, though. They lead me to a sitting room. Tonks is calm and collected, but openly curious. Hedwig flits over to her. She smiles at Hedwig, a little, and gives me a small smile. Not sure what it means, though.
I retrieve a bottle of extraordinarily expensive scotch from my coat, and place it on the table.
"I figured we'd need it," I say.
"How did you get this?" asks James, his eyes bugging out as he reads the label.
"I liberated it from Lucius," I reply, "When I was getting the diary. The man has entirely too many things. I've also got a few bottles of burgundy, but this seems more of a getting drunk sort of event."
The others nod, and James provides shot glasses.
"Breaking your vow?" asks Hedwig.
"Wasn't much of a vow," I reply, pouring it out, and taking my first (and only, sadly) shot. "Besides, I only drink when it's appropriate."
Parts of my palette that haven't seen use in nearly two decades kick in, and I savour the burn. I feel like a drowning man whose been thrown a life preserver. I know better, and banish the glass.
"So, where do you want me to start?" I ask.
"How did you break Bella out of Azkaban?"
"I'm an animagus. The Dementors ignore you entirely in animal form. It's the reason known animagi have inhibitor runes carved into their skin by the Unspeakables."
James and Lily nod, while Tonks is surprised.
"If you ask, on July 19th, there was a very thin but happy woman handing out candy in Diagon Alley. She had violet eyes."
"And how did you pull that off?" asks Lily.
"Possession," I reply.
There's a shudder through Lily, which tells me she knows what I'm talking about. I know how much possession hurts, and the sort of damage it does to the host. Quirrell wasn't killing Unicorns to keep Voldemort alive. He was killing them to keep himself alive. I was actually able to put on some damn body mass after losing the Horcrux, rather than be a skinny little thing.
"And you murdered Dumbledore," says James.
"He murdered Jessica first, and his mistakes killed the few people I ever cared about."
"I guess, but-," begins James.
"How?" asks Lily, cutting off her husband.
"Voldemort," I reply, watching them flinch. I snort. "He's Albus' fault. I know I told you, Lily. Did you talk with Bathilda?"
"I did... she mentioned her nephew, and how close the two of them were. The thing about... about Tom, though. How can you be sure?"
"The prophecy?" I ask.
Tonks looks at me questioningly, but Hedwig whispers to her, "she'll get to it, don't worry," while Lily nods. I can tell she's fighting the Fidelius. Unfortunately, the damn thing can hide your own home from you. I actually did that to Draco, once, as a prank. Narcissa was the secret keeper, actually. Lily's not going to win against it.
"We'll get to that. Don't bother thinking about it. It's a secret. But I'll explain as best I can." I cut my palm, and dribble some blood onto the coaster I'm using. The blood rolls across it, forming runes, and the runes burn themselves into the coaster. James and Tonks stare at it, wide-eyed, recognizing the runes for what they are. The magic itself is illegal, but it can be authorized for high profile cases. Which translates to "not mine," but still. "It'll probably burn out by the end of the night, but it's better than breaking out Unbreakable Vows and Veritaserum, right?"
"What is it?" asks Lily.
"While this thing's active, you can't lie. You don't have to tell the truth, but you can't lie."
"You can't do that in thirty seconds on a coaster!" shouts James.
"Sure you can. You just have to practice. Now, storytime. It starts with the birth of a boy named Harry James Potter, on July 31st, 1980-"
"But Ha-" begins Lily before I cut her off with a finger.
"I'm telling a story, here, and it's not a pleasant one." I eye the whiskey bottle like it's my only hope, but I know better. "Fucking terrible one, really. October 31st, 1981, his parents are betrayed by Peter Pettigrew, and Voldemort pops up on their doorstep. When he stands near Dementors, he can hear his parent's final words. One says 'Lily, take Harry and run!' while his mother begs a man with a cold, cruel laugh to spare her son and kill her instead. And then there's a flash of green.
"Peter frames Sirius by faking his death, and murdering twelve muggles in the process. Sirius is thrown in prison sans trial, because Albus doesn't want anybody actually questioning him. Godric's Hollow is repossessed by the ministry under the Historic Sites Act, and the Potter vaults are sealed. Young Harry is taken, and left on the doorstep of Petunia and Vernon Dursley. I think we all know roughly how that goes."
"I don't," says Tonks.
"Think about my back, Tonks."
She shivers, and I continue.
"Vernon Dursley is as upright and upstanding as he can be. Obviously, that means when he receives a freak of a nephew that he can't get rid of, he needs to treat that freak like the freak he is. A freak needs to earn his keep, cooking and cleaning, but keeping out of sight. Freaks don't need to eat as much as regular people. Freaks don't deserve actual beds, let alone actual bedrooms. Instead, they're kept with all the other tools, in the broom cupboard under the stairs."
I don't check people's faces for disgust. This is probably the first time I've ever really told anyone any of this.
"When he asks, he's informed his parents were unemployed drunks, and were killed in a car crash. It was, perhaps, the important distinction between Harry and Jessica. Jessica was told her parents didn't love her, because she was a freak, and abandoned her. Both were alone and unloved, but one was due to circumstance, and the other due to outright abandonment."
I shake my head, freeing myself from dark thoughts.
"Young Harry gets a little adventure when his letter arrives, and Hagrid shows him to Diagon Alley to make sure Harry understands that Gryffindors are good, and Slytherins are bad. Albus can't have his hero in Slytherin, now can he? When he arrives at the station, he befriends the youngest Weasley boy, Ron. After all, you can't find better, more Gryffindor people anywhere else, right?"
I laugh.
"The hat actually asks him if he wants to be sorted into Slytherin. Should have been his first hint something was wrong. He doesn't make any friends, beyond Ron, until Halloween. He'd hoped this Halloween would be better than others, but no. Quirrell snuck a troll into the school. Ron had said something nasty to another student, Hermione Granger, earlier in the day, and they went off to warn her about the troll since she'd spent the day crying in the bathroom. Except, well, they found the troll. They survive, and now they're Gryffindors Golden Trio."
I continue, giving the horrifically short cliff-notes version of my "adventures." There are a number of gasps, horrified stares, and epiphanies to keep us busy for a while. Lily takes notes. I highlight any time Dumbledore shows his true colours. My personal favourite? The night of the prophecy, when he says he knows I was abused.
"… you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well – not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years."
I follow that up with "… you arrived at Hogwarts, neither as happy nor as well nourished as I would have liked, perhaps, yet alive and healthy. You were not a pampered little prince, but as normal a boy as I could have hoped under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well."
And then, the real kicker. The true level of bullshit that he spilled.
"I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed... you were alive, and well, and happy."
"Happiness?" I say, out loud. "Harry Potter wouldn't have known happiness if it bit him in the ass. Dumbledore even stated that Harry wasn't happy, and yet claimed he thought of Harry's happiness when he didn't want to burden him. He spoke of how love, the great and almighty power of love, forever studied but never understood by the Department of Mysteries, would win the day for Harry Potter against Voldemort. Harry, sadly, was not cynical enough to ask the question 'How the bloody fuck does a boy that you acknowledge as regularly beaten by his own family know what the bloody fuck love is?'
"The answer, I have always felt, lies in the prophecy. If Harry Potter were to be happy, truly happy, he would be living, and not surviving."
I continue onwards, ever onwards from that fan-fucking-tastically terrible night.
"And so, it culminates to a simple, horrible action. Harry Potter walks into the forest to have Voldemort kill him, so that someone else can kill the bastard. And he does. He uses the stone so that his parents, his godfather, and the man he considered an uncle walk with him. He thinks he feels safe and happy in the knowledge that only he has to die, and the dark wanker will, too. He takes another Killing Curse right to the forehead. He finds himself in the place in-between, and Albus Sodding Dumbledore is there, and presents him with a choice. He can go on, or he can go back, and try to finish everything.
"He also learns that Albus, quite simply, figured that Harry would survive the way he always survived. His worthless fucking luck." I shake my head at the stupidity of it all, while my audience listens in abject horror.
"Through a chain of events of Dickensian Proportions, Harry was Master of the Elder Wand, while Voldemort merely believehimself the Master. And since the wand refuses to harm its master, it only killed the piece of Voldemort in Harry's forehead. Harry, after coming back from death itself to save everyone like a knock-off Jesus, attempts to duel Voldemort.
"Because Voldemort wields a wand that refuses to kill its master, he dies on a technicality. Namely, another backfired killing curse. After the battle of Hogwarts, he becomes the Man-Who-Conquered, marries Ginny Weasley, and plans to have countless sprogs to drive whichever teachers take over utterly insane. Sadly… that doesn't happen. Because when the fuck can Harry Potter ever be happy?"
I sigh. Tonks starts at that statement. She recognizes it, adds two and two, and tries to get four.
"It starts with Neville and Augusta Longbottom. Murdered, brutally. Dark cutting curses all around. The weird part? No one's sure how it happens. Wards didn't fall. They were just found murdered. And there were messages for Harry. From Voldemort. He wasn't dead. Harry had missed a Horcrux. The murders continued. Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin. Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood. The entire Weasley family. Hermione and Ron. Finally, it's just Harry and Ginny and... and James. Their son. And, of course, it's Halloween. Voldemort has nothing but the flare for the dramatic."
I'm leaning back in the chair at this point, sorely tempted by that blasted fucking bottle. Should have left it at Lucius'. I take a long sigh as James pours himself another shot. The coaster is starting to blacken around the edges. A block of granite would survive this spell for a month, and then only if the caster stays nearby.
"He'd retrieved the Elder Wand by this point. Being the idiot he is he'd placed it back in Albus' crypt, exactly where Voldemort stole it. He comes home that fateful Halloween night to find his son strangled in his crib. Not cursed, not spelled, but physically strangled. A note's been left. Voldemort's waiting for him at Albus' tomb. Harry arrives, and finds Ginny. Except she's talking with a double voice, until she looks Harry in the eye, and asks him..."
"'Harry. Please.'" I'd already quoted Dumbledore's words to Snape, and they look as green as I did when she'd unknowingly uttered them.
"And so, Harry casts the Killing Curse for the first time in his life. Except… she survives. By some quirk of the Elder Wand, sacrificial magic, and what colour of knickers she was wearing, Ginny survived. But she's been possessed for eight months."
"She's so sorry, even as she points to the wand in Harry's hand. After all, wouldn't Voldemort want to make sure it was his? Killing who he believed to be the old master, and using their death to bind himself to it? And so, Harry casts the last Killing Curse he will ever cast."
"The Elder Wand is clean. Undamaged, but clean."
"He takes her in his arms, and promises her forgiveness. And she forces him, begs and pleads with him, to live. That she can't go on, not after what she's been forced to witness, not after what's happened to her."
I take a long, deep, shuddering breath.
"It takes him forty years to figure out how to live up to that promise. Much of it is spent hunting dark wizards in all corners of the globe, learning magic so obscure and weird that it can't even be classified as dark, before he finally managed to do something so stupid, that only four people in history are known to have completed it. He braved the Angles of Time."
"That… that means," begins Lily, fighting the charm wholesale, now. I cast it. She can't win. Doesn't mean I want her like this, though.
"Hedwig, the secret, if you please, before Lily has an aneurism?"
"Jamie Evans is the Girl-Who-Lived," says Hedwig.
"Jessica?" asks James, everything crashing into his head, as he suddenly realises just how familiar I look. I'm busy pouring Lily a shot.
"I said she was dead," I reply, stomping that hope like a puppy underneath a steamroller. "They were metaphorical arms, but they were arms nonetheless."
"You're eighteen," says Lily.
"Probably sixteen, actually," I reply. "I didn't want to go too far with the aging potion."
"I made out with a sixty year old sixteen year old?" ask Tonks.
"Yeah," I say. "Sorry about that."
"Can we stay on topic?" asked Lily.
"I… umm… I guess?" says Tonks. "Suppose that explains why you were so good at it." She taps her finger to her chin for a moment, thinking. "I suppose we need to talk, huh?"
James closes his eyes, pureblood sensibilities telling him he doesn't want to hear this conversation. My guess is he's been filled in by Sirius on why he's letting Tonks date me. That doesn't mean he wants to hear it, though.
"Yeah," I say.
"What is wrong with you?" asks James. "Why don't you care about what she did?"
"Care? About what? That she murdered Dumbledore for being a manipulative, murderous shit? You said he cursed you guys to give up Jessica. If he hadn't done that, none of this would've happened."
On this, James is silent.
"Tonks, you seem to be taking this well," says Lily.
"Mum never liked Dumbledore," she replies. "Being in Slytherin does that. She always taught me to look out for everyone else, to really pay attention to what's going on, and never trust anyone that talks like sunshine and unicorns come out of their arse."
I blink. I hadn't expected that, although Andi and I never talked about Dumbledore. We mostly focused on Teddy. It doesn't surprise me, though. I could never pull the wool over Andi's eyes. I just assumed she knew Sirius.
"Why the hell were you a Hufflepuff?" I ask.
"Because Mum also told me that to get anywhere in life, you had to work for it."
"Yeah, that's Andi," I say, nodding.
James and Lily looked confused.
"What?" asks Tonks. "It's all pretty reasonable. And I had two weeks to think about it, too. Just think about the good parts, right?"
"So… we have back our daughter. Or our son. Or something," says Lily.
At this, both James and I wince. We look at each other, and he raises a questioning eyebrow. I give a barely visible nod, and he winces again.
"After you," I say, motioning to him.
"No, after you. You have the letter."
"What did you do, James?" asks Lily.
"Ah, but you performed the deed," I reply.
"True, however, it affected you the most."
"Not if your wife has anything to say about it," I reply.
"James. What did you do?" her voice hardens into ice, causing James to stop moving entirely. I retrieve a letter from within my jacket, and hand it to James.
"In his defence," I say, "it's an entirely reasonable action if you don't have the body."
Lily's left eyebrow twitches, once. The right eyebrow raises, and a palpable wave of anger rolls across the room.
"What. Did. You. Do, James Charlus Potter."
I look to Tonks, Tonks looks to me, and we both stand.
"Clearly, you have things to discuss. I'll put up the silencing charms, and we'll be elsewhere in the house. Tonks, perhaps you can show me to the kitchen?"
Tonks nods and we quickly leave. I do put up the silencing charm, a strong one at that.
"Lily isn't the yelling type," says Tonks.
"Didn't know that," I reply. "But this means I also don't have to hear James' screams when she murders him."
She nods in understanding as she leads me into the kitchen. There's a small round table, along with a variety of appliances. It looks well-furnished, but also well-used. Dishes are drying in a rack next to the sink, the butcher-block counters looked wiped down, but there are still stains in them, and the top of the stove needs either a really good cleaning charm or a very long scrubbing.
"So you thought I was straight?" she asks.
"Being married to Remus Lupin kind of made me think that, yeah. That and the whole lesbian-thing being frowned on didn't help."
"Lesbian-thing? What, you?"
I nod.
"We're a heterosexual couple, Jamie, because we aren't the same gender. It's people like me job applications have an 'other' option on the forms."
"Huh," I reply. "I've never really applied for a job, so it didn't much matter."
Tonks blinks at that.
"What did you do for work, then?"
"I started out as an Auror for the Ministry, before Ginny died. Kingsley was head of DMLE and he just threw me at the training. After Ginny, well, I quit. I went free-lance. I'd received enough money from killing Voldemort, that I could do whatever the hell I wanted, and I wanted to make sure nobody ever had to go through the shit I went through. I probably took down over… I don't know, close to two hundred and fifty Dark Lords? Drank a lot, built up a lot of scars, lost a hand, stopped drinking, hide myself away from the world studying magic man was not meant to know, and then, finally, made my choice, and braved the Angles. I should have listened to the warning a bit better, though."
"Warning?"
"Whatever you want done, you can't get it done."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I wanted my family back. James and Ginny. Stupid of me, really."
"No, it's… it's something to aim for. Something to aspire to."
"Something I can't get back," I add, leaning on the counter. "So why the hell is there an 'other' on applications if people can't change their gender?"
"Eunuchs, mostly," says Tonks. "Used to be a real status back in Roman times, and the ICW used it as a concession to get the Chinese to join. There's a few other odd governments that have recognized third genders, as well. That, and the occasional extra-weird potions accident."
I blink at that. It makes sense. A disturbing amount of sense, given how global the ICW is. Sure, I travelled pretty regularly to the New World, but I did a fair share of Dark Lord killing in the Far East. Granted, I'd never expect that level of rationality on the part of wizards, but then again, there's something to be said about a wizards lack of common sense.
"Huh," I say again, and then look at her. She's blushing, a little bit. I'm not surprised. I glance up at the entrance to the sitting room, and watch as Hedwig silently lands on the back of a kitchen chair.
"Lily finally realised I was there, when James kept giving me plaintive looks," she says. "She's mean when she's angry. Mostly, she's pissed because he didn't consult her about it. I think she's also pissed at you for hiding it from them. And me, because I was the secret keeper."
"Death Glare?" I ask.
"Bernadette level," she replies.
"And just how do you know Bernadette?" I ask.
"Who's Bernadette?" asks Tonks.
"Veela," I reply.
"Veela whore-house matron," says Hedwig. "A lesbian Veela whore-house matron. She's very sweet."
Tonks eyebrows rise.
"Why were you, err…" she begins asking.
"Ask Narcissa Malfoy," I mutter.
"Well… err… did you fuck her?"
No point trying to get around this one.
"Yes. Bernadette, that is. Not Malfoy." I visibly shudder at the thought. She's hot, don't get me wrong, but she's still a Malfoy.
"As a guy?" she asks.
"Well… given the fact that she's a lesbian? No."
"Ah. When was this?" asks Tonks.
"New Years."
Tonks nods. Is she jealous? Angry? Annoyed?
"If it makes you pity me, she fucks Narcissa Malfoy too."
Her hair turns a limp white, her face goes gaunt, and she shrinks by half a foot in outright horror.
"Yeah, I got that feeling, too, when I learned about it."
She shudders, before taking on a more normal appearance.
"Is there anybody else you… er…"
"In this timeline? No." I decided against ever ever ever mentioning Narcissa trying to seduce me. Although I'm sure Andi knows she tried.
"In the previous one?"
"Bernadette's entire brothel," answers Hedwig.
I wince.
"An… an entire brothel… of Veela."
"Um, yeah," I say, wishing I had a cup of coffee so I could drink it to take a moment to think. "It was… um… I, er, was their paid man, as it were."
"Paid man?" asks Tonks.
"He was paid to make love to Veela, because he can withstand the allure," supplies Hedwig, knowing far too much of this than I'm ever comfortable with her knowing.
"Oh. Oh!" Her face takes on an even brighter shade of red as she realises the implications of this. "Wow."
"Yeah. My life. Wouldn't know normal even if it left a scar on my butt cheek."
"Well… I suppose I could leave a scar or two on your butt cheek."
I think about it, and then smile.
"Are we alright?"
"I think so. We'll see how it goes. There aren't any other surprises, are there?"
"Well… there's one that I'm thinking about. Although we'll have to see what James and Lily do first."
Tonks nods.
It's an awkward minute or two, before Hedwig finally huffs, and with an "Oh, I see how it is," wings her way back out into the front hall to watch the door. I give a small smile as she leaves, and Tonks walks over to me. She shifts her walk, taking on more feminine hips and a larger bosom just to toy with me. Her face doesn't change, keeping its cute heart-shape, but her hair becomes longer, shifting from shoulder-length neon pink to waist-length.
"So you like how I look, eh?"
"It's kind of hard to not like how you look," I reply.
She smiles at me, and wraps her hands around my shoulders as she becomes taller. Now I realise why she wears skirts so much. She doesn't have to keep track of how long her pants are.
It's the stupid things my brain thinks of, when I should be thinking about the tongue in my mouth. Ginny called it endearing. I'm not sure if she was serious.
Naturally, this is when Lily barges in.
"You lied to me about Jessica's body!" she growls out.
Tonks freezes up, but I give her a quick nip, and she's focused back on me.
"Quit sucking face, and answer me. Sirius tried this, once. It didn't work well for him."
We both sigh, and break apart.
"I'll have to ask him about that," I say.
"No, we'll have to ask him," says Tonks.
"Fine, fine," I reply. "So what did I lie to you about?"
"My daughter's corpse."
"Ah," I say, and think about that for a moment. "Yes. Yes I did."
I think she's surprised I came clean about it.
"What?" I ask. "You were thinking I was Voldemort's illegitimate daughter! I'm amazed anybody trusted me."
"Really?" asks Tonks.
"Well, I've got Riddle's Parselmouth abilities, and I had black, curly hair. McGonagall recognized me, but didn't know from where until I mentioned being a Parselmouth. From there, she likely assumed."
"You told McGonagall?" she asks.
"Yeah... everything I transfigure speaks Parseltongue thanks to my wand."
"She didn't mention that," says Lily. "Back on topic. I'm trying to be angry with you about my daughter's corpse."
"I'm sorry I said it was cremated so it wouldn't be used, when I was walking around with it, alright? What am I supposed to say? I'm sorry, you can't have it. I'm kind of attached to it at the moment?"
On this, Lily is silent, but she still glares.
"Listen, Lily, I'm very sorry that I lied about my body. Is that better?"
"Yes," replies a now sadly smiling Lily.
"Oh, what now?" I ask.
"What?" asks Lily.
"You're smiling like I've done something right and wrong."
"It's the first time you called me Lily," she replies.
I blink at that. Is it? Well, the first time I called her that, yes.
"True, I suppose."
"So why did you pick Evans?" asks Lily.
"Because I'm an Evans," I reply.
"It's not a magical family name, though," says James, walking in, alive, but definitely not well. He appears to be dispelling some sort of jinx or curse that is causing his hair to strangle him.
"Sure it is. Has been since Lily's fourth year," I reply.
All three of them stare at me, evidently surprised.
"What? You created a vault in your fourth year," I say.
They continue to stare, having moved from surprised to confused.
"It was a family vault," I add. "That's why your bank statements are always addressed Evans-Potter."
She stares at me in slack-jawed stupid amazement.
"How do you know about that? I closed that vault years ago."
"Because you didn't get a chance to close it in my timeline. In this one, you folded it into James' vault. I actually re-opened it when I dumped Bellatrix money into it. Technically, I'm Head of the Matriarchal House of Evans, now, because you abdicated when you closed the vault."
All three of them stare at me like I'm crazy.
"Wait, how did you open a family vault?" asked James of Lily.
"I just opened a vault!" says Lily.
"You're a muggleborn. That's why it's a family vault," I reply. "Do you remember filling out Head of Family paperwork?"
"Head of Family paperwork?"
"Single form, asks if there's any other magicals in your family?"
"Er… I think I still have all the forms, maybe."
She wanders off, and I listen to her head upstairs.
"She accidentally started a magical bloodline," mutters James to himself. "Only Lily."
"Well, I was wondering where my stupidly deranged luck comes from," I reply.
"Stupidly deranged?" asks James.
"Don't ask," I say. I don't need to explain the Veela brothel again. Tonks takes my hand in support.
"Just think," she says. "You get to go through all of this again with my parents."
At this point I just sigh.
"Do I have too?"
"And Harry and Sirius, too," replies James. "I'm not keeping this from him."
I nod, understanding.
"Once the year's over," I say. "Let them figure this out over the summer, alright?"
James at least agrees to that.
"Why didn't you tell us?" he asks. "Earlier?"
"When could I have?" I ask.
"After killing Albus? While killing Albus? At any point in that conversation?"
"Because, I assumed I was leaving the magical world. Why bother?"
"I know I'm not anymore, but when you were there, I was your father," says James. I feel the magic of a listening charm, and I assume it's Lily's. I almost instinctively break it, but hold off.
"No you weren't."
"What?"
"My parents died when I was fifteen months old. The first and only time I met my parents was at the tender age of seventeen, when I called them forth as Master of Death. They said they loved me, that they were proud of me. And that was it. You and Lily are Jessica's parents. Not mine. My Godfather spent twelve years in Azkaban, before he was murdered by Bellatrix LeStrange. He never taught Defence Against the Dark Arts." It also means that clutching my hand, offering me support, is an entirely different Nymphadora Tonks from the one that married Remus, from the one that was killed fighting Death Eaters at Hogwarts.
The distinctions are important. I may make mistakes, I may make assumptions, but I try to avoid them.
The listening charm falls, and I watch as Lily returns holding a muggle hanging file folder of all things. She drops it on the kitchen counter, and opens it up. I walk over, look past her shoulder, and pull out the appropriate form when she comes across it.
"This?" she asks. "That's the vault agreement."
"Right. Read this paragraph, right here." I point to a rather lengthy paragraph in Latin legalese. Satan himself would have a hard time figuring out the precise meaning of it, but it's been in use for the better part of three thousand years.
"That's the rules for family access. Only magical family members can access to the vault."
"No, it's the family line creation. By creating the vault, you establish your family line as a magical family, with you at its Head. So, the Evans family is a matriarchal line. Kind of short-lived, since you married and then never specified an Heir, but I could re-start it, so I restarted it."
Lily and James stare at me in surprise.
"What? I had to navigate this bullshit for forty goddamn years. I picked it up some of it from Andi, and after Andi was murdered I got a few lessons from Narcissa, as thanks for saving Draco's worthless carcass. The rest was reading page after page after page of fucking Latin legalese. You learn to become your own solicitor after you fuck over the goblins."
All three of them nod in understanding. They know what I'm talking about. I don't need to state that no solicitor wants to go against the goblins. They don't have the strength to take on the Wizarding World, but they hold enough power that the Wizarding World doesn't want to wipe them out. It's a careful balance, and solicitors hate disrupting it, because then every transaction with the bank has to be perfectly above board, or else.
A precarious position to be in, really. It's why I closed everything except the Potter-Black Family vault, and left it with 30 sickles on top of a note that said "For Griphook."
There's quiet in the room for a minute.
"So really, what did you do to the Dursleys?" asks James.
"Ask McGonagall to make use of her Pensieve," I reply, smiling. "It's worth it."
All three of them nod.
The rest of the night isn't so bad.