Notes: I'm going to take a poll (in the reviews). Who do you guys think would be a good future husband for Ginny? I've have a couple ideas myself, but I'm not sure yet who I'm going to go with so I'd love to hear your opinions.

Harry made sure to dress in dark blue robes instead of the green ones that were his favorite. Green was too associated with Slytherin for the British Wizarding World and that was not the first impression Harry wanted to make at the Ministry, even if everyone would assume, correctly, that he was Dark because of his surname. Still, Harry wanted to attempt to not alienate all non-Dark wizards immediately.

Just because he was a Dark Lord didn't mean he wasn't going to actively seek followers of other magical variations. Ginny, his right hand, was a darker Grey after all and Luna—like all seers—was exactly in the middle of the spectrum. If he had his way, he'd mark several Light witches and wizards as well. Magic was magic and the only problem he had with the Light side was its anti-Dark propaganda. His followers would learn to respect all forms of magic regardless of what type of core someone was born with.

Harry looked himself over in the mirror. His hair was in a neat ponytail with the bangs hanging artfully over his forehead. He'd made sure to apply the cover-up potion to his scar just in case. Without his glasses, his green eyes shone like the Killing Curse. His cheekbones were high and aristocratic and his skin was smooth. Combined with the tasteful navy blue robes that hugged his body, he looked good.

"You look ravishing, darling," his mirror said with a purr.

Harry laughed. He certainly nothing like he'd looked at ten, which would be his largest defense against Dumbledore. He couldn't be sure the man hadn't actually checked on him through his years at the Dursleys after all—Dumbledore could very well know what he looked like at that age.

Well, hopefully Dumbledore was panicking about him being 'dead'. Since nothing had been reported yet in the papers, Harry figured the headmaster was keeping it under wraps while he investigated whether or not Harry Potter was truly gone for good.

Dumbledore only had a little while to keep it quiet. It was March now. Soon it would be summer, and then it would be what would have been Harry's first year at Hogwarts. When he didn't show up for the Sorting, people would have questions. Harry was interested to see if Dumbledore would say he was dead, or if he would make up some crackpot excuse about special training.

Harry slipped his galleon pouch into a pocket in his robes and slotted his wand into its holster. He strolled out of his bedroom. He'd spent nearly all of February setting up the wards around Peverell Manor and now he, and everyone else, had to walk to the foyer to apparate inside the property.

He could have keyed himself into the apparition wards, of course, but Harry had learned a lot of things in the war and one was that if the apparition wards allowed anyone to apparate in them, that meant there was a hole that a skilled ward expert could use to rip the ward right open. It was much safer to do a full-on apparition ward that prevented any apparition except in a small, specified area. That way his other defenses inside the foyer could catch anyone attempting to do harm to him or his property.

Harry apparated to Diagon Alley and then ducked into the Leaky Cauldron. He looked around the pub as he waited for the elderly couple in front of him to use the Floo. It was early enough in the morning that there was only a couple patrons eating the gruel Tom the bartender cooked for breakfast. Tom himself was cleaning the perpetually dirty bar table. He saw Harry looking and gave him a nod. Harry nodded back politely. It was always good to be nice to the man who held the gossip of Diagon Alley in his gnarly hands.

Finally, Harry was able to use the Floo. "Ministry of Magic," he said calmly and was immediately routed to the atrium on the eighth floor of the Ministry. Harry sneered at the fountain. Its disgusting portrayal of magical creatures was sickening to see especially in a government building.

Collecting himself, Harry headed to the visitor's check-in.

"What's your business with the Ministry of Magic today?" the young check-in wizard asked. Harry wondered if it was his first day on the job. He was certainly much more enthusiastic than most of the check-in personnel at the Ministry were.

"I needed to talk with the Floo Network Services office and the Wizengamot Administration Services office," Harry told the teenager.

The young wizard handed Harry a badge that said FILING BORING PAPERWORK – FLOO and WIZENGAMOT. Harry snorted softly. Those badges had a mind of their own. It was impressive Charms work.

"You'll need to give me your wand until you leave, sir," the teen said. "We'll keep it safe until your business is done."

"I didn't bring my wand with me for exactly that reason," Harry lied. "I figured it was just easier to leave it at home."

The teen looked surprised. "Ah, okay sir. You'll have to step through the detector, though."

"No problem." Harry walked through the sensor. He sent a little burst of magic across his whole body, cloaking his wand. He'd perfected the move after the war. He'd never felt comfortable not having his wand on him but not even the Dark Lord's Slayer was allowed to keep his wand on him in the Ministry unless he accepted a job there—which he never had.

The sensor flickered but didn't go off and the teen gave Harry a smile and a "Have a nice day!"

Harry took the lift to the sixth floor where the Department of Magical Transportation was located. He headed to the Floo office. He was early enough that he didn't have to wait in line, which is what he'd planned for.

The witch behind the desk seemed the no nonsense type and gave him a disinterested stare when he walked up. "How may I help you today?" she asked in an obviously fake pleasant voice.

"I'd like to set up a Floo connection from my house," Harry said.

"Was it simply disconnected in the past or has it never been connected?"

"I'm not actually sure."

"What is the location?"

"Peverell Manor."

That earned him a wide-eyed look. The witch glanced down to where Harry's Lord ring was prominently displayed. "Let me check real quick, Lord Peverell," she said, suddenly much more sincere.

Harry waited as the witch looked through the records. After a few minutes, she came back with a folder. "Seems the Peverell Manor was connected a couple decades ago, but was shut down when the last owner of the manor died. I'll have the boys reconnect it on this end. Should be ready for use by tomorrow. If you need any specific help with monitoring the wards on the fireplaces around the manor, you can send an owl to the office here and someone will be sent out to assist you."

"I think I'll manage, thank you," Harry said. There was no way he was letting anyone else do the spellwork to ward his fireplaces. Besides, he'd done it before at Grimmauld Place—disconnecting a couple of the fireplaces in individual bedrooms and adding security measures for the main fireplace in the parlor—it'd be easy enough to do it for his new house.

Harry signed a few forms and then headed out. The Wizengamot Administration Services desk was on the second floor, so he took the lift down. A plump witch rode the lift with him. He studied her discreetly, but she seemed too distracted by the papers in her arms to notice him. She got off on the third floor and then Harry was alone again.

The Wizengamot Administration Services office had several desk—some to deal with court cases and others for legal paperwork. Harry headed to the desk with a sign that said LORDSHIP SERVICES. The wizard behind the desk was far more attentive than the last clerk, though only slightly older. He looked Harry up and down, obviously noticing the Lord ring along with the Heir ring Harry wore.

"Greetings," Harry said. "I wish to register my lordship and claim my seat upon the Wizengamot."

"Of course, Lord Peverell," the wizard said. "I'll just need to verify your ring's signature." He reached below the desk and pulled out a small clay tower, which he placed on the desk in front of Harry. "If you would just press it gently onto the surface, Lord Peverell."

Harry made a gentle fist and pressed the crest of his Lord ring into the small tower. The clay sank in. Harry pulled back but the imprint of the Peverell crest remained. It glowed briefly with a white light before fading.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Lord Peverell." The clerk put the clay tower away and then handed Harry a couple scrolls of paperwork. "If you would simply fill out the necessary information, I will retrieve your Wizengamot robes."

Harry nodded and grabbed a quill from the desk. He dipped it in a half-empty inkwell before writing his partial name, Harrigan Peverell, and then his true age, thirty-three. The scroll would glow red if anything he put on it was falsified, so he couldn't put down being in his twenties like he would let most people assume. Luckily, it seemed that time travel was in his favor, or at least his magical signature was that of a thirty-three-year-old enough that the parchment didn't think he was only ten. If it had, he would have been forced to do some quick spellwork on the scroll to trick it.

The rest of the scroll asked for information about his place of residence, his average availability time for Wizengamot sessions, and tedious things of that nature. By the time he had it filled out, the clerk had returned.

"Your robes, Lord Peverell," he said, handing Harry two sets of shrunken plum-colored robes. "They'll adjust to your size, of course. We ask that you please wear them to all Wizengamot sessions. While wearing them, you will be allowed through the employee entrance of the Ministry and will not be required to check your wand. However, these privileges will not occur when the court is not in session."

"Thank you," Harry said, sticking the robes in his pocket. He gave the wizard one of his perfected smiles—the one he often used on nosy reporters. It was the perfect mix of seductive and innocent that, according to Ginny, left the recipient feeling as though they'd witnessed something beautifully filthy and wanted more.

The clerk blushed pink at the tips of his ears. "Happy to be of service, sir," he murmured. "The next Wizengamot session begins April first. I will have your position filed with the department."

"You've been very helpful, ah…" Harry trailed off meaningfully.

"Berry Braithwaite, sir."

A small pureblood name that pinged at Harry's memory, though he couldn't place from where. "I just have one more question then, Berry," he said, deliberately using the man's first name. Berry gave off the kind of vibes Harry had a hard time ignoring—the vibe that said he just wanted to belong to someone or something. He was obviously competent, to get a position working with the Wizengamot at only twenty-something. But he was young still and earnest-eyed as he waited for Harry to asked his question. "What is the normal procedure for announcing the presence of a new Lord or Lady on the Wizengamot?"

"The Chief Warlock is sent a letter," Berry said promptly. "So that on the day of the new Lord or Lady's first meeting, he can announce the inclusion. It is not Ministry policy to announce anything beforehand, though Daily Prophet journalists would be informed from the first Wizengamot session and write a small piece in the paper about the newest member."

"And if I wanted my presence announced sooner?" Harry asked. He'd rather have it on his own time with his own information being portrayed for the first article. First impressions were highly important, after all.

Berry's eyes lit up. "You could request an interview with a reporter, sir."

Harry saw the hope on Berry's face and raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a suggestion, Berry?"

Berry flushed, obviously realizing Harry had caught his enthusiasm. He hesitated for a moment, before saying, "My sister is a junior reporter for the Prophet, sir. It would really boost her up to be allowed an interview with the Lord of such a great house." He cleared his throat. "Of course, I can always connect you with more senior reporters if you wish, Lord Peverell."

Harry recognized the name Braithwaite now. Betty Braithwaite had been the one to interview Rita Skeeter about her book on Dumbledore. Though half of Skeeter's facts had been dead wrong, Harry and Ginny had secretly appreciated the book. Anyone slandering Dumbledore's name was good in their minds. Except, Skeeter was a plain awful reporter. She'd do better in fantasy with how much she strived to make things up.

"I'm sure Miss Braithwaite will report well on my behalf," Harry stated. "Have her send me an owl and we'll set up a time for the interview."

"Yes, Lord Peverell, thank you!" Berry's smile was bright enough to light a room.

Harry smiled indulgently back. "It was a pleasure, Berry. I'm sure we'll see each other again."

He strode out. Berry and Betty Braithwaite, he mused as he took the lift back to the atrium and Floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron, then apparated home. A young Ministry worker and a young reporter. If they could be wooed to his side, they would be beautiful additions to his Blood Blossoms. But these things took patience—something he had learned to cultivate. No one would be marked that day.

Belby popped into the foyer as Harry appeared in it. "Miss Weasley be in the parlor, my lord," he squeaked.

"Thank you for informing me," Harry said and strode quickly to where his ex-wife waited.

Ginny sat on the blood-red armchair, drinking a cup of tea. She set it down as Harry walked in and jumped to her feet. "My lord."

"Gin," Harry greeted. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Only a few minutes," Ginny assured him. "Luna's covering for me again."

"Very useful, that," Harry said. "Is there a particular reason you came, or did you simply want to visit?"

"Both, my lord," Ginny told him with a small smile. "Luna had a vision. She said, 'the pack howls to a bloody moon and only the future will calm them'. I tried to get her to clarify, but she was even more distant than usual after saying that."

"Hmm." Harry accepted his own cup of tea as Doily popped in with it. "I can think of three obvious packs."

"The werewolves," Ginny agreed. "Fenrir Greyback, Rolf Scamander, or Remus Lupin."

"All of them are possible, I suppose," Harry continued. "Fenrir, if he still serves Voldemort, might be hunting me because of my taunts over the Horcrux. Though, I would be surprised if Riddle trusted that bloodthirsty werewolf to a task of discretion."

Ginny nodded. "He's not exactly the type to be subtle."

"It's early, but possible that with everything else that changed, Rolf might find Luna sooner and be upset over my mark on her. Remus, on the other hand, might have learned of ten-year-old Harry's 'death', as it were."

"Of all of them, that's the one that fits the second part best, I think," Ginny said. "Remus wouldn't be consoled unless he knew Harry, you, are alive—which would mean telling or hinting about the time travel."

Harry nodded, and then froze as the wards flickered. He held up a hand to stop Ginny was talking and concentrated on what they were telling him. There was someone outside the wards. No, two people. They weren't attacking the wards, but they were probing them as if looking for a weak spot.

"It seems the pack, whichever one it is, has come," Harry said. "Let us greet them."

Ginny followed behind as he strode out the front door and across the path to the front gates of Peverell Manor. "How did they find you?" Ginny asked quietly as they walked. They could both see the figures on the other side of the gate, but they were too far away still to see specific features.

"A question I will be sure to ask them." Harry was concerned himself. It was too early for someone to be able to illegally trace him through the Floo Network and other than him his time at the Ministry today, he hadn't gone outside in the past few months because he'd been healing his malnourished body and fixing up the manor.

They were close enough now to be able to make out the form of their visitors. Harry watched as Remus Lupin pulled Sirius Black back slightly from the gates. They both had their wands out, but kept them lowered as Harry and Ginny approached. Both Remus and Sirius looked much nicer than he'd ever seen them before. Remus actually wore robes that fit and weren't tattered and Sirius looked healthy, with sleek hair hanging around his shoulders and robes fit for the heir to the Black family.

"Greetings," Harry said once they were close enough to talk. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" He kept his tone dry, as expected to talk to two uninvited individuals knocking on his property. Inwardly, though, he drunk in the sight of the two men he'd loved like the family they were—and whom he'd lost.

"Sirius Black, heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and Remus Lupin, my consort," Sirius practically growled. "I've no time for false pleasantries. We're here for Harry."

Consort? Harry exchanged a glance with Ginny. He hadn't known… Harry frowned and looked at Remus. "Is he your mate?"

Remus blinked several times. "How do you…?"

"I know a dark creature when I feel one," Harry retorted. He let his magic loose, caressing over both of them. Remus shivered and took a half step closer to Sirius. Sirius, for his part, stepped in front of Remus and loosed his own magic.

Now that was interesting, Harry thought as they fought a silent war of magical might. In the-future-that-would-never-be, Sirius had never shown off his magic like that. It was obvious to a fully trained wizard that Sirius's aura was Dark, after all.

But now Sirius used his magic to envelop Remus, pushing Harry's aura back so that it would stop touching his consort. It was a very obviously possessive move and it showed exactly the manner of their relationship.

"Ah," Harry said. "He must be then." One of the interesting things about werewolves was that even a beta wolf, like Remus, would never let a non-werewolf be dominant in a relationship unless that non-werewolf was their mate. Remus hadn't exactly dominated Tonks, but he hadn't allowed Tonks to assume the role Sirius was playing. Of course, an alpha werewolf like Rolf wouldn't be submissive even to his mate, but Luna hadn't ever seemed to mind that.

"Take your eyes off my consort unless you want to lose them," Sirius snapped. "And tell us where my godson is."

"Why do you think he's here?" Harry asked. "I only just moved in myself, truly."

"The Ritual of Magical Blood Right," Remus said.

"Even if Dumbledore wouldn't let us raise my godson like is our right, we still kept a blood-watch on him. When the trace vanished, we used the Olde ritual to find his location. It led us here," Sirius added stiffly.

"That's a powerful ritual," Harry remarked. "Still, whatever protections Albus Dumbledore placed on the boy must have altered your findings. I have no reason to take the young Potter, even if I could."

"James Potter was my brother in magic, if not blood," Sirius said. "I know very well that he was Lord of the House of Peverell before his death. Whoever you are to take the title that should rightfully be Harry's when he comes of age–"

"This is getting no where, my lord," Ginny said, stopping Sirius's rant. "Luna said…"

"She did," Harry agreed.

"Who are you?" Sirius asked, as if just noticing Ginny.

"Ginevra Weasley," Harry introduced for her. "One of mine." He smirked at Sirius and Remus's horrified expressions. "You've given me enough information, I suppose," he said. "You'd best come in and we can clear up a couple misunderstandings."

With a wave of his hand, the gate opened. Harry turned his back on the two, hardly worried about their ability to hex him from behind. Ginny followed along. He heard the two follow him. The angry flow of Sirius's magic was enough for him to realize this Sirius wasn't quite like the one he'd known. This Sirius embraced his aura, embraced his family it seemed. Harry wasn't sure how Sirius had escaped prison, since he remembered seeing the headlines when he'd looked to see if his parents' death was the same. Sirius had been framed for betraying them and had gone to Azkaban like in the other timeline. Harry wondered if Regulus had forced the Wizengamot to give his brother an actual trial.

They reached the house and walked in to the parlor. "Doily, more tea and biscuits," Harry called.

"Do your parents know you're here?" Remus asked Ginny softly.

"Nope." Ginny popped the 'p' and giggled. Harry sighed. He could only guess what the two wizards were thinking of the girl's presence.

"Sit," Harry ordered easily. "I have a few more questions before I tell you where your godson is."

Doily popped in with the tea and snacks. Sirius and Remus ignored the tray, both glaring at Harry.

"Why haven't you forced the Ministry to give you custody of Harry as is your right?" he asked.

Sirius scowled. "I tried. Believe me, I tried, but Dumbledore has a tight hold on the Minister and he's managed to convince the public that Harry is better off in his secure location." Sirius scoffed. "He'd be better off with us. I can't imagine Dumbledore gave him to anything but a staunchly Light family."

"Oh? And you're anti-Light?"

"No," Remus said. "We're not that at all. But we both have Dark magical cores and Harry does too."

"How do you know that?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It was obvious even when he was just a babe. Not that Dumbledore would let that leak to the press."

Harry was stunned about how easily Sirius and Remus were talking about the very subject they'd avoided like the plague in the other time. Whatever it was that had changed their opinion, for it must have been changed sometime during or after the war they fought in with Dumbledore, he was glad for it. He could fight on the opposite side from these two, for he would be fighting against the old coot and all who followed him, but he certainly hadn't wanted to.

"Harry wasn't raised by a Light family. He was raised by muggles."

Sirius stared. "That's… that's not right."

"No, it wasn't." Harry sighed. "Belby." His head house elf popped in. "Get me a ritual knife and a bowl from my potion stores, please."

"Yes, my lord." Belby bowed and left. A moment later, he was back with one of Harry's knives in his right hand, a bowl in the other. Harry took the knife and bowl. He absentmindedly thanked the house elf and Belby popped away.

"I'm sure you know this spell," Harry said. He cut open his thumb and let the blood drip into the bowl. With his wand he cast, "Magica Aperire Nomine."

His blood flashed and then rose from the bowl. In the air right above it, it began to form into words: HARRIGAN JAMES PEVERELL-POTTER.

"It can't be," Remus whispered.

"You… Harry?"

"Hey, Padfoot," Harry said. "Moony."

"But you're– aging potion?"

"Well, yes." Harry waved a hand to brush away the obvious questions. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"We've come back in time," Ginny stated. "My lord was thirty-three and the British Wizarding World was dying. I found a ritual that could send us back with the use of a willing sacrifice and we did it."

"That's unbelievable," Remus stated. "That kind of time travel would be–"

"Only possible with Olde Magic," Sirius interrupted his consort. "I know the ritual you're talking about. The record of it is in the Black library. Reggie and I came across it when we were kids."

"That's where I found it," Ginny said.

"We were living in 12 Grimmauld Place then," Harry told them. "I was the Black Lord."


"Regulus was dead. You named me your heir and then you died." Harry clenched his jaw, still angry as he thought of the circumstances around that. "It won't happen again."

"I don't want to believe it but… you can't fake blood magic like that." Sirius stared at the bowl. "And there's no way a ten-year-old would know that."

"I'm sorry to take away the chance to watch your godson grow," Harry said. "But then, my childhood wasn't particularly happy and it didn't get much better when I came to Hogwarts." He paused. "Well, I wasn't aware of that until later—too grateful with it all, but Dumbledore manipulated me from the minute I learned of my magic and he never stopped even after his own death."

"So you came back to change it?" Remus asked.

"Dumbledore is my enemy," Harry told them. "If you can't fight against him, I will erase your memories and show you the way out. I am a Dark Lord, Sirius, Remus. I'm not a boy, not anymore, and I really am sorry you never got to see me as one, but that won't change the fact that who I am now is nothing like what I know of my father or mother."

"A Dark Lord?" Sirius murmured.

"A true Dark Lord, like what Voldemort was before he went mad with magic he shouldn't have tampered with. I seek to bring balance back to the magic of Britain, not to torture muggles simply for existing."

"Then she's your–" Remus looked at Ginny.

Ginny glanced at Harry and, at his nod, pulled down her robe collar so they could see the mark on her shoulder. "I've been his since we were seventeen."

"This is too much." Sirius stood and began to pace. "Merlin's balls, this is too much."

Harry watched Sirius and Remus. Remus looked to Sirius like a wolf to his alpha, just waiting for guidance. Sirius, though he paced, kept himself in between Remus and Harry as if he still needed to guard his mate. Then again, Harry was a Dark Lord—it wasn't an unnecessary precaution. Though he would never hurt Remus, Sirius had no idea how much he cared for the two of them, or at least for their other counterparts.

"If you stay inside my manor, you can have as much time as you need to think things over and ask me questions," Harry said. "The wards won't let you leave without telling me, so if you attempt to I will erase your memories, but otherwise you have the run of the house. There's nothing I need to hide."

"Thank you," Remus said as Sirius stopped pacing.

"Belby can show you a room," Harry said. "I just have one more question before you go lock yourselves in it."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You had a house elf growing up, Wretcher."

"That's right."

"Is he still around?"

Sirius frowned, then nodded. "Yeah. Reggie got a couple new elves for Grimmauld Place, because Wretcher never was fond of him and went a bit crazy after mum died, but he's still alive I think."

"I see. Well then, make yourselves at home." Harry stood and held out his hand for Ginny. "Time for you to go home."

"Yes, my lord," Ginny said, taking his hand.

They walked together in silence until they made it outside. "Do you think they'll join you?" Ginny asked. "That was all very abrupt."

"They were nervous the whole time," Harry said. "As they should be, after having felt the brunt of my magic, but they stayed because they were determined to find Harry. Knowing that I'm him…" Harry sighed. "They'll either be devoted, or they'll pull away. It depends on whether they can put together the thought of their ten-year-old godson with this thirty-three-year-old Dark Lord that I am."

"Luna said they'd stop howling for blood once they heard of the future."

"And they did. Doesn't mean they won't leave."

"You want them to stay."

"Of course I do." Harry looked up at the clear sky for a moment. "They're mine. They always have been. The only two adults who I could fully say were mine, when I was younger."

"I understand."

Harry shook his head. "We miscalculated with Wretcher. We asked Kreacher to reassure us that Wretcher was just as devoted to Walburga as he was, but that's not who we should have focused on."

"My lord?"

"Regulus, Gin. Regulus betrayed Voldemort because Kreacher was his best friend. Voldemort ordered Kreacher to test the defenses around the locket and when Kreacher came back, Regulus was furious."

Ginny gasped. "But if Wretcher never became his friend as well as servant… then Regulus might have never even learned of the Horcrux. Or if he did, he didn't care as much."

"Regulus never betrayed his lord. He was very smart, we know that. He could very well have come up with a way to resurrect Voldemort after his temporary defeat by baby me. A sane Tom Riddle, combined with Lucius Malfoy and Regulus Black… they've already started making waves at the Ministry."

"Not enough, but some," Ginny murmured. "And even if they were estranged, Regulus would have never let Sirius wallow in Azkaban for something he didn't do. He must have pushed for a trial."

"Didn't change much for little me, since Dumbledore wanted me compliant from living with the Dursleys, but it changed everything for Sirius and Remus."

"I still can't believe they're mates. No wonder Remus was so messed up. His mate spent twelve years in prison for, supposedly, betraying his pack members and then on top of that Sirius died not two years after getting out."

"Remus seems more comfortable in his own skin now," Harry agreed. "Who knows if it's enough for him to not be scared of his inner wolf, but it's better."

"If he's embraced the fact that he's a Dark creature, he might even have control of himself during the transformations," Ginny said. "Maybe."

"Maybe," Harry echoed. "This world is different from the one we came from, Gin, but I can't say I'm not excited to play in it."

Ginny smirked—the look strange on her nine-year-old face. "I can tell, my lord."

Harry laughed and touched her mark with his fingertips. "Go now, my little Blossom, and give Luna my thanks."

"Of course." Ginny accepted the small magical boost Harry had given her through the mark and wandlessly disapparted.

Harry headed back to the manor proper, considering his two sudden guests. It would be up to them what the next step was, but he couldn't help but hope it involved two new Blood Blossoms.