Chapter Text
“I killed James and Lily I killed James and Lily I killed James and Lily—“
“Excuse me!”
“—I killed James and Lily I killed James and Lily—“
“Hello in there!”
“—I killed James and Lily—“
“Do you think he can hear us?”
“We could use a Sonorus charm.”
“Overkill. We don’t want the guards to hear us.”
“Shouting, then. Hello! Mr. Padfoot! We brought you chocolate! Hello!”
“—I killed James and Lily—“
“And we’re going to break you out of here!”
“—I killed James and Lily—“
“We’re not getting through.”
“Mr. Padfoot, we brought a time-turner!”
“—I killed…” Sirius finally looked up at the tiny window of his cell. Two magpies stood awkwardly on the sill, poking their beaks through the bars, occasionally flapping their wings for balance as they tried to perch on the slimy stone. “What?”
“A time-turner,” repeated the magpie, but it didn’t matter because he had killed James and Lily, he had ruined everything, it was all his fault.
“—I killed James and Lily—“
“We thought you’d be particularly interested in traveling through time,” said one of the magpies in an exasperated voice.
“So you can save James and Lily before they’re killed.”
“—I killed… What?”
“Oh, eat some chocolate already,” said one of the magpies. It pushed a small bar of Honeyduke’s finest between the bars to land on the stone floor of his cell.
Sirius stared at it. “Give it to Remus,” he said.
“Oh, we have plans for Mr. Moony too, don’t worry, but we came for you first.”
“We thought breaking you out of Azkaban would be the easy job.”
“And then you could help us with some rather trickier projects.”
“But you’re making this needlessly difficult.”
“Just eat the damn chocolate already.”
“And then you’ll be able to appreciate our brilliance.”
Sirius crawled across the cold, damp stone floor to the chocolate. He unwrapped it and took a bite. “Breaking me out of Azkaban?”
“Exactly.”
“But I deserve to be here. I killed—“
“Finish the chocolate and then we’ll talk.”
He did. He felt the grip of the Dementors loosen a bit. “A time-turner?” He looked up at the two magpies.
“Yes. So we can save James and Lily, defeat Voldemort much more efficiently, and then get back to the serious business of playing pranks.”
“But you can’t tamper with time,” objected Sirius.
“Not legally,” conceded one of the magpies. “But when has a little thing like the law ever stopped you? From two unregistered animagi to another, we think we’d make a great team.”
“But it’s not possible,” objected Sirius. “They’re already dead. I saw their bodies.”
“Don’t tell me what’s impossible,” scolded one of the magpies. Sirius had first thought they were identical, but this one was missing some feathers on the side of its head. “Anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve. I saw my brother’s corpse lying on the floor after the Battle of Hogwarts, but did I accept his death? No. I stole a time-turner and went back to rescue him.”
“Of course, life without me would be impossible,” said the other magpie.
“The Battle of—“ asked Sirius, bewildered.
“Long story,” said the magpie with missing feathers. “We’ll tell you the whole thing once we get out of here.”
“But I deserve to be here. It was my plan that got them killed. The whole thing is my fault.”
“That’s the Dementors talking. You’ll have a better perspective once you’re out of here.”
“But how?” asked Sirius. “This place is warded against apparition and portkeys, the walls are unbreakable—“
“Yes, yes, it was built to be escape-proof, we know. No human can escape Azkaban. We could wait until the Dementors suck out enough of your human mind that only your canine mind is left, so they don’t notice you leaving, but that seems like a real waste of pranking ability. You’ll just have to escape before it’s built.” The magpie lowered a loop of golden chain between the bars into his cell. “Put that around your neck.”
Sirius stood, and did, in a daze. The two magpies had the chain around their necks as well.
“A gazillion turns should do, I think,” said the magpie with missing feathers, and then, with one foot and its beak, it spun a small golden hourglass attached to the chain.
Sirius was used to apparition, and portkeys, and the Floo network, but this was disorienting on a whole new level. He found himself standing on a grey rock, surrounded by more grey rocks, by a grey sea, under a blindingly grey sky. He winced. His cell had been dark. The absence of Dementors made this scene cheerful by comparison.
The two magpies ducked out of the chain and transfigured into their human forms: two men in their early twenties, with fiery red hair and garish green dragonskin jackets that Sirius immediately coveted, which was totally inappropriate since he was a terrible person who had killed James and Lily, thus did not deserve an awesome jacket. Sirius would have thought they were twins, but one was a bit older and thinner than the other. Brothers, certainly. They reminded him of the Prewett brothers. The older one was missing an ear, although his long red hair almost hid the scar. He lifted the golden chain off Sirius’s neck and tucked it in his pocket. “Congratulations,” he said with a grin. “You’re the first person to escape from Azkaban.”
“Although I wouldn’t brag about that if I were you,” added the younger brother. “As it hasn’t been built yet, so no one would know what you’re talking about.”
Sirius looked back and forth between the brothers, and wondered if they were the same person twice. He/they did have a time-turner, after all.
“You look like you need more chocolate,” said the younger one, pulling another bar from his pocket. “Sorry, it's a bit melted.”
“It’s fine. Thank you.” Sirius took it and ate it.
“Ready to be side-along apparated?” asked the older one.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s got to be someplace private, for us to use the time-turner to go forward.”
“We don’t want to spend much time in the distant past.”
“Stepping on chaos butterflies and whatnot.”
“We’d hate to mess things up so we aren’t born.”
“Because that would be really confusing.”
“Even if we weren’t around to be confused.”
“So let’s get out of here.” Each brother abruptly swung an arm around Sirius, and he found himself side-along apparated to a rocky mountainside. The brothers waited until he’d found his balance before letting go.
“Where are we?” asked Sirius, although such a question was cliche.
“Future site of the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Tempting to buy up a lot of real estate, isn’t it? But we don’t have time to find a realtor.” The older brother pulled the little golden hourglass from his pocket and looped the chain around the necks of all three of them again. He poised his hand to turn the hourglass, but hesitated, and addressed Sirius. “We’ll need to convince your friends that we’re legit, and save Mr. and Mrs. Prongs, but before that we should probably find and destroy all five of Voldemort’s horcruxes, so when he’s killed it will be for good. How long do you think we’ll need? A week before Halloween 1981, maybe?”
“A week?” exclaimed Sirius.
“Excessive?” asked the younger brother.
“No challenge at all,” said the older. “I told you so. This is a Marauder we have here.”
“Indeed,” answered his brother. Both brothers had broad grins.
“And once we have Messrs Moony and Prongs on board, we’ll be bloody unstoppable.”
“A day, then?” suggested one brother.
“A neat twenty-four hours,” agreed the other.
He was just about to spin the hourglass when Sirius yelled “Wait!”
Each brother cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Let’s not be reckless,” said Sirius.
The brothers looked at each other. “Did we get the right cell?”
“Apparently not.” Four brown eyes glared at him. The younger brother spoke. “Are you or are you not Sirius Orion Black?”
“Also known as Mr. Padfoot?”
“Most bold and reckless of the Marauders?”
“And thus the one with whom we thought we’d have the most in common?”
“Or was our information source unreliable?”
“Not to speak ill of the dead.”
“Or the not-yet-born.”
“I am, but… I mean, you’re talking about defeating he-who-must-not-be-named. It’s not like we haven’t tried—“
“Voldemort. He hasn’t even been born yet, much less had time to make up that pretentious name or cast a taboo on it, so feel free to say it.”
“Or call him Tom Riddle. That’s his real name.”
“And we know his weaknesses, horcruxes, made by committing murder, breaking his soul in pieces.”
“I know what a horcrux is,” said Sirius, “but I haven’t heard the word in plural form before. Is it even possible for one wizard to make more than one horcrux?”
“Not humanly possible, no. He’s damaged his soul so badly, he’s not really human anymore. He kept going until he made seven in our timeline. That was a very bad idea. But he is immortal like he wanted.”
“Anyway, we can't stay back here for long, or we risk messing stuff up. Our birthday’s the first of April, 1978, so we’re not changing anything further back than that. How much time do you want, years?”
Sirius could tell the question had been asked sarcastically, but didn’t care. “Yes. The further back we go, the more lives we can save.”
The brothers looked at each other.
“Hey, James and Lily aren’t the only lives worth saving. The Prewett brothers—“
“All right, all right. First of April, 1978, if you insist.”
“Hm,” said Sirius. “We’re just finishing up our last year at Hogwarts. If we mess with that—“
“So let’s make it the first of April, 1979,” said the younger brother.
“Righto,” said the older brother. He spun the hourglass, giving Sirius that odd feeling of disorientation again, and they were standing on the same rocky mountainside, now overlooking Hogsmeade. The chill in the air was now the chill of spring, not autumn. The brothers turned to each other. “Happy birthday!” they said in unison. Then the older one lifted the chain off their necks and put the time-turner in his pocket.
“Happy birthday. Sorry I didn’t get you anything,” said Sirius. “I’d buy each of you a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, but…” He looked down at himself. He was still wearing the clothes he’d been arrested in: jeans, t-shirt, his black leather jacket and motorcycle boots, minus his wallet, wand, and the magic mirror that had connected him to James. He’d had no opportunity to clean up the splatters of blood and dust from the explosion, and the mildewed smell of Azkaban clung to him. He was in desperate need of a shower. “I’m a mess.”
“This is actually the best we’ve ever seen you,” said the younger brother.
“You’re fresh as a daisy, relatively.”
“Full of the vim and vigour of youth.”
“But some Scourgify spells wouldn’t hurt.” They drew their wands on him, and he cringed, reflexively reaching for his own, but of course it wasn’t there. After some uncomfortable spells, he felt a bit more presentable.
“Thank you,” he said. “You know me in the future?”
“Know you?” said the younger brother.
“You’ve been our hero since we were eleven!”
“You and all the Marauders.”
“Since we first stole the Marauder’s Map from Filch.”
“As wee ickle firsties at Hogwarts.”
“Your creation guided us.”
“Through four years of pranking.”
“Influencing us more profoundly than any professor.”
“With the possible exception of Professor Lupin.”
“Professor…” wondered Sirius.
The younger brother drew his wand again. “Have a seat. This explanation will take a while.” He transfigured a boulder into a squashy red armchair like the ones in the Gryffindor Common Room.
Sirius collapsed into it, making a loud farting noise. “What…”
“I don’t think I can make them without whoopie cushions,” said the younger brother. “Of course, I haven’t tried.” He transfigured a couple of other boulders similarly. He and his brother jumped into theirs to maximize the volume of the farty noises.
“What…” repeated Sirius.
“Whoopie cushions,” explained the younger brother. “A muggle invention, and a top seller at our joke shop. Muggles have some brilliant ideas. Anyway, may I offer you some refreshment?” He transfigured a small rock into a goblet and filled it with water with an Aguamenti spell. He offered it to Sirius, who eyed it suspiciously.
“You didn’t make that a dribble goblet, did you?” the older brother asked the younger.
The younger brother immediately flung the goblet over his shoulder to shatter on the rocks behind him, quickly transfigured another one, filled it with water, and handed it to Sirius, who took it and drank, spilling water down the front of his shirt.
“I didn’t, but that was a good idea,” said the younger brother.
“Hey!” said Sirius. “I’m wandless. You have the advantage of me.”
“As if we’d dare to get into a pranking duel with the legendary Mr. Padfoot if he were armed,” said the younger brother. “We’re reckless, not insane.”
“But who are you?”
“I’m Fred Weasley,” said the younger brother.
“And I’m his very slightly younger twin brother George,” said the older brother.
“Born one year ago today.”
“To Molly Weasley, née Prewett, and her husband Arthur.”
“We’re proud Hogwarts dropouts.”
“Inventors.”
“And successful businessmen.”
“We used to be identical.”
“But the Order of the Phoenix sent us on missions a touch more dangerous than our typical Hogwarts pranks. I gave serious thought to cutting off my own ear so we’d match again.”
“But I talked him out of it. And then they broke up the set when my brother died.”
“Heroically, he tells me.”
“Which, well, I needn't explain to you how I felt about that, since Mr. Prongs’s death seems to have hit you with a similar impact. As I wasn’t inconvenienced by being imprisoned in an inescapable fortress, there was nothing stopping me from applying my sizable intellect and fortune to the task of obtaining a powerful time-turner.”
“I still can’t believe you sold the shop,” complained Fred.
“We can open another shop. It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that you’re alive, Fred. I’m never losing you again.”
“But, George,” objected Sirius, “if you remember your brother dying, how can he be alive now? Isn’t that a paradox?”
“If I were still in the same timeline, yes. But by using this time-turner, I’ve created a parallel timeline. In our original timeline, not only is Fred still dead, but my family is additionally traumatized by my sudden disappearance, although they should simply assume that I’m on the run from the law after the trouble I went to getting this time-turner out of the Department of Mysteries. Anyway, that timeline is no longer my concern, as it doesn’t have Fred in it. It’s inhospitable to Freds, as it would be awkward to attempt to reintegrate a dead man into society, considering that his rescue was extremely illegal. And then of course there would be the bother of scraping his name off the war memorial. This timeline is my new home, as it has not one, but two Fred Weasleys in it as of today, one full-grown as you see, the other toddling around the Weasley ancestral home.”
“Thus, with a slight adjustment, we are running down a different leg of the trousers of time,” said Fred. “This leg will be an improvement on the one we left, as surely the more Weasley twins, the better.”
“That’s a low bar to clear,” said George. “Things got pretty bad at the end there.” He turned to Sirius. “Our Marauders all met untimely ends. It would be nice to prevent three-fourths of those.”
“And now that you mention it, we always wanted to meet our uncles. We probably did meet them, but were too young for them to have made much of an impression.”
“Fabian and Gideon,” realized Sirius.
“The very same.”
“Although they can’t meet us.”
“Not under our own identities.”
“The Ministry is so stuffy about enforcing those laws against time travel.”
“You’ll need a new identity as well.”
“No one must know there are two of you running around.”
“No one?” objected Sirius. “Not even—“
“Do all three trustworthy Marauders know Occlumency?”
“All Order members have been trained in it. Dumbledore made sure of that.”
“Then we’ll make an exception for them. And perhaps for Mrs. Prongs.”
“Thank you,” said Sirius. “We know how to keep secrets.”
“You nicknamed a werewolf Moony,” said Fred.
“You could have gone with something more subtle, like Wolfie McWolfface.”
“We were kids,” said Sirius.
“Anyway,” said George. “We’re telling only a select few that we have a time-turner. I went to a lot of trouble to steal this thing, and I don’t want all my hard work undone by some thief.”
“We’ll need false names,” said Fred.
“And backstories.”
“I’ll need my wand,” said Sirius.
George pulled it out of a pocket too small to contain it and tossed it to him. Sirius felt the familiar hum of magic in the wood, but it was more scuffed than he’d seen it last.
“Thank you. How—“
“After you broke out of Azkaban in 1993, and convinced Dumbledore you were innocent in 1994,” said George, “Your cousin Tonks discreetly liberated it from the evidence locker at the Ministry for you. The Order retrieved it after your death at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries in 1996. It eventually made its way to your godson Harry, for you left all your possessions to him in your will. I liberated it from him, somewhat less discreetly.”
“What?! My will…”
“Was read after Bellatrix Lestrange killed you.”
“That bitch.” All three had spoken at once.
“If it helps you feel better, our mum killed her at the Battle of Hogwarts, in 1998 in my original timeline,” George assured him. “But we’ll handle that for her this time around. She was always telling us we should do more chores.”
Sirius shook his head, overwhelmed. “How did Remus go? In your timeline?”
“Professor Lupin outlasted even Dumbledore,” said Fred.
“He died in the same battle as Fred,” said George. “Dueled brilliantly by all accounts, but protecting that many children from that many Death Eaters is a big job. First werewolf to be awarded an Order of Merlin, first class. Posthumously, unfortunately. He was the last Marauder.”
“All of us… Peter. Who got Peter?”
“Killed himself.”
Sirius hadn’t been expecting any particular answer, but that one still shook him. He couldn’t speak for a while. The twins passed the time by bouncing on their pranked chairs in a competition for who could make the loudest farting noise.
Sirius finally found his voice. “Couldn’t you have come back just a few days earlier, to before James and Lily—“
“We thought of that,” said Fred.
“And quickly nixed the idea,” said George.
“We,”
“Two complete strangers,”
“Would have had to convince everyone that your dear friend Peter was a traitor.”
“I don’t think even we have enough nerve to pull off that particular impossibility.”
“But now that you’ve seen what a traitor he is with your own eyes,”
“We have at least one ally.”
“Back when your friends still trusted you,”
“So you can tell them what’s up.”
“We need a plan.”
“And my plan extended only to this point,” said George. “I assumed that your input would add so much to any plan, we might as well wait until you were onboard.” The twins looked at Sirius expectantly. “So what now, boss?”
Sirius took a deep breath, let it out, and found that it didn’t help. “I do my best planning in a team,” he said eventually. “The others, they tone down my most ridiculous schemes, make them more practical. Let’s get Remus and James onboard first.”
“Right,” said Fred.
“We’ll just need to sort out your identity before venturing into society.”
“We can’t have two Sirius Blacks wandering around.”
“May we adopt you as a brother?”
“We’d be honored.”
“We look nothing alike,” objected Sirius.
“That’s easily remedied,” said George, pulling a vial from his pocket and tossing it to Sirius, who caught it.
Sirius read: Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Permanent Hair Color, Flame Red. Colors ALL hair. Lasts until antidote is taken . The meaning sunk in. “I’m not living the rest of my life as a ginger!”
“You have something against gingers?” asked Fred menacingly.
“He’s just intimidated,” said George before Sirius could reply. “Let us assure you, Mr. Padfoot, that you are worthy of this, the most noble of hair colors, Gryffindor red. We based this color on our own hair, so you know we endorse it.”
“It’s more carrot orange, really,” observed Sirius.
“Close enough.”
“And the freckles…” Sirius said.
“Don’t worry, we have a potion to provide those too.” George tossed him a second vial.
“Oh…good,” said Sirius hopelessly, catching it. It was pink with orangish-brown speckles.
“You’ll look very different without the trademark Black hair and alabaster complexion,” said Fred.
“Trust us, changing your coloring is the least annoying way to change your appearance. Polyjuice is such a hassle,” said George.
“Have you ever tried to pick your nose when it’s not the shape you’re used to? Difficult, very difficult.”
“I don’t know how Harry even fits a finger in that little nubbin.”
“What are you waiting for? Are you so nostalgic for Azkaban you want to be arrested for time traveling?”
Sirius looked at the brothers, his brothers, he should think of them. “How come you two get to keep your look? There are duplicates of you in this timeline too.”
“Ah, but a twenty-year age gap is different from a two-year one,” said Fred.
“People will notice the similarity once your younger selves have grown out of the featureless blob stage. And you look a lot like the Prewett brothers. Brighter hair but same eyes. You’ve got to change something.”
“All right. The eyes have to go. Brown is so drab anyway.” George rummaged through his pockets. “Ooh, how about violet?” He pulled out three small violet vials.
“No one has violet eyes,” objected Sirius.
“Yes they do, they’re just really rare. Well, not so rare since we started selling these color-changing potions, but rare here and now.” He tossed a violet vial to Sirius, who caught it. “Drink up.”
“Wait. Violet eyes and orange hair?”
“They’ll go perfectly with our green dragonskin jackets.”
“No they won’t. Orange, violet and green are not coordinating colors. Now black, white and grey, those look good together.”
“Say goodbye to that monochromatic look, Black. There’s a whole world beyond the Dark and the Light.” George tossed another vial to Fred. The brothers unnecessarily entwined their arms together and downed the potions in unison. Very soon, their eyes glowed violet.
“Are they supposed to be that bright?” Sirius asked. With his wand, he traced an oval in the air to make a temporary mirror for them, but they had no interest in it, satisfied with looking at each other.
Then they turned to Sirius with matching grins and violet eyes. “Of course.”
“No wonder it’s a bestseller.”
“Aren’t we gorgeous?”
“What are you waiting for?”
Sirius looked at the three bright vials in his hands. “It’s just… Think of all the ladies I’ll be disappointing. They’re very fond of my current look if you know what I mean.”
“This look of ours has been no hindrance if you know what we mean,” smiled Fred.
“I suppose changing your look is sort of like betraying the parents who gave it to you,” mulled George.
Sirius yanked the corks out of the three vials and gulped the potions down. One was perfumed like candied violets. One tasted like cloyingly sweet orange candy, blood oranges specifically. One tasted like carrots. He knew it.
The potions worked quickly. Sirius pulled a lock of his long hair in front of his eyes and watched it turn from jet black to carrot orange. That wasn’t so bad, but then he saw freckles bloom across the back of his hand, which also acquired a pink blush.
“I can see the family resemblance now,” said Fred.
“We’re Sacred Twenty-Eight purebloods too, much to the embarrassment of the rest, so we were already cousins,” said George. “We noticed some Weasleys and Prewetts as maiden names on your Black family tree tapestry.”
How had they seen his family’s tapestry? Anyway, Sirius looked in his mirror. He looked like the victim of a prank. He did look quite different with that raw meat look gingers had. His face’s most prominent features had previously been his pale grey eyes, ringed by thick black lashes and accented with jet black brows, contrasting with his white skin. Now that those lashes and brows were orange, clashing with pink skin, and freckles broke up the aristocratic geometry of his face, his resemblance to his new “brothers” was clear. At least they’d let him keep his nose. He vanished the mirror. “Thank you. Hopefully even my own mother won’t recognize me.”
“Blood traitor!” shrieked Fred in a terribly familiar voice. Sirius jumped.
“Shame of my loins!” added George in the same voice.
“I regret ever giving birth to you!”
“I should have just clenched my naughty bits and held you in like a fart!”
“You’ve met my mother,” observed Sirius.
“We haven’t had the pleasure, but her portrait was still up in number twelve Grimmauld Place when you offered it as headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix,” said Fred.
That explained the tapestry, but “How was the house mine to offer? I was disowned.”
“They were really scraping the bottom of the barrel for Black heirs at the end there,” said George. “And your mum must have re-owned you after your arrest for killing all those muggles and stuff. She was undoubtedly glad you finally joined the Dark side.”
“Oh Merlin.” That meant his brother Regulus, always his parents’ favorite, was dead. Served him right of course, but...
“But we have new identities to create,” said Fred. “Even simple stuff like the details of our brotherhood. I’m twenty, and I don’t know how old George really is after all his time travel.”
“Let’s say twenty-one,” said George. Sirius would have guessed he was older, but that thinner, haunted look he had might have been caused by more than the simple passage of time.
“I’m the spoiled baby of the family,” said Fred. “George is the forgotten middle child, and Sirius is twenty-two so he has to be the responsible eldest.”
“Those aren’t our names anymore of course,” said George.
Fred wrote glowing letters in the air with his wand:
FRED GIDEON WEASLEY
GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY
SIRIUS ORION BLACK
“But let’s have some fun before we start.” Fred stirred the letters of his own name like a bowl of alphabet soup. FRED GIDEON WEASLEY was rearranged into “WISELY DERANGED FOE.” Fred admired the arrangement. “Looks legit.”
“My turn,” said George. He stirred his own name with enthusiasm. “A FLEABAG’S WEENIE ORGY. We should print that on a shirt.”
“Good idea,” said Fred. “It would sell.”
Sirius rushed to stir his own letters. “A BRISK IRONIC SOUL! That’s me.”
Fred stepped forward to give Sirius’s letters another stir. “Or, CAROL’S SOUR BIKINI. Anyway.” With his wand, he swept all the letters together to drift in a swarm in midair.
“That’s too many last names,” said Sirius. “We can get rid of one of the WEASLEYS.”
The look George gave him was frightening.
“The name, I mean,” said Sirius. “We’re all going to have the same last name anyway. We just don’t need so many letters.”
“Relax, George,” said Fred, picking out the letters and flinging them aside. “Sheesh, I leave you unattended for a year and you go crazy.”
“I'm not crazy,” said George, for Fred seemed to have hit another sore spot.
“Whatever.” Fred finished picking out the excess letters. He stirred all the remaining letters together. “Remember, our new names have to sound exotic.”
“No one in Britain knows us, so we’re obviously foreign,” added George.
“I’ve got it! We’re from Kazakhstan,” grinned Fred.
“But I don’t know anything about Kazakhstan,” objected Sirius.
“Neither do we, or anyone else here. We’ll just make up Kazakh culture as we go along.” The brothers grabbed letters for themselves.
FIN, selected Fred. “I’ve got it! Fin! Easy to say.”
George rushed to grab the letters to make GIL. He turned to Sirius. “What part of a fish do you want to be?”
Sirius grabbed the letters the twins were throwing at him. “SCALE? That’s not a name.”
“Of course it is,” said Fin.
“Um,” said Sirius. “Maybe Sal? That sounds more like a name.”
“Whatever.” Fin picked the offending C and E out of his name and returned them to the cloud, which he stirred. “For a last name, how about BABAFOOGIAN?” he suggested.
“Perfect!” said Gil.
“Um,” said Sirius.
“I love it!” said Gil.
“We’ll sort the rest into middle names later, or not,” said Fin, sweeping the rest of the letters away. He then pulled a piece of worn parchment from his pocket and tapped it with his wand. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
It felt strange to hear someone else say that. “But they wouldn’t be at Hogwarts,” said Sal. “They’ve graduated.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” Words were appearing on the parchment:
Two For Joy
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
Are Proud to Present
The Marauders’ Map mark II
Sal stared.
“We got the idea from you of course,” said Fin. “Bloody brilliant. We stole your Map from Filch’s office and learned everything we could from it. We gave the original away to Harry Potter in fifth year once we’d made this improved version for ourselves.”
“Harry Potter… So, he’s all right? My godson?”
“More or less.”
“Long story.”
“We don’t want to have to tell it multiple times, so let’s find Messrs Moony and Prongs first, as well as teen Padfoot.” Fin addressed the Map. “Show me Remus Lupin.” The Map, not of Hogwarts, but of all of Britain, changed. The image swelled, vanishing over the edges of the parchment. Finally, the Map centered on an unfashionable suburb of London. Red letters became visible among the black: Remus Lupin, moving slowly in a rectangle labeled Tesco.
“Does he work at Tesco these days?” mulled Sal. “He’s had so many different jobs it’s hard to keep track.”
“Can you side-along apparate us there?” asked Fin.
Sal studied the map. “I know the neighborhood. I can get you near there.”
His brothers slung their arms over his shoulders. “Let’s go,” they said in unison, so Sal took them to a dark alley where they were unlikely to be seen by muggles.
“Lead the way, brother,” said Fin, so Sal led them, blinking, to the sunny street.
Fin folded the Map and put it in his pocket. “Ah yes!” he exclaimed in some sort of… accent? speech impediment? while looking around the shabby suburb in wonder. “Just as guide book said, most authentic British scenery right here! Let us buy exotic British food!” He pulled his brothers into the Tesco as soon as he spotted the sign.
There was Remus in the produce section, holding a shopping basket that contained a loaf of bread and two tins of beans. He was weighing a small head of cabbage in his hand while looking at the per-kilo price with the expression of concentration he wore when working on an arithmancy problem. He looked up when the three brothers approached him. He looked confused for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Sirius! Who pranked you? Would you like my help getting revenge?”
“How did you know it was me?” asked Sal.
Remus hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’d recognize that swagger anywhere. And of course, I was expecting you on April Fools Day. Who got the jump on you?” He looked at Sal’s brothers, then back to Sal. “Is it contagious?”
“I would like to introduce you to my two long-lost brothers from Kazakhstan,” said Sal. Leather jackets squeaked as he slung his arms over their shoulders.
“Ah. Do tell,” said Remus, smiling.
“It turns out that I’m not a Black at all. When I was a baby, Walburga and Orion kidnapped me from my real parents and disguised me with some color-changing potions to make me look like them. My real family has been searching for me for years. We’re finally reunited. My name is actually Sal Babafoogian.”
Remus laughed hard. “Good one, Sirius. I can honestly say I was not expecting this prank. Explosions are more your style. Who are your colorful friends? They seem to be a good influence on you.”
Which way to do the introductions? “Brothers, this is my friend Remus Lupin—“
Fin and Gil ducked out from under Sal’s arms to bow at Remus’s feet. “So this is the great Remus Lupin! Your fame as a prankster has reached us even in Kazakhstan!” said Fin in his accent/speech impediment.
“Teach us, oh great master of pranks!” said Gil in an approximation of the same speech impediment. “We thought you were legend! Kazakh mothers tell tales of Remus Lupin in hopes of inspiring their children to grow up to be respectable pranksters, and not be led astray to a life of accountancy or worse. And now to discover that you are real!” Gil wiped a tear from his eye. The gesture was overacted, but the tear looked real. “I am quite, how you say in English, verklempt ,” he said, his voice breaking.
“Would you do us the honor of allowing us to anoint your toes with whortleberries?” said Fin, grabbing a package from a display. “It is Kazakh custom.”
Remus looked at Sal pleadingly. His meaning was clear: Please help.
“Guys, I thought you planned to tell him the truth,” said Sal as he grabbed hold of his brothers and hauled them up off the floor.
“We can’t waste an opportunity to prank Professor Lupin!” protested Fin, dropping the fake accent.
“Now that his brain is all innocent and virginal, just ripe for corruption! He’ll never be easier to prank than he is right now,” continued Gil.
“Sirius, did you tell them I’m a—“ said poor Remus.
“I didn’t tell them anything about you!” said Sal. “They got all these ideas themselves.”
Gil rummaged through an inner pocket of his jacket. “Oh, and before I forget, I brought you the cure for lycanthropy,” he said.
“What?” said Remus. He grabbed the little plastic bottle of pills Gil was offering him. He read the label. “This says Amoxicillin.”
“Yeah, it took a muggleborn healer to think of testing muggle antibiotics on magical diseases,” said Gil. “Take three a day for a week, you’ll be all set.”
“No,” said Remus, his voice shaking. All of him was shaking, actually. “I don’t believe you. This… This prank isn’t funny.”
“Believe it,” said Gil.
Fin swept his hand over his head and snapped his fingers, releasing a puff of glitter. “It’s magic! Muggle magic.”
Remus tried to hand the pill bottle back to Gil, who wouldn’t take it, so he threw it at him. It bounced off the dragonhide and landed, rattling, on the floor.
Gil picked it up with a shrug and put it back in his pocket.
“You bastards.” Remus turned his cold gaze to Sal. “You told these strangers about me for the sake of a prank? You swore you’d never use my condition for a prank again, and now—”
“I swear I didn’t tell them anything! They’re from the future! They’ve got to be! They rescued me from Azkaban with a time-turner!”
That distracted Remus at least. “What were you doing in Azkaban? Last I saw you—“
“It’s a long story. I’m from the future as well. I just turned twenty-two, Remus. I spent my birthday in Azkaban for killing—“ his throat closed up and he couldn’t finish the sentence.
Gil took the shopping basket and the cabbage from Remus, who was too distraught to object. “Splurge. Get the medium-sized cabbage.” He returned the small one to the display and put a larger one in the basket. He added the box of whortleberries.
“Stop,” said Remus. “I can’t—“
“I’m hiring you to work in our new joke shop,” said Gil. “As soon as we get around to opening it. Today’s groceries are on me. What else do you need?”
“Nothing, from you,” said Remus.
“They seem not to sell leather jackets here,” said Gil. “So let’s go.”
“We can explain everything,” Sal assured Remus as Gil made a show of not understanding British money at the till, and asking the young cashier if her parents had arranged her marriage yet.
“This is a really weird prank,” said Remus, dazed, carrying a string bag of groceries as they walked back to the dark alley to elude muggle eyes. “You’re… I didn’t ask you a security question! In fourth year, what went wrong with your Herbology final project?”
“A salamander ate my flame flower,” said Sal. “I still think Snivelus is the one who let it loose in the greenhouse. So that’s not a good question, really. I could be Snivelus in disguise, finally confessing my evil deed.”
“You didn’t ask me a security question,” said Remus.
Sal shrugged. “The Map never lies.”
Remus’s stride faltered. “You made a Map of Tesco for a prank?”
“Yes,” said Fin who’d reached the alley and pulled the Map and his wand from his pockets. “To avoid redundancy, let’s wait until we’ve got James and monochrome Sirius too. I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
Remus stared as the Marauder’s Map mark II blossomed on the parchment.
“Show me James Potter,” said Gil. The image didn’t expand much. Several red dots appeared on it.
“That’s a common name,” said Fin.
“His middle name’s Fleamont,” said Sal helpfully, earning himself some disbelieving violet stares.
“Are you serious?” asked Fin. “Hey! I can say that and it’s not a pun, because you’re Sal now, brother mine.”
“Anyway,” said Gil. “Show me James Fleamont Potter.”
They watched as the map expanded to center on one dot. “He’s on the grounds of Potter Manor,” said Sal. “I can apparate you to the front gate.” Fin put the map away. The twins glommed onto Sal and he took them there. Remus appeared beside them.
Remus pulled the bell cord. A sweet chime was heard from the house.
Soon, James flew to the gate on his broom. “I’m busy at the moment, sorry,” he said.
“I think this is important,” said Remus.
“Can’t it wait?” asked James. “I thought of the perfect prank, but I have to finish it before Lily gets here.”
“Has Lily ever liked your pranks?” asked Sal.
“She’ll like this one,” said James earnestly. Then he gave Sal a better look. “Sorry, have we met?”
“You’d better let us in to discuss this,” said Remus.
James, the trusting fool, opened the gate. “Mind where you step, though. I’ve— Yes, like that for example.”
Sal couldn’t take more than one step, as the first triggered an eruption of passionflower vines to twine up his leg, sprouting green leaves and ornate purple flowers as they went.
“Brilliant!” said Fin in his fake accent. He took a running leap into the grounds and was delighted to find himself trapped in a jungle of morning glories.
Gil followed, to enjoy being mummified in sweet peas. “You even got smell right!” he admired.
“That part was tricky,” said James. “Think she’ll like it?”
“I wouldn’t presume to say,” said Remus, who was still just outside the gate. “Do you have a plan to get people out of this?”
“I was just about to work on that,” said James cheerfully as Sal tried to discourage a tendril that seemed determined to climb into his left nostril. “So maybe it’s a good thing you’re here, with friends, so I have subjects to experiment on.”
“This is traditional British greeting, yes?” asked Fin.
“Guidebook did not mention this,” said Gil. “Bad guidebook. This is best part of country.”
James soon tested the vine-pruning part of his prank to his satisfaction, and after running through the prank a few more times to make sure it was all in working order, he flew off to fetch four more brooms, so they could all fly to the house without any more horticultural complications.
James settled everyone in the sitting room. “Tea?” he offered. “What would you like?”
James was just so damn himself, Sal couldn’t hold back any longer. “James!” Sal engulfed him in a hug.
“Gah!” said James. He struggled to throw Sal off, then drew his wand and pointed it at Sal, who held up his hands in surrender. “What the hell? Who are you?”
Remus raised an eyebrow at James. “You really can’t tell?”
James looked from Remus to Sal, then back. “No.”
“Well,” said Remus in the sincere voice he used for his best pranks, “I know how much you like redheads, so I got you three. Gave them all Amortentia, too, so there’s no way they can resist your charms.”
“That seems a bit oof,“ said James, who’d just suffered the simultaneous impacts of Fin and Gil.
“My love!” exclaimed Fin in his vaguely exotic accent. “At last we meet!”
“No!” exclaimed Gil. “He is mine! I will pay fifty goats for his hand in marriage!”
“I will pay one hundred goats!”
“You do not have one hundred goats, you bark-eating starvling!” Gil addressed James tenderly while petting his chaotic hair. “Come with me, my love, and the very ground you walk on will be richly strewn with goat turds.”
“I have embroidered the bridal sack already!” said Fin.
“You may be unfamiliar with Kazakh courtship customs,” remarked Remus.
“I’m flattered, of course,” said James, defending his personal space with his elbows. “But I’m afraid you’re too late. My heart belongs to another.”
Fin, Gil and Sal let out a despairing wail in three-part harmony.
“You know, my prank on you just involved itching powder in your underwear,” said James.
“I know,” said Remus. “It was completely lacking in originality. I detected and fixed that this morning. But do you really not recognize this bloke?” he asked, indicating Sal.
James took another look, then shook his head at Remus.
Remus sighed and looked at Sal. “Hug him again,” he ordered.
Sal obliged. “I love you James, and that’s the truth.”
“Whoah, mate, you don’t want to make Lily jealous.”
“You’re alive!” Tears of joy were in Sal’s eyes.
“Shouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just that the last time I saw you, you were dead. You and Lily. In 1981. I’ve traveled back in time to save you!”
James looked sideways at Remus, who shrugged and said, “This goes way beyond Sirius’s usual April Fools Day antics. I’m not completely sure what’s going on myself.”
“Sirius?” asked James. He tugged on a lock of Sal’s orange hair, establishing that it was attached. “You poor thing. Did Remus do this to you?”
“Maybe we should have got monochrome Sirius first,” said Gil, dropping the accent. “Anyway, let’s go prank him.”
“Wait, what?” said James. “But Sirius is right here.”
“Nope,” said Sal. “My name’s Sal.”
Fin took the Map out of his pocket. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
James looked funny with his eyes bugged out like that. Sal wanted to hug him again.
“Show me Sirius Black,” said Gil. The map expanded to show two dots labeled in red.
“You have to stop thinking of yourself by that name, Sal,” said Fin. “It could take a while for the Map to catch on to your new identity. Hm. Show me Fred Weasley.” Two dots again, one here, one in Ottery St Catchpole. “I’m one to talk. Anyway, show me Sirius Black again. Let’s get the one in a record shop in Soho. Where’s a good spot to apparate around there?”
Sal, Remus, and James discussed it, and chose an alley where they’d have some privacy. Sal side-alonged his brothers there. Soon, they were walking down the street and entering the record store in a pack.
There he was. Damn he looked good. He was wearing the exact same jacket Sal was wearing now, although it looked newer. Those pale grey eyes did a double-take at him. “Nice jacket,” Sirius said to Sal. He’d had to say something, for Sal was just standing close to him and staring.
“Thanks. You wear it better,” said Sal generously. He got in Sirius’s personal space to look at the same records in the Q section. He picked up News of the World. “You’re not planning to buy this, are you?” He knew damn well that Sirius was planning to buy this. This was the day he’d bought it.
“Well, actually,” started Sirius.
Sal handed the record over ceremoniously. “Then have it. Too bad it’s the only one here.” He sighed. He gave Sirius The Look. Did it work with violet eyes? Did it work on blokes? On himself in particular? “If only I could hear it at least once. I don’t suppose you live around here? Perhaps you could play it for me on your stereo? You seem like the kind of bloke who’d have a great sound system.”
Sirius, Merlin help him, was considering it. His pale grey eyes looked him up and down. Sal wasn’t sure if he should be triumphant that his charm was working or horrified that it was working on him.
Sal chickened out before Sirius had time to say yes or no. “And I hope your flat’s big enough for all my friends and family. Come on, Marauders, brothers, help me out here!”
James, Remus, Gil and Fin popped up from the record displays they’d been crouching behind, sniggering.
“What the fuck?” exclaimed Sirius.
“Well, we know how much you admire yourself,” said Remus, “so we found the ideal partner for you.”
“I’m not a ginger!” said Sirius, which was hardly the point.
“Gingers are the best,” said James. “Trust me, I know.”
“I mean, he’s cute and all,” said Sirius. “Got to admit. Still, not exactly my type.” He looked to Sal. “I believe we have not yet been introduced.”
“The Black family is famous for incest, isn’t it?” said Remus. “Cant get any more incestuous than this.”
“What?” said Sirius.
“Let’s discuss this in your flat,” said Sal.
“Um,” said Sirius.
“After you buy that record,” said Sal. “It’s one of my favorites. Go on, buy it. You won’t regret it, I promise.”
Sal saw Sirius struggle with his muggle money until Remus helped him. He’d learned to handle it much better in the last two years.
Fin and Gil found a young woman in fabulously fitted bellbottoms and tried to impress her with tales of how many goats they owned back in Kazakhstan.
“Come on,” said Sal, tugging his brothers away. “More sightseeing awaits.”
Once outside the shop, Sirius huddled with Remus and James. Sal couldn’t hear what they were saying, partly because Fin and Gil were making so much noise.
“So many women out in public with their eyebrows uncovered!” marveled Fin. “This is scandalous!”
“I don’t know, brother,” said Gil, eyeing a woman who was particularly well-endowed above her eyes. “I think I like this strange British custom.” He waggled his eyebrows at the woman, who hurried away.
Remus, James, and Sirius approached them. James had apparently been voted the group’s spokesman. “Let’s discuss this in Sirius’s flat.” He looked at Sal. “You can lead us there.”
“Of course,” said Sal, doing so. “Let’s pick up some falafel on the way, though, I’m really hungry. This place here is good. But damn, I don’t have any money.”
“My treat,” said Gil.
Once they were supplied, Sirius let them all into his flat, where they lounged on the various bean bags and swing chairs and dropped falafel crumbs onto the red shag carpet.
“So,” said Sirius. “You’re me from the future.”
“Yes.”
“What in the name of Merlin happens to me?”
“Most recently, I disguised myself with some color-changing potions, courtesy of my new friends here. They’re from twenty years in the future, but they’re passing themselves off as foreign instead, since time travel is illegal. I’m pretending to be their brother, so I had to change to look like them. There can be only one Sirius Black at a time, or the Ministry will get suspicious. To avoid being arrested for illegal time travel, I’ll have to look like this for the rest of my life.”
“And I thought I suffered a terrible curse,” remarked Remus quietly.
“So I get to keep the look I have now?” asked Sirius.
“Yes,” said Sal.
“You’re absolutely sure?”
“Yes.”
“I won’t grow into that look in two years?”
“No. I’m from not just a different time, but a parallel timeline, if I’m understanding this correctly. This timeline should diverge from my own, hopefully for the better. I’ll make a new home for myself here, and I have to look different from you to do that.”
Sirius heaved a sigh of relief.
“We brought a Pensive,” said Gil, pulling a small flat object out of his pocket. He snapped it open with a flourish, unfolding it into a large basin with Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Pocket Pensieve printed on the side. “If you would show them the relevant memories that should make this much easier.”
Sal put his wand to his temple and reeled out some memories. His stupid, terrible plan to use himself as a decoy secret-keeper, while making Peter the real one. Peter’s thrilled expression as he accepted this task, which they’d attributed to pride in being trusted by friends who sometimes seemed to consider him deficient in bravery.
The house in Godric’s Hollow, damaged. James lying dead on the floor, eyes staring blindly. Lily’s corpse upstairs, little Harry’s chubby hand reaching through the bars of his cot, blood dripping into his eyes from the wound on his forehead as he screamed “Mummy!”
Was that enough? No, there was more, the world hadn’t actually ended then: leaving his godson and motorbike with Hagrid, confronting Peter, Sirius’s terrible choice to try to talk to him instead of just attacking, the explosion... His realization that he’d killed James and Lily with his stupid plan, telling as much to the Aurors, his cell in Azkaban… Odd that he didn’t remember his trial, but he’d been so distraught it must not have registered.
He released the misty blob of memories into the Pensieve and stepped back.
Remus, James and Sirius looked at one another.
“Would one of you like to go first?” offered Remus politely.
“Our Pensieve should fit all three of you,” said Fin.
“They’re not idiots,” said Gil. “They have no reason to trust us enough to make themselves defenseless in our presence all at the same time. One will use the Pensive while the others stand guard and act casual.”
“I wondered whether paranoia or bravery would dominate at this stage,” said Fin. “No wonder Mr. Moony lived the longest in our timeline. He’s cautious even as a youngster.”
“Um,” said James. “You may go first if you want, Remus. Sirius and I will stand guard, as it were.”
“Thanks.” Remus plunged his head into the memories swirling around the Pensieve.
The others looked at one another.
“This is a perfect opportunity,” said Fin.
“We never miss an opportunity to prank a professor.” Gil pulled a small yellow pad of paper and a purple magic marker out of his pocket. Kick me, he wrote, and gently stuck the note to Remus’s back. Then he bowed.
Remus eventually pulled his head up out of the Pensieve. He was crying. Remus never cried.
“What?” demanded James.
“Peter…” Remus tried to say.
“What happens to Peter?” asked James, sounding panicked. “Why isn’t he here if this concerns him?” He plunged his head into the Pensieve. Sirius did likewise.
Sal pulled Remus into a hug to cry with him. He was dimly aware of Fin and Gil sticking notes to the backs of Sirius and James.
Remus Scourgified his handkerchief and put it away. “Please tell me this is a prank. I don’t want a cure for lycanthropy from the future if the price is Peter’s betrayal.”
Sal shook his head. “Sorry, mate. I wish it were all a prank too. They would have had to modify my memory to add two years of war, and I don’t think anyone would work that hard on a prank.
James and Sirius raised their heads from the Penseive. They both looked like they’d aged several years. James collapsed into a beanbag chair.
“Peter,” growled Sirius. He started to charge out of the room.
Sal grabbed him before he got far. “No. We can’t kill him yet.”
“He—“
“I know, I swear to you I want to kill him at least as much as you do, but not yet. We need a plan.”
“There are more important things to do first,” said Fin. He looked to Sirius. “First order of business is saving your brother.”
“My… Oh, of course you mean James. Yes, he’s always been like—“
“No, we mean your brother,” said Gil.
“Regulus Black.”
“The Death Eater.”
Sal looked from one grinning twin to the other. “This prank is in really poor taste.”
“You traveled back in time to save a Death Eater?” exclaimed James. “You come here with this unbelievable story, trying to get us to cooperate—“
“I’m sure we can discuss this calmly,” said Remus, exuding reasonableness. “Would you like some tea?” he asked. Of course.
“Yes please,” said Sal, and his brothers agreed.
Remus went to Sirius’s kitchen, soon returned, and served their tea.
Sal locked eyes with Remus and gave him a slight nod as he accepted his teacup. “Thanks.” He drank his tea as soon as it was a tolerable temperature. “Drink up, boys,” he said to his new brothers. “Don’t want to waste good Veritaserum.”
“Wicked!” said Fin and Gil, downing their tea. They set their cups down with simultaneous clinks. “What was Angelina’s favorite position?” Gil quickly asked Fin.
“Cowgirl,” said Fin. “Rode me like a broom, she did. You must know that, though. Didn’t you ever pretend to be me and try her out yourself?”
“I thought I was discreet about it. When did you figure it out?”
“Just now. Anyway, it’s what I did to all your girlfriends, so it makes sense you’d do it to mine.”
“I hate to interrupt,” said James, “But we have more important questions to ask before the Veritaserum wears off.”
“Really?” asked Fin skeptically.
“You haven’t experienced Angelina,” explained Gil. He turned back to his twin. “She did call out ‘Oh George!’ at a significant moment, so she must have known it was me. Unless she usually did that. Did she?”
“Never,” said Fin.
“My question may not have been specific enough,” said Gil. “Even with the help of Veritaserum, questions must be phrased right for the answers to be significant. My question implied that you managed to bring her to such a state that she called out anyone’s name, which may not be a correct assumption. So to rephrase—“
“But are you three really from the future?!” James exclaimed.
“Yes,” the time travelers said in unison.
Fin addressed Sal. “In your dog form, did you ever—“
“I’m asking the questions here!” exclaimed James. “Why are you three tampering with time?”
“I apparently was fated to die in 1998,” said Fin. “Heroically.”
“When I saw his body lying there after the battle…” Gil’s voice broke. “It took me a year, but I figured out how to steal a time turner and rescue him right before he died. So I’m from 1999, making me about a year older than my slightly older twin brother. Neat, I can say that under Veritaserum. I’m older than my older brother!”
“So this Angelina—“ began Sirius.
James quickly conjured a rolled-up newspaper and whacked Sirius with it. “Shut up. We’re trying to do an interrogation here. Now Fin, what death did Gil, or George, this bloke here, rescue you from?”
“At the Battle of Hogwarts—“
“The what?” interrupted Remus, aghast.
“When Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts in 1998,” said Gil. “The professors, and the Order, and the older students defended it.”
“Which side—“ started Remus.
“Were you fighting for the Dark or the Light?” interrupted James.
“No,” said the twins simultaneously.
“It’s not that simple,” said Fin. “We were part of the Order, of course.”
“You were working for Dumbledore,” surmised James.
“No, that old fool got himself killed in ‘97,” said Gil. “He wasn’t the great strategist everyone thought he was.”
“You died in the same battle as Fred,” said Gil to Remus. “And your wife. I saw you lying there with the rest of the corpses. You left your baby an orphan, with Harry as his godfather, as if he’d have any clue about how to raise a baby, what with how he was brought up.”
“My wife?” exclaimed Remus, who looked horrified. “Who would marry me?”
“Probably half your students at Hogwarts had a crush on you,” said Fin.
“As you were the only competent Defence teacher we had for decades,” continued Gil.
“But you married someone a few years older than your students.”
“Nymphadora Tonks.”
Fin let out an appreciative whistle. “She’s hot.”
Sirius and Sal exploded simultaneously. “My little cousin?!” they said in unison.
“She grows up,” said Fin.
“And how.”
Remus shrank under the glares of Sal and Sirius. “Anyway, we make some bloke named Harry godfather to our baby? Who’s Harry?”
“Harry James Potter,” said Fin.
“Your son,” said Gil to James.
“That boy in the crib,” realized James, looking pale.
Gil addressed Remus. “So I thought about rescuing you from the battle too, but really, there were so many people worth rescuing, it seemed inefficient to do it piecemeal.”
“So once he’d rescued me and stopped blubbering,” said Fin, “we decided to do this on a large scale as a team effort, and what better team than the Marauders? The good ones, anyway.”
“We decided to get Sirius first, as he’d definitely believe us after Halloween of ‘81,” said Gil.
“So he could introduce us to the rest of you, as so he has.”
“So you’re really on our side?” asked James.
“Of course.”
“Definitely.”
“Absolutely.”
“You traveled through time just to save lives?”
“Well, and end a few,” said Fin.
“Depends on the lives,” said Gil.
“Who are you here to kill?” asked James.
“Well, I suppose Azkaban might be a better place for him, but I wouldn’t mind killing Pettigrew,” said Fin.
“And Bellatrix Lestrange,” added Gil,
“And Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange,”
“And Barty Crouch junior,”
“Wait,” interrupted James. “Barty Crouch is the head of the DMLE.”
“His son’s a Death Eater,” said Fin.
“Made a pretty good DADA professor, though,” added Gil.
“I’ll grant that,” said Fin. “Oh, and I wouldn’t mind killing Alecto and Amycus Carrow.”
“We can’t forget Dolores Umbridge!”
“And I’m not fond of Lucius Malfoy,”
“Or Fenrir Greyback,”
“Or Igor Karkaroff,”
“Or Ludo Bagman.”
“Wait,” said James. “You mean the beater for the Wimbourne Wasps?”
“He cheated us out of our World Cup winnings,” explained Fin.
“Not that we want to kill him over that, exactly,”
“Just make him suffer a little,”
“Or a medium amount,”
“And various other Death Eaters.”
“Like Evan Rosier,”
“Walden McNair,”
“What’s-his-name Nott, Theodore’s dad,”
“Crabbe, Vincent’s dad,”
“Goyle, Gregory’s dad,
“Antonin Dolohov, before he kills Gideon and Fabian and Professor Lupin.”
“Ooh, that’s a good one. And Augustus Rookwood,”
“And Something Avery,”
“Gibbon, not the monkey, the Death Eater.”
“Jugson,”
“Mulciber,”
“Selwyn and Travers, for what they did to Mr. Lovegood.”
“And Corban Yaxley, earlier this time,”
“Thorfinn Rowle, although his incompetence may have hurt his own side more than ours.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure about him. How about Petunia and Vernon Dursley?”
“Hm. Do they deserve death, though? Maybe just imprisonment. In a cupboard.”
“Wait,” said James. “You mean Lily’s sister?”
“Yes. Although if we’re going to name them we should also name Albus Dumbledore, although he has at least some good qualities.”
“Do those good qualities make up for him plotting to kill Harry, though?”
“What?!” exclaimed James.
“He had this overly-elaborate plan of human sacrifice for the greater good,” explained Fin.
“It sucked,” said Gil.
“But Harry…” said Sal.
“You don’t mean…” started Sirius.
“My godson,” explained Sal. He looked at James. “Your son.” He looked back to the twins. “You’re saying Dumbledore’s plan involves killing him?!”
“Yes,” the twins said in unison.
James fell off his beanbag chair. “What?!”
“Does Harry turn out evil or something?” sputtered Sal.
“No.”
“Harry’s a good friend of ours.”
“Best seeker the Gryffindor team ever had.”
“Invested his Triwizard Tournament prize money in our business,”
“Married our sister,”
“Saved the wizarding world.”
“But Dumbledore is a snazzy dresser,” said Fin.
“True. Gave us candy,” added Gil.
“Very true. Let’s just wait for him to kill himself.”
“All right. Well technically he had Snape do it for him.”
“How about Snape, though?” asked Fin.
“Hmm… No, we probably shouldn’t.”
“He sliced your ear off. Got professor Lupin’s old tweed jacket so bloodstained he had to throw it away, and what he wore after that was even shabbier.”
“True. Harry likes him for some reason though, so let’s not.”
“Maybe because Snape killed Dumbledore.”
“Yeah, that does make Snape more likable.”
“We’re running out of names of people we’d kill.”
“Except—“
“Don’t say it.”
“I don’t like this question.”
“You’re making us sound like rampaging murderers.”
“Ask something else, quick.”
“I have a question about those pills,” started Remus quietly.
“No distractions,” said James.
Remus shut up and faded into the background in that way he had.
“They’re fighting the Veritaserum,” explained James. “They’re hiding something.” He turned back to the time travelers. “What are you trying to hide? Who are you really here to kill?”
“Voldemort! Oh shit,” said all three brothers at once.
Sirius tilted his head to the side. “Did you hear that?”
“Sounded like apparition,” said Remus. He was instantly on his feet, wand drawn. “He has a taboo on his name.“
“Guess you should have thought of that before giving us Veritaserum,” said Fin. “Disapparate! Evasive maneuvers, then meet you at the Shack.” He turned on the spot. “Fuck, anti-disapparition ward. All right, we stand and fight.”
Gil started pulling things from the inner pockets of his green dragonhide jacket. He distributed a pair of flimsy black-plastic-framed eyeglasses to each of them. Each pair was equipped with bushy black eyebrows and a large pale nose. “Put these on, fast.”
“Disguises?” asked James, looking at his pair skeptically. “I don’t think—“
James stopped talking when Gil reached into his pocket again and drew forth a small black box. He opened it, and that was the last thing Sal saw for a moment. The world went black.
“I suggest you put the glasses on,” came the disembodied voice of one of the twins, his grin obvious in his voice.
“Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder,” said the other twin. “Those glasses are the only way to see through it. Patented.”
Sal put on the glasses and found that he could see, but only in shades of grey, like an old muggle movie.
Everyone drew their wands.
“About time,” Gil said with a wicked grin. “This meeting was getting dull.”
“How convenient!” said Fin in delight. “Our targets have come to us!”