**Evans Residence — Magnolia Crescent**
**16 August 1971 — Mid-Morning**
The Evans household hummed with nervous energy as final preparations were made for what had somehow evolved from a simple afternoon visit into what could only be described as a full-scale cultural exchange event. The sitting room had been rearranged three times to accommodate optimal conversation flow, while the kitchen overflowed with an ambitious spread of both magical and Muggle refreshments that represented Melanie's determination to properly honor their distinguished guests.
Natalia stood in the hallway, smoothing her emerald summer dress for what had to be the fifth time while mentally reviewing the conversation she'd been planning all week. Her auburn hair caught the morning light streaming through the front windows, and her sharp green eyes held depths of anticipation mixed with carefully controlled nervousness. Today would finally provide the opportunity for extended private discussion with Hadrian about their shared circumstances—specifically about what had happened to Lily in his previous timeline.
*Focus,* she reminded herself, calling on professional discipline that had served her well in situations far more complex than hosting a gathering of eleven-year-olds and their distinguished parents. *Information gathering first, emotional processing second.*
"Stop fidgeting with your dress," Lily called from the kitchen, her voice carrying the kind of cheerful exasperation that only twins could achieve. "You've looked perfect for the past hour, and you're going to wrinkle the fabric if you keep adjusting it."
"I am not fidgeting," Natalia replied with characteristic precision, though she immediately stopped smoothing her skirt. "I'm ensuring optimal presentation standards for what could be considered our social debut into magical society proper."
"Social debut," Severus Snape said with obvious amusement from where he sat at the kitchen table, carefully arranging what appeared to be handwritten note cards. "You make it sound like we're being presented at court rather than having friends over for lunch and conversation."
At eleven, Severus had clearly made considerable effort with his appearance—his usually limp black hair had been washed and combed until it gleamed, and his clothes, while obviously secondhand, were immaculately clean and pressed. More importantly, there was something different about his posture, a confidence that came from being genuinely welcomed rather than merely tolerated.
"Aren't we, though?" Natalia asked with a slight smile, moving to join him at the table where he was organizing what looked suspiciously like research materials. "Being presented to each other's families, establishing social connections that will influence our Hogwarts experience? The setting may be suburban rather than aristocratic, but the social dynamics are quite similar."
*Trust Natasha to analyze a simple gathering in terms of strategic relationship building,* she thought with private amusement. *Some habits transcend reincarnation.*
"What are those?" she asked, gesturing toward Severus's note cards with genuine curiosity.
"Conversation topics," Severus replied with slight embarrassment, his pale cheeks coloring pink. "I thought it might be useful to prepare discussion points about Muggle technology and customs, since most of our guests will have limited exposure to non-magical households."
"Severus," Lily said with obvious warmth, appearing in the doorway with flour dusting her apron and genuine affection in her emerald eyes, "that's incredibly thoughtful. You've been such a help with everything—the research, the cultural context explanations, even helping Mum understand the social significance of hosting so many distinguished magical families."
"It's nothing," Severus replied quietly, though his dark eyes reflected pleased gratitude at the recognition. "You and your family have been... you've been kinder to me than I had any right to expect. Helping with preparations is the least I can do."
"Nonsense," Alex Evans said firmly, emerging from his study with several books tucked under his arm and the kind of professorial bearing that suggested he was prepared for intellectual combat. "You're not 'helping' because you owe us anything, Severus. You're helping because you're part of this family now, and families support each other."
The casual way Alex included Severus in their family unit made the boy's expression shift into something almost vulnerably hopeful, as though he was still learning to trust that such acceptance could be genuine and permanent.
*Different,* Natalia observed with satisfaction. *In whatever timeline Hadrian came from, Severus clearly didn't have this kind of familial foundation. Already the changes are significant.*
"Speaking of family support," Melanie called from the kitchen, her voice carrying the kind of maternal authority that brooked no argument, "could someone please explain to me again why we needed to prepare both magical and non-magical refreshments? Not that I'm complaining about the cooking help from Dorea's house-elves, but the logistics are becoming rather complex."
"Cultural bridge-building," Lily replied immediately, her academic instincts engaging with the kind of enthusiasm that had always characterized her approach to learning. "We want our magical guests to experience authentic Muggle hospitality, while also ensuring they have familiar foods available if needed for comfort."
"Plus," Natalia added with characteristic precision, "offering both demonstrates respect for different traditions while showcasing the possibilities for integration between magical and non-magical approaches to hospitality."
"My daughters," Alex said with obvious pride, "have apparently inherited my tendency to overthink simple social gatherings into complex cultural studies projects."
"There's nothing simple about today's gathering," Severus observed quietly, his analytical mind clearly engaged with the social implications. "Seven different pureblood families, most of whom have never set foot in a Muggle household, coming to visit a mixed-magical family in suburban Surrey. The cultural exchange potential is extraordinary."
"Cultural exchange potential," Lily repeated with obvious delight, her eyes sparkling with intellectual excitement. "I love how you phrase things, Severus. You make everything sound like an academic research opportunity."
"Everything is an academic research opportunity," Severus replied with characteristic solemnity, "if you approach it with proper analytical framework."
*That boy,* Natalia thought with growing appreciation, *has the kind of intellectual precision that would have made him valuable in intelligence work. His natural analytical instincts are quite remarkable.*
Their conversation was interrupted by a sharp, contemptuous sniff from the stairway, where Petunia Evans stood with the kind of sour expression that suggested she'd been listening to their preparations with growing disgust.
"I can't believe you're all treating this like some grand academic expedition," Petunia said, her voice carrying the kind of vicious dismissal that came from feeling excluded and choosing hostility over vulnerability. "They're just a bunch of freaks coming to gawk at normal people like we're animals in a zoo."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as everyone turned to stare at Petunia with varying expressions of shock, hurt, and growing anger.
"Petunia," Alex said, his voice carrying the kind of dangerous quiet that professors used when they were about to intellectually eviscerate someone who'd made a particularly offensive argument, "that is completely unacceptable. These are your sisters' friends, and they are welcome in this house."
"They're not my friends," Petunia shot back with vicious satisfaction, her eyes bright with the kind of cruel pleasure that came from knowing she was causing pain. "And they're not normal people. They're freaks with their freaky magic and their freaky animals, and I don't want anything to do with any of them."
"That's enough," Melanie said sharply, her maternal authority cutting through the tension like a blade. "Petunia Elizabeth Evans, you will not speak about your sisters or their friends that way in this house or anywhere else."
"Why not?" Petunia demanded, her voice rising with hysteria and long-suppressed resentment. "Everyone's been tiptoeing around the truth for months! Lily and Natalia aren't normal anymore! They're freaks, and they're turning our whole family into freaks by association!"
The silence that followed was absolute and devastating. Lily's face had gone pale except for two bright spots of color on her cheeks, while tears gathered in her emerald eyes. Natalia's expression had shifted into something cold and dangerous, her professional composure slipping to reveal the lethal operative underneath.
But it was Severus who moved first, rising from his chair with the kind of controlled fury that made him seem far older than his eleven years.
"Don't," he said quietly, his dark eyes fixed on Petunia with laser intensity, "ever use that word to describe people who have shown you nothing but kindness and inclusion."
"And what are you going to do about it?" Petunia sneered, apparently immune to the warning in his voice. "Cast a spell on me? Prove that you're exactly the kind of dangerous freak I said you were?"
"No," Severus replied with deadly calm, "I'm going to tell you exactly what I think of people who respond to love and acceptance with cruelty and bigotry. And then I'm going to watch you realize that your sisters—who have every right to be proud of their extraordinary abilities—will eventually understand that your opinion is worthless."
The precision of his verbal assault was surgical, each word chosen for maximum impact while maintaining perfect emotional control. Petunia's face cycled through several colors as the implications of his statement settled in.
"You think you're so clever," she spat, but her voice had lost some of its viciousness and taken on a defensive edge that suggested his words had found their mark.
"I think," Severus replied with characteristic precision, "that people who choose hate over understanding reveal far more about their own limitations than about the people they're attacking."
"Enough," Alex said firmly, his professorial authority cutting through the confrontation with decisive finality. "Petunia, you have two choices. You can apologize to your sisters and their friend for that completely unacceptable outburst, or you can go to your room until you're prepared to behave with basic human decency."
"I'm not apologizing to anyone," Petunia declared with vicious defiance, her chin lifting with stubborn pride. "And I'm not staying here to watch everyone fawn over the freaks and their freak friends."
"Then you can go to Helen's house for the day," Melanie said with the kind of maternal finality that brooked no argument. "I've already spoken with her mother about the possibility. You're clearly not prepared to be part of this family gathering."
"Fine!" Petunia snapped, spinning on her heel with dramatic flair. "I don't want to be here anyway! Have fun with your freak show!"
She stormed up the stairs with the kind of theatrical fury that shook the entire house, followed by the sound of aggressive packing and eventually the slam of the front door as she left for her friend's house.
The silence that followed was heavy with hurt and tension, broken only by the sound of Lily's quiet sniffling as she tried to compose herself.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with tears and embarrassment. "I don't know why she said those things. She's never been quite this horrible before."
"You have nothing to apologize for," Severus said gently, his earlier fury completely replaced by protective concern as he moved to offer Lily his handkerchief. "Her behavior reflects her character, not yours."
"He's absolutely right," Natalia said firmly, her professional composure firmly back in place though her eyes still held dangerous glints. "Petunia's choices are her own responsibility, and they have no bearing on you or your worth."
"But she's my sister," Lily said miserably, accepting Severus's handkerchief with obvious gratitude. "How can she think such awful things about something that's such a fundamental part of who I am?"
"Because," Alex said with the kind of gentle wisdom that came from years of teaching literature and understanding human nature, "some people respond to feeling left out by trying to convince themselves that what they're excluded from isn't worth having. It's easier for Petunia to decide that magic is 'freakish' than to admit that she feels jealous and inadequate."
"But that doesn't make her behavior acceptable," Melanie added firmly, her maternal protectiveness evident in every word. "And it doesn't mean we have to tolerate cruelty disguised as honesty."
*Different again,* Natalia observed with growing satisfaction. *In Hadrian's timeline, the family dynamics must have been quite different if Petunia felt comfortable expressing such views without immediate consequences.*
Their emotional processing was interrupted by the sound of multiple vehicles arriving outside—the distinctive purr of expensive magical automobiles mixed with what sounded suspiciously like a motorbike.
"They're here," Lily said, immediately straightening and wiping her eyes with renewed determination. "I won't let Petunia's tantrum ruin this gathering."
"That's my girl," Alex said with obvious pride, moving to the front window to observe their arriving guests. "And my word, they certainly know how to travel in style."
What greeted them outside was indeed a sight to behold. Two elegant magical automobiles had arranged themselves in the driveway with the kind of precision that suggested automatic parking charms, while a gleaming motorbike had positioned itself artistically near the front walk. From the vehicles emerged what could only be described as a parade of magical aristocracy, all dressed in their finest casual attire and clearly prepared for serious cultural exploration.
"Showtime," Natalia murmured quietly, her professional instincts engaging as she prepared to manage what was essentially a diplomatic reception disguised as a casual social gathering.
*Time to see how well pureblood children adapt to suburban domesticity,* she thought with private amusement. *This should be entertaining.*
"Right then," Alex said with renewed energy, straightening his shoulders with the kind of determined hospitality that had served him well in academic social functions, "let's give our guests a proper welcome to Magnolia Crescent."
As they moved toward the front door, Natalia caught Hadrian's distinctive silver-grey eyes through the window and felt her pulse quicken with anticipation. Finally, she would have the opportunity for the extended private conversation that had been occupying her thoughts all week.
*Information gathering,* she reminded herself firmly. *Find out what happened to Lily in his timeline, understand the scope of the changes we're working with, and determine what threats we need to prepare for.*
But underneath her professional planning, she felt something that had been foreign to her previous life: genuine excitement at the prospect of spending time with friends who accepted and valued her exactly as she was.
*Some missions,* she realized with growing warmth, *are considerably more pleasant than others.*
---
The front door of the Evans house opened to reveal what could only be described as controlled chaos—the kind of barely managed excitement that came from a group of aristocratic children experiencing their first encounter with suburban middle-class life.
James Potter practically bounced out of the lead car, his untameable black hair sticking up at impossible angles despite obvious attempts at styling, while his hazel eyes sparkled with the kind of unbridled enthusiasm that made everyone around him want to join whatever adventure he was clearly planning. Behind him came Sirius Black, whose grey eyes were wide with fascination as he took in the neat suburban street with its carefully maintained gardens and uniformly similar houses.
"Bloody hell," Sirius breathed, apparently forgetting every lesson in proper language that had been drilled into him since birth. "It's like... it's like they're all identical! How do people tell which house is theirs?"
"Sirius," Dorea Potter said with gentle reproach, emerging from the car with her characteristic elegance intact despite the journey, "we discussed appropriate language for mixed company."
"Sorry, Mrs. Potter," Sirius replied with uncharacteristic sheepishness, though his excitement remained undimmed. "But you have to admit, it's quite remarkable! The precision! The uniformity! It's like someone designed an entire neighborhood using geometric principles!"
"It's called suburban planning," Frank Longbottom said with obvious amusement, his steady presence adding calm wisdom to the group's excited energy. At eleven, he already possessed the kind of reliable nature that made everyone feel comfortable, though his hazel eyes held genuine curiosity as he examined their surroundings. "My grandmother showed me books about Muggle architecture and city planning. The standardization allows for efficient construction and community organization."
"Fascinating," Regulus Black said quietly, his grey eyes bright with intellectual interest as he studied the neighborhood with systematic attention. Even at nine, he already showed signs of the analytical precision that would characterize his later years, and his raven familiar Corvus perched on his shoulder with dignified interest in the proceedings.
"Oh, this is wonderful!" Alice Fortescue exclaimed with obvious delight, her brown eyes sparkling with genuine pleasure as she took in the Evans house with its neat garden and welcoming front door. "It looks so... cozy! And normal! I've never seen a house that looked so perfectly ordinary!"
*Ordinary,* Natalia thought with private amusement. *If she only knew how extraordinary this ordinary house was becoming.*
"Alice," Druella Black said with maternal warmth, "remember that what seems ordinary to us may be quite sophisticated in its own context."
The Black triplets emerged from their vehicle like a coordinated force of nature—Bellatrix with her wild black curls and barely contained energy, Narcissa with her platinum perfection and regal bearing, and Andromeda with her gentle elegance that balanced her sisters' more extreme qualities.
"It's so green!" Bellatrix announced with characteristic enthusiasm, spinning around to take in the entire street with obvious delight. "Look at all the gardens! Everyone has their own little patch of growing things!"
"Of course they do," Narcissa said with careful patience, though her blue eyes held curiosity as she examined the Evans house with systematic attention. "Property ownership typically includes designated outdoor space for personal use and aesthetic enhancement."
"But they're all different," Andromeda observed with genuine interest, her intelligent gaze moving from garden to garden with obvious appreciation. "Each family has chosen different plants and arrangements. It's like... like artistic expression through horticulture."
*These children,* Natalia realized with growing fondness, *are approaching suburban life like anthropologists discovering a new civilization. It's actually quite charming.*
But it was Hadrian who commanded most of her attention as he emerged from the car with Aslan padding beside him like a small silver shadow. At eleven, he already possessed the kind of natural presence that made people look twice—not just because of his height or his distinctive silver-grey eyes, but because of the way he carried himself with quiet confidence that suggested depths far beyond his apparent age.
Aslan had indeed grown considerably since their first meeting—now the size of a small dog rather than a house cat, though he still moved with the fluid grace that marked him as something far more dangerous than his young age might suggest. His silver coat gleamed in the morning sun, marked with distinctive golden rosettes that would eventually make him one of the most beautiful and deadly creatures in the magical world.
*He's grown,* Natalia observed with professional interest. *Newt wasn't exaggerating about Nundu growth rates.*
"Hadrian!" Lily called from the doorway, her earlier upset completely banished by genuine pleasure at seeing their guests arrive. Her wild red curls caught the sunlight as she waved enthusiastically, and her smile held the kind of uncomplicated warmth that made everyone around her feel valued. "Everyone! Welcome to Magnolia Crescent!"
"Lily!" James replied with characteristic enthusiasm, bounding up the front walk with infectious energy. "This place is brilliant! It's like a perfect example of organized community living!"
"Thank you?" Lily said with obvious amusement, clearly not sure whether James's observation was intended as a compliment or anthropological analysis.
"It's definitely meant as a compliment," Hadrian said with a slight smile, his silver-grey eyes meeting Natalia's with understanding and what looked suspiciously like shared anticipation. "James finds systematic organization aesthetically pleasing."
"I do indeed," James confirmed cheerfully. "There's something very satisfying about patterns and planning."
*Your cousin,* Aslan observed in Hadrian's mind with sophisticated amusement, *has an interesting way of approaching new experiences. Academic curiosity disguised as casual observation.*
*Family trait,* Hadrian replied privately. *Potters tend to analyze everything, even when we're trying to be social.*
"Please, everyone, come in," Alex Evans said with the kind of warm hospitality that had served him well through years of hosting academic colleagues and their families. His professorial bearing was evident even in casual clothes, and his genuine pleasure at welcoming their guests was immediately apparent. "We're delighted to have you all."
"The pleasure is entirely ours," Euphemia Potter replied with gracious elegance, her warm brown eyes taking in the Evans family with obvious approval. "Thank you so much for hosting such a lovely gathering."
What followed was a carefully choreographed dance of introductions and social positioning as everyone moved into the sitting room, which had been arranged to accommodate comfortable conversation while allowing the younger generation to examine their Muggle surroundings with scientific fascination.
"Oh my," Narcissa breathed, her blue eyes wide with genuine amazement as she took in the sitting room with its comfortable furniture, family photographs, and obvious signs of daily family life. "It's so... lived-in. Everything looks like it's actually used regularly."
"That's because it is," Lily said with obvious amusement, settling into her favorite chair with casual comfort. "This is where we spend most of our evenings—reading, doing homework, watching television, playing games."
"Television?" Regulus asked with obvious curiosity, his grey eyes brightening with intellectual interest. "I've read about that. It's the Muggle device that displays moving pictures with sound?"
"Exactly," Severus confirmed with obvious pleasure at having prepared educational materials for precisely this question. "It's quite sophisticated technology, actually. The images are transmitted through electromagnetic signals and converted into visual and audio output."
"Electromagnetic signals," Sirius repeated with obvious fascination. "That sounds almost like magic, but using completely different principles."
"The underlying concepts are quite similar," Alex Evans said with obvious enthusiasm, clearly delighted to find young people interested in the intellectual aspects of Muggle technology. "Both magic and technology involve manipulating natural forces to achieve desired outcomes, just through different methodologies."
*This is going well,* Natalia observed with satisfaction as she watched the magical children examine their surroundings with respectful curiosity rather than condescension or fear. *Everyone seems genuinely interested rather than judgmental.*
"Could we see how it works?" Alice asked with obvious excitement, her brown eyes bright with scientific curiosity. "I've always wondered about Muggle entertainment technology."
"Of course," Melanie replied warmly, moving to turn on the television with practiced ease. "Though I should warn you, daytime programming can be rather... educational."
What appeared on the screen was a nature documentary about African wildlife, complete with dramatic narration and sweeping camera work that made the magical children gasp with amazement.
"Extraordinary," Frank breathed, moving closer to examine the screen with obvious fascination. "The image quality is remarkable. And the sound synchronization is perfect."
"How do they capture moving pictures of animals in their natural habitat?" Bellatrix asked with obvious curiosity, her dark eyes reflecting genuine scientific interest. "Do they use some kind of recording enchantment?"
"Cameras," Severus explained with obvious pleasure at being able to demonstrate his research. "Mechanical devices that capture light patterns and convert them into permanent images. Moving pictures require multiple sequential images displayed rapidly enough to create the illusion of continuous motion."
"That's... that's actually brilliant," Andromeda said with obvious admiration, her intelligent mind clearly engaged by the technological concepts. "Using purely mechanical means to achieve results that we'd accomplish with magic. The engineering must be incredibly sophisticated."
*These children,* Natalia thought with growing fondness, *are approaching everything with genuine curiosity and respect. It's refreshing to see aristocratic privilege combined with intellectual humility.*
While the younger generation continued their fascinated examination of Muggle technology, the adults arranged themselves in comfortable conversation groups that allowed for both supervision and their own cultural exchange discussions.
"—remarkable how well they're adapting," Dorea Potter was saying to Melanie Evans, her elegant voice carrying obvious approval as she watched the children's enthusiastic exploration. "I must admit, I wasn't sure how they'd react to such an unfamiliar environment."
"They're being wonderful," Melanie replied with genuine warmth, her earlier nervousness about hosting so many distinguished guests having dissolved in the face of their obvious goodwill. "Though I have to say, their questions are making me see our house through completely new eyes."
"That's the beauty of cultural exchange," Euphemia Potter added with obvious satisfaction. "Everyone involved gains new perspectives."
But Natalia's attention was increasingly focused on Hadrian, who had positioned himself within easy conversation distance while maintaining the appearance of casual interest in the group dynamics. His silver-grey eyes met hers with understanding, and something passed between them that spoke of shared anticipation and mutual recognition of opportunity.
*Time for intelligence gathering,* she thought with professional satisfaction. *Finally.*
"Hadrian," she said casually, rising from her chair with practiced ease, "would you like to see the rest of the house? I could give you a tour of the upstairs areas."
"That sounds lovely," Hadrian replied with equal casualness, though his eyes held depths of anticipation that matched her own. "I'd be very interested in seeing how non-magical families organize their living spaces."
*Smoothly done,* Aslan observed approvingly in Hadrian's mind. *Natural conversation development with plausible educational justification.*
*I'm learning,* Hadrian replied privately as they moved toward the stairway with the kind of casual motion that wouldn't attract undue attention from the adults.
"We'll be back shortly," Natalia called to the room in general, receiving absent nods from adults who were deep in their own conversations and barely registering the departure from children who were fascinated by the television documentary.
As they climbed the stairs toward the family's private areas, Natalia felt her pulse quicken with anticipation. Finally, she would have the opportunity for the extended private conversation that had been occupying her thoughts all week.
*Information gathering first,* she reminded herself firmly. *Then emotional processing. Professional habits, even in eleven-year-old bodies.*
"Your room?" Hadrian asked quietly as they reached the upper landing.
"This way," Natalia replied, leading him toward the bedroom she shared with Lily—a space that had been carefully arranged to provide both sisters with privacy and personal expression while maintaining the close connection that had characterized their relationship since birth.
The room itself was a study in contrasts—Lily's side reflecting her warm, enthusiastic personality with bright colors and cheerful disorder, while Natalia's area showed careful organization and strategic positioning that allowed for optimal observation and quick response to any situation.
"Interesting," Hadrian observed, taking in the room's divided personality with obvious understanding. "Your sister's approach to personal space is quite different from yours."
"Lily's never needed to consider her environment in terms of tactical advantages," Natalia replied quietly, closing the door behind them with practiced care. "She gets to be genuinely eleven years old."
"While you're carrying the weight of adult memories and responsibilities," Hadrian said with obvious understanding, his silver-grey eyes holding depths of shared experience. "I know exactly how that feels."
For a moment, they simply looked at each other—two old souls trapped in young bodies, recognizing the unique burden of knowledge and experience that set them apart from their peers.
"How much do you remember?" Natalia asked finally, her voice carrying the kind of professional directness that had served her well in intelligence gathering.
"Everything," Hadrian replied without hesitation, his voice thick with emotion that he was working hard to control. "Every detail of my first life, from earliest childhood memories through the moment I died in the Forbidden Forest on May second, 1998."
"Died," Natalia repeated quietly, her trained mind immediately cataloguing the implications. "You said you died during the Second Wizarding War. How?"
"Killing Curse," Hadrian said simply, his silver-grey eyes reflecting depths of pain that belonged to someone far older than eleven. "From Tom Riddle—Voldemort. I walked into the Forbidden Forest knowing I was going to die, because it was the only way to destroy the piece of his soul that was living in my scar."
Natalia's eyes widened slightly as she processed information that was both tactically significant and personally devastating.
"You were a Horcrux," she said quietly, her professional training allowing her to understand the implications immediately. "He accidentally made you into one when he tried to kill you as a baby."
"You know about Horcruxes?" Hadrian asked with obvious surprise and growing relief. "Most people have never heard the term, let alone understand the magical theory involved."
"I've been reading," Natalia replied with characteristic understatement. "Extensively. About dark magic, about the wizarding wars, about anything that might help me understand the threats we're likely to face in this timeline."
"This timeline," Hadrian repeated thoughtfully. "Mother Magic told you that things have changed?"
"She told me that my presence here has created ripple effects that are already altering the course of events," Natalia confirmed, her analytical mind clearly engaged with the temporal mechanics involved. "Your timeline—the one you came from—she called it 'defunct' because of the changes my existence has introduced."
"Which explains why she could remove me from it without causing paradoxes," Hadrian said with growing understanding. "If the timeline was already diverging significantly, then my presence or absence wouldn't affect its final outcome."
*Smart,* Natalia thought with professional appreciation. *He understands complex temporal mechanics and can extrapolate implications quickly.*
"Tell me about Lily," she said quietly, her voice carrying only the slightest tremor despite the emotional weight of the question. "In your timeline, what happened to my sister?"
Hadrian's expression shifted into something that was part pain, part reverence, and part guilt that seemed to carry the weight of worlds.
"She was... she was extraordinary," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion that made him sound far older than his eleven years. "Brilliant, brave, compassionate. She married James Potter after Hogwarts and had one son—me, though I was Harry in that timeline."
He paused, clearly struggling with how to convey the magnitude of what came next.
"On October thirty-first, 1981, when I was fifteen months old, Voldemort came to our house in Godric's Hollow. He killed James first, trying to get to me. Then he killed Lily when she refused to step aside and let him murder her baby."
The words hit Natalia like physical blows, each syllable carrying the weight of loss and grief that transcended timeline boundaries. Her professional composure cracked slightly, revealing the vulnerable sister underneath.
"She died protecting you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"She died protecting her son," Hadrian corrected gently, his silver-grey eyes holding depths of love and loss that made him seem ancient. "Her sacrifice created the most powerful protective magic known to wizardkind. It's why Voldemort's Killing Curse rebounded and destroyed his body instead of killing me."
Natalia was quiet for a long moment, processing information that was both tactically crucial and emotionally devastating. In her previous life as Natasha Romanoff, she'd learned to compartmentalize personal feelings in favor of mission objectives. But the thought of Lily—warm, generous, loving Lily—dying to protect her child was almost too much to bear.
"The war," she said finally, her voice carefully controlled. "Tell me about the war. What do we need to prepare for?"
"Everything," Hadrian said grimly, his expression taking on the kind of hard edges that spoke of someone who'd seen too much violence and loss. "Voldemort's first rise began around 1970 and lasted until 1981, when Lily and James died and he was temporarily defeated. But he came back in 1995, and the second war lasted until 1998."
"Twenty-eight years of conflict," Natalia observed with professional calculation, her analytical mind already working through implications and strategic considerations.
"With seventeen years of relative peace in between," Hadrian confirmed. "Though that peace was more like an armistice than actual resolution. He spent those years as a disembodied soul, trying to find ways to return to physical form."
"And when he succeeded?"
"Chaos," Hadrian said simply. "Mass murder, torture, systematic persecution of anyone who didn't fit his vision of pureblood supremacy. The Ministry fell, Hogwarts became a prison camp, and anyone who opposed him was hunted down and killed."
Natalia nodded slowly, her professional training allowing her to process the scope of the threat without becoming overwhelmed by its magnitude.
"But this timeline is already different," she said thoughtfully. "I exist, which changes the family dynamics completely. Lily has a twin sister who can provide support and tactical assistance. What other changes have you noticed?"
"Several significant ones," Hadrian replied with growing animation, clearly pleased to have someone who could understand the complexities involved. "Severus, for instance. In my original timeline, he was isolated, bitter, and eventually became one of Voldemort's Death Eaters before turning spy for Dumbledore out of guilt over Lily's death."
"And now?"
"Now he's part of a loving family support system," Hadrian said with obvious satisfaction. "Your parents have essentially adopted him, you and Lily have made him feel valued and accepted, and he's developing confidence and social skills that he never had in my original timeline."
"That's a significant change," Natalia agreed with professional assessment. "An isolated, bitter Severus Snape versus a confident, well-supported one could have massive implications for how events develop."
"Exactly," Hadrian said with obvious relief at her understanding. "And the familiar bonds—in my original timeline, I bonded with Hedwig during my first year at Hogwarts. But here, she's bonded with Lily instead, while I have Aslan."
"Different magical signatures creating different bonding opportunities," Natalia observed with analytical interest. "Which suggests that our very presence is creating cascade effects throughout the magical ecosystem."
*This is exactly the kind of strategic discussion I needed,* she thought with professional satisfaction. *Someone who understands both the scope of the threats and the complexity of the changes we're working with.*
"There's something else," Hadrian said quietly, his voice taking on the kind of careful tone that suggested he was about to share information that was particularly significant. "Mother Magic told me that she chose both of us for second chances because the original timeline was heading toward what she called 'catastrophic failure.'"
"Catastrophic failure how?"
"Total magical ecosystem collapse," Hadrian replied grimly. "According to her, the cycles of war and violence were creating what she called 'reality fractures' that would eventually destroy the magical world entirely."
Natalia felt her blood run cold as she processed the implications. In her previous life, she'd dealt with global threats before, but the idea of reality itself failing was on a scale that dwarfed anything she'd previously encountered.
"So our mission," she said slowly, her professional training automatically organizing the information into actionable intelligence, "is not just to prevent the wars, but to break the cycles that create them in the first place."
"Exactly," Hadrian confirmed with obvious gratitude at her quick comprehension. "We're not trying to win a war—we're trying to prevent the conditions that make war inevitable."
"That's... that's a much more complex challenge," Natalia observed with growing understanding. "It requires changing hearts and minds, not just tactical outcomes."
"Which brings us to the most crucial question," Natalia continued, her analytical mind already working through the strategic implications. "What created those conditions in the first place? If we're going to break the cycle, we need to understand its root causes."
Hadrian leaned against the window frame, his silver-grey eyes growing distant as he processed memories that spanned decades of conflict and loss.
"Fear," he said simply. "Fear of change, fear of losing power, fear of being different. Voldemort exploited existing tensions between pure-bloods and Muggle-borns, but he didn't create them. Those prejudices had been festering for centuries."
"And the wizarding government?" Natalia asked, her professional instincts engaging with the political analysis. "What role did institutional failures play?"
"The Ministry was corrupt, inefficient, and riddled with blood purist sympathizers long before Voldemort's rise," Hadrian replied grimly. "When the crisis came, they were either unwilling or unable to respond effectively. By the time they acknowledged the threat, it was too late to prevent the violence."
Natalia nodded slowly, her mind cataloguing the information with the systematic precision that had made her such an effective intelligence operative.
"So we're looking at systemic institutional problems, generational prejudices, and a charismatic leader who knew how to weaponize existing social tensions," she summarized. "Classic destabilization pattern."
"You sound like you've seen this before," Hadrian observed with growing interest.
"Different context, same underlying dynamics," Natalia confirmed. "In my previous life, I dealt with multiple attempts to destabilize governments and social systems. The methods are surprisingly consistent across different cultures and time periods."
*Which means,* she thought with growing confidence, *my experience might actually be more relevant than I initially realized.*
"The question is," she continued aloud, "how do we interrupt the pattern without creating new problems? Heavy-handed intervention often backfires by validating the fears that created the instability in the first place."
"That's exactly what I've been struggling with," Hadrian said with obvious relief at finding someone who understood the complexity involved. "I know what went wrong, but I'm not sure how to fix it without making things worse."
Natalia was quiet for a moment, her professional training automatically organizing potential approaches and evaluating their likely effectiveness.
"We start small," she said finally. "Focus on building positive relationships and changing individual perspectives rather than trying to reform entire institutions. Social change usually happens from the ground up, not the top down."
"Like what we're doing with Severus," Hadrian said with growing understanding. "Providing him with a support system that prevents the isolation and bitterness that made him vulnerable to Voldemort's recruitment."
"Exactly," Natalia confirmed with satisfaction. "And like what you're doing by building genuine friendships with people who were enemies in your previous timeline. James and Sirius, for instance—if they develop positive relationships with Severus now, it prevents the antagonism that created so many problems later."
"It's working so far," Hadrian said with cautious optimism. "James seems genuinely impressed by Severus's intelligence, and Sirius respects his analytical abilities. They're treating him as an equal rather than a target."
"Good," Natalia replied, her strategic mind already moving to the next consideration. "What about the adults? The institutional problems won't solve themselves just because the next generation gets along better."
Hadrian's expression grew more serious as he considered the broader implications.
"That's more complicated," he admitted. "Some of the adults who became Death Eaters were already committed to blood purity ideology by this point. Others were coerced or manipulated into joining later. The challenge is identifying which is which without creating suspicion."
"Or," Natalia said thoughtfully, "we focus on strengthening the opposition rather than trying to convert the extremists. Build a coalition of moderate voices that can counter the radical messaging before it gains momentum."
"Like what your father is doing," Hadrian observed with growing excitement. "Building bridges between magical and Muggle communities, demonstrating that integration is possible and beneficial."
"And what the Potter family is doing by supporting policy changes that accommodate unusual familiars," Natalia added with strategic appreciation. "They're normalizing the idea that tradition should adapt to serve people, not constrain them."
*This is good,* she thought with professional satisfaction. *We're developing a coherent strategy rather than just reacting to events.*
"There's something else we need to discuss," Hadrian said quietly, his voice taking on the careful tone that suggested sensitive information. "The prophecy."
Natalia's attention sharpened immediately, her trained instincts recognizing the significance of his shift in tone.
"What prophecy?"
"The one that started everything," Hadrian replied grimly. "In my timeline, there was a prophecy made before I was born that identified me as the only one who could defeat Voldemort. It's what made him target my family in the first place."
"And in this timeline?"
"I don't know," Hadrian admitted, his silver-grey eyes reflecting depths of uncertainty and concern. "Mother Magic didn't tell me whether the prophecy still exists, or if it's changed because of your presence here. But if it does exist, we need to understand its implications."
Natalia felt a chill of recognition as she processed the strategic implications. Prophecies were dangerous things—they created expectations and shaped behavior in ways that often made themselves self-fulfilling.
"Do you remember the exact wording?" she asked with professional directness.
Hadrian closed his eyes, his expression growing distant as he recalled words that had shaped his entire first life.
"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...'"
The silence that followed was heavy with implication. Natalia's analytical mind immediately began working through the variables and possible interpretations.
"'Born to those who have thrice defied him,'" she repeated thoughtfully. "That could apply to multiple families, depending on how you define 'defying' Voldemort."
"In my timeline, it narrowed down to two possibilities," Hadrian confirmed. "The Potters and the Longbottoms. Both families had opposed Voldemort directly on multiple occasions."
"And 'born as the seventh month dies' means July thirty-first," Natalia observed. "Your birthday, but also potentially others born around the same time."
"Neville Longbottom was born on July thirtieth," Hadrian said quietly. "In my original timeline, Voldemort chose to target me instead of him, which fulfilled the prophecy. But the choice itself was what made it come true."
Natalia nodded slowly, her professional training helping her understand the psychological and strategic implications.
"Self-fulfilling prophecy," she confirmed. "Voldemort's attempt to prevent his defeat actually caused it by creating the exact conditions the prophecy described."
"Exactly," Hadrian agreed with obvious relief at her quick understanding. "But now everything is different. I exist, you exist, the family dynamics have changed completely. The question is whether the prophecy still applies, or if it's been altered by the timeline changes."
"Or whether believing it still applies might create new problems," Natalia added with growing concern. "If Voldemort learns about the prophecy and tries to fulfill it again, he might target different people or use different methods."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Hadrian admitted, his voice thick with anxiety that seemed far too heavy for an eleven-year-old to carry. "What if trying to prevent the original tragedy just creates new ones?"
Natalia reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, drawing on reserves of compassion that had been deeply buried in her previous life.
"Then we adapt," she said firmly, her voice carrying the kind of professional confidence that had gotten her through countless impossible situations. "We can't control every variable, but we can position ourselves to respond effectively to whatever develops."
"How?"
"Information gathering," Natalia replied with growing certainty. "We identify the key players, understand their motivations, and monitor their activities. We build relationships with people who might become allies. We develop contingency plans for different scenarios."
"And we get stronger," Hadrian added with renewed determination. "Magically, physically, strategically. Whatever comes, we need to be prepared to handle it."
"Exactly," Natalia confirmed with satisfaction. "We can't prevent every problem, but we can make sure we're ready when problems arise."
*This is good,* she thought with professional appreciation. *He understands the importance of preparation and flexibility rather than trying to control outcomes directly.*
Their strategic planning was interrupted by the sound of laughter and excited conversation drifting up from the sitting room below, reminding them that they had been away from the gathering for quite some time.
"We should get back," Natalia said reluctantly, though her mind was still processing the implications of everything they'd discussed. "People will start wondering what we're doing up here."
"You're right," Hadrian agreed, though his silver-grey eyes held depths of gratitude for the conversation. "But this isn't finished. We need to continue this discussion soon."
"Agreed," Natalia replied firmly. "And we need to start thinking about how to bring the others into our planning without revealing too much about our circumstances."
"The others?"
"Severus, definitely," Natalia said with strategic calculation. "He's brilliant, loyal, and already part of our inner circle. Probably James and Sirius eventually, though they'll need more careful handling because of their personalities."
"What about Lily?" Hadrian asked quietly.
Natalia paused, considering the complex emotional and strategic implications of involving her sister in their planning.
"Eventually," she said finally. "But carefully. She deserves to know about the threats we're preparing for, but she also deserves to have as normal a childhood as possible for as long as we can manage it."
"I understand," Hadrian replied with obvious empathy. "The burden of knowledge is heavier than most people realize."
"Which is why we carry it," Natalia said firmly, her professional training reasserting itself as she prepared to return to their social responsibilities. "So they don't have to."
*At least,* she thought with grim determination, *not until they're ready.*
As they prepared to rejoin the gathering, Natalia felt a complex mixture of emotions that would have been foreign to her previous life. The conversation had provided crucial intelligence and helped establish a strategic alliance that could prove invaluable in the challenges ahead. But it had also reminded her of just how much she stood to lose in this new life—not just her own existence, but the sister she'd grown to love and the family that had accepted her so completely.
*No,* she thought with fierce determination as they headed toward the door. *Not this time. This time, we get it right.*
The sound of James Potter's infectious laughter and Lily's delighted response drifted up from below, reminding her of everything worth fighting for.
*This time,* she promised herself as they prepared to return to the warmth and safety of family and friends, *everyone gets to live.*
---
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