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Chapter Text

“Thank you, Mr Potter.” He took the parchment the clerk was patiently holding. “The Wizengamot will confer and inform you of our decision.”

Fifteen minutes later Harry was holding his breath and Hermione’s hand. Would the five members of the Wizengamot agree to his requests? Would he get what wanted?

“The sitting members of the Wizengamot have reached a consensus…”

~~~

Lucius Malfoy looked at Harry from his seat in the Wizengamot members’ benches. For the first time, Harry saw a Malfoy, that was not pleased with his own actions.

“We regret that we are unable to meet all of your requests, Mr Potter.” He sighed. “As far as your requests in relation to Life in Exile? Point One. Your muggle identity and altering it are a minor issue. Nominating only one person to be aware of your muggle identity, we believe not to be a wise idea, however there are ways to lock that information away in a person’s mind, only to be released upon your chosen information holder’s death. Point Two. Altering your appearance. Miss Granger’s suggestions are feasible, both of them. We do understand your reasoning and to a point, we agree with it. We don’t like it, but we do understand it. Point Three. We have conferred with St. Mungo's and the only option available to you is sterilisation, be it temporary, linked to your core binding, or permanent. There are no other alternatives, I’m afraid. Point Four. Your finances. That’s a little more complex. Gringotts have informed us that the Potter Family Charter states that no more than twenty percent of the estate’s liquid value, may be transferred to the muggle world, however that is still a very respectable amount. But the Black Family Charter stipulates that no monies, from any of the Black Estates, may be transferred into muggle control. Your personal possessions? Professor Flitwick believes that he can cast a charm, that will enable you to see and value a trunk, but have no curiosity or desire to open it, until or if the bindings are lifted. Point Five. You are an adult of legal age and as such have the right to disperse your assets where you choose. If you write a Will, we will see that it is apportioned as per your wishes. There is one condition that we can add to a sentence of Exile… a limitation. If Mr Potter were to choose this option, we have the availability of adding time for completion of sentence, unfortunately, we are unable to make that anything less than ten years.” He held out a fresh sheet of parchment. “Here are the agreed upon requests, for the Exile option.”

Harry waited while the clerk fetched the parchment and handed it to Hermione.

“As for the Veil option? A wand. Mr Potter, a conviction under Mordred’s Law prohibits this Ministry from permitting you a wand, at least until your sentence is complete.” Malfoy paused. “To clarify… If you were to select the Exile option and at some point, in the future, the bindings one your core are lifted, be it by order of the Wizengamot, by your own hand or by Lady Magic’s, that would constitute the completion of your sentence. The Wizengamot will accept Her Judgement as final.”

“Thank you for adding that, Mr Malfoy. That hadn’t been covered.” Kingsley commented.

“Understandable and I apologise for not mentioning it earlier. But we digress. A wand. We have to deny this request, not because we wish to, but because it is the law. Point Two. The mokeskin pouch. Yes, certainly we shall return it to you. Point Three. Unfortunately, the only option that allows you to retain any finances is the Exile option. This is a grey area, if you choose the veil, you will no longer be a citizen of our world and the only legal equivalent is death, and as such we suggest that you write a Will to come into effect upon your entrance into the veil. However, we do understand your hypothesis and while the Wizengamot cannot provide you with monies, there are no such restriction on your advisors. If Miss Granger, Auror Shacklebolt or Unspeakable Croaker were to gift you with items or monies, we do not have the right to deny your acceptance of said gifts, but it can only be one coin at any given visitation.”

“Understood.” Kingsley spoke and Harry and Hermione both nodded.

“Point Four. Battle robes. We are unable to agree to this. This court must provide you with clothing, however, Mordred’s Law specifically stipulates the only items we can and must provide. Three pair of cotton canvas trousers, three cotton button-down shirts, three cotton undershirts, six pairs cotton underpants, six pairs wool socks, one pair cow-leather shoes or boots, one wool knitted jumper/pullover and one change of cotton sleepwear.”

“Damn.” Harry whispered.

“Point five. The trunk. While Miss Granger holds your complete trust, Mordred’s Law again inhibits us, in what can be provided to you. A trunk and its contents are not on that list, I’m afraid. The best we can do is to provide a muggle bag of Miss Granger’s choosing to hold the already mentioned items, however all items provided must be muggle in nature with no wizarding magic applied to them.”

“Double damn.” Harry muttered.

“So, it comes down to which sentence you would prefer. Mr Potter we are remanding you to the DMLE holding cells for the night. Visitors are permitted but must be vetted by the DMLE prior to your attendance. Physical contact with those visitors will not be permitted. I’m sorry, I’m told that’s standard for the holding cells.” Malfoy raised a brow to Kingsley in question and received a nod in reply. “While the veil is here in the Ministry, we have granted Miss Granger the opportunity to provide items on your behalf, to expect her to be able to produce those items before close of business today is unreasonable. On the other hand, were you to choose Exile, the DMLE, the DoM and possibly the Unspeakables, would need to be involved in creating your new identity and then there’s the charms on your core and memories to consider, too. I understand that between them, it would take a number of hours to resolve and secure the matter. Your sentence, whichever you choose will come into effect at midday tomorrow.” Malfoy straightened his shoulders. “You will have quill, ink and parchment supplied to you, for the purpose of writing a Will, a goblin from Gringotts will be brought to you to certify your Will. I do suggest leaving a portion of your estate to your new identity, as we have to place a twenty-year minimum limit to your sentence, eventually the core and memory binds will lift, enabling you to return to our world to claim said estate, unfortunately, we have been informed by St. Mungo's, that if you were to proceed, changing you name magically will affect your magical signature. It would be best to take that into consideration in advance.”

Lady Longbottom turned to Hermione. “Miss Granger? As stated, you will be permitted to purchase items on behalf of Mr Potter. None of those items are to hold, contain or have wizarding magic applied to them. You will be expected to display those items and they will be randomly tested to ensure that the rules, that the DMLE have placed for the protection of prisoners, have been followed. You will be provided a list,” she offered up a sheet of parchment, “of the items that must be provided and a description of said items. If these items are not available, you may purchase the nearest comparable item, you will however, be required to explain the substitution.”

“Mr Potter? Have you reached a decision, or would you like a few minutes to discuss the matter with your advisors?” Malfoy asked.

“I’d like five minutes to discuss it, sir.” Harry answered.

“Granted. Auror Shacklebolt may place a silencing ward around you and your advisors.” Malfoy nodded.

“Thank you, sir.” Harry nodded back.

Kingsley tossed up a privacy ward and Hermione instantly began to rant.

Until Kingsley silenced her.

“Thanks, Kingsley. Mione, shut up and listen. Logically, we knew we weren’t going to just walk away, too much has happened. This isn’t as good as you might have wanted but it’s better than I expected. Hell, I expected ‘go straight to Azkaban, do not pass GO, do not collect ʛ200’. This is better.”

“Better? How the hell do you figure that?” Kingsley demanded.

“Okay, Life in Exile might be hell on earth to you or other magicals, Kingsley, but not to me. Magic is cool, but I’ve had to live without every summer, I can keep going. It might be different if I were older and been living in the magical world, able to do magic anytime I wanted, but that hasn’t been the case. I never used it outside Hogwarts, excluding emergencies, and since August, Hermione, Ron and I have been on the run, we used magic rarely, we weren’t sure if the Ministry under Voldy could track our magical signatures.”

“Only if their signature is on record. The closest we can come to tracking someone, is if they splinch, we can use their signature to collect whatever parts are misplaced.” Croaker answered.

“Good to know.” Harry snorted.

“So, you’re not concerned about living in the muggle world permanently?” Kingsley asked.

“No, not really. And that’s the option I’m choosing.” Harry words made the three, gasp in shock.

“What?” Hermione overrode Kingsley’s silencing hex.

“The wizarding world hasn’t been good to me, I could easily live without it. The only good things it’s given me, have been my friends. Life in Exile means losing those friends. Same with the veil.

But with the Exile option? With the time limit Malfoy set? I will eventually get you back, it might take years, but it will happen. I can accept that.”

“So, you’re choosing Exile?” Hermione whispered.

“I am.” He nodded.”

“Oh, Harry.” She whispered and a tear ran down her cheek.

“You need to be strong, Mione. Go get your parents back. Live, be happy. For me? Please?” Harry let his own tears fall. “Even if the Wizengamot cleared me, I wouldn’t be staying in Britain’s wizarding world, I can’t, not after the way they’ve treated me for the last seven years. I can’t.”

“What if another Dark Lord comes?” Hermione pleaded.

“I risked my life for them every year, Hermione, and not once did anyone other than you or the Weasley’s ever say thanks, not one person. I died for them and do your really think any of them are going to say thanks, maybe, but if another Dark Lord came, they’d expect me to die for them again. It’s time I lived for me, not the wizarding world. But if the worst should come to the worst, there will be someone that knows how to find me, knows my new name. I won’t ever leave you defenceless, I couldn’t live with myself, if I did.” Harry begged his friend to understand.

“I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. Alright. What can I do to help?”

“Help me write a Will?”

“You got it.”

“Thanks. Kingsley, I’m ready.” Harry nodded towards Malfoy and the other members of the Wizengamot.

Kingsley didn’t say anything, he just flicked his wand and let his privacy wards fall.

“I’ve made my choice, Mr Malfoy.” Harry said, once he had the wizard’s attention.

“And which sentence have you decided upon, Mr Potter?” The blonde wizard asked.

“I choose Exile.”

~~~

Chapter Text

“ Kingsley, I’m ready.” Harry nodded towards Malfoy and the other members of the Wizengamot.

Kingsley didn’t say anything, he just flicked his wand and let his privacy wards fall.

“I’ve made my choice, Mr Malfoy.” Harry said, once he had the wizard’s attention.

“And which sentence have you decided upon, Mr Potter?” The blonde wizard asked.

“I choose Exile.”

~~~

Harry sat and waited as the agents(?), staff(?), representatives(?), from the DMLE, the DoM and the Unspeakables entered the courtroom.

“Mr Potter has been convicted under Mordred’s Law and has chosen Exile as his sentence.” Lady Augusta Longbottom told the three wizards, one witch and two heavily cloaked beings that stopped in front of the sitting members of the Wizengamot. “In addition to the standard identity creation, it has been suggested and approved that he also have his appearance altered. However, as his sentence will have a limit, he will also need a magical identity for when it is complete.”

For the next few minutes, the six magicals were briefed on Harry’s sentence and the various allowances he had been granted.

“Who shall be his Secret Keeper?” The witch from the DoM asked. “And who else shall know his Secret?”

“Mr Potter?” Mr Malfoy looked from the witch to Harry.

“I would like Lady Augusta Longbottom to be my Secret Keeper.” Harry said. “And I’d like Auror Shacklebolt, Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom to be told the Secret.”

“Harry?” Hermione asked. “I thought I could…?”

“No, Hermione.” Harry knew what she was asking. “You can’t know, neither can Ron, or any of the Weasleys. None of you would be able to resist seeking me out and that would be… bad.”

“But Harry-” She started to object.

“No.” Harry shook his head. “Trelawney warned me.”

“What? Harry?” Hermione gasped. “What did she say?” She’d eventually realised that Trelawney wasn’t quite the fraud she appeared.

“In the aftermath of war, the Chosen One, our Saviour, must trust the Vulture to anchor his Secrets. The newly awoken Snake and the recently risen Lion, along with the phoenix’s anchor must be the only others to know the Chosen’s Secrets, if any other is to do so, it will be exposed to the detriment of all...” He shrugged. “There was more, but Luna warned me that I can’t tell anyone until after I leave the courtroom.”

“But Harry…” Hermione frowned.

“No!” Harry snapped. “Luna has never lied to us, Hermione. And she stated it very clearly.  Lady Longbottom, Kingsley, Draco and Neville, in that order. Only them. She said, very clearly, that if anyone else is told before my sentence starts, that sooner or later, they’ll come looking for me and that would expose us to the muggles and this soon after Voldemort's actions, it would likely cause another war. If not an actual, all-out fighting-in-the-streets war, then a cold war.” He shook his head. “I’m not risking it.”

Hermione’s face was pale, as were those of the Wizengamot.

“When Seers speak to us personally, we must listen.” Malfoy nodded, his face nearly as white as his hair.

“Agreed.” One of the Unspeakables nodded. “We shall do all that we can to assist Mr Potter, Miss Granger. Lady Longbottom will, herself, cast the obliviates to remove today and tonight from our minds.”

“You can trust her.” Kingsley nodded.

“And…?” Harry looked at Malfoy. “I’d like Hermione to be held here in the Ministry until these people,” he nodded to the DMLE, DoM and Unspeakables’ agents, “have done whatever they need to.”

“Harry!”

“No.” Harry’s voice was hard. “I will not have you tell people what is happening here and them deciding that they don’t like it, that they need to rescue me. No. It’s not going to happen.”

“We can hold her for no more than two hours.” Kingsley said. “But then? We have to release her.”

“We, however…” The Unspeakable spoke again. “We don’t work in this building. We’re not even based in London. We’ll take you and the representatives from the DMLE and the DoM, to one of our more secure locations. There will be no need to hold Miss Granger. But we would need to depart before she leaves the courtroom.”

“Then we leave.” Harry nodded, sharply. “Lady Longbottom, Lord Malfoy? Is there anything else I need to do, today? Here in this courtroom? Or can the Unspeakables, the DoM and the DMLE handle everything else?”

“You have chosen Exile as your sentence.” Malfoy said quietly. “Preparations are needed before your sentence can begin. Those preparations will be carried out by a team consisting of two members of the DMLE Auror’s office, two members of the DoM and two members of the Unspeakables. You are remanded into their custody until your sentence can be enacted.”

“Additionally, I recommend that the identity of Mr Potter’s Secret Keeper be removed from the minds of all present.” The DoM representative stated.

“No…” Hermione whispered.

“Yes.” Harry agreed.

“Harry…”

“No, Hermione.” Harry shook his head. “It’s better if you don’t know. You can’t tell, what you don’t know. The last thing Lady Longbottom needs, is Molly Weasley sending her howlers every day, in an effort to get her to share my Secret.”

“Oh…” Hermione moaned. “And she would, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes, she would.” Harry nodded.

“Oh, Harry…” Hermione flung her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder.

“Be strong.” Harry gently patted her back. “It’ll take a couple of days for that lot to sort out all my shite. Once they have, I’m going to leave you some money. Go get your parents. Bring them home. Keep tabs on Teddy, for me. Tell him lots of stories. Take lots of pictures. I’ll want to see them, when I come back.” With that, he pushed her towards Kingsley and stood up. He rounded the desk and crossed the floor to join the six people that were going to arrange his future.

The unspeakable removed their hands from a fold in their robes and revealed a ring of wood, approximately a foot in diameter. One by one, each person reached out and grasped the ring, closing their fists around it. Harry was the last, his fingers tight and stiff, still swollen from Voldemort's curses.

When each of them nodded, the Unspeakable raised their other hand and activated the portkey, leaving an empty space between the Wizengamot and the defendant’s desk.

~~~

Chapter Text

The unspeakable removed their hands from a fold in their robes and revealed a ring of wood, approximately a foot in diameter. One by one, each person reached out and grasped the ring, closing their fists around it. Harry was the last, his fingers tight and stiff, still swollen from Voldemort's curses.

When each of them nodded, the Unspeakable raised their other hand and activated the portkey, leaving an empty space between the Wizengamot and the defendant’s desk.

~~~

“Now what?” Harry asked.

“Now we make you two new identities.” The DMLE representative answered. “One for immediate use in the muggle would and one for the wizarding world, for after the completion of your sentence.”

“No.” One of the Unspeakables corrected. “We should hear what the Seers have to say, first. Their directives come before those of the Wizengamot.”

“True.” The DoM witch nodded. “Mr Potter? May we see a memory of the Event?” She offered her wand to him, hilt first and nodded towards the pensieve sitting on a nearby pedestal.

Harry lifted the wand from her hand and raised it to his forehead, focusing on his memory of the draft-ridden corridor of the third floor below the Divination Tower, where Trelawney had cornered him.

The darkness was oppressive, heavy with magic, the light coming in from the shattered windows struggled to banish it. Struggled, and for the most part, failed.

A shadowy form moved along the corridor from the Hospital Wind, towards him. Wild hair, hippy-esque robes and coke-bottle glasses, proclaimed her identity well before her features were recognisable.

“Ah, Mr Potter…” Trelawney’s voice was barely a whisper. “Miss Lovegood told me you’d be here. What was it you needed from-” Her question was cut off as she drew in a harsh breath, it rattled in the air between them. When she spoke it was with an odd echo, behind her words. Something that Harry had heard once before.

“In the aftermath of war, the Chosen One, our Saviour, must trust the Vulture to anchor his Secrets. The newly awoken Snake and the recently risen Lion, along with the phoenix’s anchor must be the only others to know the Chosen’s Secrets, if any other is to do so, it will be exposed to the detriment of all...” She shuddered and heaved a couple of noisy breaths.

“For he must be given Time to learn what is needed, to protect those who survive the Blood Wars. His research will lead us to a realm of safety. Only those that are favoured by the Lady Hekate and the Lord Zirnitra will be able to enter this realm. Magicals from every nation will enter this realm, one untouched by muggle infection, illness and pollution. But the magical world will know that it was the Chosen One, that was the mind behind the magic that would free us.” Her shoulders slumped and her head fell backwards.

“The Veils of Time must be Parted nine times, so that he may have Time to learn what is needed. He must hide in plain sight, overlooked but free of influence. His search will be unencumbered by both the Light and the Dark, as he will be shielded by the Talon’s wand.”

She began to cough and Harry recovered enough to guide her to a bench under a window.

“What…?”

“Hush, Professor.” Harry gave her a tired smile. “It doesn’t matter now, I know why Luna sent you to me. Rest here for a bit. I need to get to the Headmaster’s office.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Just for a moment. Then I need to find Miss Patil. She will need me.” She shuddered. “Oh, poor Camelia…”

Harry left her there, hurrying towards the main keep and the Grand Tower. He got as far as the door into the Grand Tower, before Luna stopped him. She stepped into his path and gave him a sad smile.

“Luna…” Harry didn’t know what to say.

“When the six arrive, and speak of Secrets,” she whispered, “tell only the Seer’s first two sentences. Nothing more, not until you leave that place. Only the six are to know all she said. The six and the goblin. Until you travel. Then trust your captain’s father, he will support you in all things.”

“Luna?”

“It’s vitally important Harry.” Luna was nearly crying. “If you don’t, we all die. Magic dies. I didn’t survive my time in Voldemort's dungeons, to die because of a muggle illness. Don’t let me die, Harry.”

“I won’t, Luna, I won’t.” Harry assured her. “The first two sentences.”

“Yes.” Luna nodded. “Then when it’s just you and the six, show them your memory, this memory. They’ll need it to place you where you need to be. This is your real task, Harry, Voldemort is just cauldron to be cleaned. What you will discover will save us. Save magic. And you will find it. I’ve seen it. The place you’ll give us will be…”, the joy on the young witch’s face was literally breathtaking, “beautiful… peaceful… wonderful… You will find your peace there. No longer will you be Harry James Potter, saviour, chosen one, boy-who-lived. No, you will be Elwood Archer Jameson, Archer to your friends. I hope to be your friend again, when you return.”

“You will always be my friend, Luna. Always.”

The stone of the hallway began to fade and the bland plastered walls took their place.

“Lord have mercy…” The DoM witch whispered.

“That’s Luna.” Harry nodded. “I hope it makes more sense to you than it does to me.” He sighed.

“It does…” The Unspeakable’s witch nodded.

“It does?” One of the DMLE wizards asked.

“It does.” The Unspeakable repeated. “It means that the Wizengamot’s sentence is…”, they threw a quick hex at Harry, followed by a finite, “complete.”

“I… Excuse me?” Harry barely had time to blink before the witch’s wand was tucked away, again.

“Your sentence was to have your magic bound and be exiled until your magic was released.” They slid their cloak’s hood back revealing the face of a woman in her mid-fourties. “I bound your magic and released it. As for the exile… You will be exiled, not from the wizarding world but from this time. The Seers stated that the Veils of Time must be parted nine times. That means nine years. We’re to send you back in time, nine years.”

“What?!” Harry gasped. “Nine years?!”

“And we have to de-age you to go with that, as you’re going to have to return to Hogwarts as a student.”

“I… what?” Harry frowned.

“You’re to be shielded by the Talon’s wand.” The witch said. “The Talon. That’s Professor Flitwick’s nom-de-guerre on the duelling circuit.”

“Oh.” Harry grunted. “But how?” He blinked. “I mean… I understand the de-aging, but what about my identity? I can’t be a muggleborn, can I? Or an orphan? Aren’t they left in the muggle world?”

“Easy, breathe…” The witch patted the air, in an attempt to calm his nearly frantic questions. “You won’t go alone. We never send anyone on assignment, alone. And that’s basically what you’ll be doing. The only difference is, we’re not the ones determining what your assignment is. The Seers are.”

“You’ve got a… plan for this sort of thing?” Harry tilted his head in curiosity.

“Oh, yes.” The witch nodded. “We frequently send teams backwards in time, on short-term assignments. Yours is just going to be a little longer than most. Not the longest, by any means but certainly longer than standard.”

“So what do we do, first?” Harry asked.

“We sort out your finances.” The witch said. “We need to know what you will have to work with. The Potters and Blacks are reputed to be quite wealthy, but to what extent? Both Houses have been dormant for over a decade, we need to determine how detrimental that’s been to the estates. We have to work out what you’ll be leaving for your friends and what you’ll be taking with you.”

“So… Gringotts?” Harry asked with a grimace. “That’s not going to go well.”

“Why?”

“The dragon?” He replied. “That was Hermione, Ron and I.”

“Ah.” The witch exclaimed quietly. “We’ll reach out to Gringotts and see what the situation is. I’d recommend an Inheritance test, as I know a lot of people have left money for you. Once we have a complete picture of your finances, we can help you plan what to do with it.”

“Okay.” Harry nodded and sighed in relief, the tension falling from his shoulders. Unfortunately, that told him how sore he was and that he’d received no medical treatment since fighting Tom. “Okay.” He repeated. “Can I get a healer, too? I haven’t seen one since Voldemort tried to kill me… again.”

“We can do that, Mr Potter.” The witch smiled.

“Harry.” Harry corrected. “Or should I start calling myself Archer?”

“I’m Anna and no, not until we’ve dealt with Gringotts.” The witch replied. She turned to the other Unspeakable and they nodded and quickly left the room, through a door that Harry hadn’t even noticed.

“What do you need from us?” The DMLE wizard asked.

“Not much.” Anna replied. “As we’re going to be time travelling, most of what you would be able to assist with, won’t be done in this time. We’ll see to Harry’s finances, de-age him, do the bloodline conversions and adoptions, then we’ll use the DoM’s Time Room to travel back nine years. Once we arrive, we’ll see to getting identities documented, lodging finances, accommodations and sorting enrolments with Hogwarts. Oh, and we’ll need to speak with Flitwick, too. He’ll need to be brought into the brew”, she turned to Harry, “not who you are now, but who you’ll be then.” She shrugged. “Oh, and one other thing. I’ll be the one travelling with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“As soon as it was mentioned, my partner and I knew that it would be me, going.” Anna replied. “I’m… not well. John’s been aware of my condition for a while and knows that this will be my last assignment. I won’t live to see time restored. We’re travelling nine years, so if we de-age you to ten or eleven, I’m not likely to see you reach seventeen, possible but unlikely. I should be able to get you through to early emancipation, though. I’ll do my best. John’s got a wife and child, as well as an allergy to blood-obsidian and wolf-wort pollen. Both of which are used to stabilise time sand. He wouldn’t survive the trip.”

~~~

Chapter Text

“As soon as it was mentioned, my partner and I knew that it would be me, going.” Anna replied. “I’m… not well. John’s been aware of my condtion for a while and knows that this will be my last assignment. I won’t live to see time restored. We’re travelling nine years, so if we de-age you to eleven, I’m not likely to see you reach seventeen, possible but unlikely. I should be able to get you through to early emancipation, though. I’ll do my best. John’s got a wife and child, as well as an allergy to blood-obsidian and wolf-wort pollen. Both of which are used to stabilise time sand. He wouldn’t survive the trip.”

~~~

“And nothing can help you?”

“No, Harry.” Anna denied. “It’s a mutated curse. Started as one thing and has become another. It’s slowly eating away at my magical channels. Thankfully, it’s painless. It just means that I have to conserve my magic, hence I do more research and theoretical study, now, than practical experimentation.”

“Oh… okay…” Harry wasn’t sure what to say.

“It’s alright, kid.” Anna shrugged. “I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Okay.” Harry nodded, this time.

The other Unspeakable returned and with them were three goblins.

“Ah, Mr Potter.” One of the goblins spoke.

“Sir.” Harry replied.

“We’d like to inform you that there will be no repercussions from your… visit… to Gringotts, just recently.” The goblin stated. “Information has come to light that one of our own is responsible for placing you in an untenable position.”

“Griphook.” Harry snarled.

“Yes.” The goblin nodded. “You were just an unfortunate being, caught in his rather malicious plans.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked, wondering what those plans were.

“He planned to incite a rebellion.” The goblin answered Harry’s unasked question. “An unwarranted one. His ultimate plan was to have the Director executed for authorising said rebellion, and take his place. He didn’t seem to comprehend that even if Ragnok had been executed, he would not have been anywhere close to being elevated to the position of Director.”

“Oh.” Harry repeated.

“The Hook clan have been dragged before the truth-seekers and only those that were unaware of Griphook’s plans, were permitted to live. Although, they have been removed from the London branch and dispersed throughout a number of other locations. No more than two clan members at any one location and warding to ban all contact between them. The few younglings that they had, have been de-aged and adopted into other clans. We will not permit one goblin-clan’s greed to destroy the treaties we have with the wizarding world.”

“Okay.” Harry’s head wobbled slightly in disbelief at what very nearly happened.

“I understand that you require Inheritance testing and a living Will?” The goblin asked.

“I think so.” Harry answered.

“Mr Potter has been convicted under Mordred’s Law,” Anna added, “however, there is also a directive from a Seer to take into consideration.”

“Seers’ visions are rarely straightforward.” The goblin grimaced.

“This one was told to Mr Potter personally.” Anna argued. “And confirmed by a second Seer.”

“Watch it.” Harry nodded to the pensieve.

“You have no objections?” The goblin seemed surprised.

“It will make things clearer.” Harry nodded.

Instead of lowering his face into the pensieve, the goblin a knobbly finger into the liquid holding the memory and shuddered slightly, while the other two goblins set about laying out various phials, trays, sheets of parchment, ledgers, quills, bottles of ink and a very shiny silver dagger that had been held in a golden box. When the goblin removed his finger from the pensieve, he blinked a few times before turning to Harry.

“Yes, that certainly does clear things up, Mr Potter.” The goblin nodded. “We will be sending a message with you, in regards to the Hook clan’s actions, some of us had wondered how the Director knew about the rebellion before it happened. But you being sent through time, makes that clear.” He wrote a note and handed it to one of his guards, who left the room. “I suggest bequests for your friends. While the younger Seer did say you would return, she didn’t say Harry Potter would return. Inheritance testing will show exactly what you have to work with.”

The process was simple and relatively painless, stabbing a finger with a crystal, placing it in a phial of liquid and waiting for it to dissolve. The liquid was then poured over the parchment and within seconds, details began to appear, but it still took nearly fifteen minutes for the process to be complete.

“The Potter Estate is rather… poorly.” The goblin grimaced, making a note on a pad. “I’m unsure why, I suggest requesting an accounting, a ledger should be able to shed some light on the matter. The Black Estate is little better. An accounting is needed there, too. Your bequest vault is quite healthy, however.” At his words, the remaining goblin nodded and left the room.

“What the difference?” Harry asked, curious.

The goblin continued to make notes, as he answered. “As you are the only living member of the Potter bloodline, the various vaults are combined under the single account, labelled The Potter Estate. This includes your parents personal vaults, your former trust vault and the various estate vaults. The Black Estate is a listing of vaults is along much the same lines and includes those of other deceased Family members. The Bequest vault is a little more complex, it is a single vault, but it contains a myriad of transactions, most incoming. After the defeat of Voldemort in 1981, people began to leave bequests to you in their Wills, some small, some larger. Mostly financial, but some included artefacts or estates.”

“Right…” Harry said slowly.

“Not to worry, Mr Potter.” The goblin shook his head a little. “We’ll get it all sorted for you. By the time we’re finished, you’ll know exactly what you have and where it came from.”

“I’m not worried about where,” Harry replied, “more about how much. Will I have anything to leave my friends, if I’m taking money into the past with me?” He blinked. “And call me Harry, please. Mr Potter reminds me of the Prophet and Minister Fudge.”

“Ah.” The goblin blinked. “Very well… Har-ry…” he drew the name out, like it was a word he’d never said before and wasn’t certain he was saying it correctly. “I am Snaplock, senior account manager.” The door opened and the more recently departed goblin, returned. He laid a trio of ledgers on the table in front of Snaplock and stepped back. “Ah. Give me a few moments to review these and we’ll get to work.”

Just as Snaplock closed the last file and looked up, the second Unspeakable reappeared and spoke almost silently with Anna, who turned to Harry.

“St. Mungo's are running ragged, but they’ve suggested that if we’re going to de-age you, we should wait until the process is complete, before having a healer see you, Harry.” Anna said. “Can you wait?”

“Yeah, I’m not… I’m not injured, just… Voldemort…”

“Say no more.” Anna nodded. “He likes to play with his victims.”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” Harry nodded.

“In that case, let’s get as much of your finances sorted as we can, before we get into the other stuff.” Anna gestured to Snaplock.

“Thank you, Madam.” Snaplock replied. “I’ve been through the ledges, just quickly and… Dumbledore made a mess of the Potter Estate. As Bellatrix did to the Black Estate.”

“Oh, great…” Harry groaned. “How bad?”

“The Black Estate at least had limits on what could be transferred out.” Snaplock told Harry. “Upon the death of Lord Arcturus Black, the Estate was worth something in the vicinity of five million ʛalleons. Currently, it’s worth less than half a million.”

“Bloody hell…” A DMLE agent muttered. “Talk a about pillaging.”

“And the Potter Estate?” Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“At the time of Lord James Potter’s death,” Snaplock grimaced, “the Estate was worth more than the Black Estate. Currently, the Estate vaults, barring your former trust vault, are practically empty, between them they’ve less than a thousand ʛalleons.”

“Oh, God…”

“But there’s some good news.” Snaplock tried to smile. “Your former trust vault balance is slightly over ʛ50,000. But your bequest vault is the healthiest,” the account manager went on, “at ʛ1,747,000 rounding down to the nearest thousand ʛalleons. Not including artefacts or property.”

“Oh?” Harry blinked.

“If I might?” Anna offered. “I’d let it be known that the Black and Potter Estates were… pillaged… and that while there were bequests, the only vaults that hadn’t been accessed were your trust vault and your godfather’s vault. That will give you an excuse for leaving a limited amount to pass along to your friends, but still give you a substantial amount to take with you.”

Time passed and when Snaplock had finished writing up the conclusions that he, Harry and Anna had reached, he sat back and sighed.

“Allow me to summarise.” The goblin tapped a long finger on a sheet of parchment. “To Mr Ronald Bilius Weasley, goes the title of Lord Black, the Black townhouse and vault 379, containing ʛ100,000. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“Vault 699 to be returned to Andromeda Violetta Black, with an additional deposit of ʛ20,000.”

“Yes.”

“Vault 458 to Mr Edward Remus Lupin, with an additional deposit of ʛ50,000.”

“Yes.”

“Vault 711 to Mr George Fabian Weasley. with an additional deposit of ʛ50,000.”

“Yes.”

“ʛ20,000 to be deposited into the vaults of Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. A ʛ20,000 credit at Quality Quidditch Supplies, to purchase new brooms for Madam Hooch’s class.”

“Yes.”

“Vault 687 to Hermione Jean Granger, with a balance of ʛ100,000. And vault 393 to Ginevra Weasley with an additional deposit of ʛ50,000.”

“Yes, and yes.”

“And what of the Potter title?”

“That’s a little more… complicated.” Harry grimaced. “I can’t take it with me. But you said that whoever takes it has to be adopted into the family.”

“Correct.” Snaplock nodded.

“I need to speak to Andromeda Tonks.” Harry said. “I want to give it to Teddy, but I’m not sure about the adoption bit.”

“I can see to that.” One of the DMLE agents said.

“Regardless, put ʛ100,000 in vault 336 and attach it to the Potter title.” Harry said. “If Andromeda doesn’t want Teddy to do the adoption, then it’s open to any of the Weasley boys, barring Ron, that are prepared to take the adoption.”

“Very good, sir.” Snaplock nodded and continued to write. “That will give an approximate balance of slightly over one-and-a-quarter million ʛalleons to take with you. Quite acceptable.”

~~~

Chapter Text

“Regardless, put ʛ150,000 in vault 336 and attach it to the Potter title.” Harry said. “If Andromeda doesn’t want Teddy to do the adoption, then it’s open to any of the Weasley boys, barring Ron, that are prepared to take the adoption.”

“Very good, sir.” Snaplock nodded and continued to write. “That will give an approximate balance of slightly over one-and-a-quarter million ʛalleons to take with you. Quite acceptable.”

~~~

Lady Augusta Longbottom watched silently, as Harry Potter went through what was usually, the excruciating process of taking a full set of bloodline conversion potions. She’d seen fully trained Aurors take the temporary versions and listened to them scream, as the potions rewrote their entire bodies and magical cores. Some managed better than others, but today?

Today, she watched a legend in the making. And the two Aurors that were escorting her, knew it.

Harry Potter, seventeen years old and only a day out from having destroyed one of the greatest Dark Lords, to ever tread British soil, drank all three potions and other than a single gasp, made no sound, and that was after he’d been de-aged to a year old. His breathing was harsh, yes, but not even a whimper passed his lips.

And the entire process took nearly an hour.

An hour where he was clearly in pain and still, he made no sound.

“Amazing…” One of her escorts whispered.

“That hurts worse than being crucio’ed.” The other agreed.

“He’s had plenty of practice, then.” Augusta added, causing both Aurors to blink and duck their heads, a little embarrassed at being caught out. “And he’s still to take the aging potion and the setting agent.”

“Poor kid.” One Auror muttered.

“Hope there’s a pain potion for him, for later.” The other nodded.

~~~

Potter no longer looked like a Potter. Well… He did. He just didn’t look like Fleamont and James, anymore, but rather far more like Fleamont’s useless nephew, Webster, the son of Charlus and Dorea Potter nee Black.

Augusta remembered Webster being quite dashing, before he was killed. She also remembered how many girls he went through and how many pregnancy scares there were, as a result of Webster believing that contraception was the girls’ responsibility, no matter what Dorea had to say. That she knew of, there were at least three pregnancies that the silly twit had repudiated, rather than face his father’s wrath, for knocking up a girl and refusing to marry her.

And it appeared that Harry was going to be added to that list.

Elwood Archer Jameson. Son of Webster Potter and Rosa Elizabeth Jameson. Repudiated by the former and orphaned by the later. Left in the care of his mother’s half-sister, Anne Elanor Middleworth.

It was only then that Augusta had a chance to actually speak to the man who had saved them from Voldemort.

“Mr Potter?” She asked as she approached the now ten-year-old boy.

“Lady Augusta.” His voice was quiet and ragged, a testament to the control he exerted over his boy during the process of becoming who he now was. “I’m not Harry Potter anymore.” The sadness on his face was heartbreaking.

“No, you’re not.” Augusta agreed. “You’re Elwood Jameson. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a Potter. Rosa and Webster may be the parents of your body, but James and Lily will always be the parents of your heart.”

His face brightened at the thought. “That’s true.” His voice was beginning to smooth out, losing the harshness and softening into a child’s voice. “What will happen to my photo album? Can I take it with me?”

“No, dear.” Augusta shook her head gently. “I’ll ask Neville to look after it for you, shall I?”

“Yes, please.”  The boy nodded. “And the map. Oh, and my broom. I’ll want that later.”

“I’ll see to it.” Augusta replied. “Now, why don’t you go and have a bath and get dressed, while I have a quick word with your new Aunt.”

“Okay.” The wizard from the DoM eased the new Mr Jameson to his feet and guided him to a door, off to one side, while Augusta approached the two Unspeakables.

“Madam?” She called for the witch’s attention. “I would like to request a variation on your schedule of obliviations.”

“Who? And Why?” Anna countered.

“The six of us not travelling and my Auror escort.” Augusta replied. “Not all of it. Just that Mr Potter was de-aged and took the conversion potions. Remove or blur his new face, but leave the memory of actual process. My Auror escort were amazed at his tolerance of the process. If what that Seer had to say is correct, and while I personally can’t stand Trelawney, I will grant that she was clearly not in control of herself, during her… recital. That being the case, Mr Potter’s research is going to be the saving of us all. The saving of magic. My suggestion, is to separate Harry Potter and Elwood Jameson. Attribute that which would elevate him to the heights of Merlin and Arthur, to Harry Potter and that which would allow a gentler, calmer life, to Elwood Jameson. Let Harry Potter’s legend grow. But let Elwood Jameson remain with us mere mortals.” She held up a hand. “I’m not saying that he shouldn’t tell those that he wishes to, of who he is, who he was. But rather make it his choice, not the demands of the wizarding world for their saviour.”

 “Oh…” Anna blinked and thought about that. “That’s probably not a bad idea. I’d like to discuss it with him before we go. We’ve only got a limited time before the de-aging process begins to affect his mental attitude.” She saw the confusion on Augusta’s face. “He’ll remember being an adult, but his body will be that of a child, that will affect how he processes things and thinks. He’s a remarkably mature personality to start with, so while I expect some regression, I doubt he’ll get too bad.”

“Ah, I see.” Augusta nodded sagely, but in all truth, Neville was such a restrained child that she didn’t really understand how bad little boys could get and Anna, having been raised alongside two rambunctious young louts, was well aware of how bad it could get.

When the boy returned, there was little resemblance to Harry Potter. He no longer had massy black hair and bright green eyes. Instead, this boy had dark blonde hair, still messy, but now it verged on being golden brown, with blue eyes. Neither dark nor pale, they were a blue hazel, far more reminiscent of those belonging to Fleamont and Charlus Potter, but the face bore little of James and Fleamont, taking more after Webster, or Fleamont and Charlus’ mother, Olivia Potter née Kettering.

Just as she expected, the boy agreed to the alterations that she’d suggested. He rather liked the idea of separating Harry Potter and Elwood Jameson. The thought that he would be able to tell people after time re-joined, came as a relief, and it clearly showed on his face.

Then it was the turn of Anna. Like Harry, she was first given a de-aging potion and then the conversion potions and lastly the setting agent. Watching Harry wince, every time Anna screamed, was harder than Augusta expected. She wanted to comfort the boy, but by his stance, it was clear that he wouldn’t have accepted it. After the setting agent had saturated her body and core, the DMLE witch assisted Anna into the bathroom and through a thorough clean-up.

She emerged wearing clothes more suitable to the younger woman, that she now appeared. Harry darted forward and eased himself under her vacant arm, lending her what strength his now tiny body could share.

Once their identities were confirmed via a pre-purchased take-home version of Gringotts’ identity test, the Fidelius was cast. This was a delicate exercise in careful wording. Elwood and Anna would know that Elwood had been Harry Potter and everything that went with that, but they’d be unable to tell anyone, as Lady Augusta was the Secret Keeper. They also decided, between two Unspeakables, two DoM agents and two DMLE agents, that two time-travellers would approach Augusta sometime after this point in time. When they stood face-to-face with her, she would be able to release the Fidelius, which would in turn allow Elwood to tell who he pleased.

But eventually it was done.

Harry Potter was no more. In his place stood Elwood Jameson. Excuse me, Elwood Archer Jameson. Who refused to answer to Elwood.

With the memory modifications done, the two DMLE agents left to brief the Wizengamot of the commencement of Harry Potter’s sentence. The other two Aurors escorted Augusta, Archer, Anne and Anne’s partner John, from wherever it was that they were, into the depth of the DoM and the Time Room. The two were given dark heavy robes, that concealed their faces, body-shapes, altered their heights and even glamoured their voices. Along with this they carried a single bag each and wore a card on a lanyard around their necks, without which, they’d never get out of the DoM, if their presence was discovered.

Then, a scoop of sand was levitated above their heads and a spell cast at it, followed by a flash of bright light.

And when the light faded… Archer and Anne were… gone.

~~~

Chapter Text

The other two Aurors escorted Augusta, Archer, Anne and Anne’s partner John, from wherever it was that they were, into the depth of the DoM and the Time Room. The two were given dark heavy robes, that concealed their faces, body-shapes, altered their heights and even glamoured their voices. Along with this they carried a single bag each and wore a card on a lanyard around their necks, without which, they’d never get out of the DoM, if their presence was discovered.

Then, a scoop of sand was levitated above their heads and a spell cast at it, followed by a flash of bright light.

And when the light faded… Archer and Anne were… gone.

~~~

Archer dropped to his knees, gasping, his hands laid flat on the tiled floor.

“Easy, there.” Anne knelt down beside him.

“Did we make it?” He asked.

“We made it.” Anne nodded, seeing that the room was now empty.

“But… are we in the right time?” Archer asked.

“Tempus.” Anne flicked her wand and numbers appeared.

4:01 am

22^nd March 1989

The two rows of letters and numbers caused both of them to sigh in relief.

“We made it.” Anne repeated.

“Now what?”

“Now we get established.” Anne replied. “I’ll need to talk to my colleagues in the Hole.” The Hole being the main location for the Unspeakables. “And we need medical profiles made. And our identities polished. Plus, we need to speak to the goblins, we’ve that message they need delivered.”

“Okay.” Archer nodded. “So, what’s first?”

“The Hole.” Anne took out a piece of ribbon and nodded to it. “Best get it over with, my lad.”

“Ugh, portkeys.” Archer grumbled. “I hate ‘em.”

“Get used to it.” Anne grinned. “Rumpelstiltskin.”

The two flicked out of the room, just as the door opened.

“Bloody Unspeakables.” The person who opened the door muttered. “Why have they always have to use our Time Room? Don’t they have their own?”

Two hundred miles north, in York, the two re-appeared. This time they landed on a soft surface, that turned out to thick, plush carpeting in a rich dark brown.

Within seconds of their arrival, they were met by wands, a circle of seven magicals surrounded them.

“Name?” One ordered.

“Sphinx and Ceberus.” Anne replied.

“Mission?”

“Protection, Investigation by immersion and Research.”

“End result?”

“Avoiding the death of magic and every magical being on Earth.”

That sentence caused a gasp of shock to fill the room.

“How?”

“We have the memory of a Seer’s prophecy.”

“Prophecies are imprecise.”

“Not this one.” Archer spoke for the first time. “Two Seers spoke to me directly.”

“Oh, shite…” The spokesperson whined.

“It’s bad.” Anne agreed. “Bad enough for us to take full conversions and a nine-year fall.”

“Nine years?!” The spokesperson exclaimed.

“Yeah.” Anne sighed.

“Right.” The spokesperson sighed, too. “Let’s get into an office and debrief you. Then we can get you established and I really hope you brought funds with you, we’re running at an all-time low, right now. Just built a new research facility in Durness.”

“We’re good.” Anne nodded, Durness had been where she and John had been posted.

They were lead through a series of halls and into a large office. Once seated, the unnamed Unspeakable laid his hands on the desk.

“At this point in time, my codename is Zeus.” With that he raised his hands and pushed his hood back, revealing a face that was quite familiar, for all that Archer had never seen it before.

“Oh, you’re related to Oliver Wood!” Archer exclaimed.

“Wha- You know him?” Zeus asked.

“He’s a good friend.” Archer nodded.

“He has no idea that we’re here, though.” Anne added and pushed her own hood back, before nodding to Archer to do the same.

“Gods above, you’re just a child.” Zeus exclaimed, his eyes focused on Archer.

“I am now.” Archer nodded. “I wasn’t yesterday.” He shrugged. “I was nearly eighteen.”

“Eighteen?!” Zeus demanded. “But we never take anyone under thirty.”

“Get your pensieve out and you’ll know why.” Archer huffed.

In less than a minute, Zeus was dropping into Harry’s memory. A memory that had clearly been altered, but it was also clear when and how. Harry’s, Trelawney’s and Luna’s faces had been blurred and their names were now the scrap of nails on a chalkboard.

“Oh, dear Lord…” Zeus muttered. “How bad did it get?”

Archer handed over a second memory. “This is only a few seconds. It was given to me by someone I trust and while I didn’t see what they saw, the only real difference was that they were in the air and I was on the ground.”

Zeus retrieved Archer’s memory from the pensieve, exchanging it for the newer memory, unbeknownst to Zeus, the memory was actually Oliver’s. This time, instead of entering the memory, he tapped a runic-sequence on the pensieve’s rim and the image appeared above the bowl.

“Oh, gods…” Zeus gasped, once he realised that he was watching a full war fought in, around and above Hogwarts.

“Replay and slow it.” Archer suggested, when it finished, a smirk growing on his face. When the memory started again, at a much slower rate, Archer waited until the right moment, before speaking. “Stop. See that one, on the broom?”

“Yes…?” Zeus hesitantly asked.

“That’s Oliver Wood.” Archer grinned. “Quidditch mad captain for Gryffindor, who goes on to play for Puddlemere United, in 1994, as reserve Keeper. Last I heard he was supposed to move to the starting line-up, but well… that happened.” Archer gestured to the memory. “He came through that, with just a few minor scrapes and a broken toe, idiot dropped his broom on it, when one of his former Gryffindor chasers kissed him. I thought she had better taste, than to choose a quidditch nut.” Archer shook his head.

“Ollie?” Zeus gasped. “My little Ollie?”

“Rotten bugger would wake the team at six in the morning, in the middle of winter and demand training sessions in all weathers. I think I can honestly say, the entire House hated him, at one point or another. We always forgot that when we won, though.”

“Ollie?”

“He’s what? Twelve?” Archer asked. “On the team yet?”

“Y- Yes…” Zeus nodded. “Keeper…”

“He’ll be captain by fourth year.” Archer grinned.

“Ollie?” Zeus seemed dumbfounded.

“He’s good. Get him the best broom available for keepers and watch him, he… he’s brilliant.” Archer huffed when tears stung his eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough on quidditch.” Anne cut in, she’d seen Archer’s distress and wanted to give him a chance to recover his composure. “We both need a medical profile, our identities confirmed, our finances established and to meet with Filius Flitwick.”

“Flitty, why Flitty?”

“His nom-de-guerre on the duelling circuit is the Talon.” Anne replied. “Cerberus will be under his protection, according to the Seers.”

“Ah, yes. I did see that, I just didn’t make the connection.” Zeus nodded. “Give me a moment and I’ll get Apollo in for the profiles and Medea in for the Id’s. Hmm… probably need Mercury for the money bit and Hermes to reach out to Flitty.”

“And we have a message for Ragnok.” Archer added.

“From?”

“Himself.”

“Reasoning?”

“Avoiding an internal uprising with intent to cause an unwarranted rebellion.” Anne grimaced.

“Ooh, ouch.” Zeus winced. “Yeah. We’ll get Hermes in on that, too.”

~~~

Nearly ten hours later, Anne and Archer dropped down onto beds in The Unicorn’s Rest, a family friendly hotel, near the corner of Domestic and Vertic Alleys.

“Lay everything out, Archer.” Anne ordered. “Let’s see what we’re missing.”

“Portfolio.” The first thing Archer placed on the bed was his identity documentation. “Vault Key, payment card and linked coin purse. Medical profile. Prescription potions. Two changes of clothes.”

“Ah, clothes.” Anne grunted. “Knew there was something.”

“And a house.” Archer added. “I don’t want to live in a hotel.”

“Huh. No. Neither do I.” Anne agreed. “Can go to Gringotts for that.”

“And what happens about my enrolment?”

“Ah.” Anne grunted again. “I didn’t tell you? Oh, right, sorry. Flitty’s already checked that. The moment we landed, your name appeared in the Book of Names, your letter will come out over the summer.”

“With a Professor?”

“Unlikely.” Anne shook her head. “Both your mother and I, my new identity anyway, attended Hogwarts in the seventies and you’re registered as a halfblood. Newly orphaned and placed in my care.”

“Okay.” Archer nodded slowly.

“Let’s go and get a cuppa and something to eat, then we can head back to Gringotts and see about a home.”

~~~

It took three days, before Anne and Archer moved into their new home, just a few hundred yards from the Woods’ house, on the magical island of Salus, named after the Roman Goddess of Security, Prosperity and Wellbeing. The island itself was situated south-west of the Isle of Mann in the Irish sea and was mostly under the Isle of Mann’s sub-Ministry’s jurisdiction. It wasn’t a large island, just half the size of the Isle of Mann, but well-hidden, magically.

The farm complex was small, a cottage, a barn, a tiny office annex, a woodshed and stables for two horses, surrounded by ten acres of gently rolling fields. The cottage was two storey, downstairs to the right was a large reception room, running from the front of the house to the back, to the left was a dining area with a kitchen and utility room behind it. Stairs ran up between the kitchen and reception room, opening onto a narrow landing. Above the dining area was the Master bedroom, facing the front of the house, with a large ensuite bathroom and wardrobe above the kitchen and utility room, to the right were two small bedrooms with a tiny family bathroom between them.

It stood at the apex of the complex, with the stables to the left of the cottage and the barn to the right, forming a large courtyard in front of the cottage. The wood shed was tucked up in the corner above the stables and beside the cottage, with the annex taking much the same position between the barn and cottage, to the right.

And as the entire island was magical, the main physical access to the property, was a footpath, wide enough for a family to walk abreast, or a pony and cart. Archer took one look at the stables and desperately wanted a pony, but he knew that with him going to Hogwarts for nearly ten months out of the year, having a pony was selfish. He couldn’t leave Anne to care for the beastie during term, it just wasn’t fair.

He was very surprised when he was offered a pony that Oliver and most of the other local children had outgrown. At twelve years old, Oliver was the next in age and was just too big for the little Welsh Mountain pony, and regardless, he was really far more interested in zipping about on his broom.

Boris was a pretty little buckskin gelding that had taught more than a dozen local children to ride, as not everyone was as enthusiastic about brooms as Oliver was. As far as Anne was concerned the best part was that during term, the old wizard that owned Boris, would take him back to his farm, until the next holidays. And he’d come over and teach Archer how to care for Boris, how to feed him, groom him, tack him up and the basics on riding him. But mostly that last task was down to Boris, he was the one with the experience, after all.

~~~

The next few months were spent settling into their new lives, learning to live with each other and working out how the other operated. Anne spent each morning, tutoring Archer in all the things, that a magically raised child should know, and bringing his academic subjects up to what would be expected of a Ravenclaw. This gave Archer the chance to discover that he liked to learn. Without the pressure of Voldemort bearing down on him, and a guardian that encouraged him to do his best, he finally began to show the brilliance that had only ever reared its head, in emergency circumstances.

And in the afternoon, he was free to take Boris out and go wherever he pleased. He had an emergency portkey back to the cottage and a saddlebag of snacks, but was otherwise free to do as he pleased.

~~~

When Archer’s Hogwarts letter finally arrived, just in time for his altered birthday of July 1^st, he was excited to get back to the school. He knew how the Room of Requirement worked and he was quite certain that he was going to spend a lot of time there. At least up until Harry discovered it, but by then it would be Archer’s seventh year and as long as his memory was accurate, he should be able to dodge Harry, Hermione, Ron and the DA for the few months that they used the Room.

This was the plan, right up until Anne taught him a copy charm that would bypass a publisher’s copyright. This meant that he would be able to copy any book that the RoR provided him and he’d be able to leave the Room with the copy, which was not the case with ‘Required’ items. This meant that he needed a library trunk. Too bad that students weren’t allowed to bring mage-spaces, that would have made life so much easier, but according to the school’s wards, entering a mage-space meant leaving the school's wards and that meant that the students were unmonitored. Not something that the Headmaster or the Board could allow.

But library trunks with shelving that magically expanded to accommodate however many books, the student put on them? Yes, that was allowed. But Archer knew that some of the books he’d find in the room would probably not be on the permitted list, so he asked Anne and got permission for a tiny library chest, just to keep the questionable books in. These chests looked rather like a small cupboard, but when open, they were a small book case, that like a standard library trunk, the shelves expanded to cater to more books than should fit in the space.

The idea was, that Archer would leave this chest inside a warded bag, that wouldn’t register on the school’s security wards and only access it in the RoR. But to keep it, he had to keep his grades at O’s, excluding potions, of course. Getting an O in potions was near impossible for a non-Slytherin.

A trip to Diagon netted him three large trunks. The library trunk, a storage trunk and a wardrobe trunk.

The library trunks came in three sizes. The smallest, stood at two-foot-six wide and five-foot tall, by one-foot deep. The lid-cum-door opened and recessed itself into the side of the trunk’s frame, exposing a fold-down desk that covered an overhead shelf. Below the desk were two cupboards, that covered more shelving. The overhead shelf was enchanted to link to the two cupboards and between them, would store up to one hundred books.

The middle size was two-foot-six, by five-foot tall, by two-foot deep. It opened evenly, into two distinct spaces, one space almost the same as the smallest trunk, but the second space was solely taken up by a set of expanding shelves. It would store up to five hundred books.

The largest size was three-foot wide, by six-foot tall, by two-foot deep. Like the medium sized trunk it opened into two spaces, One side completely expanding shelves with the other having the desk, however, this larger size had two overhead shelves. The extra shelving and increased width and depth, meant that with just a little additional magic applied, it would hold up to one thousand books.

The storage trunk, also came in two sizes. The smaller looked very much the same as the shelves of the library trunk, with the lid-cum-door opening and recessing into the trunk’s frame. The larger opened much like the large library trunks, only it had shelving on both sides.

The wardrobe trunks came in a myriad of sizes, everything from three-foot tall to six-foot tall, from two-foot wide to six-foot wide, with more than two dozen variations.

All of these trunks could be shrunk down to the size of a standard luggage trunk and feather-light charms, meant that they were just as easy to move, as a standard trunk. Perfect for a student travelling from London to Scotland for school.

Archer chose the larger of the library trunks, of course. Going into Ravenclaw, it would be expected that he’d have largest he could afford. Likewise he chose the larger storage trunk, not certain that he’d need it, but preferring to have empty shelves than cramming his things into too small of a space. For a wardrobe, he didn’t get the largest, but still went for something quite substantial. Four-foot wide, by two-foot-six deep, it opened like a pair of double doors. One door housed a mirror and a shelf with two drawers, over a cupboard that was clearly mean to house shoes. The other door was divided into two sections, one above the other, and was solely hanging space, shirts in the upper section and trousers in the lower space. The rear body of the trunk, was also divided, this time into three, two sets of drawers bracketed a central space, that was for hanging longer items.

Add to this a selection of items, like a satchel, some stationery, a pair of fluffy quilt covers, one in bronze and one in blue and a lovely thick wool duvet, to go inside them (it was always cold at night at Hogwarts), a magical lamp for beside his bed, a watch, his uniforms and a heap of clothes.

And of course, a wand.

But Anne was not Hagrid and did not take him to Ollivander’s. No, she took him to The Augurey’s Avenue in Dublin, to a tiny shop called Wil ’o The Whisp Wands.

No Holly and phoenix feather wand for Archer Jameson. No, he got a pair of Black Maple wands, both with a Demiguise hair wrapped around a Griffin feather. Excellent for protection, defence and shielding, as well as charms and transfiguration. He hadn’t expected to get two wands, but Anne had been adamant. One had a decorative finial on the handgrip, that the wandmaker told him he could have a seal stamp embedded onto. The other, Anne took him straight to the Hole and had Zeus place a Fidelius over. Under a Fidelius, it wouldn’t register on either the Ministry’s sensors, or on Hogwarts’ security wards, but would mean that he would never be unarmed. Zeus also suggested some hand-to-hand training, once he was a little more settled, perhaps next summer.

~~~

Chapter Text

No Holly and phoenix feather wand for Archer Jameson. No, he got a pair of Black Maple wands, both with a Demiguise hair wrapped around a Griffin feather. Excellent for protection, defence and shielding, as well as charms and transfiguration. He hadn’t expected to get two wands, but Anne had been adamant. One had a decorative finial on the handgrip, that the wandmaker told him he could have a seal stamp embedded onto. The other, Anne took him straight to the Hole and had Zeus place a Fidelius over. Under a Fidelius, it wouldn’t register on either the Ministry’s sensors or on Hogwarts’ security wards, but would mean that he would never be unarmed. Zeus also suggested some hand-to-hand training, once he was a little more settled, perhaps next summer.

~~~

Boarding the Express and seeing tiny little redheaded twins, caused Archer’s heart to clench. One of the last things that Augusta had told him, before they’d entered the Time Room, was that Fred Weasley had survived. How was uncertain, something to do with being hit by a spell that simulated the Draught of Living Death, before the wall collapsed on him. This allowed his body actually collapse with the wall, rather than under it, causing less internal injuries and more superficial, surface ones. When Madam Pomfrey went to prepare his body for the undertakers, her scans revealed a still re-active nervous system and that prompted her to do a deeper scan and her finding the very obscure spell. Less than an hour after Harry was taken to the ministry, Fred was woken up, by Bill’s curse-breaking skills.

But being confronted by tiny twins and an equally tiny Lee, had Archer on the verge of an emotional meltdown. Once he found an empty compartment, he quickly pulled out the calming potion that Anne had sent with him and swallowed it, sighing as it filtered through his body.

Then he pulled out the potions supplemental text and started to read. He was well aware that potions were going to be his weakest subject and wanted to be as prepared as he could. A trio of other first years ducked into his compartment to avoid a pair of older boys that were arguing, apologising for the interruption. The four chatted away for a few hours before the trolley lady rolled by. Archer got a selection of chocolates and sugar quills to boost his snack stash and a pair of cauldron cakes to eat now. Then he pulled out his packed lunch and munched away until it and the cakes were all gone. He sat back with a sigh and a full stomach, something he was still getting used to.

He sat with a pair of unfamiliar faces, both boys, in the boats to cross the lake, before following the herd of children up the thousand or so steps from the boathouse to the castle. They gathered in front of the stairs near the Great Hall and waited some more. This time they weren’t interrupted by ghosts, before McGonagall swept in front of them.

She gave them the same speech about having to be sorted and then looked at the sprawling mass of them.

“Form two lines, please.” She requested. “And follow me.” She lead them into the Hall and up between the tables.

Archer was worried, what if Anne and Zeus were wrong and the sorting hat outed him as Harry Potter?

“Reginald Acton.” Was the first name called.

“Hufflepuff.” The Hat stated within seconds of being placed on the boy’s head.

Archer listened to names being called, and then Houses being added. Until…

“Elwood Jameson.”

Archer stepped forward and with a shaky breath sat on the stool.

“Well, now.” The Hat spoke inside his head. “I think that-”

“Hold on.” Archer cut in and focused on the memory of the battle, closely followed by Trelawney’s prophecy and the conversation with Luna.

“Oh, my…” The Hat exclaimed. “Yes, I see… I do hope their confidence in you is well founded, Mr Jameson. Better be Ravenclaw!” The last three words were audible to the entire Hall.

When McGonagall lifted the Hat, Archer stood and stumbled to the blue-clad table, dropping down beside Roger Davies, who he remembered escorting Fleur to the Yule Ball.

“Roger Davies.” The boy gave him a smile.

“Elwood Archer Jameson.” Archer replied. His was one of the last names to be called, so it was only a few minutes before food began to appear on the tables. He carefully dished up a meal that Anne would have approved of and lifted his knife and fork.

~~~

Up in the Ravenclaw tower, the first-year boys were lead through the common room, towards a set of spiral stairs. Up these and through a wide door onto a long landing, down to the far end and through a narrow door, Archer and the five other boys followed the prefect, who Archer thought had said his name was Leonard, up another spiral staircase, past two landings. When Leonard reached the top of the stairs, Archer could see a long wide space, more corridor than room. It was about ten foot wide and it must have been close to fifty foot long.

“This is the top floor of the Central Tower, as it’s called, it’s in the middle of the Long Gallery building, just behind the Viaduct Towers.” Leonard told them. “You saw the common room. At the far end are the stairs to the girls’ dorms. Don’t even think of going there, Professor Flitwick has charmed them to deposit any boy that does, in his office. And trust me.” He shuddered. “You won’t like the punishment for trying.” He took a calming breath. “Boys are at this end. This year, you firsties are on the top floor, second years are below you, third years below them. Then the common room and down a level to fourth year, another level to fifth year and the lowest level is the largest and currently houses sixth and seventh year. You will stay in this level for your entire time at Hogwarts.” He grinned. “But that’s not a bad thing. You’re a relatively small group, so you get quite large rooms. Size depends on how many rooms are needed. Six of you means a nice even three to a side, with bathrooms between. Rooms are assigned, check the door plates for your name, if you don’t like the room, you can swap with someone else, but it’s kind of pointless, all the rooms are the same. Each room has a bed and a bedside chest. You can ask for additional furniture, like bookcases, armchairs, office chairs and rugs. The house-elves will see that you get them. Your trunks will be in your rooms, waiting.”

He lead them over to the nearest room, which ironically was labelled with ‘Jameson’ and opened the door.

“Basic, but you can move things around, however you please.” Leonard went on. “Decorate the walls with banners, but try not to put holes in the plaster, the elves don’t like it and you won’t like their reaction. Curfew is at nine for first and second years, nine-thirty for third and fourth years, ten for fifth, ten-thirty for sixth years and eleven for seventh years. Curfew lifts at six in the morning. Curfew means unless you’re going to the loo, it’s lights out and you stay in your room. If there’s an emergency, there’s a bell-pull beside the stairs, that will raise the alarm. Who you summon depends on how many pulls. One pull will probably be ignored, two will bring a prefect, whoever is closest, three will summon Flitwick, four will summon Flitwick and the matron, Madam Pomfrey, five will raise the entire House. So, it had better be a true emergency, if you pull that five times.” He tilted his head and thought.

“Oh, library opens at seven, as does the Great Hall for breakfast. We’ll show you how to get to them, in the morning. I’ll be up here at seven, try to be up. And awake. If not awake, at least try to be semi-conscious. Any questions?”

“What about this space?” One boy asked. “Can we get some bookcases and desks and chairs for out here?”

“Sure.” Leonard nodded. “The house-elf assigned to your floor is Birdy. Just call for him and tell him what you want. He will either bring it or tell you, that it’s not allowed and why.”

~~~

The lessons were different.

It puzzled Archer why they’d be different. There was only two years between Archer’s first year and Harry’s, so why the difference?

Then one day he heard a group of Gryffindors complaining about their charms homework and the realisation came.

The difference wasn’t in the lessons, but in the Houses. Gryffindor and Slytherin were always at odds, so getting them to focus on classwork was a struggle. But Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs? Well Ravenclaws were supposed to be more academic and Hufflepuffs more hard working. They got different lessons because they had different attention spans.

For the first time, Archer was actually learning. Learning things that were important, the basis of all magic use.

He very nearly revelled in it. Eager to get to each and every class. Even potions. Snape was still a sour man, but even he treated the Ravenclaws with a degree of respect. If they put the effort in.

He waited a fortnight, before visiting the RoR for the first time. It was almost anti-climactic, really. He’d primed his dormmates into thinking that he wanted to explore the school, and while they joined him the first time, when he suggested it a second time, they each had something else to do, homework to complete, essays to finish. Which rather confused him, he tended to sit down after a class and write a few notes on the subject and between last class and dinner, got as much of it done as possible. What didn’t get done before dinner was quickly finished after dinner, leaving the weekends free of work.

The Room that he requested was at first, somewhere to plan. That morphed into a library, within hours. His hidden library chest began to fill with ‘questionable’ books, while the ‘safe’ books were just added to his library trunk.

And the hard work of figuring out exactly what Trelawney and Luna meant, began.

~~~

By the end of his first year, he was no closer to a solution.

He’d refined his study and homework schedule by Yule, giving him the entirety of the weekend free for research. But finding answers was slow going.

What he did find, was a way to reverse the mutation of Anne’s curse, which meant that she was able to have the curse-breakers of Gringotts, working with the Unspeakables, break the curse.

As a reward, she bought Archer a mage-space, for a library. True, he had to keep it at home, but still… he had it.

When the Express headed south, he was already planning his summer’s schedule. This summer, he wouldn’t need academic lessons, but he was still going to be getting lessons with Anne and Zeus. DADA, Occlumency, Self-defence and duelling. Although, Anne was going to be more involved in the DADA and duelling, than Zeus. Lessons would be on Monday morning for Occlumency, Tuesday afternoon for self-defence and Wednesday afternoon for duelling. The rest of the time was his to play with.

He planned to take a few hours, each day to ride Boris, he’d found it a great way to clear the mind, something that greatly aided his occlumency lessons.

The rest of his time was spent on research. He really wanted to keep the magical world safe from the muggles’ illness. He just didn’t know how… yet.

~~~

Second year was much the same, the lessons were a little more involved, but still nothing that impacted on his weekend research. This year he’d been able to bring a broom to school and while he had, he only used it as a relaxation aid. He made no effort to show his true level of skill, which he did keep up by using the RoR. He had the vague thought of participating in the battle when it happened, but wasn’t sure how or where. Was he responsible for Fred’s survival? Why would he save Fred and not Remus, or Tonks, or Lavender, or even Colin? Why just Fred?

When quidditch season came, he itched to fly against Charlie Weasley. He didn’t do it, but… oh, he so badly wanted to.

Slytherin won the House Cup. Which for some reason surprised Archer. Admittingly, Slytherin had Marcus Flint and Cassius Warrington, but Gryffindor had Charlie, Oliver and now the twins.

And next year, they’d have Harry Potter.

That was going to be weird. Seeing himself around the school. Not that a third year Ravenclaw was going to have much interaction with a first year Gryffindor, but they still ate in the same Hall.

~~~

Choosing his electives was quick and simple. He’d already done CoMC, so didn’t feel that he needed to go there again and Divination was definitely out. He’d already been the recipient of three of Trelawney’s prophecies, he didn’t need more of that. That left him with the core subjects of Astronomy, Charms, DADA, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions and Transfig. He added Arithmancy, Magical Theory and Study of Ancient Runes, to the mix. Ten subjects was more than enough for him for OWLs, although he did plan to drop Astronomy and Herbology for NEWTs.

Watching his own sorting was… weird. Very weird. Seeing Ron and Hermione and knowing that it would be years, before they would look at him and know him? Was painful. Very painful.

He’d been sentenced to Exile and in a way, that was how he was treating it. Exile from his friends and those he called family. Nine years, Trelawney had said. Nine years was better than the Wizengamot’s twenty, whichever way you looked at it. But to him, it was still Exile.

It surprised him that he never once drew the attention of Dumbledore, but after writing to Anne about it, she reminded him that Dumbledore was a Gryffindor. He favoured Gryffindor above the other Houses. He watched Slytherin like a hawk watches a mouse, but ignored Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. His bright and shining ones went into Gryffindor and those that he might bargain with over redemption, went into Slytherin.

Yeah, watching his own sorting was bizarre.

Quirrell bumbling about, was as irritating as it was amusing. He really wanted to deal with the idiot, but he knew that he couldn’t. Changing things was not good. Although… he did have tentative plans in place to save Sirius and possibly Hedwig. And Fred, obviously.

Why only Fred?

The Halloween Troll was humorous. Or that was how Archer found it. Quirrell was such a fake. How the hell Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape couldn’t see it, he didn’t know. But he retreated to the dorms with the rest of the Ravenclaws, sure in the knowledge that Harry and Ron would deal with the Troll and that the House-elves would bring everyone else enough dinner and treats, that the students would just consider the feast having changed locations.

~~~

It was mid-November, just a few days before the Express headed south, when Archer overheard a conversation between Eliza Kimball and Justin Finch-Fletchley about some muggle comic book.

“… but alternate dimensions?” Justin asked. “Are they a magical thing?”

“I…” Eliza blinked. “I don’t know, I don’t think so.”

“How do you know?” Justin asked.

Archer stopped in the middle of the corridor, his mind whirling. Could that be the answer? Moving to an alternate dimension?

He spend the next few weeks, interrogating the RoR on the subject, before he came to a startling realisation.

Alternate dimensions can be created. They, in really basic terminology, came into being when a timeline split, for whatever reason.

He could create an alternate dimension.

All Archer had to do was find a reason that would work for them. And a way that would leave the muggles in the original timeline and take only the magicals into the split-off line.

All…

~~~

Seeing Hagrid in the library, reminded Archer about Norberta. Not that there was anything he could do about it, but smile. He watched from his window, as Charlie Weasley and a few of his workmates, flew in on brooms, landing on the Divination Tower to collect the wee beastie. He chuckled when it flew around the school the next day that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Malfoy had lost two hundred points between them, from McGonagall and earned a late-night detention to go with it.

~~~

Late May saw yet another Harry, Ron and Hermione rumour circle the school. This time involving the death of Quirrell. Archer just shrugged and continued with his homework, ignoring Marcus Fenwick’s rants. He wasn’t nearly as good at ranting, as Hermione was. He just didn’t have the octave range to pull it off. Although, Archer would admit, he did have a wider range of insults.

~~~

Looking out the window of the Express and seeing a familiar blue Anglia, had Archer blinking. He’d forgotten about Dobby and his attempts to ‘save’ Harry Potter. That was going to make for an interesting year, from a spectator’s point of view.

Snape was in fine form at the feast, furious to the point of actually showing it.

He was only slightly mollified the next morning, when Molly Weasley’s howler turned up.

~~~

Lockhart was just as big of a fraud as Quirrell.

That was the conclusion that Archer, Marcus Fenwick, Mark Latchington and Jeremy Stretton came to. It took them an hour to find all the faults in his books, lining them up and filling in a timeline with the supposed events. There wasn’t a way for him to be in so many places at once. Not even with a time-turner. Maybe with a dozen time-turners…? Maybe?

Phillip Montgomery and Roger weren’t convinced, he was a published author, surely, he was telling the truth?

~~~

Halloween brought a frantic Filch, Mrs Norris had been petrified and so had Sir Nick. The furore over that, was hilarious. The Gryffindors were wandering around, not sure whether to be furious, or in mourning.

And Filch was just as bad as a dragon with a sore tooth. Glaring and huffing, at anyone that got too close.

~~~

The quidditch match in November saw a resurgence of Dobby’s attempts to remove Harry from Hogwarts. This time with a bludger.

And of course Lockhart would attempt to make himself look better and fluff it up. It might have looked funny, Harry losing all the bones in his arm, but Archer remembered how much it hurt, and the taste of Skele-grow was foul. But it was the long-term effects that had him glaring at Lockhart.

It wasn’t until he taken the de-aging potion, that he’d realised exactly how much pain he’d been in, on a day-to-day basis. How it had affected his grip, on quills, his wand, a broom, anything he tried to hold caused the nerves in the arm to spasm.

It made him wonder, how had Madam Pomfrey not noticed? Or had she and Dumbledore had stopped her from treating him? Or was there another answer? Petunia, maybe?

Irrespective. It was only after the de-aging, that the damage was completely repaired. One nice side-effect was his writing no longer looked like chicken-scratch.

~~~

Chapter Text

It wasn’t until he taken the de-aging potion, that he’d realised exactly how much pain he’d been in, on a day-to-day basis. How it had affected his grip, on quills, his wand, a broom, anything he tried to hold caused the nerves in the arm to spasm.

It made him wonder, how had Madam Pomfrey not noticed? Or had she and Dumbledore had stopped her from treating him? Or was there another answer? Petunia, maybe?

Irrespective. It was only after the de-aging that the damage was completely repaired. One nice side-effect was his writing no longer looked like chicken-scratch.

~~~

Marcus approached Archer one Sunday evening in November, Mark and Jeremy close on his heels.

“Jameson?” Marcus tapped on his door. “Can we have a word?” He nodded to Mark and Jeremy.

“Sure.” Archer nodded. “Come on in.” The three boys edged into the room, looking decidedly nervous. “Have a seat.” He nodded towards the small sofa and the office chair at his library trunk’s desk. He, himself, was sprawled out on his bed, reading a book on mage-spaces and their rune-sequences. “What can I do for you, gents?”

“Lockhart’s useless.” Mark snapped. “Absolutely bloody bollocking useless.”

“That he is.” Archer nodded.

“We told Flitty.” Marcus added. “He told us, that the only thing he could suggest, was to do the bare minimum in class and self-study outside it.”

“Then he told us to speak to you about.” Mark frowned. “Why?”

“Huh.” Archer snorted. “My Aunt has a Mastery in DADA.” He shrugged. “She gives me lessons during the summer.”

“How good are you?” Jeremy leant forward on the sofa.

“Can you tutor us?” Mark asked at the same time.

“According to Aunt Anne, I could pass my NEWTs, right now.” Archer replied. “And sure, I can tutor you. Just the three of you? Or have you convinced Roger and Phillip to join in?”

“Just us.” Marcus nodded to Mark and Jeremy.

“They still think Lockhart is on the level.” Mark added.

“Their loss.” Jeremy smirked.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Archer asked. “Casual meet-ups, whenever you feel like it? Or formal, let’s hijack a classroom and stick to the actual syllabus, working towards OWLs and NEWTs?”

“Can we try the formal, to start with?” Marcus grimaced a little. “If I’m not in a classroom, sometimes I can slack off.”

“Want me to lay it all out for you? Actually be a teacher?” Archer asked.

“Yes!” Mark nodded.

“Alright.” Archer nodded a few times. “In Lockhart’s class, do the minimum. Don’t volunteer a question. Don’t answer a question, unless he asks you directly. Essays, cut them short by an inch or so, write larger, list things out in point form. Take up as much space as you can, to say as little as you can. I won’t assign homework, unless you ask for it. You know how to read, and that will get you through the theory of it. I’ll see that you get through the practical side. Does that sound okay?”

“Brilliant…” Jeremy sighed in relief.

“Do you have a preference for when?” Archer asked. “Gonna suggest two-hour blocks, at least twice a week, three times would be better. We’ve missed nearly three months, that’s gonna take time to fix.”

“Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday evenings?” Marcus suggested and the other boys nodded their agreement. “After classes finish but before dinner?”

“We could go straight from Lockhart’s class on Tuesday,” Jeremy added, “give us a chance to compare notes about whatever rubbish, he’s assigned.”

“Thursday, my last class is CoMC.” Mark grumbled. He tended to get back from that a little later, simply because of it being clear across the other side of the school.

“Mine and Jameson’s is Runes.” Marcus added. “We finish at the same time, as you.”

“Call me Archer.” Archer corrected. “Jameson’s a bit stuffy and I don’t like Elwood, but what can you do…? Family name.”

“That blows.” Jeremy nodded. “My last on Thursday is Transfig, so I have a freebie, I can do any running we need, for Thursday.”

“All we need is a classroom.” Archer grinned and leapt to his feet, digging out a sheet of parchment and beginning to write a few notes.

“Flitty offered to have the House-elves clean the classroom across from his office.” Jeremy replied. “I think he wants to keep an eye on us. Make sure we aren’t getting in over our heads.”

“Not a bad idea.” Archer nodded. “We’ll start on Tuesday, don’t worry about any reading, I need to double check a couple of things, before then. We’ll probably just lay out a schedule and talk about what we want from the sessions.”

“Cool.” Marcus seemed much more relaxed now. “Thanks, mate.” He stood up. “I’m gonna got get a hot chocolate, anyone coming?”

“Yeah, mate.” Jeremy nodded. “I’ll be in on that.”

“Same.” Mark grinned. “What about you, Archer?”

“Nah, thanks.” Archer grinned back. “You’ve just upped my research for the evening. Good thing I’ve already got my homework done.”

~~~

“Alright, guys,” Archer looked at the three boys, all sitting front and centre of an otherwise empty classroom, “I’m going to simplify things for us. Two lists. Fourth year and fifth year. Each list is split into two sections, Dark Creatures and Spellwork. With me, so far?”

“Yes, Professor.” Jeremy gave him a cheeky grin.

“Prat.” Archer grinned back. “Fourth year, Dark Creatures are Erklings, Redcaps and Dugbogs. Spells are supposed to be the Unforgivables, I won’t be doing them, Flitty is going to come in, in a few weeks and walk us through them. Otherwise, we’ve got Hex-deflections, counter-curses, twitchy-ear hexes, reductos and water jets.”

“Wicked…” Marcus blinked.

“Fifth year’s Creatures are Ghouls, Pixies, Boggarts and snakes.” Archer was writing on the chalkboard as he spoke. “Spells are… More on hex-deflections, the impediment jinx, the tongue-tying curse, tripping jinxes, smokescreens, Deprimo, Larcanum Imflamari, the Knockback jinx, Densugeo, Homenum Revelio and various protective enchantments. Various, meaning there’s a list of about a dozen, we’ll touch on them all briefly, but only go into depth on two or three.” He turned to face the boys. “However, there is one spell that I think might be worth the challenge, if you’re up for it.”

“What’s that?” Jeremy was leaning forward, eager to hear.

“The Patronus Charm.” Archer replied. He’d spent a fair bit of time this last summer, working with Anne and Zeus, both had warned him that after the bloodline conversions, he wouldn’t be able to have Prongs leaping around. They’d worked with him to focus on a different set of memories, with intent to have his Patronus take a different form. And while it had taken him most of the summer, he now able to claim a rather impressive griffin.

“Wicked…!” Jeremy breathed. “I want to try.”

“Oh, yes, definitely.” Marcus nodded eagerly.

“Oh, mate, yes.” Mark’s eyes were wide as saucers.

~~~

Teaching three Ravenclaws simpler than teaching the DA. But he was wary, teaching the boys was easy, but was it too easy?

He wrote to Anne about it and her response was to ask, if teaching felt so comfortable that he could imagine doing it for years? And he couldn’t, not really.

But that left the question… What was he going to do?

~~~

Hearing that Colin Creevey had been petrified caused Archer to sigh. That boy and his camera were a menace. He might not have deserved it, but it certainly made him tone down the fanaticism to recording everything.

Speaking of… Ginny was looking a mite pale…

It was easier than he expected, just sitting back and letting Harry deal with it. Maybe part of that was that he could remember exactly what happened. Either way… Archer was content to work on his research and ignore the entire mess.

~~~

The duelling club was a hot mess. Lockhart just made himself look stupid, he also made Snape look frighteningly competent. Something that came as a bit of a shock to Marcus and Jeremy.

Mark couldn’t understand why Lockhart had asked Snape to co-mentor the club, until Archer reminded him that there was no way Lockhart would ask Flitty. To stand against someone that actually knew that they were doing, would make him look even more incompetent than he was. Too bad he hadn’t realised that Snape was just as good with a wand, as he was with a cauldron.

~~~

Archer went home for Christmas and Yule, like he did each year. The number of people staying at Hogwarts for the holidays was low, the petrifications had spooked most people.

Over the holidays, he had a small breakthrough with his research.

They needed a ritual. One that would separate the magical world from the muggle world. Physically. Zeus was happy to work with Archer on the crafting of it, but he warned that it would take a massive amount of power to complete. Then there was the issue of the muggleborns and squibs. Even if they didn’t know about the magical world, had no idea that they had a magical core, the ritual would still affect them.

And of course, this would have to be a worldwide ritual, and how the hell were they supposed to do that?

~~~

Archer would never understand Ginny Weasley. The girl was an idiot.

He was actually a little concerned that she might have dosed Harry with love potions, given the way he’d felt about her, as opposed to how he felt now. He’d been quite sure of his feelings for her, but after the de-aging, that all went away. And sure, some of that would be because of his physical age, but he was fourteen now, emotions should be beginning to emerge and bluntly? All he felt for her, was a strange blend of disgust and disappointment.

Sending Harry a singing valentine’s card, was very inappropriate. She was eleven, for Merlin’s sake. She shouldn’t be sending anyone a valentine’s card!

~~~

The rest of February, March and April were uneventful, if you excluded the fact that Lockhart was losing fans like Hagrid haemorrhaged secrets.

Phillip Montgomery had finally wised up and after whining for a few weeks, had eventually joined Marcus, Mark and Jeremy in their tutoring sessions. He was a long way behind, but he was determined to catch up, before the Easter Holidays.

~~~

The second weekend in May, saw the cancellation of the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff quidditch game, due to Hermione Granger’s petrification. Well… Hermione and Penelope Clearwater’s petrifications.

Suddenly, people weren’t so sure that Harry Potter was responsible. Granger was one of his best friends, there’s no way he’d let her be hurt. Even the most ardent of his haters, agreed on that.

And it was extremely unlikely that Hagrid would want to hurt her, either. He was a bit of an oaf, but not someone that would deliberately harm a child.

~~~

The last week of May, it was suddenly announced that the culprit responsible had been dealt with.

What ‘dealt with’ meant, was never made clear. Just that the threat was gone and that the danger was past.

Hagrid returned and Lockhart was gone.

This freed Archer from tutoring his dormmates, as Flitty officially took over, giving lectures in the common room, most evenings. Although, Jeremy would still seek Archer out on Saturday evenings for practical sessions. He’d made a lot of progress and didn’t want to backslide.

~~~

The announcement of Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban, had Archer staying very close to home. He definitely didn’t want to meet a dementor.

Seeing Harry floating around Diagon, without a care in the world, made Archer want to smack someone. Who? Probably Dumbledore. Leaving a thirteen-year-old boy on his own when there’s an escapee running around, is just plain dumb. It’s like he was wanting the kid to be attacked.

~~~

Dementors on the Express.

It sounds like a murder mystery, but all it was, was scared and traumatised children. Jeremy managed a corporeal Patronus for the first time, his giant Aurochs nearly filled the corridor, it certainly blocked the dementor from entering their carriage from the front and Archer’s griffin blocked the rear.

The expression on Remus Lupin’s face when he opened the carriage door and was faced with a bull that was nearly as tall as he was, was hilarious.

Archer made sure that his griffin as just a little blurry around the edges, he didn’t want to draw too much attention. Thankfully, theirs weren’t the only patroni floating the along the train. Percy Weasley’s rooster and Oliver’s ram had herded one dementor away from a group of firsties.

Getting off the train at Hogsmeade station and being surrounded by the horrors, caused Jeremy and Archer to exchange glances with Oliver, Percy and Marcus Flint, before the five of them sent their patroni to guard the students. Again, Archer made sure his was a little blurred, just like Flint’s.

~~~

Halloween was the first Hogsmeade weekend for the year, and of course, Sirius used that as a chance to break into the castle, slashing up the Fat Lady’s painting and earning the entire school a sleepover in the Great Hall.

Roughly three hundred students crammed into the Great Hall, on dinky little cots, with only sleeping bags to keep them warm. Surrounded by students that had no idea what was going on or why. And for some reason, it was all Harry Potter’s fault.

Typical.

Archer and his dormmates, threw up privacy wards around them, in an attempt to get some sleep, but knew that it was going to be a long night.

~~~

Having dementors enter the school was frightening. More so now than the first time, Archer felt. Then, he only knew that they made him relive his parents’ murders, now he knew that they could also Kiss a student, killing them.

Why the hell had Dumbledore allowed this? He was the Chief Warlock, surely, he could stop it? Or was it a part of his ‘plan’ for Harry? Make him more certain that was down to him to save the school?

Either way, Dumbledore was risking the lives of nearly three hundred children and a dozen Professors.

~~~

Thankfully, December was fairly quiet, if you excluded Harry sneaking out to Hogsmeade.

And receiving a Firebolt broom. The best broom on the market, the most expensive, too. And Sirius was able to owl order it.

The wizarding world was ridiculous. He’s labelled as a convicted criminal, without a trial. There’s a Kiss on Sight order in his name. Dementors are everywhere, searching for him.

And he orders a broom.

~~~

The end of January saw Sirius attack the castle, again.

Lupin was an idiot. He should have told Dumbledore about Sirius, Pettigrew and James, all being an Animagi. Told him about the Marauders’ Map. About the secret passages. He was risking students’ lives.

If Sirius was what the Ministry claimed, then killing a few students to get to Harry, was nothing. And if he was truly innocent, then why was he continuing to break into the castle?

Doesn’t anyone know how to ask questions?

~~~

Archer made another breakthrough with his research.

The ritual has to be worldwide, runes linking multiple ritual sites, places at all the major ley-line conjunctions.

But he still didn’t know what to do about those that don’t know, that they were magical. How to locate them and introduce them to the wizarding world in a manner that won’t come across as kidnapping.

~~~

Hermione punching Malfoy after a CoMC class, went around the school like Fiendfyre. So many people were envious of her. And surprisingly, a few were envious of Malfoy. Apparently, Hermione’s attention was classes, Harry and Ron, in that order. No-one else was considered important enough to even register.

~~~

Early June heralded the oncoming of OWLs for Archer and his year-mates.

For the first time, Archer wondered whether ten subjects was too many. His weekends of research were a thing of the past, all his time was spent reviewing for exams. OWL lectures were held in the common room, every evening after dinner, going over a single subject each night, and also every morning before breakfast.

The actual exams were almost a letdown, certainly they were far simpler than Flitty had implied they’d be.

~~~

Late June had Harry to the rescue, again.

Archer was beginning to wonder whether Harry had been cursed or charmed. The need to rescue everyone didn’t exist anymore. If you excluded the ‘save the whole world’ thing, that Trelawney and Luna set him up on. But he really considered that, more of a puzzle that he needed to solve, than a ‘saving people’ thing.

Archer watched Sirius and Buckbeak flying away from the castle, in a vaguely southerly direction.

The next morning Snape was beyond furious. He was almost incandescent with rage. Archer, Jeremy, Marcus, Mark and Phillip kept their heads down and watched as Roger was nearly eviscerated by the Professor, for botching a potion and nearly melting his cauldron.

The Minister seemed to be just about as angry as Snape, if his expression was anything to go by, but Dumbledore was quite smug. Clearly, he felt his plans were progressing, nicely.

Ron was not happy he’d been left behind, while Harry and Hermione had saved Sirius. His jealousy over anyone, being more important to Harry than himself, was sad. Not surprising, but sad.

~~~

Archer’s OWL results arrived in mid-July.

He was quite chuffed with them, eight O’s and two E’s, carefully adding them to the portfolio that Anne had insisted he have. He knew that once he could tell her, Hermione would want to know exactly what he’d done.

~~~

Chapter Text

Archer’s OWL results arrived in mid-July.

He was quite chuffed with them, eight O’s and two E’s, carefully adding them to the portfolio that Anne had insisted he have. He knew that once he could tell her, Hermione would want to know exactly what he’d done.

~~~

The 1994 Quidditch World Cup turned out, not to be as much of a free-for-all for the Death Eaters, as they’d intended.

Archer had offered Marcus the second ticket, that Anne had given him for an early birthday gift. The pair sat with Zeus and Oliver for the match and were still with them when the Death Eaters started to show their colours.

Marcus took out three with some sort of transfiguration spell chain. Zeus got another three with chain that combined transfig and charm. Oliver tied two up with roots from a nearby tree. And Archer was just plain mad, he conjured himself a pair of beater’s bats and, as the saying goes… laid waste.

One wizard landed in the Janus Thickery ward. One became an instant convert to ‘any but the Death Eaters’. One landed with the most sickening ‘crunch’ that Archer had ever heard, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the man never walked again. The fourth was returned to his family for burial.

Archer went on to order himself a butterbeer and sat on the second man’s back, to drink it.

Oliver spent ten minutes being sick.

Zeus was impressed.

Marcus was disgusted.

“He’s covered in mud and you just sit on him, wearing silk! It’ll be ruined, Archer!”

~~~

The announcement of the Tri-Wizard Tournament came as no surprise to anyone in Archer’s dorm, all of them had family members working for the Ministry in one form or another.

This turned out to be the solution to a problem that Archer had only recently realised that he would have.

A problem, that could potentially have been huge.

How to differentiate between Archer Jameson and Harry Potter, at least as far as the public were concerned?

Harry Potter was going to save the wizarding world. Twice over.

What was Archer Jameson going to do?

He had no interest in being a healer. Or a wand maker. Or an Auror. Teaching didn’t ‘call’ him. Neither did pure research.

Ideas came and went, nothing seemed to call out to him. Until…

The first task.

No so much the task, as a throw-away comment from Harry about wishing he could speak to Snuffles. This reminded Archer of the two-way mirrors. And also of Hermione’s DA ʛalleons.

He was quite confident that he could modify those two ideas, into one workable product.

~~~

The Yule Ball was something that Archer could definitely have done without. Granted, Anne had taught him to dance properly, but it was still something he had no interest in.

After a visit to Hogsmeade and negotiations with the girl, her father and her betrothed’s father, Archer offered to escort Miss Elodie Wheatley to the ball. He made it very clear to both fathers, and the girl herself, that he had no interest in Elodie, in particular, or any of the girls at Hogwarts in general, and would treat her as a representative of her betrothed, would be expected to.

To that end, he wore a crest on his robes, that indicated his position as assigned by Miss Wheatley’s betrothed’s family, as he was unable to attend her.

Jeremy was undecided whether he should be impressed at Archer’s audacity, or disgusted that he was standing in for a man, a good ten years older than his bride-to-be.

Archer didn’t particularly care, he got a ‘date’ to the ball, that personally, had no interest in him and wouldn’t try to entice him.

And he intended to go home for the remains of the holidays, when the Express headed south the next day.

~~~

Archer attended the Second Task alongside Elodie and her betrothed, Lysander Stimpson, who Jeremy discovered, wasn’t actually ten years older than Elodie, in fact he was barely four years her senior.

Lysander, Elodie and Archer spent most of the task, discussing how Archer could go about purchasing deceased patents. Not expired, but deceased. Meaning, that a patent had been lodged, but for whatever reason, the patent-holder was now deceased, but the patent hadn’t expired.

Expired patents were available for anyone to purchase, that paid the fees and filled in the reams of parchment-work needed, to transfer ownership of said patent.

Archer had decided that communication methods, were going to be where he focused. Things like two-way mirrors, linked notebooks and messenger pads. Yes, he knew that was a very limited number of items, but he was quite confident that he’d increase the product listing, before he left Hogwarts.

~~~

The rest of the school year was quiet, with only a few dramas.

Hermione received a letter containing bobotuber pus.

Marietta Edgecombe decided that she was in love with Jeremy and proceeded to try and enter his room, only to land herself in Flitty’s office, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. And as Jeremy was there to complain about her harassing him, she got into a lot of trouble.

Roger offered Fleur a betrothal contract, only to be told that while he was nice, she was a Veela and needed a strong mate, and he wasn’t that.

Luna Lovegood looked at Archer one evening and gave him a tiny smile. As she passed him on the stairs, she spoke quietly.

“Harry will be my friend until there is no Harry. Then I hope that you will still be my friend.”

“Of course, Luna. I’ll always be your friend.” Archer assured her.

“Thank you, Elwood Archer Jameson. I hope that my future self wasn’t too hard on you.”

“No, she wasn’t.” Archer shook his head. “She told me exactly what I needed to know.”

“Oh, good.” With that Luna wandered down the stairs and into the common room library. And that would be the last direct contact he would have with her, until after Harry’s trial.

~~~

The Final Task was a nightmare for Archer. He had to sit between Anne and Zeus, who was the only person in this time, so far, that knew who Archer had been, thanks to a scrap of parchment sent with them by Lady Augusta. Oliver sat on the other side of his father, cheering for his former seeker and chatting with the Weasley twins. And Archer was trying not to have a nervous breakdown. He could clearly remember each and every step he took during the task.

Seeing his former-self reappear with the body of Cedric Diggory, had him slumping in relief. From there the night was frantic.

Exclamations. Screams. Claims. Denials. Denunciations.

Harry was adamant. Dumbledore was adamant. Fudge was adamant.

Unfortunately, they weren’t adamant about the same thing.

Voldemort was back.

Voldemort wasn’t back.

Which you believed, depended on who you believed was telling the truth.

Archer and his dormmates knew the truth, their families made sure of it.

~~~

Marcus, Mark, Jeremy, Phillip and Archer made plans to meet a few times over the holidays. All of them would be seventeen before the start of the new school year. Their final year.

Zeus warned them that Umbridge was being assigned to Hogwarts as the DADA Professor and that she was going to do everything she could, to root out any anti-Ministry support.

The five boys, decided that they would treat her like they had Lockhart, doing the bare minimum in class and work on self-study outside class.

Anne cautioned them from involving anyone outside their dorm, or working anywhere other than the dorm. Umbridge had already implied that she’d shut down any clubs or study groups, if she knew about them. It would be better for the boys, if they faded into the background.

~~~

Within a week of Umbridge’s arrival, Roger had landed himself in detention. He was the only one of the boys, that had no family in the Ministry and he spoke out in support of Harry.

He ranted at the other boys, after his detention, his hand still leaking blood.

Archer gave him a handkerchief soaked in murtlap essence, telling him to dress the wound with it, then added a bottle of a muddy blue liquid, saying it was a combination of murtlap and dittany that would draw out the inflammation and reduce the scarring.

When Roger made a comment about how they needed to support Potter, Jeremy sighed and replied, that speaking out wasn’t going to help Potter and was going to mark them as problem-makers to Umbridge. It would be better to stay quiet, and work behind the scenes.

Roger took offence and stormed off to his room and for the rest of the month, he ignored the other boys. He joined Potter’s DA, attending every meeting, sneering at his dormmates whenever he passed them.

~~~

The entire school year passed, with Umbridge gaining more power each week. New ‘Educational Decrees’ were added, sometimes as many as three a week.

Archer kept to his dorm as much as possible, working on his shop products, polishing up the designs. Three times a week, usually when the DA were meeting, the five dormmates would hold tutoring sessions in their empty sitting room. A couple of times, they asked Flitty to come in and demonstrate a spell or charm, but for the most part, they worked together. In the dorms they would sit together while studying, but outside, they kept their distance. None of them wanted to draw the pink toad’s attention.

~~~

Saving Sirius wasn’t nearly as difficult, as Archer had expected it to be.

Zeus declared that he would handle Sirius’ rescue, that Archer should be visible at school, so as to remove any hint of his involvement.

Zeus somehow used his Unspeakable’s robes and enchanted them to bypass the DoM’s security measures. Then let himself into the DoM and made his way to the Veil Chamber.

It was a simple matter, for him to cast a ward on the surface of the Veil, that would stun and portkey away the next person that touched said ward, leaving an illusion of that person being pulled into the Veil. And as Zeus had studied Harry’s memory of the incident rigorously, he knew that Sirius Black was only one that got close enough to the Veil to activate the ward/portkey.

He then waited quietly, in an anti-chamber that was almost as heavily warded as a Gringotts vault. Sounds of a fight filtered in through a ventilation grill, before the cot in front of him was suddenly occupied.

Once the fighting had passed, and the DoM quietened, Zeus took a hold of the cot’s frame and let the second portkey take him away.

~~~

Sirius Black woke laying on a reasonably comfortable cot, in a tiny cell-like room, with a heavily robed person sitting at a table. On the table rested a pensieve and a number of phials, presumably, memories.

“Welcome back.” The person said and Sirius realised they were an Unspeakable.

“You’re here to take me back to Azkaban.” Sirius sighed. “Aren’t you?”

“That depends on your attitude at the end of this interview.” The Unspeakable replied.

“What?” Sirius blinked. “But…? Excuse me, but what?!” The Unspeakable snorted, before regaining control of themselves. “No, seriously… What the hell?”

“Oh, I was warned you were entertaining.” The Unspeakable muttered. “I should have listened.” They shook their head and huffed. “Right. How this is going to work is…”

“Wait!” Sirius held up a hand. “Just tell me, Harry? Is he alright? Did he get out okay?”

“That’s the first memory you will be watching.” The Unspeakable answered. “But yes, he made it back to Hogwarts, mostly unscathed.”

“Mostly?” Sirius frowned.

“Watch the memory and you’ll know as much as I do.” The Unspeakable ordered.

“Okay, watch the memory.” Sirius nodded. “I can do that.”

“I’m to warn you that it’s not nice. Any of it. Well, the nice comes and goes, but the nasty dominates. But I’m permitted to tell you that the matter is… I’d hesitate to use the word resolved, but that was what I was told.”

“Watching the memories will clear that up?” Sirius asked.

“Eventually,” the Unspeakable nodded, “not immediately, but by the time we finish, yes.”

“Right, then.” Sirius huffed. “Memories it is.” He climbed to his feet and staggered to the table. “Whoa… What did I get hit with?” The last was muttered to himself.

“A ward/portkey combination.” The Unspeakable answered.

“Ugh, no wonder I’m all Jelly-Legs.” He flopped down onto the spare chair and looked at the pensieve. “Standard immersion or projection?”

“Neither.” The Unspeakable replied. “Digit immersion.”

“Oh, thank Merlin!” Sirius sighed in relief. “I hate standard immersion and I always miss things with projection.” That said, he laid his hand on the edge of the pensieve and let his fingers fall into the liquid holding the memory, his head slumping to his chest.

The Unspeakable sighed. “This is going to be a long night…”

It was nearly an hour later before Sirius lifted his head.

“Dumbledore did what?!” Sirius snarled. “He waited until Harry was at his most vulnerable to tell him… anything!”

The Unspeakable calmly removed the memory and poured out the next.

“It gets worse.” The Unspeakable nodded to the pensieve.

“Great…” Sirius muttered and let his fingers pull him into the memory of the highlights of Harry’s summer and sixth year.

“Fuckin’ Snivellous!” Sirius’ growl was deep and very clearly showed his Animagus’ temper.

The Unspeakable again removed the memory and poured out the next. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

“This one will take longer.” The Unspeakable stated. “I’d recommend visiting the loo first.”

“And a drink?” Sirius requested.

“Tea?” The Unspeakable asked.

“And probably a Pepper-Up would be good? It’s been a long day.” This person seemed fairly reasonable, so Sirius chanced asking for the potion.

“I’ll see to it.”

Once he’d been to the loo, drank his tea, swallowed down the potion and eaten a couple of rather tasty savoury tartlets, Sirius sighed and laid his hand on the pensieve, before frowning.

“How long since…? What’s the date?”

“Worry about that, later.” The Unspeakable sidestepped the question. “Watch the memories first.”

“Ooh, that doesn’t sound half ominous…” Sirius groaned, but let his fingers pull him into the memories of Harry’s seventh year.

Lifting his head, Sirius let his tears fall. “Oh, dear God… He… Harry…” Then he frowned. “But that was… I wasn’t… so how…?”

“There’s more to watch.” The Unspeakable tapped the table to gain Sirius’ attention. “One is longer than the others.”

“Oh, Merlin…” Sirius sighed, he was so tired.

“Just watch them.” The Unspeakable ordered and with another sigh Sirius let himself be pulled into the next memory.

When he emerged, he was frowning. “That was… different.” Watching Harry’s trial under Mordred’s Law was enlightening. He hadn’t realised exactly how much the pup had got up to.

“There’s more.” The Unspeakable had the next memory ready and waiting. “But before you enter this memory, please read this.” He handed over a slip of parchment.

“Fidelius?”

“Fidelius.”

“Right.” Sirius nodded and let his fingers pull him into another memory. He emerged blinking. “He really… Webster was a prat. We lost count of how many girls he slept with and discarded the next day. He probably has a dozen children out there.”

“Possibly.” The Unspeakable nodded. “We can confirm four children, outside of Archer. Three boys and a girl.”

“Add a second girl.” Sirius let his head rock while he thought. “I think Harry’s friend, Hermione, might be one.”

“Ah, that’s right, he didn’t just stay in the magical world, did he?”

“No, but Charlus did try to keep him here. At least here, if he used a wand, Charlus didn’t have to get the obliviators out, to clean up after him.”

“True.” The Unspeakable nodded. “We’ll look at getting her tested, after Harry’s trial.”

“They really time-turned, huh?”

“They travelled back nine years.”

“Oh, hell…” Sirius huffed. “He’s already finished Hogwarts, hasn’t he?”

“Not yet.” The Unspeakable shook his head. “He’s in his last year.”

“He’s in with the twins?”

“Same year, but if you recall the Seer’s prophecy?” The Unspeakable replied. “He’s in Ravenclaw.”

“Ravenclaw?” Sirius frowned. “Really?”

“Discovered that without Voldemort hanging over him, he’s quite a capable student.” The Unspeakable shrugged. “Exams start in a few days, but I expect him to bring home mostly O’s.”

“How many subjects?” Sirius didn’t recall Harry being that good of a student.

“Eight.” The Unspeakable replied. “And you still have a memory to go. His school years.”

“I can do that.” Sirius nodded. Upon emerging, he stretched his arms over his head. “Now what?”

“We need to create a need identity for you.” Came the reply. “Something that will let you move about unchecked. Archer has already decided that he’s not going back to being Harry Potter, after Harry’s trial Publicly, Harry Potter has been researching a way to save the magical world from a worldwide muggle illness. Unfortunately, he’s not been able to do much research this year, due to Madam Umbridge being at Hogwarts. So, he’s been working towards a shop, mostly communication items. Mirrors, portable floos, linked books, that sort of thing.” The Unspeakable explained. “But his guardian has suggested that Archer will want to see you, in person, before we do whatever we do to change your appearance. Make sure you really are alive and really are you, not someone polyjuiced as you.”

“Fair.” Sirius nodded. “What about my vaults and contacting friends?”

“Vaults we can deal with, with a Will.” The Unspeakable replied. “Friends? No, not until after the trial. But you saw the battle at Hogwarts.”

“Remus died.” Sirius frowned.

“Possibly.” The Unspeakable corrected. “Harry thought Fred Weasley died, but apparently, he was hit with a curse that mimics the Draught of Living Death.”

“Oh…” Sirius leant forward. “How many can we save with that?”

“Possibly save.” The Unspeakable corrected again. “Fred Weasley, we already know about. Archer suggested Remus and his wife. A lad, Colin Creevey. Professor Camelia Thorton. And Severus Snape.”

“Not happy about Snape, but…” Sirius sighed. “I’ll admit I was wrong about him.”

“So were many others, myself included.” The Unspeakable sighed, too.

“So, what are you going to do with me, until Harr- Archer, was it?” Sirius asked. “Right. Archer. What are you doing with me until school’s out?”

“We’ll give you a glamour transfig ring to wear.” The Unspeakable slid a ring across the table. “It will change, not just your appearance, but your magical signature, as well. Then we’ll set you up in a suite in the Hole. Get you some healers, some decent food and some rest. And work out who you’re going to be. Where you went to school. OWLs and NEWTs. Sort your finances. You’ve got two weeks until Archer’s free, I’d like everything ready to go, within a day or two of that.”

Sirius looked at the ring. “Should I be putting that on, now?”

“Not until we’ve got your Will sorted.” The Unspeakable pushed his hood back. “I’m Zephram Wood, codename Zeus. Head Unspeakable. Are you staying or do I need to have you escorted back to Azkaban?”

“I left Harry once, I’m not doing it again.” Sirius picked up the ring. “I’m staying.”

~~~

Chapter Text

“What are you doing with me until school’s out?”

“We’ll give you a glamour transfig ring to wear.” The Unspeakable slid a ring across the table. “It will change not just your appearance, but your magical signature, as well. Then we’ll set you up in a suit in the Hole. Get you some healers, some decent food and some rest. And work out who you’re going to be. Where you went to school. OWLs and NEWTs. Sort your finances. You’ve got two weeks until Archer’s free, I’d like everything ready to go, within a day or two of that.”

Sirius looked at the ring. “Should I be putting that on, now?”

“Not until we’ve got your Will sorted.” The Unspeakable pushed his hood back. “I’m Zephram Wood, codename Zeus. Head Unspeakable. Are you staying or do I need to have you escorted back to Azkaban?”

“I left Harry once, I’m not doing it again.” Sirius picked up the ring. “I’m staying.”

~~~

NEWTs were just as bad as Archer had expected.

Eight subject probably were too many, but he was going to give it everything he had. The fate of the Wizarding World depended on him. Well… on Harry Potter.

And he didn’t want Luna to die, due to a muggle illness.

He had no idea how bad this illness was going to be, but with Trelawney and Luna both talking about the possibility of the death magic? He figured it was bad.

He was going to do all he could, to see that it didn’t happen.

~~~

When the Weasley twins let off their fireworks and withdrew from the school in typically spectacular fashion, the other Ravenclaw boys followed Archer, who quickly retreated to their dorm. They’d learnt that Archer was extremely accurate, as far as what was going to happen at school. Not so much outside it, but inside? If he said, this was going to happen, it happened. Exactly when and where, he said it would.

~~~

The news that Voldemort was back, filled the Daily Prophet’s front page.

Archer sighed and finished packing his trunks, before shrinking them down. Today was his last day at Hogwarts. His last day as a student.

Not Harry’s, though. He still had one more year to make it through and Archer planned to do as much research on the timeline rituals as he could, in that time.

His mage-space library was perhaps forty long, by sixty feet wide, by twenty feet high. Far bigger than he’d expected, when Anne had first said that she wanted to get him a library mage-space. Upon first inspection, he’d been stunned and not a little terrified of what Hermione was going to say, when he was finally able to talk to her again.

It had taken all seven years, that he’d been at Hogwarts, to come anywhere near filling the shelves, but even now, probably a quarter of the upper-level shelves were empty. Although, he did have an idea for fixing that.

The library from Grimmauld Place. If not the actual library, then a copy of everything that Kreacher would let him have.

He just couldn’t do it, until after Harry, Ron and Hermione infiltrated the Ministry. Until then, he would work on the rituals and his shop.

Oh, Lord, he almost forgot about Sirius.

Zeus had saved him from the Veil and had him stashed away somewhere. Archer could finally get to know him, maybe hear some stories about his time at Hogwarts, stories about James, Lily, Remus, Webster and Rosa. It would be nice to know something about his parents, both sets.

~~~

Doing research with Sirius, who was now Rosa’s half-brother, Anne’s brother, Syrion Middleworth, was easy. The way Siriu- Syrion was able to instinctively know which page to turn to in any given book, was phenomenally handy. And not just to Archer, either. Zeus had instantly gone to work, trying to convince him to join the Unspeakables in their research library, they were always on the lookout for someone that could find answers, particularly when they barely knew what questions to ask. Syrion agreed, but insisted on working with Archer, until he was ready to hand everything over to the ICW, then he would be on call to them, over and above the British Unspeakables.

In February, it led to Archer having the most important breakthrough in his timeline research, to date. And it was massive.

The ritual they needed, to separate the wizarding world from the muggle world, had to be led by one person. But… and it was a big but…

The ritual had to encircle the entire world! Every ritual location had to be within five thousand miles of at least five other locations. Every location’s part of the ritual had to be led by the same person. And every location’s part of the ritual had to happen at exactly the same time.

All of this, meant that by the end of March it was time to hand all his research over to the ICW. They had ritual specialists, that would refine his research and determine the time and locations needed for the best outcome. Anne suggested providing a copy of Trelawney’s prophecy and part of the conversation with Luna, but end it just before the section where Luna provided his current name.

Zeus suggested that everything be forwarded by the Unspeakables, as the ICW were more likely to take the situation seriously, if it came from an official department. He expected that it would take up to a year before anything was done about it.

~~~

It took until July for the ICW to review the memory and the accompanying research. July. Less than six months. For the ICW that was an incredibly short length of time.

Admittingly, all they stated was that the research was accurate and that further investigation into the ritual suggested, was needed, and that would take time.

They did acknowledge that they’d had multiple predictions of catastrophic waves of muggle-based illness sweeping the world and that if nothing was done, the magical world was doomed to die, when magic died. However, according to their Seers, they had sufficient time to refine and perform the ritual, before it was too late.

Having said that, the ritual leader would need to be someone well-versed in ritual-lore and at least sixty-six years of age, in addition to being female, who'd birthed three children. Which completely ruled Harry Potter out, however, they would be quite happy to acknowledge and publicise Mr Potter’s involvement in the matter, after his trial was completed, of course.

But the end result was that, yes, the ritual was valid and yes, it would more than likely do as Mr Potter predicted and separate the magical world from the muggle world, by creating a new timeline that would only accommodate beings that contained magic in some form or another. This was actually a larger list than expected, as most so-called muggle-animals do have magical cores, just no access to them. It took the ICW a month to work out how to limit the amount of animals that would enter the new timeline, as they weren't in a position to handle the millions of domestic animals kept by muggles as pets. Eventually, they put in a clause that excluded any pet owned by a non-magical human, limited both the domesticated farm animals and the wild animals, to a similar ratio as there was with the magical-to-non-magical humans. Even better, was that they were able to restrict the domesticated farm animals, to certain locations. Yes, the muggles would probably cry foul, claiming alien abduction or animal rustling, but it was simpler for the ICW's ritual writers to direct. And, of course, someone had to be on hand, in the new timeline, to tend the beasts, so having them in specific locations, would only make that easier.

Realistically, the only non-magical beings that would be significantly affected would be human, the muggles themselves.

As per standard procedures, updates would be sent to Zeus on a monthly basis, unless requested otherwise.

After discussing the matter with Anne and Zeus, Archer decided that ICW had the situation well in hand declared that other than the updates, he would focus on products for his shop.

~~~

By the time December rolled in, in a rash of storms, Archer had increased his stock list to ten items. It might not sound like much, but those ten items had taken him hundreds of hours to perfect and had multiple variations of each, to swell out the shelves.

There was, of course, the two-way mirrors. In these, he had five sizes, a small hanging version, a handheld ladies version, a small freestanding version, a pocket-sized compact style and a pocket-watch style. He also had rough designs for a wrist watch, but was still having some minor issues with the watch-face being reflective enough, but hoped to have that solved in a few months. Anne had also suggested that he have make some larger mirrors that could be the base-mirror for larger mirror networks. Something to think about.

He had linked notebooks. So far, he had sets of two, four, six, ten and twelve. The type of book didn’t matter, just the rune-set, he would link them at the point of sale.

There were portkey tags. Affix a tag to something and you could portkey it to wherever the second tag was. Not able to be used for people, but worked excellently for trunks, bags and missing jumpers. They only worked three times, but he was licenced to reapply the charm-work, so customers could bring them back in and he’d renew them, for a minimal price.

Inkwells that had extended capacity, of up to an ounce of liquid. But he was hoping to increase that to five and ten ounces.

Quill-grips that were linked to a bottle of ink, via tiny glass balls that use a variant of a switching spell to connect the glass balls.

Study folders for students. Each folder held a notepad and had sleeves for a textbook, quills, a ruler, a pencil and an inkwell. Perfect to hold everything for a single subject.

Linkboxes, that were similar to a PostOwl Box, but were connected only to limited number of other boxes.

Personal Updateable Portfolios, where your documents were automatically sorted by date. Documents could added at any time or you could reset the folio and remove a document.

Portable Floos. As yet he only had two variations. FlooBowls. Drop a pinch of floo-powder in the bowl, set it alight and it would connect to the floo network in an audio-only capability. And Miniature Floo Fireplaces that came in a compact size, perfect for sitting on an office desk. No need to have a full-size, standard fireplace, if you only needed to talk to someone.

~~~

The 1^st of January 1997, saw Archer’s shop opening. The Magic Mirror was a relatively small shop, set just a few doors from Ollivanders’, towards Gringotts and almost directly opposite the twins’ shop, an excellent location, that had previously been The Kandied Kumquat, specialising in selling jams, preserves and candied fruits and vegetables.

It was an odd shaped shop, being nearly triangular, with two of the corners cut off, only ten foot wide at the front façade, but the odd shape increased the floorspace to roughly two-hundred-fifty square feet. He had shelving on all four walls, excluding room for a door that led to his tiny flat above the shop, behind the counter. Add in three freestanding display cabinets and his counter, and he had plenty of product space.

~~~

Each weekend, Archer and Syrion would spend a couple of hours, practicing the spell that mimicked the Draught of Living Death. They had no idea how successful they would be, outside of Fred Weasley, but they were going to try to save who they could.

~~~

Dumbledore’s death at Snape’s hands, made the Prophet. Or rather… Dumbledore’s death made the prophet, Snape’s part in it was hushed up.

“And now it begins.” Archer muttered to himself.

“What was that, pup?” Syrion asked, as he entered Archer’s little flat.

“Dumbledore’s death made the front page of the Prophet.” He held the newspaper, for Syrion to see.

“Ah.” The other wizard grunted.

“Yeah…”

The pair poured their mugs of tea and headed for the deck at the rear of the kitchen. Archer’s little flat was small, basically one room. It was above his little shop and while it was only one room, with mage-spaces, it was quite comfortable for one person, two would probably feel cramped, depending on how comfortable they were with each other. He’d made the physical room into a kitchen-dining space and added a small mage-space bathroom for guests. Above the lower section of the staircase, he’d had a small loft put in, just large enough to house the entrance to his library mage-space, with a bedroom/bathroom mage-space against the front wall.

Syrion didn’t live with him, but was only a few yards away, in an equally tiny flat above Creepy Scrawler’s Stationery shop. And because Syrion was raised very definitely as a pureblood, his domestic skills were quite… poor, so he tended to join Archer for most meals. Thankfully, he was quite good at cleaning spells and happy to cast them, in payment for his meals.

“Are you worried about the shop?” Syrion asked.

“No, not really.” Archer replied. “I have Ministry backing, because of the floo-stuff and the portkeys, so I don’t think Tom’s people are going to pay much attention to me. If they do, I’ll go to ground.” Anne had bought a little house in a muggle village and had Zeus put the fact that it was owned by a magical or that magic could be performed on the property, under a Fidelius. Worst came to worst, he could retreat there and continue to work on stock for the shop, with intent to re-open after Voldemort's death, the next May. “Come back when all the fuss is over.”

“Not a bad idea, pup.” Syrion nodded. “Might think about doing the same.”

“Why worry, you can always stay in the Hole or one of their safehouses.”

“Oh.” Syrion blinked. “Hadn’t thought about that.” He nodded a few times.

“Saw Remus yesterday.” Archer offered.

“Yeah?” Syrion leant forward a little. “How was he?” He missed the other Marauder.

“Looked good.” Archer grinned. “He was on a date.”

“A date?!” Syrion nearly choked on his tea. “A… an actual date, date? Not just a…?”

“An actual date.” Archer replied. “Romantic little café on Cranbourn Street. I saw them in the window, as I was walking passed.”

“What were you-?” Syrion cut himself off. “You were going for more mirrors, weren’t you?”

“I was.” Archer nodded. “And Leicester Square Station is right there.”

“It is.” Syrion nodded. “So? Who was he seeing?”

Archer laughed. “Tonks. Remember? I told you they had a son, Teddy.”

“And they left him to go fight.” Syrion shook his head.

~~~

August came and with it, the fall of the Ministry.

For all that he’d told Syrion , he wasn’t worried about the Death Eaters targeting him, he was still a little nervous about it, every time a Ministry official entered the shop. But it seemed as though everyone was carrying on with a, business-as-usual attitude.

In mid-September, Archer blinked when his shop door opened and a redheaded twin sidled in.

“Weasley.” Archer nodded and studied the redhead’s face, it was Fred approaching his counter.

“Jameson.” Fred grinned, brightly.

“What can I do for you?”

“Just though I should drop by and say hi.” Fred made a point of looking around. “Get to know my fellow retailers.”

“Yeah, right.” Archer snorted. “Why do I not believe that?”

“Yeah, alright.” Fred huffed. “You caught me.”

“Spill.” Archer ordered.

“What do you think about the head snake?”

“Are we talking Snape or his… Master?”

“The latter.”

“Well he’s certainly not good for business, that’s for sure.” Archer huffed, nodding to the nearly empty Alley. “I know you’re friends with Potter, so spit it out. What do you need?”

Fred studied him for a few moments. “Fighters. A way to hide those fighters. Somewhere to meet. And a way to talk to everyone.” He spoke slowly and seriously.

“When it’s time, I’ll fight.” Archer nodded, just as seriously. “I can definitely bring one, maybe as many as three others, depending on what happens between now and then. To hide someone, the best way to do it, is in plain sight. As for a location, go through Gringotts, buy a place somewhere and get them to throw a Fidelius on it. Yes, the purchase shows up in the Ministry archives, but… if you get the purchase and the Fidelius done on the same day, the documents don’t list an address, only that the property was placed under Fidelius before the documents were lodged at the end of the day.”

“Whoa…” Fred exclaimed.

“And communication is what I’m all about.” Archer waved to the shelves. “Compact mirrors, pocket watches and wrist watches. All work like they namesakes. How many do you need?”

Fred paused. “Um… That kinda depends on how expensive they are and how many can be linked together.”

“I’d suggest having them based around a wall-mounted mirror.” Archer said. “More stability, which means more smaller surfaces can be linked.”

“Uh…”

“How many?” Archer repeated the question.

“Thirty?” Fred grimaced.

“Easy done, with a wall mirror as the base-link.” Archer nodded. “Gold, silver, bronze, steel, enamel, yellow, blue, green, red, lions, snakes, ravens, eagles, badgers, crests.”

“Oh, God…” Fred groaned.

“Okay, simplify it.” Archer sighed. “Male and female. How many of each?”

“Um… Ten female?” It sounded more like a question than an answer.

“Err on the side of caution.” Archer advised. “Get more than you need, that way if you need them, you have spares.”

“Oh, okay.” Fred nodded slowly. “Okay… Fifteen for the ladies. And… twenty-five for the gents.”

“Going to have to be a decent sized wall mirror to support the charmwork.” Archer mused. “Let me see what I’ve got. Have a browse. I’d suggest a mix of wrist, compact and pocket-watches. Think about who they’re for, if you know, and pick something they’d have on them, on a daily basis. A communications mirror is no good if it’s kept in a drawer.”

“But if they wear it, doesn’t it make a noise when someone’s trying to reach them?”

“Normally, yes, but they do have silencing features.” Archer headed for his storeroom. “Gimme a sec and you go pick some things out.” After a few minutes, he re-emerged into the shop levitating three large mirrors. “I’ve got these three that are large enough to support up to fifty mirrors, a piece. Which one do you prefer? Think about who’s going to house it and where, before you decide.” He flicked his wand and let the three settle to the floor. “Two are wall mirrors, the third is a cheval mirror.”

“The cheval.” Fred nodded. “That can go in any girl’s room.” He had a basket of watches in his hand.

“Good choice.” Archer nodded. “How did you go?”

“Yeah, good.” Fred nodded. “I stuck mostly with wrist watches, for the guys. Only a couple of them would have pocket watches, but I did get a few of them, too.”

“Good.” Archer nodded. “And for the ladies?”

“A few wrist watches but mostly compacts.” Fred replied. “But if that mirror can hold fifty, I should grab a few more.” He frowned. “Shouldn’t I?”

“Get as many as you can.” Archer nodded.

“And how much is this going to cost me?”

“This for your DA?” Archer grinned, at the look on Fred’s face. “Oh, come on. Roger was in that and we shared a dorm with him. Of course we knew about it.”

“Uh…”

“If any of these are for current students, stick with simple silver, steel or leather. Don’t get flashy, you don’t want someone to confiscate it. Steer clear of the compacts, you don’t know if makeup is banned.”

“Okay…” Fred looked almost overwhelmed.

“When in doubt, Keep It Simple.” Archer advised.

“And the cost?”

“For the DA?” Archer asked, again, but this time Fred nodded. “I thought so. Pay for the big mirror and consider the rest my donation. ʛ40.” It was a lot of money, but not when you considered exactly what they got. “Once this it all over, have everyone bring them back and I’ll reset the enchantments, they can keep the watch, but they’ll need to decide on whether they stay in your network or make their own. Or both.” When Fred nodded, he tapped the appropriate buttons on his register and nodded to the Gringotts sigil on the side of the register. Fred pulled a seal from his waistcoat and laid it against the sigil, waiting for the sigil to flare with golden light, then he slipped the seal back into his pocket.

“You can do both?”

“Yeah, I can.” Archer answered. “It’s tricky and I’d need to add a second set of runes to each mirror that was going to be in a second network. And they’ll need their own base-mirror, too.”

“Okay, then…” Fred shook his head. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Fair enough.”

“You serious about joining us?” Fred asked.

“When this all comes to a head, yeah.” Archer nodded. “Not so much in the lead-up. Your people probably won’t know me or trust me.”

“Yeah, true, mate.” Fred sighed. “Then you should keep a mirror. So we can let you know, when the snitch is let loose.” With that he laid his basket down on the counter. “Pick one.”

Archer grinned and grabbed heavy, dark brown, semi-skeleton watch. “That’ll do.” He slipped it around his wrist and did up the buckle. “Now, give me a few minutes to link these all together and you’ll be right to go.” He offered over a small bag. “Tuck them into that, when I hand them to you. You can roll it up and put it in your pocket, but I suggest letting anyone watching, see you leave with the cheval. Maybe conjure a pink bow to put on it, let them think that it’s a present for your sister, her birthday’s this month. Right?” He started activating the rune-sequences that linked each watch to the cheval mirror, handing each over to Fred as he finished with it.

“Yeah, last week.” Fred replied. “But she’s at school. Thinking we’ll get someone else to keep tabs on this.” he flicked his wand and a bright purple ribbon emerged from the tip and tied itself up in a bow, before settling off-centre of the mirror’s upper edge. “And she prefers purple.”

“Ah, your Auror friend.” Archer nodded. “The one that hooked up with Lupin. Good choice.”

“How’d you know?” Fred frowned.

“Saw them in muggle London, when I went shopping for blank mirrors.” He grinned. “A nice romantic little restaurant, they were quite cosy, sipping red wine and eating pasta. Very intimate, they were.”

“Oh, Lord…” Fred shook his head.

“You’re all done.” Archer dropped the last watch in Fred’s hand. “Let me know when the snitch is in play, I’ll be there. You might not see me, but I’ll be there, somewhere. He won’t win, we won’t let him.”

“From you lips to Lady Magic’s ears.” Fred offered a weak smile.

“Don’t stress on it too much,” Archer advised, “Potter’s on the job and he’s got Granger with him.”

“And Ron.” Fred nodded a little more confidently. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

“That’s the spirit.” Archer grinned. “Now get out of my shop, before the watchers start getting suspicious.”

Fred was laughing as he left the shop, the cheval mirror in his arms.

“Thanks, mate.” He called back. “She’ll love it.”

~~~

Chapter Text

“You’re all done.” Archer dropped the last watch in Fred’s hand. “Let me know when the snitch is in play, I’ll be there. You might not see me, but I’ll be there, somewhere. He won’t win, we won’t let him.”

“From you lips to Lady Magic’s ears.” Fred offered a weak smile.

“Don’t stress on it too much,” Archer advised, “Potter’s on the job and he’s got Granger with him.”

“And Ron.” Fred nodded a little more confidently. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

“That’s the spirit.” Archer grinned. “Now get out of my shop, before the watchers start getting suspicious.”

Fred was laughing as he left the shop, the cheval mirror in his arms.

“Thanks, mate.” He called back. “She’ll love it.”

~~~

The year got grimmer and darker, the atmosphere in the Alley getting quieter by the day.

Archer was right in his comments to Syrion , the Ministry barely looked at him. Oh, sure, his documentation for the portkey tags was heavily scrutinised and the permits for the floos had to be resubmitted for assessment, but that passed very quickly.

He did get called in for questioning about his parentage, just the once, though. As soon as he showed his Gringotts Identity test, that stated he’d been repudiated, he was released immediately and even compensated for the time his shop was closed. It was an open secret that repudiations were rarely done by Light families, so the probability that he was the child of a Dark sympathiser, was high. That being the case, no-one was going to authorise his incarceration, just in case his father knew about him and took offence.

~~~

With a Ministry registered apparition licence, he went to the park in the centre of Grimmauld Place and called Kreacher.

“What does the filthy halfblood want of Kreacher?” Kreacher spat.

“I know elves can access a wizard’s memory, if they’re given permission.” Archer started. “Read this.” He held out the slip that Lady Augusta had written out, the slip that contained enough of his Secret, that he could share the rest with the elf.

Kreacher read the slip and looked at Archer. “Filthy halfblood thinks that will make any difference to Kreacher.”

“No, but my memories will.” Archer corrected. “Look at them, watch my memories.”

Having an elf cast their version of legilimency on a wizard, is painful. Excruciatingly painful. But Archer made no sound, pain was something that he could deal with, even if it had been a few years since he’d had to handle that much.

Once finished, the elf looked at him differently.

“Master Harry Potter will help Kreacher finish Master Regulus’ tasks?”

“He will.” Archer nodded.

“But… is you not Harry Potter?”

“Not anymore, Kreacher.” Archer sighed and shook his head, willing the arche to go away, but knowing that it would take an hour to fade and no potion existed that would help.

“What will happen to Kreacher, when Master Harry Potter, becomes not-Master?”

“I left you in the care of Ronald Weasley. He is to be the next Lord Black.”

Kreacher nodded. “Kreacher be pleased to serve a new Lord Black.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Archer smiled. “But before that happens, I want to know. Can you let me take some of the library?”

“Kreacher cannot.” The elf whined in distress. “The books are entailed to the house, they’s cannot be leaving the house.”

“Okay, I thought that might be the case.” Archer sighed. “What about copies of the books?”

“Oh, yes, Master not-Harry.” Kreacher nodded, eagerly. “Kreacher can be copying lots of the books for Master not-Harry, not all of them, but most can be’s copied.”

“Excellent.” Archer grinned. “What do you need from me, for permanent copies?”

“Kreacher will needs blank books, Master not-Harry. And ink.”

“Right.” Archer handed over a small bag. “There a thousand blank books in that and a gallon bottle of ink. When you’ve finished copying books, or used all of them, bring them to me. I have a small shop in Diagon called the Magic Mirror. If you use all of them, let me know how many more you need and I’ll get them for you. I have thousands in storage, as I sell them in linked sets.”

“Yes, Master not-Harry.” Kreacher nodded. “But Kreacher be thinking that he’s be needing more, lots more. Kreacher be thinking that he can copy nearly ten times that many’s books.”

“Whoa…” Archer whispered. “Okay, right. “Rule out any texts for Hogwarts. Start with the more obscure stuff. Then come and see me, I’ll show you my library and you can access the catalogue, that way you can cross out anything I already have.”

“Yes, Master not-Harry.” Kreacher nodded.

All-in-all it took Kreacher two weeks to fully curate the black library and copy what Archer didn’t already have in his own.

At the end of that time, Archer told Kreacher to start on cleaning, repairing  and redecorating Grimmauld place, to choose reds and golds, but to keep to the older, darker tones with black as a highlight, feature or background. To pick furniture that was strong with simple clean lines. That the overall style was to be classical, understated elegance.

~~~

Just a few days before Yule, George Weasley’s face appeared on Archer’s watch.

“Not a call to fight.” George began with. “It’s just… A few people want to modify their watches, to create a girls-only network, but can’t been seen in public, in the wizarding world. Any chance you can meet them? Somewhere that’s not going to get them killed?”

“Ireland, England, Scotland or Wales?”

“England by preference.”

“Where?”

“Cotswolds, Exmoor, Dartmoor or the South Downs.” George answered, briefly. “Your choice.”

“Dartmoor’s the furthest from London and Diagon.” Archer replied. “Let’s go with that. How do I find them?”

“You don’t.” George answered. “They’ll find you. Hexworthy, the Week Ford Stepping stones. There’s a clump of trees on the south side, they’ll meet you there.”

“And how will I know if it’s them and not just some random stranger or a Death Eater under polyjuice?”

George turned to his right and muttered the question to someone that Archer couldn’t see. After a few moments, he turned back.

“Pass phrases.” He stated. “They’ll say ‘the snitch may not be in play’ and you’ll reply, ‘but the bludgers are’. There should be four of them, if not, ask why. They should say one of two things. If there’s less than four, they’ll say, ‘emancipation is possible’. If there’s more than four, they’ll say ‘the DA was better than Umbitch’. Anything else and it’s not our people and fee free to blast the shite out of them.”

“When?”

“ASAP.”

“Fifteen minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, mate.” George cut the connection and Archer finished shutting his shop, grabbing a mirror to use as the rune-base and his rune-pen.

He ran up the stairs and stopped in front of Syrion, who was sitting at is the little table.

“I brought steaks for dinner.” Syrion said.

“That’s fine, but it’s gonna be late.” Archer answered, heading for his bedroom, he needed a heavy jacket if he was going out in December, in the muggle world. “George called about a DA network modification. Wants me to meet with them tonight.”

“Need a hand?” Syrion had to raise his voice, to be heard.

“Nah.” Archer re-emerged with a heavy blue and brown jacket. “I’ve got a rune-pen and a base-mirror, don’t need anything else, really. Should be back inside the hour, but no guarantees.” He sipped both items into his old school satchel.

“Right.” Syrion nodded. “Any trouble, put ‘em down, hard and fast.”

“Will do.” Archer grinned, slid his arms into the jacket and slung the satchel over his head. “See ya soon.” With that, he exited the kitchen and once on the little deck, apparated away, glad that he’d checked the coordinates for the stepping stones, before he’d left the shop.

Landing just off the path to the stones, Archer quickly looked around for people, but saw no-one. He shrugged and made his way to the copse of trees, sat himself down on a log, and prepared to wait for whoever it was to show up.

Within a few minutes, he heard footsteps that echoed in the evening silence.

“Hello.” A familiar female voice called for his attention.

“Ah Auror Tonks.” Archer grinned. “I though it might be you.”

“Oh, how-”

“Passwords first.” A harder voice cut in, it was still familiar to Archer, but he couldn’t place it.

“Oh, right.” Tonks nodded. “Um… The snitch isn't being played…?”

“Oh for heavens sake!” The other voice snapped. “Why the hell don’t you listen? I know you’re pregnant, but surely you can remember a simple phrase? Idiot!”

“Did I get it wrong?” Tonks sighed.

“Of course you did.” The other voice grumbled.

“Then what was it supposed to be?”

“The snitch may not be in play…”

“Same thing.” Tonks huffed.

“No! Not the same thing at all, you twit.”

Archer started to laugh, which drew the attention back to him. “And I’m supposed to reply… but the bludgers are.”

“Thank Merlin someone’s brain is still working.” The voice muttered as five young women rounded the path and came into sight. Tonks, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, Penelope Clearwater and Tamsin Appleby.

“I was told there’d only be four of you.” Archer frowned.

“Yeah, but the DA was better than Umbitch.” Katie grinned.

“Fair enough.” Archer nodded. “A twin said you want to make a girl’s only network, but still stay in theirs.” It wasn’t a question. “You’ll need a base-mirror to link all of yours to. I brought a freestanding mirror for a dresser or table. I wasn’t certain how many mirrors you want in your network, so I got something that would hold a decent network. This will take up to twenty-five mirrors.”

“Oh, excellent.” The owner of the unknown voice, turned out to be Tamsin. “I’ve got a few of the spares and a couple from some of the girls. And hello, Jameson.”

“Miss Appleby.” She’d been in his year, but in Hufflepuff, not Ravenclaw. “Anyone around, or can I conjure a desk to work on?”

“There’s a couple around, but they’re ours, so conjure away.” Tonks replied cheerfully.

Archer didn’t reply, he just conjured his table and got to work. He was hungry and cold, and wanted to go home for dinner. The longer he messed around, the later that dinner would be.

~~~

In March, Archer got called out again, to make another secondary network, but otherwise, he was left out of the DA’s rebellion.

In mid-April, he saw Tonks in London and was introduced to little Teddy. It was hard, but it also cemented his desire to try and save her and Remus. The really frustrating thing was that he wouldn’t know how successful he’d been until after Harry’s trial.

~~~

When Fred’s face appeared on his watch, on the evening of the first of May, it had the odd shimmering effect, that said the base-mirror was calling all the linked mirrors.

“It’s time.” Fred stated. “Apparition point for the Hogshead, Abeforth will show you where to go from there. Oliver, Katie, Angie, Cho, Alicia, McClaggen? Bring your brooms. Jameson, Towler, Cho? You mentioned a couple of extra fighters? If you’ve got ‘em, bring ‘em. Within the next half hour, if you can.” With that Fred’s face faded.

Archer turned to Syrion, Anne and Zeus. “Last chance to back out. If you go and don’t fight your hardest, I will hunt you down and you’ll wish it had been Riddle that had found you. Understand?” For the first time all three of them were seeing the difference between their young friend and the Saviour of the Wizarding World and it was a significant one. His posture, his voice, his whole attitude.

It was quite intimidating.

Even Zeus, who held the position of Head of the Unspeakables, blinked at the change. Anne and Syrion looked at each other and shuddered. This wasn’t their nephew and no allowances would be granted for stupidity.

“Yes, sir.” Zeus wasn’t used to others being in command, but he knew that tonight, he’d have to accept it.

“Good.” Archer nodded. “Pepper-Ups, Core Boosters and General Antidotes. Take them now. Grab a belt bag, they’ve got potions and bezoars. Don’t forget your booster crystals.” He pointedly picked up a cuff with a row of small crystals embedded into the leather and slipped it around the wrist of his wand-hand.

The four of them were dressed in a dark, slightly mottled grey, trousers, shirt, vest and jacket. No robes, not tonight, they needed to be able to move freely and robes could be a little restricting.

Landing in the little courtyard of the Hogshead, Archer wasn’t surprised to see another half dozen people in a line, waiting to get in the door. One-by-one, they stepped through the door, made their way down a set of stairs, into what was clearly the private rooms of the tavern keeper. Across the floor and up a staircase, constructed out of chair, table and mantle, then into a hole behind a painting.

Then it was a long walk through a dark tunnel.

Archer huffed and instead of walking with his wand lit, he lit the wand and pressed it to the ceiling of the tunnel and the little ball of light fixed itself to the ceiling’s surface. Syrion snorted and began to do the same, at waist-height. The two of them did this all the way to the tunnel’s end.

The next few hours were… frantic. That’s all that you could call them.

The split up, each had someone that they were to stay near, near enough to cast the Draught of Living Death simulation spell, in an attempt to save lives.

Zeus was to follow Remus and Tonks, Syrion was to follow Fred, Anne was to follow Colin Creevey and Archer was going after Snape.

Archer decided that his best chance of being undetected was to be in-place, with various charms to hide him from Nagini, well before Voldy and Snape entered the boathouse.

He winced with each hit of Nagini’s fangs and quickly cast a spell to switch a potion from a phial to Snape’s stomach. Then he had to wait while Harry spoke to the man. Once Harry, Hermione and Ron had left, Archer cast the simulation spell and again, spelled potions directly into the man’s stomach, only this time, he left the phials on the floor at Snape’s hand. Let people think that Snape had dosed himself. The man would know he hadn’t done it to himself, but he’d be unlikely to tell anyone else.

Then he headed back to the castle, he knew there would be a lull in the fighting and he planned to assist Madam Pomfrey as much as he could. Once the fighting resumed, he and his planned to retreat to a higher level and hit people from a distance.

When the dawn came and the fighting ceased, Archer and Anne joined Madam Pomfrey’s healing crew, again. Syrion and Zeus joined Oliver and Lee, in bringing the injured and fallen to the Great Hall.

Ron’s return to the castle without Harry and Hermione, initially raised some alarm, until the redhead said that Shacklebolt was with them and why. It was at that point, that Archer questioned about nervous system reactions in death and Madam Pomfrey cast the appropriate spell at Fred Weasley, only to get a result that had her becoming frantic. His nervous system was still actively processing external stimuli and it shouldn’t have been, at length of time after death, it should only register the residue of internal stimuli. What did that mean?

He was alive.

This prompted the healers to begin casting at all the so-called dead, and while many of them were dead, some weren’t. Colin Creevey, Remus Lupin, Fred Weasley, Tamsin Appleby, Ken Towler, Jessica Tring, Roger Davies, Ethan Gerard, Seamus Finnegan, Sturgis Podmore, Severus Snape and Alicia Spinnet all survived, where they’d initially been thought dead.

~~~

Chapter Text

Ron’s return to the castle without Harry and Hermione, initially raised some alarm, until the redhead said that Shacklebolt was with them and why. It was at that point that Archer questioned about nervous system reactions in death and Madam Pomfrey cast the appropriate spell at Fred Weasley, only to get a result that had her becoming frantic. His nervous system was still actively processing external stimuli and it shouldn’t have been, at length of time after death, it should only register the residue of internal stimuli. What did that mean?

He was alive.

This prompted the healers to begin casting at all the so-called dead, and while many of them were dead, some weren’t. Colin Creevey, Remus Lupin, Fred Weasley, Tamsin Appleby, Ken Towler, Jessica Tring, Roger Davies, Ethan Gerard, Seamus Finnegan, Sturgis Podmore, Severus Snape and Alicia Spinnet all survived, where they’d initially been thought dead.

~~~

Archer, Syrion and Anne left the castle late morning. They went to Archer’s flat and one-by-one showered, then sat down to eat the meal that Archer had left under stasis, for their return.

“So…?” Syrion asked. “Now what?”

“Now we wait.” Archer sighed.

“Again.” Anne added. “It was almost midday on the eighth, when we entered the Time Room.”

“Thursday.” Syrion grimaced.

“Yeah.” Archer nodded.

“Oh, I meant to tell you.” Anne suddenly blinked. “The ICW have concluded their research into the timeline ritual.”

“And?” Archer leant forward eagerly.

“March solstice.” Anne smiled. “They plan to notify the various Ministries, as soon as they are notified that Harry’s sentence has begun. They’ve also agreed to claim the ritual requires a sacrifice, it does but only of a small amount of blood. However, they’ve agreed to tell the world, that the sacrifice needed is a human magical, of a certain level of power, and that Harry is currently the only one that matches the criteria. He’s volunteered to be die and have his magic harvested to fuel the ritual.”

“Oh, thank God.” Archer sighed in relief.

“In the meantime, each country has to come up with a way to locate their unregistered squibs, underage magicals and unregistered magicals.”

“Ooh, that’s going to be a nightmare…” Archer whined.

“No, as far as I know, Zeus and Anne have already worked that all out.” Syrion stated.

“What about those that have muggle families?” Archer asked. “Like Hermione and Lee?”

Anne smiled. “They’ll be able to offer them a cuff of booster crystals to wear, which as far as the ritual is concerned, imitates a magical core. I’ve spent the last six months making the blasted things.”

“Oh, good.” Archer smiled.

“And for those squibs that don’t want to be a part of this,” Anne went on, “like Petunia, we have their cores stripped, rendering them muggles. There’s no changing your mind, later. It’s permanent. So, each of them are questioned under veritaserum, about their attitudes towards the Wizarding World and they’re treated depending on that interview.”

“Petunia…?” Archer frowned. “Not Petunia and Dudley?”

“No.” Anne shook her head. “Once he fully understood what was going on, Dudley wasn’t happy with his parents. He requested that he be removed from their location and placed elsewhere. We’ve been able to provide him with some healing and he’s made great progress. The dementor damage has been repaired and he’s been working with Zeus in locating and speaking to people that are, unknown to themselves, squibs. So far, only a few have requested stripping, but they’ve found that quite a few lied in their initial interview and actually had very negative attitudes towards magic. Although they did have a couple that were only bowing to peer pressure with their rejections. They were offered protection and the chance to join us. They all accepted.”

“Whoa…” Archer exclaimed almost silently.

“Yes.” Anne nodded. “We believe that they’ve located and contacted approximately ninety-eight percent of the squibs in Britain. And of course, the Book of Names, has a listing for all the muggleborns, who we’ve discovered, should actually be called squibborns, as all of them have squib ancestors. That was rather helpful to use, in regard to locating potential magicals that aren’t yet born and their squib parents.”

“Oh, wow…” Archer gasped.

“It’s rather fascinating.” Anne nodded. “I was considering recruiting Harry’s friend Hermione, at least until her actions against her parents. That was nasty. We had to get the Australians to reverse the obliviate, before they could look towards whether they wanted to have her charged. At the least, it would be classified as muggle-baiting.”

“Oh, Merlin…” Archer sighed. “That’s not good.”

“They opted for stripping and a new identity.” Anne agreed. “But they did leave a letter for Hermione, it’s not… nice. They weren’t pleased. Like I said, they opted for the stripping and new id’s, but they didn’t want to stay in Australia. What she did to them, it’s tainted their enthusiasm for the country.”

“Ouch. She’s not going to be happy.”

“Too bad.” Anne was unrepentant. “She’s lucky they understood the severity of what could have happened to them, if she hadn’t obliviated them, but that doesn’t change the fact, that she took the choice away from them. She destroyed their trust in her. If they’d charged her, as a muggleborn she’d probably have been given the choice between having her magic stripped and been dumped back in the muggle world, or Azkaban. And in the very unlikely event that she had escaped either of those sentences, she’d have never been allowed to work for the Ministry, in any capacity, nor would she have been permitted to become a teacher, not even a tutor. She’d never be permitted to work with muggles or muggle raised, either. And the Ministry would probably have ordered her to be sterilised and banned her from the adoption lists.”

“In other words…” Archer replied slowly. “No Ministry, no muggles, no muggle raised and no children? Or no magic.”

“Pretty much.” Anne nodded. “Not a great choice.”

“She is going to go spare!” Archer groaned. “It’ll be the Ministry targeting her. That’s all she’ll see.”

“Oh, no.” Anne huffed. “Not just her. There’s about a dozen other muggle raised, that did the same thing. Although, she did a better job than some of them. A couple of their victims will never recover, no matter what help is given. And two are being charged with everything their families can throw at them, seeing as there were younger children involved.”

“Oh, Lord.” Archer’s eyes went wide. “Are the kids alright?”

“In one case, no.” Anne shook her head. “But the others, we managed to reverse the obliviate and repair the damage done. But one little boy will never recover, his mind is too damaged.”

“And Hermione did that to her parents…” It wasn’t a question.

“She did.” Anne agreed. “But like I said, she was more proficient in her casting. Less damage to repair.”

“When will she be told?”

“Immediately after Anna and Harry enter the Time Room,” Anne replied, “she’ll be called in and given the news. Shacklebolt will be handling that.”

“Better him than me.” Archer grimaced. “Remind me to send Lady Augusta a request, for a meeting.”

“I’d leave that until for a week or three.” Syrion suggested. “This month is going to be busy enough for her, don’t make it worse.”

~~~

As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait that long.

Friday morning, approximately sixteen hours after Harry and Anna had entered the Time Room, Lady Augusta Longbottom, escorted by her grandson, the newly recognised Lord Longbottom, entered Archer’s shop.

“Lady Augusta, Mr Longbottom.” Archer gave the woman a bow. “Welcome to the Magic Mirror.”

“My grandson has accepted his Lordship ring, Mr Potter.” Lady Augusta said the name Potter, quite firmly. “Are you ready to reclaim that which I hold?”

“I…” Archer paused. “I’m not sure…” It was barely a whisper.

“Yes, you are.” Neville huffed. “If not for yourself, then for those of us that followed you.”

“Neville…” Archer spoke almost silently.

“Not saying, I expect you to tell everyone.” The younger man shook his head. “But some of us, we deserve to know, that you’re still you. Whether you’re Harry or Archer, you’re still you. And we’re waiting. The rest of the world can hang, but we deserve it.”

Archer drew in a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. You do.” He looked Lady Augusta in the eye and nodded, again. “I’m ready, my Lady.”

“Very good.” She smiled at him and pulled the first slip of parchment, the slip that had been used in the casting of the Fidelius, that was holding magic of the Secret, from her sleeve and taking her wand, cast at the parchment, “fideli secretum convertat, aeternum,” erasing the writing and the releasing the charm.

Archer felt the tiny bite of pressure, that had held his tongue for nine years, fade.

“I think you’d best close your shop and go see a few friends, don’t you?” Lady Augusta smiled.

“I think you might be right.” Archer grinned back and began the process of locking down the shop, that he'd barely opened. “Oh, do you think you could be so kind, as to see about clearing my godfather’s name? If Kingsley is interim Minister, it might be possible, yes?”

“Yes, I do believe it might be.” Augusta nodded. “I think the young lout deserves that.”

“I think he’ll spend far too much time moaning about it taking so long.”

August started to speak, but paused as she reassessed exactly what Archer had said.

“He… will…?”

“Think it can be done by November?” Archer’s grin became cheeky. “It’d make a great birthday present.”

“He is believed dead.” August finally said.

“He was believed guilty.” Archer nodded. “And he’s very much a Marauder.”

“Frank did like their pranks.” Augusta shook her head, with a smile.

“And I’m not following.” Neville added.

“My godfather was…. Who?”

“Uh…?” Neville frowned. “Not really sure… Should I know?”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Neville.” Augusta sighed.

“Third year and the sleepover in the Great Hall.” Archer huffed. “Who caused that?”

“Oh, that was Siri-” Neville’s jaw fell. “Oh, good Lord. Him? He’s your godfather? He’s alive?”

“Had breakfast with him, this morning.” Archer said.

“Oh, heavens…” Augusta sighed.

“Yes.” Archer nodded. “Now, before I go. Can you tell me? Who did we lose? From the DA, students, staff and the Order?”

Neville took a deep breath and began to recite. “Camelia Forsythe, Adelaide Merring, Lavender Brown, Joseph Hopkins, Laura Bridger, Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, Jessica Trimble, Scott Brown, Paige Grant and Filch.”

“Remus Lupin?”

“Alive. Not regained consciousness, but alive.”

“Fred Weasley?”

“Alive, has been released and after a blow-up with his mother, back at the shop as of Tuesday afternoon.”

“Colin Creevey?”

“Alive. Dennis is having a grand time guilting him.” Neville grinned.

“He would be.” Archer grinned. “Snape?”

“Still here. McGonagall was quite gleeful, in reminding him he’s still Headmaster.”

“She still doesn’t want the post, then?”

“Oh, no, very much not.” Neville laughed.

“Right.” Archer bit his lip. “Who first, do you think?”

“Who? Who else?” Neville huffed. “She’ll never forgive you, if it’s not her. And him.”

“Do you know where I can find them? Are they at the Burrow?”

“No, but all I know is the House of Black.” Neville shook his head. “But where that is? No idea.”

“That’s fine, I know where that is.” Archer nodded. “Would you care for a cup of tea, Lady Augusta?”

“No, thank you, my dear.”

“Stop faffing around and get going.” Neville said bluntly and escorted his grandmother to the door. “Before I hex you.”

“Yes, sir, Lord Longbottom, sir.” Archer laughed and closed the door behind them, hitting the ward-lock and posting a ‘Closed for family matters’ sign on the door. Then he closed his eyes and apparated.

He appeared on the front steps of Grimmauld Place, inside the Fidelius. He drew in a calming breath and raised a hand. The door-knocker echoed inside the house and in a few seconds, the door opened.

Kreacher looked up at him. “Former Master not-Harry.”

“Kreacher.” Archer smiled at the now, healthy looking elf. “Is your Master in?”

“Master is in.” Kreacher nodded. “He not be out of bed, but he be in the house. Would former-Master not-Harry like to speak with him?”

“I would.”

“Should Kreacher warn him that the guest is former-Master or should Kreacher introduce former-Master as Mr Jameson?”

“My Secret is released, Kreacher. I would not keep it from him, any longer than I must.”

“Then Kreacher will tell him.” The elf opened the opened the door. “Former-Master remembers the way to the kitchen, he should wait there, while Kreacher wakes the Master. Master will want breakfast.”

“Thank you Kreacher.” Archer nodded and stepped into the house. “And do you know anything of Hermione?”

“Missy Granger is in the library.” Kreacher paused. “Kreacher should tell her, on his way to Master.”

“Let her get the rant out of her system before he gets down?” Archer nodded. “Probably not a bad idea.”

“Kreacher agrees. Kreacher shall do so.” The elf closed the door and popped away.

Archer took the few steps needed to go from the front door, to the stairwell. He descended the stairs and moved to stand near the little windows that let light into the basement kitchen. Even from there, he heard the shriek that Hermione made, that was closely followed by recklessly fast feet on stairs, before she entered the kitchen.

“Hello, Hermione.” He had his back to her, but that didn’t matter, he knew she was there.

“Harry…?”

“Not any more, Mione.” He turned around, so she could see his face.

“I… Jameson…?” She whispered. “Elwood Jameson… Oh, God, I am so stupid! Jameson, James’ son. And Elwood means ‘old forest’, that’s for your mother, right?”

“Elwood for mum, Archer for Sirius and Jameson for dad.” Archer nodded and grinned when Ron bellowed somewhere above them.

“You made Ron, Lord Black.” Hermione huffed.

“Of course, I did.” Archer nodded. “Who else would I entrust Kreacher and Grimmauld to, but Ron?”

“You left Teddy the Potter lordship.” Hermione said. “Remus isn’t dead.”

“Neither is Sirius.” Archer grinned.

“Oh, hell…” Hermione groaned, but before she could say anything more, Ron stumbled down the stairs and staggered into the kitchen.

“Harry? Kreacher said Harry was… Jameson?”

“Elwood for mum, Archer for Sirius and Jameson for dad.” Archer repeated.

“Jameson… James’ son.” Ron muttered. “Oh bloody hell. How’d we miss that?”

“Because you weren’t looking for it.” Archer answered. “I was there before Harry, in your minds, thanks to Oliver.”

“He knows?” Ron squawked.

“Nope.” Archer shook his head. “Aftee the Trial, only four people know, Lady Augusta Longbottom, Kingsley, Neville and the Ferret.”

“Why him?” Ron whined.

“Because Trelawney said so.” Archer replied. “And quite bluntly, given the rest of what she had to say? I was gonna do exactly what she said.”

“How bad?” Hermione grimaced.

“There’s a muggle pandemic coming.” Archer said. “Not sure when, but it’s coming. And if we’re still here when it hits, it’s the end of magic.”

“Oh, shite…” Ron exclaimed.

“I spent as much of my time researching, as I could.” Archer shrugged. “I figured it out. How to create a new timeline, where only magicals go. It’s… It doesn’t kill off the muggles, they just don’t go into that timeline, they stay in the original line.”

“What about the families of muggleborns?” Hermione asked. “And the underage muggle-raised?”

“Muggles that want to come with us, into the new timeline, will be given a booster crystal cuff, that will simulate a magical core.” Archer answered. “That will give them access to the same level of magic, as a squib.”

“Kingsley told me about my parents’ reactions.” Hermione whispered.

“I was told you were going to be called in, about that.” Archer agreed.

“My parents won’t be coming…” Hermione shuddered. “They see what I did as a betrayal…”

“Yes.” Archer agreed.

“They were never all that pleased that I chose magic over medicine.” Hermione sighed.

“Fred’s alive.” Ron tried to lighten the subject.

“You’re welcome.” Archer grinned.

“What?” Both of them looked at him blankly.

“That was Sirius.”

“Sirius is dead…” Ron frowned.

“Yeah, not so much.” Archer shook his head. “He followed Fred and George, during the battle.”

“Where were you?” Hermione asked.

“I went after Snape.”

“Apparently, he’s on our side.” Hermione huffed.

“Yep.” Archer nodded. “As much Dumbledore’s man, as I ever was. And even more loyal to mum. She was why he did it. He loved her. Not sure how, though. Dumbledore implied he was in love with her, but… honestly…? His memories say otherwise. More sibling. But I don’t suppose it matters. He loved her and he did everything he could, to bring down her killer.”

“True.” Hermione nodded.

“How long?” Ron asked.

“How long, what?” Archer asked, blinking.

“How long have we got you for?”

“I need to get back to my shop, sooner or later.” Archer huffed. “I was hoping to get to see everyone, today.”

“You know mum’s going to go spare.” Ron stated.

“Yeah, I’m leaving that visit for last.” Archer laughed.

“Who’s on the list?” Hermione asked.

“The twins, Bill and Fleur, McGonagall, Snape, Hagrid, Flitty, Luna, the DA, maybe. Remus, definitely.”

“As of last night, Remus was still unconscious.” Hermione nodded. “But everyone else is awake, not all are up and about, but conscious, yes. All but Fred, are under the care of Madam Pomfrey, who had better be on the list, Harry...” She paused. “That doesn’t fit right.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Archer agreed. “And I’d prefer to stick with Archer, anyway. Leave Harry for his adoring public and Archer for my friends.”

“Hogwarts, first.” Ron stated. “Hermione will go with you. And bring you to the twins' shop, once you get there, I’ll go round up the DA.”

“That sounds good.” Archer smiled.

“You should go, before Hermione gets too weepy.” Ron gave Archer a gentle shove towards the stairs.

“Teaspoon, Ronald.” Hermione chided, but followed Archer up the stairs.

~~~

Chapter Text

“All but Fred, are under the care of Madam Pomfrey, who had better be on the list, Harry...” She paused. “That doesn’t fit right.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Archer agreed. “And I’d prefer to stick with Archer, anyway. Leave Harry for his adoring public and Archer for my friends.”

“Hogwarts, first.” Ron stated. “Hermione will go with you. And bring you to the twins' shop, once you get there, I’ll go round up the DA.”

“That sounds good.” Archer smiled.

“You should go, before Hermione gets too weepy.” Ron gave Archer a gentle shove towards the stairs.

“Teaspoon, Ronald.” Hermione chided, but followed Archer up the stairs.

~~~

Archer and Hermione apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and began the walk to the castle.

“Any idea what you’re going to tell them?” Hermione asked.

“Not yet,” Archer denied, “and until I see them, I probably won’t.”

“Yes, you always were the ‘fly by the seat of your pants’, sort of person.” The witch huffed.

“I got better at hiding it.” Archer shrugged. “People tend to overlook Ravenclaws, that aren’t right at the top of the class.”

“You… you skived on your classes?” Hermione was horrified.

“No, not really.” Archer shook his head. “I just didn’t put in one-hundred percent, all the time. Exams, yes, but not in class.”

“I remember seeing you around the school, but… I never thought you could have been… Harry…”

“That’s because I’m not.” Archer stated. “Bloodline conversions change you, inside and out, even change your magical core. Harry Potter is, for all intents and purposes, gone. I am what remains.” He laughed. “Even if I am, technically still a Potter.”

“What? How?”

“One of the conversion potions was to make Webster Potter my father.”

“Webster Potter? Who is he? A squib?”

“No, he was magical.” Archer replied. “A year older than James and Sirius. The son of James’ Uncle, Charlus Potter and his wife, Dorea Black. He was also a Gryffindor, but a bit of a rake. Very bad with contraceptive charms, apparently. Has at least four other children, all magical.” He paused. “Sirius believes that you might be one.”

“Me?!” She squawked. “But I’m a muggleborn.”

“And Webster didn’t always stick to the magical world.” Archer grimaced. “Charlus frequently had to get the obliviators out to clean up after him. Webster was very good at repudiating any possible children, though.”

“Oh, hell….” Hermione muttered. “If that’s true, then mum and dad knew about it and…” she slapped herself on the forehead a few times, “that’s probably why they weren’t happy with me choosing to come to Hogwarts.”

“Possibly.”

“How do I find out?”

“We can do a blood heritage, at Gringotts, see what shared information we have.” Archer answered. “I know Webster is my ‘father’, we planned it that way. So…?”

“So, if I have the same information…”

“Then it’s a good possibility.”

The pair paused in their conversation, as they had reached the steps to the castle entrance.

“The hospital?” Archer asked.

“That’s where most of them are.” Hermione nodded. “But we should check.” She pulled out a familiar piece of parchment.

“The Map.” Archer chuckled, he’d decided against leaving it with Neville, in the end, instead sending it with Hermione.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” Hermione grinned. “Oh, look. The Professors are in the Headmaster’s office. Well, the ones you want, anyway.” The tiny feet were labelled, Filius Flitwick, Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall.

“And I’ve brought a travel pensieve with me, too.” Archer grinned. “Save my throat, if they can watch the memories, instead.”

Up in the Headmaster’s office, it was only the fast-talking from Hermione, that got the three Professors to agree to view the memories provided. They were all quite busy and didn’t really have the time to spare on a social visit. Wanting privacy wards, so the portraits were unable to hear the conversation was another argument, it was only Flitwick recalling Archer’s ‘class’ during Umbridge’s time, that got Snape and McGonagall to agree. Then, of course, Hermione produced a memory, that she said came from Harry, but that Archer had given her, just before they’d entered the gargoyle’s stairwell.

When they emerged, there was silence for a moment, before McGonagall shrieked and leapt at Archer, attempting to crush him in a Molly-Weasley-esque hug. Within seconds she was weeping into his shoulder.

“So…” Snape looked at him steadily. “Should we be calling you Potter?”

“No, sir.” Archer grinned, as he shook his head. “Leave Harry to the adoring fans, I’m Archer and really? I think I prefer it. Much quieter.”

“But you still saved the magical world.” Snape argued.

“Harry will be the one that gets the acclaim for that, not Archer Jameson.” Archer replied. “I’ve done the research, handed it over to the ICW, although, they’re under the impression that Harry Potter did the research and I’m not going to correct that. People rely on Harry Potter to save them, not some unknown Ravenclaw. Let Harry have the recognition, let him be the one to bear the weight of their fickle adoration. They all know that he’s been exiled, that his magic is bound and that he has a new identity. They all know that, thanks to yesterday’s special edition of the Prophet.”

“Indeed.” Snape nodded.

“So, they’re not going to be looking for Harry in Diagon, running a shop.” Archer continued. “Especially when the owner of said shop, is older than Harry and went to Hogwarts before Harry.” He spread the fingers on his hand and held the hands out like he was trying to stop something. “Harry.” He waved one hand for a moment. “Cannot be Archer.” He waved the other hand. “Archer was around first.”

“He was…” Snape agreed. “And was by far a better student.”

“No, not really.” Archer disagreed. “The main difference in our scholastic abilities was voluntary. Harry got beaten for doing better in class, than his cousin. So, he based his grades around a similar level to Ron’s, excluding DADA, where everyone expected him to excel. Archer, on the other hand, had an Aunt that expected him to do the best that he could. Even then, I still pulled my work short, just a little, in class. Not on exams, but in class. I didn’t want to stand out. I was trying to hide in plain sight.”

The horror on McGonagall and Hermione’s faces, brought a smile to Archer’s.

“You deliberately failed your classes?!” Hermione screeched.

“Not failed.” Archer corrected, calmly. “I just stopped a few sentences short of O’s, in class. In potions, I was usually an eighth short on stirring or a few grains less in ingredients. My potions still worked, they just weren’t quite as potent as they could have been. Most of my spellwork was fractionally underpowered, just enough to drop me out of the top five, in class.

“Oh, Merlin…” McGonagall whispered.

“You played us.” Snape was frowning. “Right from the start, even as Harry, you played us. We saw only what we expected to see.”

“I want to see your OWLs and NEWTs, Elwood Archer Jameson.” Hermione demanded.

“Of course, Hermione.” He pulled out his shrunken portfolio and after enlarging it, handed it to the young witch.

“You got…” Hermione looked up from the folder in shock. “You got ten OWLs and Eight NEWTs? How? You weren’t that good a student.”

“I was, I just didn’t show it.” Archer corrected. “The only times you saw it, were during one of the Voldemort incidents. Remember what we were doing before the argument, that caused Ron to leave us?”

“Oh, Lord.” Hermione whispered. “I do… That’s… You said… You were brilliant.”

“And that was the only time I let you see it.” Archer shrugged. “You needed to be the smartest in the group and Ron needed to be looked up to by someone. I gave you both what you needed.”

“Oh, bloody hell…” She whined.

“Miss Granger! Language, please!” McGonagall snapped.

“You manipulated us from day one!” Hermione barely acknowledge the Professor’s chastisement.

“No, I let you manipulate yourselves.” Archer corrected. “You needed it, I let you have it.”

“And Ron wondered why the Hat wanted you in Slytherin.” Hermione sighed.

“Excuse me?!” Snape demanded. “What?”

“The Hat wanted to put Harry in Slytherin.” Archer told the older wizard. “Said something about being great, there, but I’d met Malfoy and he’d insulted the only people that had been nice to me.”

“Ron and…? Who?” Hermione asked.

“Hagrid.”

“Of course, he did.” Snape sighed. “That boy…”

“He grew out of it.”

“Eventually.” Snape agreed.

~~~

Entering the hospital wing drew the immediate attention of Madam Pomfrey.

“Mr Jameson. What can I do for you?”

“Any chance of somewhere private, for a quick chat?” Archer asked. “Not medical, just private.” He looked around the wing and saw a number of well screened beds and assumed that most of them were occupied.

“Of course, this way.” She led him into an office and gestured for him to sit, while she rounded the desk and sat down facing him.

Archer slipped the pensieve from its carrier and onto the desk.

“If you would mind?” He asked. “The pensieve will shorten the explanation, significantly.”

She blinked at him. “Hmm…” Then nodded, before letting her fingers dip into the bowl’s liquid.

She emerged spluttering. “What on Earth? Mr Jame- Mr Pot-” She paused, frowning. “What am I supposed to call you?”

He gave her the same answer that he’d given Snape, ending with, “and while I’m happy being Archer, the people that are important to me will know who I was. Not the public and only a limited number of those that fought here, I’m going to be picky about who I tell.”

“I see…”

“To that end…” Archer grinned. “I should tell you that Sirius survived the fight in the DoM, like me he has a new identity, Syrion Altair Middleworth. Syrion is close enough that if he answered to Sirius, he could be excused. Altair was James Potter’s middle name. And Middleworth is the surname of my bloodline conversion mother’s half-sister. Anne Middleworth was formerly Anna Madison, she went through the time travel stuff with me and has been my primary carer, ever since.”

“Oh, Merlin…” Pomfrey sighed.

“Pretty much.” Archer nodded.

“What do you need from me?”

“I’d like to speak to Remus.”

“He’s still unconscious.” Pomfrey warned.

“I might be able to bring him out.” Archer chuckled. “Apparently, the Marauders had difficulty waking him, sometimes, so they devised a subliminal memory charm and embedded it in his core.”

“Oh, Merlin…” Pomfrey sighed, but Archer just grinned. “Alright, this way.” She led him from the office and into a private room, where Remus Lupin lay, pale and heavily bandaged, in a bed across from lay an equally pale Lavender Brown.

“She survived?” Archer asked. “Infected?”

“Yes, to both.” Pomfrey replied. “I’ve been keeping them in here, as only a few people know about this room and I’ll not have the likes of Delores Umbridge try and take them from me, before they’re capable of defending themselves.”

“Fair enough.” Archer nodded. “Can I speak with her?”

“You can try, she hasn’t spoken to anyone, since she was brought in, not even me.” Pomfrey warned.

“I got this.” Archer crossed to Lavender’s bed and plopped himself down beside her. “Hey, Lav-Lav.”

Her head turned, until she faced him, a look of disgust on her face, that faded as she looked at him, but she said nothing. The pensive was slipped onto the table and Archer nodded to it.

“Fingers in, Lavender.” She continued to look at him, but eventually her hand moved until the fingers touched the liquid and her face went blank. When she blinked, he raised a brow at her. “Over your snit, yet?”

“Ha-rry?” her voice was cracked and harsh.

“I was,” Archer nodded, “but not anymore. I do plan to let most of the DA know. However, not all of them will be told.”

“Who?”

“It’s more a case of who will be.” Archer replied, “You, obviously. The Weasleys and Hermione. Katie, Alicia, Angelina, Dean, Seamus, Lee, Susan, Hannah, Neville already knows. I’m debating about the Patil sisters and the Creevey brothers.”

“Not, Padma and Parvati.” Lavender rocked her head. “They had some nasty things to say about you, this year.”

“And the boys?”

“Colin took detentions for the younger years.” Lavender answered. “He’s still one of your most ardent fans. He’s devoted to the legend of Harry Potter.”

“Oh, great…” Archer sighed. “Well... Harry’s legend is only going to get bigger. He’s found a way to save the magical world, from a worldwide muggle illness, that would see the end of magic. And the ICW will support that. They’ll be announcing it, any day.”

“But… you’re Harry Potter.”

“No, not anymore.” Archer disagreed. “I’m Archer Jameson and I’m staying Archer Jameson. Harry gets to be the hero, the ICW have agreed that the ritual that will save us, will take Harry’s life. Not mine, I get to live. But Harry will die as a saviour.”

“What will happen to us?” Lavender whispered.

“The ritual will create an alternate timeline,” Archer explained, “one where the only difference is that those humans, or part humans, with a magical core, or wearing a magical booster that simulates a core, will exist. Everyone else will stay in the muggle timeline.”

“Squibs?”

“Squibs have cores.” Archer replied. “They just can’t access them. The Unspeakables believe that given enough time, squibs have magical children. That we should be calling them squibborns, not muggleborns.”

“Oh, Merlin…” Lavender whined.

“Or, they could be like Hermione.” Archer added. “The Unspeakables believe that she’s actually the repudiated child of a pureblood, that just hasn’t been told or tested.”

Lavender snickered. “That would upset Parkinson, can’t call her a mudblood if she has a pureblood father.”

“Nope.” Archer grinned.

“And you came here, to tell me this? Why?”

“Sorry, Lavender.” Archer shook his head. “I wasn’t aware you’d survived. Neville didn’t know. I came to wake Professor Lupin and tell him. You were just a nice bonus.”

“A bonus…” Lavender shook her head. “I’m a werewolf. Or I will be on the next full moon.”

“So?” Archer snorted. “So’s Professor Lupin. So, what? You really think I give a shite about that?”

“No, I suppose you don’t.” Lavender sighed. “Given what Harry got up to in school, me being a werewolf is unimportant.”

“Not unimportant, just not… not a problem.” Archer grimaced. “I’m already dealing with one, what’s the hassle in adding a second?”

“Huh.” Lavender grunted. “Alright.” She nodded. “Professor Lupin’s unconscious, has been since I was brought in, Healer Atwood doesn’t think he’ll wake up.”

“I got that.” Archer grinned and Lavender snorted. “James Potter and Sirius Black always had trouble waking him, so they embedded a subliminal alarm, a passphrase activated alarm in his core.”

“Of course they did.” Lavender sighed. “Couldn’t just empty a bucket of ice-water over him, could they?”

“Oh, that’s too easy, and apparently, he warded his bed against physical attacks like that.”

“Ah. fair enough.” Lavender grunted. “Go wake him, then.”

“Moony! Chocolate’s been banned from Hogwarts!” Archer said sharply.

Remus sat up with a jerk.

“What!? No!” The werewolf gasped, looking around the room in alarm.

“Morning, Unca Moo.” Archer walked across the room and laid the pensieve on the table beside Remus’ bed.

“What the…” Remus frowned. “You’re not Harry.”

“Fingers in the pensieve, Unca Moo.” Archer ordered.

Remus studied him for a few moments, before letting his fingers dip into the pensieve. “Oh, hell…” He muttered when he emerged. “This is revenge, isn’t it?”

“For not telling me anything about my parents, when you were teaching?” Archer asked. “Or for not trusting Padfoot? Either way? Yes, it is.”

“Shite…”

“You deserve it.” Archer huffed. “Right, good news, bad news. Which do you want, first?”

“Bad news first.” Remus sighed.

“Tonks didn’t survive.” Archer stated. “Bella got her, blood boiling curse followed by the Killing Curse.”

“…ngngng…” Remus made a wounded sound.

“Good news?” Archer went on. “Teddy’s fine, Andromeda is still with him. Your packmate, Padfoot, is still around. He’s wearing a different face and has a different name, but  it’s still him. Oh, and Lavender over there? She’s going to need a mentor, Greyback got her. Madam Pomfrey and Healer Atwood managed to save her life, but they couldn’t remove the infection.”

“Oh, dear…” Remus sighed. “The poor girl.”

“Ah, he’s awake.” Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room. “Let me cast some charms and then you can have some lunch.”

~~~

Chapter Text

“Bad news first.” Remus sighed.

“Tonks didn’t survive.” Archer stated. “Bella got her, blood boiling curse followed by the Killing Curse.”

“…ngngng…” Remus made a wounded sound.

“Good news?” Archer went on. “Teddy’s fine, Andromeda is still with him. Your packmate, Padfoot, is still around. He’s wearing a different face and has a different name, but  it’s still him. Oh, and Lavender over there? She’s going to need a mentor, Greyback got her. Madam Pomfrey and Healer Atwood managed to save her life, but they couldn’t remove the infection.”

“Oh, dear…” Remus sighed. “The poor girl.”

“Ah, he’s awake.” Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room. “Let me cast some charms and then you can have some lunch.”

~~~

Walking into the twins’ shop was always going to be interesting. For more reasons than one.

The sheer numbers of people in the store, the brightness of the colours and the shelves full of pranks that you were at risk of setting off.

“Ah, Miss Hermione.” Lee greeted her as she approached the counter. “Ron turned up here, about ten minutes ago, said that it was urgent that he speak to the twins and dragged George upstairs.”

“Oh, good.” Hermione sighed. “We’ll head straight up.”

“We?”

“Yes, we.” Hermione stated. “Archer’s involved, it’s about our DA teacher.”

“Oh…” Lee blinked. “Has he been found? Do we know anything?”

“Give me half an hour with the twins,” Hermione replied, “and then call the DA in.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Lee gave her a mock-salute.

Upstairs, Hermione pushed the apartment door open and entered, knowing that Archer was right behind her.

“Ah the lovely Miss Granger.” George looked up from the pile of parchment that lay on the little kitchen table. “To what do we owe this wonderous honour?”

“Harry.” Hermione answered and suddenly she had the full attention of both twins.

“Harry?” Fred whispered, his voice still affected by the wall that had almost killed him, when it had collapsed on him.

“What about Harry?” George asked.

“Has he been found?” Fred asked.

Archer slid the pensieve onto the coffee table in front of Fred and stepped back.

“Fingers in the pensieve, boys.” Hermione ordered, nodding at the shallow bowl.

When they emerged, the twins both turned to look at each other.

“Bring him here!” Fred ordered and George nodded. George got to his feet and took the few steps necessary to reach Archer, he threw his arms around the man and lifted the just-barely-smaller man off the floor, he then crossed back to Fred’s side, before letting Archer’ feet touch the floor. Fred then reached out to grab Archer’s arm and dragged him down onto the sofa.

“Bloody prat.” Fred croaked. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He buried his head in Archer’s shoulder.

“It was under Fidelius and I wasn’t the Secret Keeper.” Archer answered, wrapping his arms around the redhead.

“Still a prat.” Fred whispered.

“Who else knows?” George asked.

“In order? Lady Augusta Longbottom, Kingsley, the Ferret, Neville. My new Aunt by bloodline conversion, Zeus, the head Unspeakable. Sirius. Hermione and Ron. McGonagall, Flitty and Snape. Pomfrey. Lavender. Remus.”

“Oh…” Fred whispered.

“Hold on.” George held up a hand. “Sirius?”

“Yeah.”

“But he… he died, right?”

“Yeah, not so much.” Archer grimaced. “Zeus got him out. Gave him a new identity and all. Syrion Altair Middleworth is my Uncle now. Works for the Unspeakables as a researcher.”

“But…” George frowned.

“How?” Fred demanded.

“Not real sure.” Archer replied. “I was at school and Zeus doesn’t give away Unspeakables’ methods. I know from listening to Syrion that there was a ward and a portkey and some handy-dandy illusions, but the actual details? Nope, no idea.”

~~~

The angry look on Ginny’s face, when she discovered that Archer had been Harry and was staying as Archer, had confirmed for Archer that Harry’s interest in the redhead, hadn’t been natural.

He’d taken her aside and after just looking at her for a few moments, he’d stated that he would prefer to get to know her without the benefit of amortentia. Ginny had flushed, but angrily replied that Harry was giving up everything to be a shopkeeper.

“No.” He’d retorted. “I am giving up nothing. I don’t like the fanatical fans, I don’t like reporters, I don’t like the attention. I’m much happier now that I’m Archer, than I ever was as Harry.”

“But you didn’t even talk to me about it!” She whisper-yelled. “I would never have agreed to-”

“Why would I?” He replied, cutting her off mid-word. “We weren’t dating. We weren’t together. We weren’t real. We were nothing. You dosed me with amortentia. Nothing I felt for you was real. And a part of me obviously knew it.”

Ginny stood there with her mouth open, shock written across her face.

“You…”

“You were my best friend’s sister.” Archer went on. “Until fifth year, I saw you as a little sister. Until you decided that instead of having the genuine affection of another brother, you wanted a potion-induced fantasy romance, that you had to know would expire one day. That one day, I would realise what you’d done. I can honestly say that, when I first figured it out, I wanted to smack you. So bad. Sooo Bad… Be grateful. I’ve had a few years to get over the anger and the hurt.”

“Hurt…?” She whispered.

“Yes, hurt!” Archer snapped. “You were like a sister to me and it hurt that you didn’t give a damn about what I wanted. You took away any chance that I would ever trust you, with anything, ever again. Which is why, Ginevra Weasley… I’m going to demand a vow from you.” He turned to the other people in room, that were patently ignoring them. “Ron! Come here, please.” Ron looked at Hermione and shrugged, before obediently trotting over to Archer’s side.

“You called, Archer?” Ron asked.

“Yes, I did.” Archer replied. “Ginny’s going to make an Unbreakable Vow for me.” He raised a brow at the girl. “Aren’t you?”

“And if I say no?” Ginny glared.

“Then, I’ll happily explain this conversation to your parents… when the Aurors call them in.”

“Fine!” Ginny spat. “I’ll make your vow. Then I never want to see you again.”

“That’s your choice.” Archer said calmly. “But it will be my choice what I decide to do, if I’m invited somewhere that you might be, even the Burrow.”

“Bastard!” Ginny snarled.

“Dumbledore trained me well.” Archer said flatly, deflating Ginny’s anger.

“He did, didn’t he?” She whispered.

“Better than he knew.” Archer nodded.

“What’s the vow?”

“You will never write, state, claim or imply that Elwood Archer Jameson is or was, anyone other than who and what he claims to be.” Archer’s voice was still flat.

“You think I’ll tell Skeeter?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Archer snorted. “Weren’t you already planning what to say? Maybe not to her face, but definitely where you knew she would overhear you.”

She sighed, but nodded. “Yeah…”

“Make the vow, then you can never be tempted.” Archer ordered.

“I swear on my life and magic…”

~~~

By the time he reached the Burrow, Archer was tired, emotions were draining. And he wasn’t done yet.

Molly’s desperate insistence that he stay with them, grated on his nerves and when she called him Harry, for the third time, he snapped.

“I am not Harry!” He insisted.

“Of course you are.”

“No.” Archer’s voice went hard and flat. “No, I’m not. I made sure of it.”

“Oh, but-”

“No!” He was adamant. “I am Archer Jameson, not Harry Potter. And I will never be Harry Potter again.”

“But…”

“NO!” He finally yelled. “Harry is gone. I am Archer.” He turned to Ron. “I’m beginning to think I need to ask for another vow.”

“Might not be a bad idea, mate.” Ron sneered at his mother.

“Ronnie?” Molly asked. “What vow?”

“Archer had Ginny make a vow to never say, claim, write or imply that Archer is or has ever been anyone than who he claims to be.”

“What? Why would you ask her to do that?”

“She dosed Harry with amortentia, mum.” Ron said flatly.

“No…” Molly was horrified.

“Yes.” Archer nodded.

“Molly will make the vow.” Arthur finally spoke up. “And so will I.”

“Oh, but Arthur…”

“No, Molly.” Arthur said. “I’m not loosing what little contact with my sons, that I still have. And if you keep pushing, we will.”

“Definitely.” Ron nodded. “After her rant at me and Hermione, neither of us want anything to do with her, and she’s already lost Fred and George. Her demands to have Bill and Fleur move back here, are going to drive them back to Egypt, pretty quick. I noticed that Charlie's already left. I wonder why?” The sneer on Ron’s face would have had Draco nodding in approval.

Molly’s jaw fell and she dropped into a seat. “I just want my babies safe at home.”

“I am not a baby, mother.” Ron snapped. “None of us are. We’re adults and we’ve lives of our own. Ours. Not yours. Ours! And you trying order us about, is a thing of the past. It’s not going to work. All it does, is make us want to stay away.”

Molly covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

“Not working, mum.” Ron sighed. “It’s not.”

Molly looked up, her face dry. “Why can’t you just do what I want?!” She shrieked.

“Because I don’t want to.” Ron replied. “And I can’t be bothered. I’ve plenty of other things to do, that are far more important than pandering to you.”

“That’s enough.” Arthur flicked his wand and Molly went rigid. “You will be making that vow, then I’m taking you to St. Mungo's. You know this is unacceptable.” He turned to Ron and Archer. “What’s the wording on that vow, again?”

~~~

The announcement from the ICW, in January, filled an entire special edition of the Daily Prophet.

Fourteen Seers from all over the world had basically had the same vision, a muggle illness sweeping across the planet, killing nearly half the human population, including every magical being alive at that time. Which in turn would infect the ley-lines and stop the flow of magic, effectively killing Magic, itself.

The knowledge that Harry Potter had found a ritual, that would enable the creation of a timeline split, had been received by the ICW, initially with scepticism, but when more Seers started to come forward, in support of his research, the Confederation started to pay attention. Their researchers went over his research and one-by-one, they agreed.

The ritual would work.

Unfortunately, there were a few issues that needed to be resolved. The first was the ritual leader. It needed to be a witch over sixty years of age, who had a Merlin rating of over fourteen hundred. The second being that a sacrifice was needed to boost the ley-lines, to the point of being tangible. The problem being was that what was needed, was phenomenally invasive and deeply personal.

A single life, of a Merlin level Mage.

The life and magic of one person. To save the entirety of the magical world.

Merlin level Mages are rare, rarer than phoenixes, rarer than thunderbirds. That Harry Potter was such a Mage and was prepared to offer himself as sacrifice, humbled even his harshest of critics.

The ICW had sent their brightest and best ritualists and ritual researchers, into a time dilation chamber, to finalise the ritual. What was needed. Who was needed. Where. When. How much. What chants. How many covens. How large each coven needed to be. How many times each coven would be needed. At how many locations.

It was a massive undertaking, involving over three thousand witches, in two-hundred-fifty covens, with thousands of locations. Every ley-line conjunction, world-wide. And every part of the ritual had to be led by the same witch, as the same time.

Time-turners from every country were being sent to the ICW, without them, there was no hope of success.

It was all people talked about for weeks and Archer was rather tired of it. Zeus had started hexing anyone that brought it up, outside of the meetings dedicated to it. Anne just silenced whoever mentioned it. Syrion would just turn and walk away. The twins would prank them. Ron would glare. Hermione would get into earnest discussions and forget the time, which usually ended up with Ron dragging her away, often using a levitation charm.

The ICW also issued the decree that all muggle buildings, bar a few historic sites, would be erased and returned to parks or fields. Those that wished could submit an application to purchase a non-historical residence.

Magical children were removed from non-magicals, that didn’t wish to join the new timeline. Non-magicals that did wish to join, were issued booster cuffs and were interviewed to determine what they would do for a living. If necessary, they were given training. Residences were allocated to those that didn’t already own a home.

Squibs were brought back into the fold and like the non-magicals, they were interviewed, assessed and places allocated to them.

~~~

The day the ritual happened was cold and blustery, in England.

Like nearly every magical he knew, Archer was spectating at one of the ritual sites, Anne and Syrion beside him, with Ron standing just a few feet away, with the twins.

That had been one of the few things that bothered Archer, the distance between he, Ron and Hermione. The extra nine years that he’d lived and the lack of potions in his system, had changed him, significantly. Ron was the least bothered by it, with Hermione barely able to accept that he wasn’t the same impulsive boy she knew. When Archer had little desire to inform her of everything he did and said, while away from her, her frustration at not knowing, had created the gap between them. A gap that she refused to broach, when he refused to meet her demands but instead, had insisted on her making the same vow that Ginny, Molly and Arthur had. She’d ranted about a lack of trust and he’d replied, with a question. ‘If you need to know every little thing I’ve done in the last nine years, you clearly don’t trust me, so why should I trust you, with my secrets?’ She had grudgingly made the vow, but had not spoken to him in the six months since.

Ron had lost his patience with her, too. He’d repeatedly chided her for her attitude, but it had made little impact, other than she’d moved out of Grimmauld and back into her parents’ old house, stating that if he wouldn’t do as she wanted, there was little reason for her to stay. Ron was reputed to have shrugged and told Kreacher to pack her things, but that she wasn’t to take any books from the House’s library or anything that belonged to the House of Black.

Hermione hadn’t been pleased and had attempted to browbeat Ron into doing as she wanted, only for him to tell Kreacher that she had one hour to leave the House and her magical signature was to be removed from the wards. She was no longer a friend of House Black.

She’d left. Not happily, but she’d left.

And since then, she discovered that there was little acceptance for her rigid attitude towards the traditions of the magical world. Her zealous campaign to free the house-elves, despite being told that elves needed a bond to a witch or wizard to stabilise their magic, as their cores were unable to provide that stability due to the size of their cores in comparison to their bodies, had earned her their enmity. They would have nothing to do with her. None of them. Not in shops, not at the Ministry, not at Hogwarts.

And that had been another thing that frustrated her. Hogwarts didn’t accept transfer students or mature students. You started at eleven and stayed for the entire seven years, or you didn’t go to Hogwarts. Neither the board, nor McGonagall would even consider making an exception for her. To do so, would break the agreement between Hogwarts, the Ministry and Gringotts.

Gringotts had also barred her from the bank, citing her actions towards her parents, claiming that she lacked honour and they would have no dealings with one without honour.

In the end, she’d written to the Unspeakables and asked how could she stay in the original timeline and keep her magic. That she didn’t trust Harry’s research. They’d offered her a pair of suppression cuffs and suggested converting her money back to pounds, which Gringotts had happily done, just to get rid of her.

So that was Hermione gone from their lives. All because of her need to know every little detail.

The ritual went off without a hitch. The few muggles that had gathered to watch, what they thought was a cosplay event, had simply vanished, like they had never been there. Archer had the brief thought of ‘what would the muggles think of nearly a hundred people, just vanishing into thin air?’, then he wondered, ‘where had Hermione been?’, before he shrugged. It no longer mattered, she was in the original timeline, he would never have to see her or have her question him, again. She’d made her choice and now there was no way back for her.

Now, the hard work began, the removal of the muggle structures and reverting the land back to a natural state. The DA had stepped up and offered their help and the Aurors had gratefully accepted and paid them for their time. In some cases, students were given underage permits and permitted to assist the removal crews.

~~~

Slowly, nature began to swell. The city of London faded into large estates, encircled by parklands. Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, Kensington Palace, St. Paul’s Cathedral, Westminster Palace, Big Ben, Tower Bridge. To name just a few. Curators/caretakers were put in place, to see to the care of each estate.

The swath of green spread, a few yards here, a few feet there. Day-by-day, it spread. It was estimated that it would take decades for the removal to be complete.

Around Diagon, houses replaced the tall buildings of central London, houses that would become homes to magicals, squibs and the few in-the-know muggles that had joined them.

The Statute of Secrecy was abolished, there was no need for it anymore, everyone in this timeline knew about magic.

The Patil twins had started a business selling child-, squib- and muggle-friendly flying carpets. Brooms like Moody’s began to filter into the market, closely followed by armchairs and sofas being enchanted to fly. Admittingly, carpets, sofas and armchairs were given height and speed restrictions.

Hagrid spent weeks working with a hippogriff, before presenting the gelding to Professor McGonagall, along with a pretty little sulky that Flitwick had enchanted to be almost weightless. The elderly witch frequently utilised the pairing, on trips to Hogsmeade or her family estate, which was a little less than ten miles from the school.

~~~

Remus had taken Teddy back from Andromeda, who wasn’t terribly pleased with Tonks’ choice of husband, but for the sake of her own husband, had not said anything. After Tonks’ death, she became far less tolerant of either Remus or Teddy, and eventually, the werewolf could no longer bear the uncomfortable tension and had moved out.

Ron had reinstated Tonks back into the Black Family, but due to Andromeda’s treatment of Remus and Teddy, he had not given her the same opportunity.

It had taken a trip to Gringotts to discover that Harry had left the Potter Lordship to Teddy, if Remus was prepared to let Harry blood adopt the boy, 'in abstentia'. This would place the responsibilities of seneschal on Remus’ shoulders, but it would also allow him access to the Potter Estate vault and the choice of a residence in Godric’s Hollow, as it turned out that the Estate owned most of the village. Within days of him moving into the pretty little cottage on the outskirts of the village, Syrion had shown up with a box of photographs, a case of butterbeers and a quartet of stuffed toys. A black grim-like dog, a wolf, a stag and a snowy owl.

~~~

Chapter Text

It had taken a trip to Gringotts to discover that Harry had left the Potter Lordship to Teddy, if Remus was prepared to let Harry blood adopt the boy, in abstentia. This would place the responsibilities of seneschal on Remus’ shoulders, but it would also allow him access to the Potter Estate vault and the choice of a residence in Godric’s Hollow, as it turned out that the Estate owned most of the village. Within days of him moving into the pretty little cottage on the outskirts of the village, Syrion had shown up with a box of photographs, a case of butterbeers and a quartet of stuffed toys. A black grim-like dog, a wolf, a stag and a snowy owl.

~~~

Ron escorted Lavender to George and Angelina’s wedding, gaining a few calls of Won-Won and Lav-Lav from some of the Gryffindors. Archer had just smiled, the blonde witch had matured since the war, into a lovely young woman. No longer as focused on gossip and fashion. She would make a fine Lady Black.

Archer, himself, had raised more than a few eyebrows, when he’d arrived with Daphne Greengrass as his ‘plus one’. Ginny had glared, but when Bill had spoken to her, a few minutes later, she’d huffed and stormed off, much to the disgust of her brothers and father.

Daphne had come into the shop to purchase a set of mirrors, so that she could keep in contact with her sister, when Astoria had returned to Hogwarts. Then she’d returned a few weeks later to have Astoria’s mirror connected to a second set, so the girl could speak to Draco, to whom she’d been betrothed since before Riddle’s return. The platinum blonde witch had spoken politely with Archer for many minutes, before concluding her business. Only to return a few hours later and invite him to lunch.

That lunch had lasted far longer than either had anticipated and the next day, Archer had sent an invite to attend a picnic with him, that weekend. From there, the pair had begun to spend more time together.

When the pair had been dating for a year, he raised the subject of a formal courtship, unsure whether it was something she would accept. With her acceptance, he smiled and drew her towards a table, after seating her, he produced a pensieve and asked her to watch what it held. On emerging, she gave him a shy smile and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The next day, he sent her father a formal request to court her, which was granted with no conditions.

The day that he’d shown her his library mage-space, she’d stood halfway down the stairs and looked from the upper floor to the lower and laughed.

“Granger didn’t know about this, did she?”

“No.” Archer shook his head. “I didn’t get the chance, to show her, before she started demanding answers to things, she had no business asking. She’d been so happy to see me, at first. But over the next few weeks, that changed. She wanted to know every detail of how I’d spent my time, away from her. It wasn’t enough for me to say, I was at school, studying. No, I had to give her a day-by-day breakdown, give her my personal journals. Account for every minute of every day.”

“She was rather pushy.” Daphne agreed.

“And she really didn’t like being told, no.” Archer snorted.

“Oh, I can imagine.” Daphne laughed quietly. “Neither did Miss Weasley.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Archer huffed. “She had plans and they didn’t involve Archer Jameson.”

“No.” Daphne agreed. “Only Harry Potter was good enough for her.”

“I’m not sure it was Harry and not Harry’s vaults.” Archer corrected. “Harry left her a vault and according to Ron, she ran it dry within days. Jewellery, brooms, clothes. Only the best and most expensive would do.”

“And when the money was gone?”

“I hadn’t consulted her.” He answered. “I saw no reason to, but that’s not how she saw it.”

“But she knows?” Daphne asked. “Who you were?”

“She knows.” Archer replied. “But I made her make an Unbreakable Vow not to reveal it, on loss of her magic.”

“And Granger?”

“She made the same Vow.”

“Good.” Daphne nodded.

He guided her, the last few steps and once they were standing in front of the twenty-foot cathedral windows, he dropped to a knee and offered her a small jewellery box. Her fingers trembled fractionally, just for a moment, before they stilled and she reached out and opened the box, leaving it between his palms.

Inside, on deep navy-blue velvet, sat a simple ring, an oval shaped aquamarine surrounded by diamonds. It was old, the style made that apparent, but it had been loved and respected. She could feel the enchantments it held, they practically hummed with protective magics.

“It was my great grandmother Olivia Potter's.” Archer said. “Will you wear it? Will you marry me?”

“I will.” Daphne’s smile was blinding.

~~~

Archer and Daphne’s wedding was a quiet affair, but it was still well attended. Both of them had fought at Hogwarts and that had drawn together an odd fellowship, among those of the younger set.

It was no surprise to see a clump of Weasleys and other assorted Gryffindors. Nor were any surprised at the group of Slytherins. Archer’s dormmates were there, as were Daphne’s. But the surprise was Luna Lovegood, declaring herself Archer’s best witch, something that had Daphne laughing and engulfing the younger witch in a hug and dragging her off to help with the wedding plans.

“After all,” Daphne exclaimed, “Archer is a male and when it comes to weddings? Males are next to useless.”

“Too, true.” Luna had nodded, linking her arm through Daphne’s and the two had pressed kisses to Archer’s cheeks and apparated away.

“You are so screwed.” Ron snorted.

“Meh.” Archer shrugged. “Worth it.”

~~~

The little cottage on the edge of the Greengrass estate, wasn’t so little. Two storey with annexes and out-buildings, a tidy front lawn surrounded by a neat dry-stone wall. In warm, local yellow sandstone, it was solid, timeless and welcoming.

It was also large enough for a small family. Something that Daphne was determined to provide.

Children, puppies, kittens, foals.

All of them came to Garret Gleann Cottage, named after the pretty little valley, it sat in.

Four children, two boys and two girls. Grafton, Finlay, Azalea and Zinnia. Three puppies, Spot, Fidget and Whiskers. Four foals, three of which were hippogriffs, Florence, Pinfeathers and Silvertail. And one Shetland pony foal, Ginger.

Archer continued to run his shop, providing mirrors that enabled children to speak to their families, during their time at Hogwarts. Reaching the point that Snape had them added to the supply list, as an approved, but optional item.

When children started appearing, the little flat upstairs became a playroom, with Daphne, Luna, Angelina, Katie or Tracey Davis, watching whatever children were present that day. It certainly made for interesting lunches.

~~~

Watching his daughter, Zinnia, marry Ron and Lavender’s younger son, Tyson, brought tears to Archer’s eyes.

“Do you ever wonder what happened to Hermione?” Ron asked him quietly.

“Occasionally.” Archer answered. “But not for a while.”

“I do.” Ron sighed. “If she’d stayed, and I’d married her, there’d be no Tyson.”

“What do you mean?” Archer asked.

“She… We’d have only had two kids.” Ron answered. “She was adamant, two was the limit.”

“Jessie and Laurence.”

“Oh, no.” Ron laughed. “She wanted Hugo and Rose.”

“Hugo? Really? Ugh.” Archer grunted.

“Yeah.” Ron nodded. “Hugo and Rose. No Jessamina, Laurence, Tyson, Rachel or Bethany.”

“Good thing you married Lavender, then.”

“Yeah…” Ron looked at Lavender with his heart in his eyes.

~~~

Holding Grafton’s newborn son, Archer looked over at Daphne, who was holding the boy’s twin sister.

“Twins?” Archer whispered.

“There haven’t been twins in the family, not in generations.” Daphne looked as stunned as he felt.

~~~

Archer held Daphne’s hand and looked out over the back lawn.

“That’s our family.” His whispered.

“That it is.” She replied. “Even the Weasleys.” She pointed to Zinnia and Tyson’s brood of six.

“And the Malfoys.” Astoria and Draco’s son, Scorpius stood with his husband, Cedric, Neville and Hannah’s son.

~~~

Far away in another timeline, a woman old before her time, sighed and rubbed her hand over the head of her old black cat.

Fifty years had passed, since the magical world had vanished. She’d gone to Hogwarts, the day after the ritual had taken place, only to be faced with decayed ruins. Hogsmeade was gone, and the castle a crumbled shell. Magic had taken the castle and left only broken stone behind.

She’d thought that it would have left a version of everything behind, but magic clearly decided otherwise.

It had taken her twenty years, to realise what she’d lost. No, not lost. Thrown away.

She’d thrown demand after demand at Archer, but it had taken twenty years before she finally understood that it wasn’t her place to make any demands of him. Or of Ron.

Twenty years, where every relationship she entered, failed. Because of her demands. Of her need to know everything.

Twenty years of selfishness.

But even after she’d realised it was her fault, it was still another twenty years, before she managed to change the way she acted.

Forty years before she was to participate in a relationship and truly able to treat her partner as equally deserving of privacy.

Magic made that difficult, in ways she hadn’t expected. There was no statute of secrecy, anymore. But telling a muggle was not possible. Physically not possible. Apparently, the Unspeakables had cast a Fidelius of some sort, over the fact that she was magical, as she had been unable to tell anyone. Not even a long-term partner. Which had caused more than one partner to walk away.

She regretted how she’d treated them. How she’d treated Archer. How she’d treated Ron.

But regrets were worthless, she couldn’t use them to buy food or pay bills.

She was lonely, now, she admitted to herself. No husband, no children, no grandchildren, no visitors. Just her and her old cat, Harry. His fur was as messy as Harry’s hair, which was how he got the name.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I was wrong. They deserved better than I gave them. I’m so sorry.” She laid her head against the cat’s body and let her tears fall and not noticing as the world blurred around her.

“H-Hermione…?” A familiar voice whispered.

“Oh…” Her head lifted and there in front of her was a man, middle-aged and vaguely familiar. “Ar-Archer?”

“Yes, yes, Hermione.” Archer’s smile was wide. “You… you’re here… how?”

“I’m dreaming, I’m sure.” Hermione whispered. “The home, this is my room.” She looked around. “But… no… this isn’t my room. I don’t know this place. Where am I?” She was beginning to get scared.

“This is my living room, Mione.” Archer replied. “We’re in Godric’s Hollow. Daphne and I moved here, a few years ago.”

“Daphne?”

“My wife.” Archer answered. “Daphne Greengrass.”

“I think I remember her.” Hermione frowned. “Blonde? She was very pretty.”

“She is, at least to me.” Archer said. “How did you get here?”

“I… I don’t know.” Hermione whispered. “I was sitting with Harry, my cat, and then I heard you.”

“Magic works in strange ways.” A new voice entered the conversation and when Hermione looked up, she saw another familiar face. “Luna warned me.” Ron said. “I’ve come to take her home. Lavender’s insisting she lives with us.” He crossed to Archer’s side. “Hello, Hermione.”

“Ron?” Hermione’s eyes were wide. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have demanded things. I should have respected you and I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“And that’s probably how you got here.” Ron nodded. “You were still one of Lady Magic’s children. And she finally brought you home.”

“Home…” Hermione whispered.

“We’ve a lot of catching up to do.” Ron said. “So much as happened, since we saw you last. Come on, now. Let’s get you home.”

“Home…” Hermione whispered. “I haven’t had a home, a real home, not for a long time.”

“You do now.” Ron said. “Luna warned Lavender and I, a few weeks ago. Gave us enough time to build an annex, just for you. You’ll start to feel better, soon. Not having ambient magic around has made you older than you are. A few months with us and you’ll feel years younger.”

“Oh, that would be nice.” Hermione smiled. “Will I be able to knit, again, do you think?”

“Oh, sure.” Ron nodded. “Mum still knits.”

“Molly?” Hermione asked. “She’s still…”

“Still fussing over us?” Archer laughed. “Of course she is.”

“Oh, lovely.” Hermione already felt brighter, able to think clearer, than she had in years. “I’ve missed her hugs.”

“Don’t worry about that, you’ll get one, soon enough.” Ron eased her to her feet and quickly shrunk the chair. “Thanks, Archer. We’ll see you and Daph for dinner on Saturday, yeah?”

“Of course.” Archer nodded.

“Brilliant, mate. Best to Daph.” Ron wrapped a gentle arm around Hermione and her cat. “Let’s go home, yeah?” With a quick smile, they were gone.

“Was that…?” Daphne asked, standing in the doorway.

“Hermione came home.” Archer smiled through his tears.

“Finally.” Daphne moved into his arms and pressed her cheek against his. “Finally.”

~~~