Nathaniel Lawton is a seventh year half-blood from Gryffindor, and he's standing next to the idiot Ravenclaws on a bitterly cold pre-dawn March morning.
I stare at him for a long moment. He points his wand at his feet, and sticks them in place.
"Really?"
"I want to be an Auror," he says. "Seems like a good way to have a leg up."
"Not gonna go easy on you," I reply.
"That's what I expect," he says.
I nod.
Insult to injury? He's got the silent casting down by the end of the first week, and the wandless casting down by the second. It's getting on towards the end of March when he gets down both, combined, and none of the Ravenclaws have figured out anything. Three more Auror potentials have "signed up" for my abuse, including a Ravenclaw that looks down on her comrades. She even spits on them, when she figures it out.
None of them, to my knowledge, have made the mistake of approaching any of the other teachers for aid. They've read through all the books in the library, trying to gain any use from the various texts there. I've still got the one useful text hidden in my desk drawer. Pince hates me, by this point.
The hilarious part is that I've given them everything they need to know, none of them have put it together, though.
Mid-April, I stand in the courtyard, glaring at them. I let Sally-Anne give the lecture.
"You're worthless, incompetent buffoons, the lot of you. I've told you, over and over and over how to do this, and none of you listen!" It's at about this point I realise I've created another Hermione. I shrug to myself, and let it continue. She doesn't so much lecture as rants for twenty minutes about the worthlessness of incantations and wand movements, and the importance of intent in shaping magic. She dips into profanity a few times, stutters a few more, and has the occasional issue with slurred speech. All in all, it's hilarious, and it takes every fibre of my being to not break down and laugh at it all.
My three volunteers would be laughing, but they're all silenced. At least I made sure they were in the back.
By the end of it, one of the Ravenclaws is actually dumb enough to ask the question, "Well what would you know, you're just an ignorant mudblooded Hufflepuff."
He screams when Sally-Anne's silent bludgeoner hits him in the balls.
"Miss Perks?"
"Yes Professor?"
"You were supposed to ask me to turn around first. What I don't see, I can't punish. So that'll be detention after classes."
She nods, looking at the ground.
I fail to mention I'm more than aware it's her birthday.
0x0x0x0
She's confused that she's following Daphne and Tracy into my classroom. Hermione is already there, chatting with me about, of course, Transfiguration theory. Most of the rest of the tea party arrives soon enough, which causes her to get even more confused. Su Li joins me and Hermione discussing Transfiguration theory, I may have accidentally mentioned a few discoveries that haven't been discovered yet, before I get things rolling.
"Sally-Anne, your detention is going to be very difficult," I manage to say with a straight face. "You're going to have to attend, of all the unspeakable horrors, a birthday party."
"Umm… who's?" she asks, looking about.
"Your own," I say, and drop the disillusionment charm on her birthday cake, and then light all twelve candles on it.
To say she's surprised is an understatement. It warms the blackened cockles of my heart, and I know I'm going to ask her tonight.
I'll have to introduce her to Tonks at some point. Tonks visits pretty regularly on the weekends, and some nights. I just need that over and done with.
Well that, and whatever end of year surprise is inevitably going to happen. And, really, I think that's the last hurdle. Well, I'm hoping it's the last hurdle. I should expect others. Probably the Ministry.
Sally-Anne gets a supply of gifts from the other girls, including a set of dress robes from Daphne. I recognise one of the styles in the set, it's for magical adoption ceremonies. I give Daphne a very long and pointed look, to which she can only smile at me. Slytherins are always too smart for their own good. Hopefully her sister will be smart enough to not marry Draco this time around. Hermione, of course, gives a book. The others give her various other things.
Hedwig has an amusing time chatting with everyone, although I don't like the way she chats with Daphne.
She's Up To Something.
Then again, she always is.
0x0x0x0
My present to Sally-Anne comes after everything has wound down. Her present leg is decent, but I want to get her something a little... better. I went a little overboard.
She looks at it like it's a work of art.
I suppose it is, I guess.
It's matte black, with gold inlays that I don't recall putting there. Sometimes magic is weird like that though. She takes off the old aluminium pole, the black marks of my runes still on it, and fits this one to her stump. There's nothing she needs to do to actually fit it on, but the surprise on her face when it seals itself on is pretty funny.
She takes a moment to touch the sides of the leg. There's a hint of surprise, a hint of mystery, a hint of a need to actually test it and make sure as she picks up her wand and pokes the side of her leg with it.
"What have I told you about poking things with your wand?" I ask, a smile on my face as I remember Moody grousing about wands in back pockets.
"Oh! Right!" she replies, instead grabbing a quill, and running it across her leg. She giggles, and smiles. "I can feel it!"
I nod, smiling.
She bends her leg, stretches her ankle, and even wiggles her toes.
And then she grabs me around the waist and squeezes for all she's worth.
"Thank you! Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you, Thank you!" she says.
This. This is what I've always wanted. And... and I want to talk to her foster parents first, but... instead...
"Sally-Anne, there's something else I wanted to ask you."
"What?" she asks, still wiggling her toes.
"I don't want your answer on this tonight. I want you to think about it, but... well... how would you like it if I adopted you?"
Her toes stop wiggling, and she's completely shell-shocked at this.
"You don't want my answer tonight?" she asks.
"Yeah," I say. "I want you to think about it."
"I don't think my answer's gonna change tomorrow," she says.
I nod, frowning.
"But I'll tell you tomorrow, alright?" she replies, concerned.
She's being nice about it, at least.
"Thank you," I say.
Of course. I shouldn't have expected that much.
0x0x0x0
"My answer's yes," says Sally-Anne, having arrived in the courtyard at quarter before five.
For a long moment I stare at her, abject surprise coursing through me.
"We really need to work on her about her expectations," says Hedwig.
I throw the traitor a glare, before looking back at Sally-Anne.
"Really?" I ask.
"Really," she says.
I smile, and give her a hug.
"Now I just need to tell everyone!"
I smile.
"There's a ritual and a ceremony, and I want to ask your foster parents first…"
"Ok," she says. "I know they'll let you. Ever since I got my letter, well, they've been worried they won't be able to raise me the way I should be raised, or something."
"Don't worry about that, they'll have done a better job of raising you than my aunt and uncle did. Which is something we need to talk about… well, a long something we need to talk about."
She frowns at this.
"Don't worry about it, alright? It's just… it's just something you should know before we go ahead and do this."
She nods.
Neither of our stinging hexes have as much umph behind them, but it's still an enjoyable morning.
0x0x0x0
I smile at Sally-Anne as she takes a seat at the table in my quarters. I'm in my kitchen cooking dinner. I demanded of the castle a kitchen, and she provided. Hogwarts is sweet like that.
"How's the leg working?" I ask.
"I… umm…" she starts.
"What?"
"I don't take it off," she says, embarrassed.
"Really?" I ask. I hadn't really expected that. I mean, I know I put a lot of effort into it, but I had to take off my hand when I slept. The thing drove me spare, sometimes.
"It's, well, it's just too nice to take off. It feels, well, like my leg. Like I've really got my leg back."
I blink in surprise, before the embarrassment kicks in. It can't really be that good, can it?
"No, really!" she adds, as though reading my mind, "It's that good!"
She knows me too well.
Thankfully, Tonks arrives to break up the conversation before I can embarrass myself further.
"Honey! I'm ho-ome!"
Or not.
I roll my eyes at her, and she smiles at me, and then looks at Sally-Anne.
"So you must be Sally-Anne," she says. Tonks' hair is her usual bright pink, and she's wearing somewhat plain robes. I suppose she's trying to make a good impression, while still being childish. I turn back to the stove as they get acquainted.
"And you're Tonks."
"It's good to meet you."
"You too. Jamie refuses to tell me your first name."
"And that's the way it should be," replies Tonks.
"Does that mean you're going to be Tonks Evans when you and Jamie get married?"
I laugh as I look at the sheer colourful surprise on Tonks' face. I'd given Sally-Anne the heads up on Tonks' gender state, explaining it as "she's basically half-and-half, and I'll give you more details when you're older, if you want them."
Naturally, the first question out of her mouth was "can you two get married?"
"Umm… maybe?" she says. "We've… we haven't really talked about that sort of thing."
At this Sally-Anne smiles.
Tonks is young enough that she does the smart thing, and doesn't ask about classes. Instead, she asks about who her friends are. Which brings her to the tea parties.
Oh, I know from Tonks' smile she's going to spend a long time laughing at me.
The dinner's nice, though. Being able to cook is a useful skill, and one that I'm not about to give up. All in all… it's good. It's a nice, talkative meal, filled with conversation as Tonks and Sally-Anne get to know each other. I haven't hidden them from each other. Tonks knows I want to adopt Sally-Anne, and Sally-Anne knows I'm dating Tonks. And now, we're all sitting at a dinner table, and they're conspiring against me.
I am reminded of one thing. Just because I have a female body, does not mean I understand the female mind.
0x0x0x0
"Well?" I ask.
Sally-Anne's left for the Hufflepuff dorm, and Tonks is staying a little late.
"She's a sweet little girl. Should I be worried?"
I glare at her.
"She's only, what, four years younger than you? If I wait a few years, she might steal you away from me."
I roll my eyes. She's been making fun of my age even more, now.
"I should tell her at some point."
"You should, yeah." She wraps her arms around me, drawing me back into her. She makes herself taller, and rests her chin on top of my head.
I could spend a long time right here.
Is it strange that I like being comforted? That I like being held, as much as I like holding? Even after how I was raised, even after all the pain and misery, I want to be held?
"Stay," I say.
"Hmm?"
"Stay the night. Please."
I can feel her pause, before she agrees.
It's been a very long time since I've slept with someone I love.
And I do love her.
I can admit that to myself, at least.
0x0x0x0
I make fun of Tonks through all of breakfast for what I felt poking me when I woke up.
She kisses me to make me shut up, and I'm almost late for my first class.
I completely forget about a group of Ravenclaws standing in a courtyard outside the school. That's their problem, not mine.
0x0x0x0
It's early May. I'm chatting with McGonagall, waiting for the Potters to arrive, when I ask the question.
"Odd question… but what are the rules about adopting students?"
Minerva puts down her tea, and gives me a long look before smiling.
"I was wondering when this would happen," she says.
I sigh.
"Am I really that transparent?" I ask.
"When you're happy, you are," she says. "As with teaching any family member, impartiality is required. Given you're grades for her, I actually feel you're being a little harsh."
I have to think about that for a moment.
"I guess I am. I know I expect exacting work from her…"
"Miss Evans, she's doing all of her work silently."
"Free transfiguration, actually," I say, correcting her.
Minerva stares at me for a very long moment, before she speaks again.
"Miss Evans, I'm afraid I didn't hear you correctly. Did you just say she was doing free transfiguration?"
I nod.
"And you are grading her results as though she were any other first year?"
I nod.
Minerva's fingers massage the bridge of her nose for a minute before she speaks.
"Miss Evans… Jamie, free transfiguration is a requirement for a mastery. We don't even teach the subject at N.E.W.T. level. That she is performing it at the age of eleven-"
"Twelve. Her birthday was last week." McGonagall gives me a look.
"At the age of twelve, says absolutely amazing things about both your skill as a teacher, and her skill as a student. Are you teaching her free charms, as well?"
"No, I just taught her how to cast charms silently. I'm… not actually teaching her anything, anymore."
On this, McGonagall is silent. Utterly silent. I get the feeling I've broken a few rules.
"How long did it take you to teach her?"
"She was caught up by early November," I reply, noting the fire turn green out the corner of my eye.
"And just how did you manage to teach her mastery level magic?" asks Minerva.
"I didn't mention it was mastery level," I reply.
"What's mastery level?" asks Lily, stepping through.
"Free Transfiguration," says Minerva. "Miss Evans has been teaching one of her students Free Transfiguration."
"That must be one hell of a N.E.W.T. project," says James.
"One of her first years," grounds out Minerva. I can tell I'm giving her a headache.
"Sorry?" I say, unsure of just what to do about this.
"A first year," I hear Sirius say. "You're teaching Perks free Transfiguration? I thought you were just teaching silent casting?"
"And you aren't teaching me this?" asks Tonks. So it's all four of them.
"I can over the summer, if you want. Harry, too," I say, looking at James and Lily.
James and Lily are surprised.
"If you don't want me to-" I begin.
"No, I think it'd be good," says Lily. Even I can see the sharp glare she sends at James. He frowns, but agrees. "Now, Minerva..."
"I'm aware of Miss Evans' secretive nature, Lily. And that, I'm sure, it relates to Miss Evans' own relation to you and James."
"Something like that," I say.
Oh, Minerva knows I'm lying. She knows something's up, and wants to ask, but decides against it. Instead, she says her final pleasantries, and heads off to patrol the castle.
"So…" begins James. "The memories?"
I nod, and my wand touches my temple. The silvery strands hang from my wand-tip, and I drop them into the Pensieve.
"Filled in Mr. Black?" I ask.
"Spent most of the last month finishing off the Obliviation," says Sirius. "Lily can really hound me when she needs to. Never saw Dumbledore as the type to pull that sort of shit, but... well..."
"Whatever he needs to do for the Greater Good, he'll do," I say. "You can at least respect the man for doing whatever needs to be done, but, well..."
"Yeah," says Sirius. "So, you pranked the Dursleys already?"
"Oh, yes. That's what we're going to watch. Shall we?"
We enter the Pensieve, and find ourselves in an unknown living room. My memory self is dialling the phone.
"James, just so you know, I didn't break into a muggle house to make a phone call."
He gives me a look rather similar to Minerva's. It's probably where he learned it from.
My memory self begins speaking.
"I'd like to report a possible missing person," speaks my charmed voice. "And I'd like to report it anonymously."
"Go ahead."
"The missing person is Jessica Potter. She went missing sometime over the summer, I think in early July, maybe late June. She lives with her aunt and uncle, Vernon and Petunia Dursley."
"And what makes you think she's gone missing?"
"They claim they sent her to a boarding school. St. Trinian's School for Girls, like in the books and movies."
"They specifically said St. Trinian's?"
"Yes... except nobody remembers them driving her there, or picking her up. She just disappeared one day."
"And you think she went missing in June or July?"
"Well, yes. We always saw her out working in the garden in the afternoons, sometimes in the mornings as well. And then one day she was gone, and Vernon said she was packed off to St. Trinian's if he was asked. Said she was a worthless little bitch, and deserved it."
The scene shifts to my kitchen. I'm at the stove, mixing a potion.
LOCAL COUPLE ARRESTED IN ALLEGED MURDER OF NIECE.
The date is December 24th.
"What do you think?" I ask, pointing to it.
"Quite the Christmas present," says Tonks.
"Quite," says James. "Alleged murder?"
"Muggle papers have to say 'alleged.' Innocent until proven guilty. Really, all that means is they have to tack on the word alleged to all the charges."
James nods, as Lily looks at my potion brewing. Home recipe of burn salve, for when I go a little far with the wandless magic. I don't do it often, but I always have some on hand.
The scene shifts. It's a muggle interrogation room, now. Petunia is sitting in a chair with a black eye. My memory self is speaking with several police officers before the one way glass. My eyes are a deep brown, my hair is a limp, straight, dull brown, I've got a few wrinkles on my face, and a mole above my right eye. I'm also wearing platform shoes to add an inch or two.
"Aw," says Tonks. "You make a cute brunette."
"Har, har, har," I reply, as the conversation begins.
"We've been looking, but we haven't found anything," my memory self states. "Court records are coming up empty."
"One of the neighbours say the girl was left on her doorstep," says the investigator, Matthews.
My memory raises an incredulous eyebrow at this.
"Just saying what they said happened."
"So we don't even know where this kid came from, and she's been with them for ten years, and nobody's said anything about it? Hell, something should have come up when she went to school."
"Nope," says one of his minions, Peterson. "Dursley's old friends with the superintendent. Both of them went to Smeltings together."
My memory self nods.
"Peterson, go talk with him," says Matthews. "Lean on him. See if he gave Dursley any special treatment. We'll make him an accomplice to the sexual abuse if he doesn't talk."
"And if he does?" I ask.
"Well, I know some friends who can ask questions to the right people if he doesn't resign."
"Am I allowed to have a go at her, yet?" my memory asks. "I've got a few questions to ask, and maybe she'll open up for a friendly face."
Matthews relents, knowing I've got to get my piece in.
We follow my past self into the interrogation room.
"And right here," I say, pointing to my past self, "is where I cast a mild but permanent compulsion charm on Petunia. We'll get to that."
"Hello, Mrs. Dursley, my name is Louise Fetterton. I'm a social worker trying to determine how Jessica came to be in your care."
Petunia nods.
"Now, you stated to the police that the birth records were lost. Do you know where Jessica was born?"
"No. I haven't spoken with Lily since I was seventeen."
My memory nods, and makes a note on the pad of paper in front of me, just like Louise Fetterton actually does. I don't look exactly like her, I'm actually a little shorter, but it's the little things that are important. The pad is charmed to make it look like her chicken-scratch, when I sneak the notes back to her. I'll also be giving her these memories, as well, but I still make them good.
"Mrs. Dursley, we're asking because we can't get into contact with Mrs... Potter? You said Potter, right?"
Petunia nods.
"We've been looking, but we can't even find anything that says Lily ever married. We even asked around your old neighbourhood to see if anybody's kept in contact with her-"
"They wouldn't have," growled out Petunia.
"When a man named Severus Snape came forward."
Her eyes widen, and then soften. She smiles.
"Surely he knew where Lily was?"
"Not really," my memory states. "They had a falling out during their fifth year at..." I glance at the pad, trying to find the name of the school.
"Hogwarts," says Petunia. "The school's name was Hogwarts."
"Could have sworn it was something else. Apparently he's the chemistry teacher there, now."
Petunia looks like she wants to say something, but hold's her tongue.
"Chemistry teacher?" asks Sirius.
"Yep. Got to claim he's something," I say. "Save your questions for the end."
"Says quite a bit about him, if he managed to become a teacher for a school for the gifted."
Petunia looks angrier and angrier.
"I asked him if he could get in contact with Lily, see if there's some sort of alumni organization, but he said there wasn't. The police are still going through records, but Inland Revenue hasn't even seen anything from Lily since she was seventeen."
"That's because she's a freak," whispers Petunia.
"A what?"
"A freak."
My memory self glances at the officers, while furiously scribbling notes.
"What sort of freak?" she asks.
This question hits the neurosis motherload. For the next forty minutes, there is an outpouring of rage, anger, and paranoia that makes a JFK assassination convention look like a school bake sale. The pen scribbles the entire time, as Petunia relates every fear and hatred of the Wizarding World she can to someone who will nod and smile at all of it. This isn't anything new to me, but James, Lily, Sirius, and Tonks are all horrified by it. I'm merely looking at the clock on the wall, waiting for it to end.
When she finally peters out, my memory excuses herself, and returns to behind the mirrored glass.
"Psychotic break?" asks Matthews.
"Not a councillor for that, but it has all the signs of it. I'd say get a court order, and have her locked up. Maybe a councillor can get where she hid the bodies."
"Bodies?" asks Peterson.
"She says the wizards took both her sister and her niece."
His eyes widen.
"Oh, Jesus," he mutters.
"Actually... do we even know if Jessica's related to Lily?"
"Blood and semen samples will come back early March if we're lucky, but more like mid-Apiril," says Matthews. "Definitely were blood and semen, though. Not really a question on whose, but it'd be good to actually match it to make sure."
"Blood and semen?" asks Sirius, horrified.
I nod, staring as one of the officers leaves, and leads Petunia out.
"You're claiming I'm dead?" asks Lily.
"Yep," I reply. "Not that hard to claim, either. You dropped off the map in the late seventies. Hogwarts is, at least, established as an accredited trade school in muggle terms, although no one is entirely sure as to what. If you want to rejoin the muggle world, well, Gringotts can arrange it."
Lily nods.
"Sirius, you looked indescribably pissed."
"Jessica lived through that?" he asks.
"No," I reply. "She survived it. There's a difference."
Once more, James winces at the mention of the prophecy.
"And even then," I continue, "not really. Dumbledore needed a tool. Something to do what was necessary, to survive the coming horror, and willing to die to win it. Something that considered its life disposable before the needs of the others."
Sirius looks like he wants to vomit. Probably due to my choice of pronouns.
"I can respect his dedication, but I will fault him every second of every day for being a monster."
Sirius nods, still looking a little green.
"And the semen stains?"
"Hmm? Oh, just wait for Vernon's interview," I say.
It takes three officers to escort Vernon to the table, and they quite literally chain him down. My memory self fakes her surprise well, before taking a breath.
"Good luck," says Matthews. "Hopefully he's not too crazy."
"Right," my memory self states, faking a sort of nervousness. We all follow her into the room. She looks calm now, as she steps into the room. I did need that half-second at the door before entering, simply so I wouldn't murder the man on sight, and also to ready the compulsion enchantment.
"Why am I under arrest?" he growls.
"Hello, Mister Dursley. My name is Louise Fetterton. I'm a social worker, investigating just how Jessica came to your home."
"Told you before, those worthless freaks left her on the doorstep. Letter said we didn't have a choice."
My memory nods. She's got a photocopy of the letter in her folder of documents.
"The letter from... Albus Dumbledore, yes?"
"Right."
"And you received no other documents about her?"
"Not a single one," replies Vernon. "Freaks didn't give us anything."
My memory nods, and makes a note of it.
"And just how did you treat Jessica?" my memory ask.
"Like a freak should be treated," he replies.
"And how is that?"
His statements are revolting to anyone who doesn't consider rape a tool, or are so desensitised to its use.
I have to wonder what Tonks actually does see in me.
An innocent question on my memory's part draws me back to the conversation at hand.
"So you raped Jessica?"
"It's not rape if it isn't human," replies Vernon, uncaring.
At this point, I move the memory forward, and we're all back behind the glass. The descriptions that follow are not fit for any conversation.
"He's completely nutters," says Matthews. The faint smell of his subordinate's vomit pervades the room.
"Psychopath, sociopath, it doesn't matter. There's no remorse in there. He didn't even think of her as human," my memory agrees.
"They won't get a conviction," says Matthews. "He'll be dumped in a sanatorium for the rest of his life."
"He seems the violent type," my memory says. "And the type to try and escape."
"He does, doesn't he?" Matthews replies, his face hardening.
My memory writes down the name and address of a specific sanatorium.
"My personal recommendation for the persecutor and the judge."
He looks at the name, and an eyebrow rises.
"It's what he deserves," my memory adds.
He nods, then looks back into the room. He reaches back to the shelf, and pulls down one of the old wooden clubs. He slaps it into his hand a few times, recalling how it feels and how to swing it.
"Miss Fetterton, in your professional opinion, how did Vernon and Petunia Dursley get a hold of Jessica Potter, and what happened to her?"
"In my professional opinion? It's a shared delusion. They kidnapped the girl, and killed her mother in the process. And when Jessica was supposed to go off to the same school in their minds, they killed her as well. Honestly, I think we'll be lucky if we ever learn where they hid the bodies."
The investigator nods.
"Peterson, Brown, remove Mister Dursley from the table, and open the door."
We all move out into the hall as the two bobbies remove Vernon's chains, and then open the door. Matthews stands, club in hand, beside it. The two other bobbies wait inside the room, as Vernon stands, and shuffles out, his hands and legs still cuffed together.
Matthews smashes the club straight into Vernon's face with a rather satisfying crack.
"Escaping, are we?" asks Matthews.
Vernon makes a noise that, if you're a kind person, may have sounded like a "no."
"Resisting as well, are we?" asks Matthews, and brings the club down again. This time, it's a soft tissue blow. Vernon has enough padding that it won't break anything. His trial isn't going to happen until the summer. There'll be plenty of time for anything and everything to heal.
Then one of the bobbies, Peterson I think, starts kicking him in the side, and the beating really starts. It goes for a few minutes, before Matthews ends it.
"That's enough for today, I think. Brown, drag his carcass back downstairs and add attempted escape and resisting capture to his sheet."
"Yes, sir."
With that, the memory ends, and we're back in Minerva's office.
"When's the court date?" asks James.
"July 8th. I'll get you all the details. For some strange reason neither, Vernon or Petunia have thought to ask for any type of legal representation. They're being given public defence."
"And the Sanatorium?" asks Sirius.
"It's a high security facility, and houses mostly psychopaths and serial killers. It's run by the Whateley family."
Tonks and James both shudder at the name. It's not on par with Voldemort, but it's definitely up there.
"Same Whateleys?" asks Sirius.
"The very same," I reply. Sirius shudders in response.
"Who are the Whateleys?" asks Lily.
"They're the sort of purebloods that not even Voldemort would take in his ranks," replies James.
"Voldemort has standards?" she asks.
"They're pure, the same way Dolores Umbridge is pure," I say.
"Umbridge?" asks James.
"She's a Marsh," I say. Sirius and Tonks visibly shudder, while James is confused.
"From Innsmouth," I add.
Disgusted recognition dawns on his face.
"I get the feeling I don't want to know, and yet morbid curiosity tells me to ask anyways," says Lily.
"They're…" begins James.
"Not human," says Tonks, most of her visible body pale. "Very much so not human. They breed with… things. To get power into their bloodlines."
"Things?" asks Lily.
"Things from deep and dark places," I supply, "that worship even more deep and dark things. It's best left at that," There is a reason I'm good with Fiendfyre. It's the only thing that really works on the things the Marshes worship.
"Good to know they'll be in capable hands," says Sirius.
"Exactly. We still have to hammer through the appropriate sentence, but it's dependent on the judge."
"Did you really talk to Snape?"
"Yes," I say. "I even know why Dumbledore trusted him."
"Why?" growls James.
"An Unbreakable Vow of Loyalty."
Silence fills the room.
"Seriously?" asks Sirius. "That's why he trusted Snape?"
"When Albus said Snape had turned traitor on Voldemort, he meant it. No going back with one of those."
Sirius nods.
"And if you breathe a word of that to anyone, Sirius, my promise still stands. Got it?"
"Promise?" asks James, surprised by the sudden voice change.
"Got it," says a rapidly nodding Sirius.
"Jamie, are you threatening Sirius?" asks Lily.
"No. I'm informing him that he'd best act his age. Or else."
"Can you ever be serious?" asks Tonks. I immediately conjure a pillow and throw it at her, while silencing Sirius before he can speak.
"You did that on purpose," I rather pointedly say, while pointing to Sirius.
He's frowning, because I cut him off before he could say one of his blasted puns. I've listened to them all over the last year, as if I hadn't heard enough at Grimmauld.
"Not all of us are wholly disgusted by such low forms of humour," says Tonks, smirking.
I roll my eyes, and Sirius undoes my silencing charm.
"Everyone should appreciate a good pun," grumbles Sirius.
"I had to listen to an entire Christmas worth of them at Grimmauld. I know the fifty alone that you made about your mother."
He shudders.
"Anyways, what say we give McGonagall back her office? The portraits are annoyed enough with my privacy ward."
Several previous headmasters look upon us with annoyance for daring to keep a conversation private.
"How'd you manage that?" asks Lily.
"Muffilato. Quirk of the spell makes it stronger when cast silent."
Lily isn't surprised by my mention of the spell, but the others are.
I glance at all of them.
"You didn't learn it from me," I tell them. "You learned it from a ratty sixth-year's potions book that someone left somewhere. It has corrections."
"There's a story, here," says Tonks, eyeing me carefully.
"Dumbledore's idea. His attempt to get me closer to Slughorn." I fail to mention Snape. Lily nods approvingly. The less Snape the better. I included him in my revenge against the Dursleys because he was a friend of Lily. He knew about Jessica's death, and he had every right to be a part of it. Some sort of closure, some sort of vengeance.
I know the feeling.
We evacuate McGonagall's office, and arrive in my quarters. I absently conjure an extra couch in my sitting room, while I walk up to the door that wasn't there when I left my quarters. With my wand still out, I poke open the door with a conjured stick.
"That bitch!" I shout.
"What is it?" asks Tonks.
"That blasted, buggering, boulder-based, bitch!"
"What? Who?"
"Hogwarts!"
"What's going on?" asks Lily.
"Fucking Hogwarts added on an extra room! I haven't even fucking started the preparations for the ceremony, let alone the four stone of paperwork, and the damn castle just gave me another room. What's next, my bed turning into a queen-size?"
"I wouldn't mind," comments Tonks.
"There's one at the house," I say, "but that's beside the point. There's even a fucking four-poster in here! What the hell!"
I answer questions about my life from Sirius in between muttering, grumbling, and swearing about conniving, over-indulgent semi-sentient rock-heaps. My wand is already in hand as I begin to decorate the room with a few basic things. I start by summoning a trio of acorns, with every intent on paying back Hogwarts for doing this. I place each one in a crack in the stone floor, and everyone eyes me strangely as I begin chanting in Hebrew. They're easy enough to ignore, as the acorns take root in the very stones of the castle, growing from the magic surrounded them. It takes a fair amount of concentration to shape the branches properly, but once it's done, there's a rather unique set of floor-to-ceiling shelves on one side of the room.
"Wow," says Tonks. "That's... wow."
"Our children will have a tree house. I mean that very literally."
"I think Harry would want one," says James, staring at the bookshelves.
"Hell, Iwant one," says Sirius.
"When you're older," I say, taking a seat on the bed. A tall glass of iced tea makes its way from the kitchen to Sally-Anne's new room, and I take a long gulp of it.
"Tiring?" asks Tonks, taking a seat next to me.
"A little. Takes a fair bit of concentration, and I've never done that with this wand."
"The Elder Wand?"
"Nah. Holly and phoenix feather was always amazing at this sort of thing."
Tonks nods, off to my side.
"Maybe we should get some rest, eh?"
"Yeah," I say. Standing's a little difficult. It has been a long day, hasn't it? Not physically draining. Emotionally. Mentally. I walk out into the living room with Tonks at my arm. I look at each of them in turn. Sirius looks at me appraisingly, especially with Tonks at my arm. James doesn't actively hate me, an improvement. Lily gives me a small, sad smile.
Hedwig looks at me with love, and I can tell she'll deal with the theoretical adults for a little while, while Tonks drags me off to my bed.
The clock says it's dinnertime, but clocks are to be ignored.