It was a very strange sight.

Six very sheepish-looking children were standing in front of a rather bemused if not downright confused bunch of adults, half of whom were still pointing their wands at them.

"You know, we're not going to get anywhere if you don't tell us who you are …" a man with long, dark hair pointed out.

It had been a very fine morning for Mr. Sirius Orion Black until these little buggers had shown up. At least, as fine as could be in 12 Grimmauld Place. They had been getting through with the normal, yawn-inducing Order formalities when these 6 children had dropped from Merlin-only-knew-where.


Since then, it had been a continuous gawking match with both groups gazing curiously at the other.

At long last, Dumbledore broke the silence.

Looking down at them from his half-moon glasses, he said, "It is my guess, and I have unusually good ones, that you are all not from this time-period. However, you will need to understand that these are dark times. Very few can be trusted and therefore, I hope that you will understand that I will need to sift through one of your minds to know that you are not from the other side. Do you understand?"

The tallest and perhaps the oldest of them all came forward and nodded.

"I am ready for whatever you may need to do but you cannot harm them," he said, a look of determination upon him.

"Very well," said Dumbledore.

He stepped next to the light-brown haired boy and looked straight into his eyes, as if x-raying what lay beneath them. Swiftly, he examined them. A familiar young-man with jet-black hair and sparkling green eyes was picking up the tiny version of the boy and throwing him up in the air; a birthday party at what seemed like the Burrow; Andromeda Tonk's delighted face; the boy snuggled safely into bed with who seemed like an older Ginny Weasley.

He had seen enough.

At last, he stopped. These memories were enough for him to discern that it was the next generation of the Weasley's and the Potter's who were innocently blinking up at him. This could only mean that the war had been won, that Harry was alive, and that they had at long last, gotten rid of Lord Voldemort. . However, the cost of this victory, however, he did not know.

With his blue-eyes twinkling merrily now, Dumbledore stepped back, and declared, "They are safe."

The Order heaved a sigh of relief and settled down.

"Nonetheless, I do think some introductions are in order …" he said, smiling. "Now, who would like to go first?"

"Ooh, can I? Can I?" cried a voice from somewhere below him.

"Excellent, let's begin with you," said Dumbledore, chuckling.

Lily beamed. "My name is Lily Luna Potter and-"


Sirius Black had fallen off his chair, pure shock displayed on his face.

"Potter?" he asked, hoarsely. "As in, Harry Potter? As in P-o-t-t-e-r, Potter?"

"You know daddy?" Lily asked, excitedly.

"You could say that …" said Sirius dryly, recovering with the little dignity he had left and sitting himself back on the chair.

"But dear, whose your mum?" asked Molly Weasley, though she was almost sure she knew the answer. Lily was a dead-ringer for Ginny at her age. The same flaming-red hair, the same animated chattering …

"Grandma, how could you not know?"she asked, her eyes widening. At that moment, Molly Prewett Weasley felt her heart stop for a moment. Grandma. She had called her grandma. She beamed at her.

"Ginny Potter, obviously!" Lily said, rolling her eyes.

"YESSSSSSSSS!" Sirius whooped. "Hey, Moooonyyyyyyyy, guess who owes me 10 galleons now?" Remus Lupin grumbled unceremoniously, inducing several chuckles from the others.

"You made a bet on them?" asked Minerva McGonagall, incredulously. Sirius and Remus grinned sheepishly. McGonnagal gazed at them, wondering the last time she'd seen this avatar of her former students.

"It was all Sirius' idea, Minerva. And, sit down, Sirius. You're not getting anything right now."

"But I was still right. I told you that Harry's going to end up with Ginny … Ah, these Potters and their redheads … so predictable …"

"Okay, I'll go next, "volunteered a black-haired boy, with hazel eyes that Sirius hadn't seen in over 15 years.

"I am James Sirius Potter, son of Harry and Ginny Potter," he said proudly.

"Harry you named you after me?" asked Sirius, stunned. "I mean, James, I understand but … me?"

Quietly, so almost none could hear him, James said, "He still misses you, you know."

"But that seems like … you don't mean … wait, am I … really….?" Sirius stuttered. James nodded, his eyes downcast. Sirius grew silent, attempting to come to terms with his now impending death.

"Did I die in battle?" he asked finally.

James nodded, explaining, "All I know is that you were saving Dad from some evil wizard. That's all Dad told me. He never really talks about the war much."

Sirius looked at James oddly for a moment and then, nodded.

"It's your turn now, Al," said James, nudging his brother. Al shuffled his feet, his cheeks reddening.

"Do I have to go?" he asked, sighing.

"Of course you do. You're a Potter, aren't you?" James said, grinning.

Al scowled.

"C'mon, your name can't be that bad," said Remus, kindly.

"That's a matter of opinion," said Al darkly. Taking a deep breath, he started, "My name is Albus Severus Potter and I am the youngest son of Harry and Ginny Potter."

He waited someone to laugh. No one did. In fact, he couldn't hear anything at all.

Slowly, he looked up. Thirty-six adults were looking at him with a gob-smacked expression on their faces, as if they weren't quite sure they'd heard him right. Sorry, make that thirty-five.

Albus Dumbledore was looking on quite cheerfully.

"Severus?" asked Remus, in a strange voice. "He named you Severus?"

"Are you telling me that Harry, that is, my godson Harry James Potter, named you, his son, SEVERUS?" whispered Sirius. He looked a little traumatized, to tell the truth.

"Well, Dad says that he named me after the two of the bravest men he ever knew," said Al, shrugging.

If anything, Sirius looked even more disturbed.