The D.W.O. had gone charging from McGonagall's classroom the moment she'd dismissed them. Declan stayed behind to help Professor McGonagall round up the flamingos and return them to the crate she'd brought them into the room in. When they'd got the last of them put away, McGonagall waved her wand and disappeared them. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Alectric," she said, smiling as she set a broom to sweeping up the scattered pink feathers that lay about the floor.

"No worries," Declan answered.

She watched the broom's progress for a moment, then turned and studied Declan a moment. "Is something the matter, Mr. Alectric?" she asked.

Declan shook his head.

"Are you sure?" she pressed.

Declan nodded, "Quite sure."

McGonagall stared down her nose at him - she could tell there really was something the matter and he knew she could, but she didn't press him further, other than to say, "Should you ever need - Professor Flitwick or I are always happy to assist you with whatever you may need."

"Thanks," he answered. "See you later." He ducked out of the room. He'd been thinking of asking her some questions, but thought better of it, and trudged up the stairs through the castle to Ravenclaw tower.

The eagle door knocker roused when Declan approached and cleared his throat. "I have cities but no houses. I have mountains but no trees. I have water but no fish. What am I?"

Declan, who had already worked out the answers to the entire week's worth of riddles, replied back lazily, "A map."

The eagle looked surprised, "So quick!" he murmured, and the door swung open.

Declan waved hello to a couple other Ravenclaws that were studying in the common room. They waved back, but only half heartedly - even in his own house, Declan was a bit of a mystery. He went up the rotunda to his dormitory door. It was locked - his room mate had a class during the time that Declan had free and he was thankful for it - he had a lot to think about. He was, after all, still terribly confused by everything that had been discussed between him and the D.W.O.

He really hadn't been the one to bump into James Potter.

But when he stepped into his room and turned on the light - he had quite the fright.

For there, sitting on the edge of the bed was --

Himself.

EARLIER THAT DAY....

OR FORTY-FIVE YEARS LATER....

WHICH EVER WAY YOU'D PREFER TO THINK OF IT...

Declan Alectric stood in the toilet on the second floor in Hogwarts, staring into the mirror, concentrating quite hard on the transfromation he was making to himself. He had to look right or one of the D.W.O. would certainly notice - and it certainly wasn't easy to get rid of five-o'clock shadow, even for a metamorphmagus. Going from mid-thirties to a young-looking seventeen year old who easily passed for fifteen-nearly-sixteen was... not easy. But he had to do it.

"What do you think? Does it pass?" Declan asked, turning around.

Hannah, was still in awe of being at Hogwarts at all, nodded, "Yeah. I mean, you look like the picture." She looked down at the year book in her hands, then back up at Declan. "That is so frickin' cool you can do that. I mean, I'd KILL to be able to change my looks. First thing to go would be my stupid front teeth."

"What's wrong with your front teeth?" Declan asked, turning to look in the mirror.

"They're huge."

"They give your face character."

"My face can have character without bucky beaver teeth."

"Hey can we like make this about me again, please?" Declan asked.

Hannah rolled her eyes, then paused and peeked out the door of the bathroom. "Oh no wait - no you're on. Go!"

Declan was shoved out the toilet door and he rushed down the corridor to his appointment to bump into James Potter. Hannah hovered behind the door, holding her breath and biting her lip. How she wanted to lean forward and catch a glimpse of James herself - but she was afraid if she did --

She retrained herself.

It took a few minutes for the interaction, but none was the wiser as Declan came racing back down the corridor a moment later, clutching his bag to his chest, breathless and wild-eyed. "C'mon," he said, ducking back into the toilet.

"You got it?"

"I got it."

"Can I see it?"

He shoved the bag into Hannah's hands as he pushed the toilet door closed and magicked it locked again.

Hannah opened the bag - loads of parchment birds fluttered out. "I - what the --?"

"Dexter made them," Declan explained. "One of them is the portrait."

It took a moment to unfurl enough of the birds to find the portrait. Now, as well as the tear, there were fold lines where the paper had been creased to create the bird, but the drawing Remus Lupin had made of Sirius's brother was there in her hands and she stared at it in awe.

"What?" Declan asked.

"It's... it's funny because it's like this is him - it's Regulus, it's a very good rendering of him - but it's like it's from the wrong perspective. Like... it's not quite right, just mostly right."

"Exactly. You know him better than Remus did. That's part of it, I'll bet." Declan paused. Then, "Do you think she can fix it?"

"I know she can. She can draw anything."

Isa was sitting on her couch, relaxing after a long day. She'd been quite busy lately - with school coming to an end, graduation just around the corner, and exciting new times opening up in her life. Little did she know that something quite exciting was about to happen that very night.

Looking back, she could hardly believe it was real.

Her phone had vibrated against her knee while she sat sketching and cuddling with her brand new college sweatshirt - she'd barely put it down since finding out she'd been accepted to her first-choice school. She was frustrated with her pencil - struggling to capture the curve of the face she was trying to draw, and certain it meant she was a fraud. However brilliant she was, she always found flaws in her own work - no matter how much people told her otherwise, she always reserved just the tiniest bit of doubt in her own ability, and this latest sketch was no different.

She lowered her pencil to check the text message she'd just received.

HG Martin: I have a question and its ok if you cant or don't want to

Isa hesitated, then raised the phone up and tapped the letters with her thumb.

Isa: Okay

HG Martin: Would you be interested in a... commission... for me?

Isa: A commission?

Hannah was typing.

Isa's sister, Caroline, was sitting beside her, gossiping. She was chiming in here and there, but mostly her focus was on those three dots that indicated a message was being tapped out on the other end of the line.

It seemed to take forever.

HG Martin: I have a picture that was damaged and I need it repaired. Can you do that?

HG Martin: It's a portrait.

HG Martin: Of Regulus Black.

Isa stared at the phone.

Recently, on the story, Hannah had been breaking the fourth wall a lot and writing this crazy story line that brought the Marauders into real life and Isa was more than a little suspicious that it might actually be real life. Especially when she requested stuff like this.

She bit her lip a moment, looking up at her sister whose story was just winding down.

"I'm, like, really tired, long day tomorrow and all. ILOVEYOUGOODNIGHT!" Isa said really loud, the words running together. She'd never go to bed without saying she loved her sister, but she also had probably never said good night so fast to anybody in her life.

Isa raced up the steps - they were creaky and she could feel her heart racing with excitement or anticipation or maybe even fear as she turned on the lamps in her room and set herself into the blankets on the bed, bent forward over the phone, legs criss-crossed as she tapped out her next question.

Isa: Like the one Remus drew?

HG Martin: Exactly like that one.

Isa: I'll need references...

It took only a second. The phone vibrated in her hand and there it was - a paper with smudged pencil markings, a tear running across the top that cut through the forehead of the subject garishly, damaging the image.

It wasn't the usual Timothee Chalamet fan cast style that she was used to seeing - but she could certainly see a bit of Timothee in the face that stared back at her. Her heart was racing.

Was this actually the portrait Remus Lupin had drawn? Really and truly?

HG Martin: Can you do it?

Isa: Yes

She felt anxious and joyful and excited and overwhelmed and all of the things all at once as she quickly hastened to gather her bristol and her favorite pencil. She paused and grabbed for a candle, then a second one, excitement trembling through her hands. Quickly, she typed out -

Isa: I want to like surround myself with candles and pour all of my love for him into this

She started lighting the candles, putting them all around, creating an ambiance.

HG Martin: That's why we're choosing you lol

HG Martin: Portraits are limited by the love that is poured into it when they're made... I need something... something very important.. I can't really get into detail yet, but I promise someday I'll tell you everything. Just... for now, suffice it to say that we need a Regulus who is imbued with your love for him. I need you to recreate this. I wouldn't trust anyone else with this.

Isa: My heart is going to explode.

And she set to work.

She hummed Bohemian Rhapsody while she worked.

Her emerald ring flashed as she worked, each time she drew the pencil across the Bristol, the light caught the stone just right and she thought about how much the deep, deep green color of the stone and the shining gold band reminded her of Regulus's character. So many facets of darkness but an unending purity that shone through no matter how dark it got.

Isa's half-red hair slipped over her shoulder as she paused and picked at the corners of her fingernails as she looked the portrait over, trying to determine how she would capture the light she imagined in the eyes of Regulus Black. Catch lights reflecting in the pupil were hard to get just so, but as difficult as they were to achieve - they were also incredibly important.

It took about an hour.

It was like the inspiration had filled her up.

The anxiety melted away as she worked and soon she felt the usual blaze of fire that lit her within - burning as brightly as the flames that flickered on the wicks of the candles.

Regulus's character was one so important to her that Isa felt like she'd had his spirit captured in her pencil just waiting to be released and she she drew the details - the curve of his mouth, the alignment of his teeth, the way one eye crinkled just a tiny bit more than the other... So many little things that added up to Regulus Black...

And when she finally withdrew her hand and lay the Bristol pad down, her breath caught just a tiny bit as she beheld him.

Isa took a photo and sent it to Hannah.

Isa: Is this what you were envisioning?

HG Martin: 😱😭🥰

The next day, Isa was slipping the portrait into an envelope to send to Hannah. She was just about to slip the piece of board into the envelope when the most curious thing happened.

"Isa?"

The voice was slightly raspy, just as she'd always imagined it when she read it, low, and accented. Her hand shook - she wasn't sure she believed what she'd heard.

Did - did the portrait she'd made of Regulus Black just talk to her?

No, she had to be imagining it.

She started to slide the portrait into the envelope again.

"Thank you for bringing me to life," the voice said.

She pulled the portrait back out and stared at him for a long moment.

He didn't move, but she could have sworn that catch light in his eye was just a little more... lit up... than she'd drawn it.

It was a few days in time, should one have not been using the time turner - but only a couple minutes with the ability to turn. Hannah held out the portrait, framed in gold. Declan stared in awe at it.

"Damn," he murmured. "She's good."

Hannah nodded. "I told you, Isa can do anything."

"And he's... living?"

Hannah nodded. "He sure is. I had a few long talks with him before I came back."

Declan stared at the smiling boy in the frame.

AND NOW BACK TO 1979, RAVENCLAW TOWER

"Hey there, kid."

Declan stared in dropped-jaw astonishment.

The features were aged a wee bit but there was no mistaking himself. He was staring up into his own grey eyes, at his own thick eyebrows and styled blue hair. There was a familiar dimple in his cheek and a small birth mark on his jaw that absolutely confirmed it, despite the five-o'clock shadow on the face of the man in front of him.

If Declan himself had not already learned all about how time turners work, he would've been extremely shocked by his own presence. But as it was, Declan was not only quite familiar with time turners but he was using one that very moment.

That didn't make what he was seeing any less unnerving.

Older Declan studied his younger self for a moment, then said, "Gods, I can't believe how fucking nerdy we looked in that uniform." He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Younger Declan blinked up at him, then looked down at his uniform. "I look good in blue... Obviously you agree, you haven't changed our hair."

Older Declan laughed, "Yes but Ravenclaw blue clashes so hard with the hair." He paused, then, before Younger Declan could come up with a response, Older Declan stood up from where he'd been sitting and waved a wand at the door, locking it. "Look, I remember being confused as hell about this portrait thing and I thought I'd give myself an explanation so you don't go mad thinking about everything that happened today."

"An - an explanation?"

Declan nodded, "Yes. See, I'm the one who took the Portrait from James Potter this morning. You're not crazy - you didn't see him this morning and - for the love of Godric stop quoting movies and telly shows and songs and things from the future. You're so bleeding obvious." He reached over and flicked his fingers through the keychains on Younger Declan's bag strap. "A One Direction keychain? Really? Harry Styles isn't even born yet you idiot. Hell, his parents may not even be born yet..." Older Declan paused, thinking, "Well. Maybe. But either way, you don't need a keychain of him here. And naming your Tamagotchi George Michael? What are you going to do in five years when Wham! is huge and you're going to their concert with the lads? How are you going to explain having named this stupid hunk of plastic after George all this time beforehand?"

"I'm going to a Wham concert?" Younger Declan's eyes lit up.

"Yeah. And camp out on the side walk for the tickets like the muggles do. Only way you're getting them. Trust me."

"Alright..." Younger Declan nodded.

"We are so bad on focusing," Older Declan said with a sigh as he plucked the tamagotchi from the bag.

"Hey!"

"I take good care of him, I promise."

Younger Declan frowned. "Doesn't give you the right to steal other people's stuff."

"I'm not. It's my own stuff."

Younger Declan huffed, frustrated.

"Anyway --" Older Declan said as he pocketed George Michael, "I took the Portrait earlier and came back and stuck it in your bag so they could find it again."

"Why?" Younger Declan asked.

Older Declan answered, "Because - as they said James Potter said - that portrait was terribly important and I had a very important use for it as well: one you won't understand yet. So I took it, brought it back to the future, had it restored, and have returned it."

Declan stared up at himself.

"It's important to keep things as seamless as possible when you change things, remember that."

"Change things? What things?"

"You know what you really could do with a time turner - if you wanted to. So much more than checking out middle aged celebrities we crushed on as a teenager."

Younger Declan flushed.

Older Declan laughed, then said, "You know that envelope that you found? In the safe?"

"The one with that address in America where that nasty girl lives?" Declan asked.

"Yeah, you've got to go and see her," Declan said.

"I tried and she told me to leave or she'd call the police."

"You have to go back. It's important."

"Why?"

"Because it is."

Younger Declan raised a challenging eyebrow.

"Look, we've changed... a lot of stuff her and -- I? Us? We? You know what I mean."

"Not really?"

Older Declan met Younger Declan's eyes evenly.

"You're gonna change the future, kid."