FicWad

Disclaimer: I'm still having trouble believing the number of positive reviews this story has received. I've been sitting on this update for many of months, waiting for lightning to strike again. I apologize if I can't satisfy everyone. All recognizable characters and situations still belong to JK Rowling.
The St. Edmund Legion is based on the Legion of St. George (also known as the British Free Corps), the pathetic Nazi attempt to recruit British POWs for the SS.



Harry Potter had been in many strange situations in his short life. Some of them had been wonderful, but many more had been terrifying. None, however, was quite as alien as confronting two naked comatose women, who had been in that condition for years and years.

"Hermione, do you have any idea how these machines work?" Harry asked, in the hope that Hermione would have an answer, as she so often did.

"Not really, Harry," Hermione replied dejectedly. She wanted to be able to help, both because her friends needed her and her ego demanded it, but… "These machines take years of training for a doctor to operate, and that's before whatever magical adjustments were made to them. I just don't know where to start, but I'll at least try not to touch anything."

"Irma?" Harry asked next.

"The one time I was down here, I got to see these machines for about a minute before my kids ordered me out at wandpoint," Irma growled. "I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Luna, any ideas?" Harry was getting a bit desperate.

"I know what to do," Luna replied confidently. This gave Irma and Hermione a major start.

"Really? Tell us!" Hermione urged.

"Actually, I don't, but I figured it was what you wanted to hear," Luna admitted to general groans. "But I have confidence that Harry will think of something."

"Bugger. Well, if any of you thinks of anything, let me know. Otherwise, I might just try something ridiculous, like waving my wand toward them and yelling, `Wake up!'," he said, suiting action to words, "or kissing them like in fairy tales, or…"

"My Lord?"

A gravelly voice came from one of the bodies on the platform. To the shock of the others present, the Black sisters were starting to move.

"You have called us, my Lord, and… James Potter? When did you become Lord Black?" These words came from Narcissa, who was beginning to clamber off of the platform where she had lain for so long.

Bellatrix, meanwhile, had seen her grandmother. "Grandma! What has happened to us?"

"How do you know that I'm Lord Black?" Harry interjected.

Narcissa answered, "Because when we were put to sleep, Father told us that only the Lord Black could awaken us. What has happened to him?"

"I'm not James Potter, ma'am. A lot of things have happened, and it's going to be hard to explain. I think we need to get out of this basement first. Any ideas on whether it's safe?" Harry asked of no one in particular.

"Father said that the machines would only work while we were asleep," Bellatrix replied. "You do look like James, but not completely. Who are you?"

"As I said, it would probably be a good idea to answer all of your questions at once. Right now, you need some clothes, I need a shower, and we need to figure out what kind of questions to ask you so that our explanations might make some kind of sense." Harry's mind was already whirring. "Irma, you know this house much better than I do. Could you please find rooms for them while Hermione and
I talk?"

"Hermione? That's an odd name," said the blonde.

"Let's not start with these people, Narcissa," her sister said with emphasis on the name. "We need their help. I think we were asleep for a while," Bellatrix continued as they approached the elevator.

The ride upward was a quiet one, except that Irma gave him directions to two rooms where the sisters could get robes and wait for them to do as he had outlined. Harry asked the sisters to wait in those rooms for "just a little while, until we're ready to talk," and to his surprise, they accepted his request without complaint or question.

While Harry was showering and changing in a bathroom attached to what had been his room, Hermione was making out a list of questions. Once he emerged, he generally approved of the questions that she wanted to ask the Black sisters to determine where to start explaining things. A quick round of comparing ideas with Irma ensured that each sister would receive the same questions. Harry and
Hermione would talk to Narcissa, while Irma and Luna would address Bellatrix.

The blonde sister had been waiting for just over half an hour before Harry and Hermione entered the small room where she had been waiting.

"I apologize for making you wait, Narcissa, but-" To his surprise, Narcissa raised a hand to cut him off.

"My Lord, I am sure that you had a good reason," she responded composedly.

Harry continued, "I'm sorry to have to do this, but we have some questions to ask you. First, what is your name?"

"Narcissa Tantala Black."

"What day were you born?"

"Tenth April, 1955."

"What day was it yesterday, or what you thought was yesterday?"

"Twenty-sixth September, 1974."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, as well they might; that date preceded Hermione's birth by almost exactly five years, and Harry's by nearly six.

"Who is the Minister of Magic?"

"Lysander Spiggott." Harry and Hermione both knew that this was the correct answer, as Hermione remembered her History of Magic.

"Hermione, are you sure about this next question?" Harry whispered. "I'm not sure Narcissa would know this one."

"All the better to start finding out what this Narcissa is like," Hermione whispered back.

"Alright… Who is the Prime Minister of Great Britain?"

"Harold Wilson. Wait, did we miss the election? Is it Heath now?" Narcissa asked, showing more confusion than previously.

Harry looked at Hermione. "There was a general election two weeks after the date she just gave us," Hermione replied quietly.

"Was? So it's past the tenth of October, then?" Narcissa asked, with some anxiety now.

"I'm afraid so, but I'd like to only have to explain things once," Harry said quietly. They continued.

***********

"What is your name?" Luna asked the other Black sister, with Irma seated behind her to comfort Bellatrix if necessary.

"Bellatrix Deborah Black."

"When were you born?"

"Twenty-third July, 1951."

"What day was it yesterday, or what you thought was yesterday?"

"Twenty-sixth September, 1974…"

***********

Fifteen minutes later, Luna and Hermione compared notes.

"Except for their names and birthdays, all of their answers were identical. Their names and birthdays match the records Irma showed us, and all their other answers were correct," Hermione said after a minute. "I think it's time to talk to them and tell them what we know."

"That won't take long," Harry said in an attempt at humor that fell flat into the gathering. "Did Bella complain about being kept by herself?"

Irma responded, "I think she was going to until we told her that the Lord Black had requested it, and then she calmed down."

"Why does the name Lord Black get such respect? They don't know who I am- they couldn't know who I am!" Harry exclaimed. "And it's not like I'm all that imposing a figure."

Hermione and Luna looked at him in response. During fifth year, a modest growth spurt had carried him to about five feet nine, with wiry strength that hadn't yet begun to fade as it usually did during summers of poor nutrition. As for his face, it was… well, his face; he hadn't thought it had changed much in the last few years- same green eyes, same cheekbones, same nose, same scar that
wouldn't mean anything to the Black sisters. `At least that's one problem I won't have,' he thought ruefully.

Irma wheezed before giving her response. "In Noble and Most Ancient Families, the family's Lord is the outward face of the family, except under extraordinary circumstances, like poor Sirius' case. He is expected to make the decisions about politics and dealings with the government and with other families. Other members of the family are expected to discuss things with him, but sooner or later they're supposed to yield to his greater wisdom," she continued with sarcasm. "Judging from what you've seen of this house, how much leeway do you think that Lords Black have given their families?"

"Not much?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"More like not any!" Irma said, pounding her cane on the floor. "That operation you saw in the cellar was definitely approved by the Lord Black of the time, my late husband. Bastard. Pollux was a spoiled little tyrant from the day I first met him until the day I fled, and I'm sure he didn't change until the day they lowered his carcass into the ground. Did you know he was only twelve when I married him?"

That certainly got everyone's attention. Irma continued her tale. "The Crabbes owed the Blacks a huge amount of money from business deals gone south, working with the Dark Lord of the day, and the Blacks had Pollux take payment in the only thing my parents had to offer- me. Nine months later, Cygnus was born and any chance I had of getting out of the marriage was gone. But I'm getting off
the subject. Those girls had years of near-worship of their Lord pounded into them. They know you're the Lord because no one else could wake them up. They'll do almost anything you ask."

Harry was enough of a teenage boy to have some… interesting ideas, until Hermione grabbed his hand. "We've got to talk to these girls, and let them know how the world has changed."

"You're right, Hermione. Luna, do you agree?" Harry asked.

"That sounds like a good idea. Maybe they can tell us about the spells they were under, and if they know anything about the Death Eaters," Luna stated.

"I can tell your dad's a newsman," Harry said with the ghost of a grin. "You're trying to get any information we can out of them. That's not a bad idea, but we have to get their trust first."

***********

The Black sisters joined the four in the parlor, where Harry told them about what they had seen and about the "Black sisters" that he knew, supported by the others from time to time. When he was done, the sisters sat in silence for a minute.

"Nineteen ninety-six," Bellatrix breathed at last. "So you're saying it's 1996, and we've been down there in the basement for twenty-two years."

"And during that time, these other women have been running around with our bodies," Narcissa added in a tiny voice.

"And one of them is now the second-most wanted criminal in Magical Britain," Bellatrix said with more heat.

"While the other is married to the third-most wanted," Narcissa continued, color rising in her face.

"Well, your husband, I mean your double's husband," Harry corrected himself, "is supposed to be in Azkaban now. We saw him in Gringott's, but I don't know if that means he's actually free now."

"They should have sent him back to Azkaban after the reading was over. You heard what Lucius said. As long as he stayed on Goblin territory, he was exempt from the Ministry's law- but he couldn't leave the bank without becoming a fugitive again," Irma growled.

"I know he was a Death Eater back when we were… awake… but he never got sent to Azkaban before now?" Narcissa seemed more curious about Malfoy than her sister, not surprising since her double was married to him.

"Nope, he said he was under Imperius, and the Ministry let him go," Luna responded sadly.

"That's a lie. I remember him hitting on me back when we were at school, and he already had friends who were experts in Dark spells. Most of them were sons of the original St. Edmund Legion," Bellatrix detailed.

"Who were the St. Edmund Legion? I've never heard that name before," Hermione inquired.

"Bunch of…" Irma kept herself from swearing only with major effort, "traitors, frankly. They were supporters of Grindelwald back in the day, when he wanted to take over Magical Britain. They convinced themselves that he was the wave of the future, instead of the Ministry. After the war was over and Dumbledore beat Grindelwald in their duel, they got swept under the rug. Just like the Death Eaters have," she finished, almost snarling.

"Enough history. What do we do now?" Narcissa demanded.

"Well, the main resistance to Voldemort is the Order of the Phoenix, and they've been meeting here. Albus Dumbledore is their leader," Harry started.

"Do they know about us?" Bellatrix asked carefully.

"No. They couldn't. I could tell that no one had been near the elevator for many years before we came," Irma replied. "Which means that…"

"They will think that you," Harry said while pointing to Bellatrix, "are a psychopathic murderer and you," he turned to Narcissa, "are married to Voldemort's most trusted servant. Obviously, that's going to lead to a fight we're not going to win."

"Oh, I don't know. We were pretty good at it back in the day. We had to be- our Lord insisted that we learn to fight physically," Bellatrix said. "We were pretty sure that he had it in mind for us to become Death Eaters eventually but figured we'd have a chance to escape first. Guess he out-thought us," she concluded sadly.

"Then why go through with the training if you didn't support him?" Luna asked.

Narcissa looked at Luna as if she'd grown another head. "Because our Lord said so! And also, because the hard work gave us really nice bodies," she said a little sheepishly.

It was true, as they'd all seen downstairs. Even now while they were wearing robes, you could see their broad shoulders and the muscles in their legs. Both of their robes also covered some very nice chests, which made Harry's task of maintaining eye contact more difficult.

"Anyway," Harry said to cut off this train of thought, "we have no intention of getting into a fight with Dumbledore, or with anyone else right now. Someone is going to have to tell Dumbledore and the Order to meet somewhere else for a little while…" Harry said while looking at the others, "and I guess that someone is me. Longer term, we've got to find some way to clear your names and to stop Voldemort, either with the Order or on our own." He paused at that point, as the enormity of that task started to set in.

"I think I can help you, at least for now," Irma said after a long pause. "Tell Albus that I'm here to settle family affairs on Sirius' behalf. That should keep him away for a while."

"Thank you, Irma! I really do appreciate all the help you've given us," Harry replied.

"Don't misunderstand me, Harry. I said you could tell him that- but I don't think I can stay," she said more quietly. When Harry and the girls started to complain, she held up a hand. "I've got a business of my own in South Africa, and it can't go on without me for very long. But beyond that," she said in a lower voice, "this house contains nothing but bad memories for me. I lived here for fifty years, and I spent most of that time miserable, frightened, dominated, or all of them at once. Would you want to live in that house where your aunt and uncle were, Harry?"

Harry pondered that for a while. "I see what you mean," he whispered, and the girls nodded.

"I know that you need all the good advice that you can get. I don't know if I'm the best person to give it to you, but you can call me at any time and I'll do the best I can. Just keep in mind that it will take a few minutes to connect London and Jo'burg," she continued.

"Grandma, please don't go!" Bellatrix cried, an emotional outpouring that Harry still had trouble believing from the lips of a killer. "We need you! Our Lord needs you!" Again, silence fell on the room as Irma pondered.

"I can stay for a couple of days," Irma conceded, "but no more than that. I was never much for fighting, and I can see that's in your future, so there I can't help you much. But I can see that there is one more thing that I need to do before I can leave- I need to talk to your sister."

Bellatrix and Narcissa actually squealed with glee. "Oh, Grandma! That would be wonderful! We've got to see her!" Narcissa begged, in a voice Harry and the girls had trouble connecting with the haughty woman with Narcissa's body they had known.

"Do any of you know the Tonks family?" Irma asked.

"Well, Harry and I spent a few weeks with her daughter here last summer," Hermione replied slowly. "Unfortunately, we've never been to her house, and we don't really know where it is."

"I do, or at least I know where they went when they left here," Irma stated. "But they may have moved in the last twenty-odd years. Let me give them a call, and see if they're still living there." Slowly, Irma got up and waddled over to the fireplace, starting a fire and dropping in a pinch of Floo powder.

"Magellan Glen!" she called. When Harry turned toward her, she explained. "A play on Andromeda's name, I'm told. I didn't ask for specifics, in case Pollux decided to beat them out of me."

***********

In a quiet manor house a hundred miles west of London, a grey-haired, distinguished-looking man in his late middle age was reading the Times in a comfortable chair by the parlor fireplace. He was waiting for his wife to announce that dinner was ready as the light started to fade. It was a scene that could be found in thousands of homes throughout the English countryside.

Very few of them, however, would have seen green flames suddenly spurt from the fireplace. "'Dromeda, there's someone calling us," Ted Tonks called.

A few seconds later, Andromeda Tonks nee Black entered the parlor. The tall, brown-haired woman looked too young to be Ted's wife; she was dressed casually in a sweatshirt and jeans, and had been supervising the house elves' cooking. The woman bent down by the fire, to see the round, wrinkled face of their caller.

"My God," Andromeda breathed, turning toward Ted. "It's Grandma! I haven't heard from her in so long!" Ted stood up and walked over to the fire, kneeling down to see Irma's face.

"Andromeda, Ted, it's so good to see you again," Irma said in an uneven voice, thick with tears. "I've come to Britain because of Sirius' passing, and I knew that I needed to talk to you while I was here. There are... things you need to know, Andromeda. I can't explain them over a fire, in case someone's snooping, and it'd take too long- my knees would fall off. I have to come by in person, with my guests. I know it's getting on toward evening, and there's too much to
say now. Can we visit you in the morning?"

"Yes, yes!" Andromeda pleaded. "How many guests will you be bringing?"

"Six, including me. If we could spend a night, we'd appreciate it," Irma said before a coughing fit struck her.

"That's not a problem, Grandma. Oh, it's so good to see you! I was afraid I'd never hear from you again when I left!" Andromeda gushed.

"I hope you'll still think so when you see us," Irma answered softly. "Is your daughter there?"

"Just- just a minute," Ted replied. He touched a stone in his pocket. "Nymmy, can your come down here for a minute. It's very important," he said. "She's been in a real state since that battle when Sirius was killed. She's been staying here, on a leave of absence."

"You've never seen her, have you?" asked Andromeda quietly. Irma shook her head. "Oh, that is such a shame. You'll like Nymphadora, I'm sure you will."


Irma turned away from the fire, toward the others in the drawing room. "What an odd name," she said softly.

"She doesn't really care for it," Harry stated. "She usually prefers Tonks."

"Quite a shame, really, because Nymphadora is such a pretty name," Luna mused.

"You're the first person I've ever heard say that," Hermione noted. Before the argument went any further, new sounds came from the other end of the Floo connection.


At Magellan Glen, the youngest Tonks entered the room. Her eyes were red, her hair was brown and lank, and she was still in her pajamas. Her parents hadn't seen her all day; she had asked them to leave her alone, and they had complied. "This had better be important," she growled.

"Oh, it is, sweetheart," Andromeda replied. "It's your great-grandmother. I haven't spoken to her since before you were born!"

"Since you ran away with Dad, you mean?" Tonks inquired, suspiciously.

"Yes, but it wasn't her fault," her mother answered pointedly. "It was all because of that bastard Pollux." That got her daughter's attention- Andromeda had rarely referred to her grandfather in her daughter's presence, and even more rarely by name.

Nymphadora bent down to take a look at the ancestor she had never known. "Hello?" she called.

"Tonks, I know you don't know me," Irma haltingly began. "But I'm your mother's grandmother. My name is Irma Crabbe. I'm so sorry about Sirius."

Tonks' face reddened. "I don't need sympathy, Irma," she snapped. "I helped get him killed!"

"Not from what Harry and Hermione told me," Irma responded gently. "They told me that you helped save them and that you acted very bravely. You acted more like a Black should than I ever have, I can tell you that. I just want to talk. There are a lot of things that you need to know about your family, and I'm sure your mother never told you- not because she lied to you, but because she
couldn't have known, and you need to know now."

"Mum," Tonks called, turning away from the fire toward her mother, "you're sure this is your grandmother?"

"I'm sure, sweetheart. I know it's hard to believe. She helped me run away with your father, even helped me pick this house. She risked her life to help me, and I've never forgotten that," Andromeda said, very quietly.

"You've never told me about her!" her daughter shrieked.

"I didn't know if she was still alive! And if she was, I didn't know where she was. I never wanted to burden you with all the family history of the Blacks, all that hate and fear- I was glad that your father and I could make a new start," Andromeda continued, near tears.

"And now the family past has come for us anyway," Nymphadora said. "I don't blame you, Mum, but this is a lot to take in." She knelt before the fire again. "Ms. Crabbe?"

"Irma. please," replied the older woman.

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you," Nymphadora said, sounding like a little girl.

"I don't blame you a bit, dear. Your mother has agreed to let us visit you tomorrow. If you don't yell at me again, I'd be very much surprised."

***********

Once the call was finished and arrangements were made for the following day's journey, the six temporary residents of Grimmauld Place settled down to dinner. Kreacher could be a surprisingly competent cook if you knew how to ask him nicely, which Irma did.

"My Lord-" Bellatrix began, only to be cut off by Harry.

"Please call me Harry. I insist. 'My Lord' makes me sound like Voldemort, and I don't want to be," Harry explained.

"Harry, then, how many people are in this Order that you talked about?"

"Maybe twenty. Most of them are connected to Albus Dumbledore in some way or another, as former or current professors. Then there's the Weasley family, who are almost all in the Order," Harry detailed.

At this, Narcissa snorted. "Weasleys? Related to Arthur Weasley?" she inquired. When Harry nodded, she continued, "Then the Order really must be desperate for support. If he had any real magical talent, he hid it very well-"

"He's a nice guy, Narcissa!" Hermione retorted. "I think the real problem we've had with them is Molly-"

"Molly? Was her maiden name Prewitt, by any chance?" Narcissa snapped.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Oh, she was trouble. The Prewitts were a bunch of scam artists. Theirs was a common problem, in that they were left a centuries-old name but not much else. Molly was always latching on to some get-rich-quick scheme or another, trying to 'recover the family fortune.'"

"Arthur Wealey isn't rich," Harry pointed out.

"No, but James Potter was. She did everything she could to try to get into James' pants, and ruined her reputation in the process. When that didn't work, she settled for whoever she could get who had his own house and wouldn't make her work for a living," Narcissa reminisced.

"Harry, remember what I told you earlier? Molly's been talking with Dumbledore. I'm sure they're trying to find some way to fix you up with Ginny, one way or another," Hermione reminded Harry.

"What should I do, then?" Harry asked the table.

"Keep the Order out of this house. That shouldn't be hard for us to arrange, since you do own it now," Narcissa said.

"We just have to find a way to do it without its being too obvious," Irma continued. "As I said earlier, I should be able to provide you with cover for a little while."

Bellatrix had been sitting quietly for the last few minutes, and now broke in with an idea. "Maybe you can spread a story about who the house might be left to," Bellatrix mused. After a pause, she continued, "We can give them the impression that after Sirius died, the Black family would have the house and its contents magically left to Sirius' nearest living relative."

"And who would that be?" asked Luna.

"His oldest cousin," Bellatrix chirped. "Me!"

"Ohhhhh," Hermione sighed as comprehension dawned. "Dumbledore would never risk the secrets of the Order falling into your- I mean your double's hands."

"Would that be true even with the will? Wills are recorded publicly, you know," Irma warned.

"But family magic isn't!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "Otherwise, people would have known we were down there!"

"And that's another problem," Luna stated. "People do talk about these things. Who else might know you were in the basement?" There, no one had an answer ready and another silence spread.

"I think we've got enough problems for now," Irma commented at last. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, I think we should eat and get ready for bed. It's been a long day, and tomorrow will be another one."

***********

"Harry?" Narcissa asked an hour later, after Grimmauld's residents had finished dinner and begun to wash and dress for bed.

"What is it?" he replied, turning back to her in the upstairs hall.

"We've seen the way that you were looking at us," Narcissa said quietly, and Harry reddened.

"Narcissa, I'm very sorry, I really am. You're good-looking women, and I don't have a girlfriend. I know it would be unfair for me to ask anything of you in that way, and I won't," Harry sputtered. "I'm sorry, but I should go to bed before I embarrass myself again." He promptly fled down the hall to the master bedroom.

"I didn't mind, Harry," Narcissa whispered as she turned the other way.

***********

The four younger women slept in two bedrooms on the second floor, one floor below Irma's and Harry's beds.

The conversations in both rooms were surprisingly similar.

"Our Lord seems to have lived a very lonely life," Bellatrix commented to her sister. "He seems very confused."

"And how can you blame him?" Narcissa replied heatedly. "There are two truly evil beings in our bodies running around somewhere. He doesn't know if he can trust us, and it's clear that he's known almost no one who deserves his trust. And he doesn't know how to respond to us."

"I think I see what you mean, Narcy," Bellatrix answered. "He just seems like a... very decent man. I don't know how to put it, but he knows he has to fight a war and doesn't want to endanger us or anyone else in the process."

"If we could just get him to trust us!" Narcissa wailed.

"It'll take time and work, Narcy. But has that ever bothered us before? Just think of the reward," Bellatrix responded with a smirk.

"You mean...?" Narcissa stuttered.

"I saw how he looked at us, too, Narcy. I didn't mind any more than you did. One of these days, he'll see that," Bellatrix explained.

"One of these days," Narcissa echoed as slumber overtook them.


"You've been rather quiet, Hermione," noted Luna.

"I've got a lot to think about," she answered. "Harry's about to need our help to go against Voldemort and the Order. I try to know everything that I can so that I can help him, but I don't even know what questions to ask. And then there are these Black sisters!"

"What about them?" Luna queried evenly. "They are rather unusual, but they seem like nice women."

"But they want to sleep with him, Luna!" Hermione nearly yelled. "I can tell- I can see it in their eyes."

"Why does that bother you?" Luna continued quietly. "You've told me he's not your boyfriend. Several times, over the last few months."

"But he shouldn't- I mean, he's not-" Hermione sputtered, then gave up.

"Good night, Hermione," Luna finished, rolling over in her bed. It would be a long time before Hermione got to sleep.