The Long Forgotten Prank
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, and am not making any money from this, but do you really need me to tell you that?
It was Hogmanay and Sirius Black was celebrating with assorted members of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army in the basement kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He had hated his life these past few months, shut up inside his childhood home; but today, surrounded by a boisterous crowd of friends, his mood had lifted: things seemed a lot brighter than they had during the school term. Butterbeer and elf-made wine were flowing freely, Fred and George were plotting to replace the Christmas tree fairy with Kreacher, Ginny had cut out a photograph of Dolores Umbridge from the Daily Prophet and was using it as a dartboard (Tonks and Remus had happily charmed the darts for her so that they never missed their target – Remus had volunteered for this task with hitherto unseen relish), and even Minerva McGonagall was allowing herself to get a little merry; outside events had been temporarily forgotten. The group were so engrossed in the festivities that they didn't notice a thump coming from the stairs that lead to the main part of the house; it was only when they heard voices behind the door that the room went silent. Suddenly, the whole atmosphere of the gathering changed: wands were out, and everyone was on high alert.
'Where are we?' a child's voice.
'In Auntie's house of course. Where else could we be?'
'But we can't be in Auntie's house; look at it, it's filthy. Kreacher would never allow it to get in this state. He has pride, you know. Look at those cobwebs!'
A wail was heard. 'I don't like spiders.'
'Shhh, Cissy, there aren't any spiders. Those are old cobwebs. The spiders are somewhere else now, or dead.'
'In you hay-ur. Big, big spider.'
A piercing shriek was heard.
'Sirius! Don't be nasty. Cissy, there are not any spiders in your hair!'
Another cry was heard, this time a baby's. 'Shhh, Reggie, it's all right, don't cry, Anna's here.' A soft, childish voice started singing a quiet lullaby, and the baby's cries became squawks, which became gurgles, which drifted into silence.
'No, Sirius, stay here, don't you dare run off.'
'Bella, I'm scared. I want Mummy!'
At that, Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped towards the door. Still brandishing his wand, he turned the handle and flung the door open to discover three little girls staring up at him. The eldest had a firm grip on the shoulders of a toddler in a stiff looking sailor suit, who was looking up at his wardress and giggling mischievously; the middle girl was tightly clutching a bundle of blankets to her chest and biting her lower lip with nervousness. The smallest girl, a little blonde thing of about five or six, was peeking out from behind the eldest's skirt. Kingsley drew in his breath sharply, just as the eldest girl stepped forward and said, with surprising authority for a child who could not have been any older than eleven, 'Who are you, and what are you doing in my Uncle's house?'
A/N – Okay, bored at work, so spending time typing random things. I realise the time travel plot can be a tad over-used, but I couldn't resist this one. Not sure how many more chapters this will have, but probably only two or three, and they should be longer than this one. (I know where I'm going with the story, but just haven't decided how to split things up.)