A Trio of Tricksters: Eclipse the Past, Usurp the Future Chapter Ten: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Luggage

Story Summary: The war ended, and then it didn’t. Voldemort is gone but somehow Harry, Hermione and Luna ended up as Undesirables 1, 2 & 3. Controlling the future is going to take some controlling of the past, and they say those who control the present control the past, so why not make the past the present? A time-travel fix-it where a trio of tricksters set up shop and revolutionize the wizarding world, for all that it takes a great deal of time to do so.

This is chapter ten of a fanfiction that is part of a series. To start from the beginning of this fic click here. To start from the beginning of the series click here. And to learn more about the series as a whole click here.

Disclaimer: I have to admit that I don’t quite know how these are supposed to work. Is it really that necessary? Y’all don’t actually think there’s any chance that I’m JKR or WB right? I’m just a millennial with not enough time on their hands who writes fanfic instead of sleeping. 

A/N: It might benefit readers of this chapter to also read my story The Original Trio of Tricksters because it will provide backstory for some of what is going on with Sirius in these scenes. I also posted a oneshot set in the original timeline chronicling Harry and Hermione’s experience with finding dates to the Yule Ball called Waltzing to the Heart of the Matter that I thought thematically appropriate to the season. As always Transreal_Clouden and cyborg-goddess maintain their status as rockstars.

Chapter Ten: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Luggage

“So, don’t get me wrong, this is much more comfortable than Azkaban, but when am I gonna be able to get out of here?” Sirius asked as he expertly flipped a pancake via jiggling the saucepan. He was standing the the kitchenette of Harry’s trunk, wearing a Wonder Woman apron and speaking to Hermione, who was rewriting an ancient runes essay based on her memories of what she wrote in the first timeline, bolstered by her advanced knowledge and critique that Babbling had given her. With liberal use of wit-sharpening potions, the trio were zooming through their homework assignments using this method, with the exception of Harry, who hadn’t taken Arithmancy previously.

Hermione sighed, and rolled up the parchment. “Sirius, it’s only been three days, and they’re still dealing with the dementor aftermath. Our contact in the ministry, your cousin Tonks, says that the Pettigrew case is moving along well, and you should be clear to go in within the next day or so. I think you’d rather wait it out here than in a ministry cell, wouldn’t you?” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Besides, you’re looking much better for being here and not out in the wilderness. For one thing, now that you’re clean and your facial hair is neat rather than as mangy as your dog form after a tussle in the woods, you’ll look somewhat respectable when you go into the courtroom.” She paused. “I think you might want to ditch the apron though. I don’t think the wizengamot likes muggle superheroes as much as we do.”

“Their loss,” Sirius shrugged as he slid the finished pancake to the top of the stack and poured more batter in the pan. “Diana could kick all their arses.”


“I think our mutual friend is getting a little stir crazy,” Hermione murmured to Harry as she settled next to him and began buttering some toast. It was 11am and today was the first day that all of the villagers had been properly relocated back to Hogsmeade, and so the Great Hall was once more open to students, currently so for the normal Sunday 8am-2pm brunch.

“Oh? What’s he done this time?”

“I’m only performatively eating this,” she grumbled. “He made three dozen pancakes, six helpings of fried eggs, a pound of bacon, twenty pieces of toast, and a veritable mountain of baked beans.”

“Jeez. Well, it’s day one, we can eat breakfast again.”


Sirius paced back and forth in the small apartment that was in reality the inside of a trunk. There were false windows that showed a false outside that he kept shut, because honestly they felt taunting. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run. He needed to get away from this place, from this everything. He had been given a wand, not his wand, that had been taken away by the DMLE, but Harry had let him pick between which of his parents’s wands Sirius might prefer to use, having retrieved them from the storage they had been kept in, a trust that had been created for Harry and maintained by a group of well-meaning wizards who were unfortunately bad at keeping records and didn’t know what they had until a surprisingly knowledgeable Harry came looking for it.

Seeing their wands laying next to each other on the table, it was like a dam broke in Sirius’s memory. The thing about dementors was that they didn’t just suck the happy feelings from you, they took the happy memories away too, and nothing made Sirius happier than his time with Lily and James. Somehow, they had made him forget the best and brightest part of his life, which was the fact that their friendship was much more than a friendship. This revelation, however, rather than bringing back a cascade of happy memories, only brought on anguish, as Sirius burst into hysterical sobs, much to the shock of Harry and Luna, who had not expected him to have quite such a strong reaction to the sight of the two wands, which still lay innocently on the table. 

Gently, they led Sirius over to the couch, where he sat, head still cradled in his hands, and Luna softly stroked his hair. Neither of them really knew what to do with the broken man in front of them, but eventually Sirius regained his composure, remembered that he was supposed to be the adult in the room, and looked up. 

As soon as he saw Harry, he froze, and the words he was going to say dried up in his mouth. How could he have forgotten about Harry? Harry, who had James’s hair, Lily’s eyes, and dare he say it, Sirius’s nose? The young man was startled by the ferocity with which Sirius pulled him into a hug, but still returned the gesture, dismayed though he was at his ability to feel Sirius’s ribs as he leaned in to the older man’s embrace.

“I’ll make some tea, shall I?” Luna said brightly, before getting up from the couch and going over to the kitchenette.

Sirius wasn’t able to explain that day, or the next, why he got so emotional over the wands. He was still sorting out all of his memories, what the dementors had taken away, what he had regained, pondering what more he could have lost. If he had forgotten Lily, and James, and his true connection to Harry, what more could there be missing? He kept their wands with him always — Harry had given him space-expansive holsters that were waterproof and comfortable enough to sleep in. Sirius suspected they were waterproof for swimming purposes, but he still kept them on in the shower regardless, because he couldn’t bear to be parted with them. The practice certainly wasn’t healthy, but then again Sirius wasn’t healthy. 

He had spent twelve years in hell on earth after having all that he held dear ripped away from him. He remembered screaming that it was his fault that Lily and James were dead, he should have been there, protecting them, but of course he was away from the house that fateful night, and got there too late, always too late. He couldn’t remember all that he said in his half mad ravings, but he was certain that he had also been calling out that he needed to get to Harry. Not that that would have helped his case much either. Looking back, it must have seemed like a confession, followed by a need to finish what his master started. It made him sick, that anyone could think he would do anything to harm the three people who comprised his entire world. And how could Dumbledore have let this happen? They had trusted him, given him so many chances, too many chances, and every time he let them down. No more. No more.

Sirius was started out of his thoughts by Harry, Hermione, and Luna coming down the steps from the entrance to the trunk for breakfast again .

“It’s odd how I’m almost used to you three showing up in different outfits and in different moods, hungry as can be three times within the hour,” he said with a half smile.

“Well, it’s not really within the hour for us, Siri,” Hermione rolled her eyes at him, and Sirius was struck again by how… familiar the three seemed to be with him. Not just in the sense that they appeared to know him, but in the sense that they treated him as a peer, an adult peer. Not that they treated him like another one of their pre-teen school friends, but in their actions they acted as though all four of them were in fact adults. Sometimes Sirius even forgot that they weren’t, though it was hardest to reconcile with Luna, who at twelve was a slip of a thing.

“I know, you’ve got your fancy time travel device, lets you be in three places at once. Would that I had one of those. Maybe then I could’ve… but that’s all in the past now. Too far back to travel I suppose.” Sirius shook his head bitterly as he sat at the table with them, again, though not eating, having long since had his own breakfast with what he thought of as the original Hermione. He missed the looks the three shot at each other, and continued, in an almost demanding voice “On another note, I’ve been trying to talk to you three, does this set have time to listen?”

“Sure,” Harry exchanged shrugs with the two girls on to his left. “I think our morning is relatively free right now, we were planning on spending it with you.”

“Oh,” Sirius paused, having lost his momentum, before pushing forward, “well, what I mean to say is this. You cannot trust Dumbledore. I made a lot of the decisions that drove my life to the point it is at today. And I own those decisions. But the man who pointed me the worst directions and held my hand as I walked down the path that led to the death of the people I loved the most —” Sirius got slightly choked up before continuing “was Albus Dumbledore. And he had to have known that there was no way I would ever betray James and Lily, or let our son —”

“Our?” Harry interjected, inquisitively, confused at Sirius’s term. Sirius seemed to choke on his words again as his mouth snapped shut and he resembled a deer in headlights.

“Well, I don’t think, I mean, I don’t know who would have — who could have ever told you — I mean, no one really knew — I mean you’re named in my — not that anyone would see —” as Sirius continued to babble, things slowly started to add up for Harry. How Sirius would sometimes call him “son.” The raw ache with which he spoke about his parents, comparing him to James, constantly mentioning Lily’s eyes, but never mentioned any past lovers. That he had named Harry his heir and no one in the Black family had been able to lay a higher claim despite there being no direct Black lineage in the Potter line for generations. Harry’s minor metamorph ability that allowed him to change his hair color and length — a Black family trait. 

“You’re my dad, aren’t you?” Harry asked, his voice small, but full of wonder. For a moment he actually felt like the kid he was supposed to be, all kinds of endorphins and emotions rushing through him. Hermione and Luna stayed silent, sensing this as a private moment. 

“Well,” Sirius swallowed back the babbling he had been continuing on. “One of them. James was — is, just because he’s, I mean — but, anyway, yeah. We, um, after you were born, did a ritual, a small one, so that you would be all three of ours. We never actually ah, checked to see which one of us um. That is to say, caused the pregnancy per se.” Sirius had gone awfully red, as had Harry, but they were both also crying a small bit. “But yes, you are my son. You don’t um, have to call me dad, if you don’t want to, but if you would like to, of course you can, and I wouldn’t mind, and I might, um, like that, if you would, I mean,” Sirius was stumbling over his words again, awkward from lack of social interaction via social isolation on top of not really ever having been particularly good at emotions if it wasn’t with Lily or James. 

“I think I would like that, um, dad,” Harry said hesitantly, before sliding his chair over so that he could give Sirius a sitting hug. 

Hermione was trying not to coo at the heart-melting scene, and Luna had sneakily taken out a camera and captured the moment so that she could put it in an album later. 


While Harry and Sirius were having their heartwarming moment, for another Harry that was still all to come, and he was currently getting brought into the loop with all the latest drama regarding what was going on with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was hanging out in the fifth year girls’ dormitory with Alicia and Katie, who were fairly impressed that he had found a way to make it up there, and pleased because it meant they could gossip in relative privacy while Harry gave them foot and back massages.

Harry had long since figured out that the problem with going up a staircase that didn’t match one’s gender was based on intent and consent. It wasn’t so much that boys could never go up to the female dorms as a rule, but boys couldn’t go up to the female dorms without both reason and permission. Regarding the gendered nature of the rule, he had asked Hermione once about what options there were for trans and non-binary students at Hogwarts, and her explanation was that there was supposed to be gender-neutral housing for anyone who requested it, but what eleven year old would reasonably think to ask, and by the time students got older most were used to the status quo and still didn’t know it was an option. That was one of the bigger things they sought to change, but as allies they couldn’t just force trans mages to out themselves because that would also be a terrible thing to do. Harry and Luna were slightly worried for Hermione’s blood pressure as she was coming down from that particular set of impassioned speeches.

Harry didn’t particularly mind being relegated to the role of masseuse — it had been something he’d been dared to do as a bit of a lark in one of their post-game bonding sessions early in his first year, but he’d developed a talent for it, and since he wasn’t actually into any of the other players (they called it quidcest) it was a perfectly reasonable pastime. 

“So let me get this straight,” Harry laughed, as he began working out a knot in Alicia’s shoulder. “Angelina is dating Fred and George, who are both pretending to be Fred?”

“Mhmm, oh, yeah, right there is good, Harry.”

“Meanwhile Oliver and Percy are a thing now?”

“Possibly, he and Angelina are being coy about spilling the beans, but heard from Octavia McKinney, who heard from Camille Tartt that Penelope Clearwater was seen kissing Madeline Williams behind the tapestry of the nuns doing the electric slide. And I know it was that tapestry because Octavia said that Camille said that the two of them were also debating the origin of a magical tapestry depicting catholic nuns doing a four wall line dance set to a popular muggle song from the 1970s in a magical school,” Katie asserted, all of this said very fast as she fastidiously painted her nails. 

Harry snorted as he remembered a story that Sirius told him about a particularly wild night in his seventh year, and peered over to look at what Katie was doing. “I’m not sure I fancy that shade of green Katie. It’s a bit Slytherin,” he made a face at her, and she looked at him with fake horror. “But Harry, I wanted it to match your eyes! ” 

They all burst into giggles before Harry breached a more serious topic.

“But all jokes aside, while I am glad to be all caught up on this quidditch gossip — especially the news about the quidcest going on and Oliver’s high-key dramatics — I’m wondering what you can tell me about how the upper years are reacting to all the dementor stuff. Me, Hermione, and Luna have been in meetings with professors and aurors and press people because of our role in holding them back, but I can only imagine that the school is just waiting to pounce on us too, if how many questions Ron has been throwing at me when I get back late each night is an indication.”

“I don’t really know what to tell you, Harry,” Katie shrugged. “People are confused, scared, but also glad to be out of classes. Really grateful, to you, Hermione, Luna and all the professors who saved us. Freaked out over whatever was powerful enough to kill all the monsters, guilty that we’re glad they’re gone — some people anyway. It’s been odd eating in the common room, seeing as how we can’t use the great hall. It was nice to have it back in time for Sunday brunch, and nice for the Hogsmeade residence to have their homes back I imagine.” She leaned back, having finished her last nail and reached for her wand, applying the same drying charm she had done on her first hand so that they wouldn’t smudge.

“Can I just say, how jealous I am of your ambidextrous casting?” Alicia said, eying Katie. “That would give me such an edge in the competitive dueling circuit, and you use it to paint your nails.”

“Rude! I use it in dueling too!” Katie shot a stinging hex at Alicia, who quickly rolled out of the way, inadvertently landing on top of Harry and squashing him with a face full of boob.

It was of course right then that Angelina walked in. “Started the party without me have you?”

“Angelina, my angel! Save me from the treachery!” Harry yelped from beneath Alicia, who snorted before getting off of him.

“Katie, it’s your turn. Angelina, watch out, she’s trigger happy today. Ouch!”


It had been a very, very long week for Elizabeth Mirkwood. Normally, she didn’t work weekends. It was a hard thing to do as a lawyer, but she had strict boundaries for herself about work-life balance that she didn’t want to cross, and she didn’t see the need to blend the personal and the professional. But when her clients were being hounded by the press because of their role in the dementor attack of the century and the same clients were also asking her to take on a new client who was a maybe not guilty fugitive that was currently the most wanted man in the country — well work-life balance needed to take a backseat. Because not only was Sirius Black innocent, but the latest news was that, relevant to the custody case she had been working on since this summer, he was apparently one of Harry Potter’s two(!) biological fathers, which gave him a heck of a lot more claim than just about anyone else alive if she could get into a courtroom and produce some goddamn evidence, which was lacking in the trial he had never received twelve years previous. (Not that said little detail had her screaming into a pillow until her voice was hoarse, not at all .)

All told, Elizabeth Mirkword had her work cut out for her, but she had never been afraid of a challenge, and there was no way she was going to let down the people who were depending on her for what was in Sirius and Harry’s cases very much their livelihoods. And even if she wasn’t going to do it out of the sheer moral obligation of the thing — they were paying her a shit ton of gold. 


Tonks was very pleased with the new turn that their life had taken. Sure, Martins was just as much of an asswipe as ever, but now he was an asswipe who had turned down the lead of the century, and Tonks was working under Senior Auror Shacklebolt to break open the Sirius Black case. Technically it could be seen as a conflict of interest on their part, if someone squinted, since he was technically their ma’s cousin, but Tonks couldn’t be arsed to care about conflict of interest, and honestly, Sirius Black wasn’t someone they were emotionally invested in. Sure, he was family, but they had a lot of family, supposedly, and that hadn’t stopped them from sending any cards that weren’t death threats. Family . What was family, beyond parents? They didn’t have any siblings, no aunts, uncles or cousins worth a damn. Maybe. A small voice in their head spoke . If he isn’t guilty, crazy, or dead by the time you find him. Maybe he could be family.

A/N: Herein I have only begun to tackle that horrible staircase storyline (JKR what were you thinking???? Answer: we all know she wasn’t) And for those of you who are curious, here are my full thoughts:

You have unrestricted access to the female dorms of any house once you are already in the common room if you meet any of the following requirements:

  • you identify as female
  • your assigned living space is in the female dorms of any house
  • you are a professor/staff and there is a declared state of emergency in the castle, which can be signaled in such a way that only professors/staff are capable

You have temporary access to a specific female dorm if:

  • you do not meet the above requirements but someone who is assigned to live in that specific space invites you to come with them to the dorm and you have no ill intent, as detected by a ward of ill-intent (which is an established spell btw, I’m pretty sure). In this case you have temporary, one-time passage that needs to be renewed at every visit, and you need to be guided via holding the hand of the person bringing you up to the dorm for the entire trip up the staircase. In the case of this chapter, Harry explained to Alicia and Katie how they could bring him up to the girls dormitory, and they happily complied in order that he could give them massages in a place more comfortable than the locker room, and more private than the common room.

Bonus Note:
I was on a Quidditch team in college and I can verify that the correct term for dating one’s teammates is quidcest.

Fic recommendation: Make A Wish by Rorschach’s Blot on FFN. I love this fic SO MUCH that I printed out physical copies of all fifty chapters for me to lovingly read when not connected to a computer. (Because of course I’ve downloaded PDFs to my computer and saved it to my offline stories in the FFN app on my phone.) Seriously, this is the best example of internally consistent crack with substance I have ever read. This was the fanfic that made fanfiction worthwhile to me. I could wax poetic about how much I love this fic for long enough for it to constitute its own chapter, but that would just take the cheating at NaNoWriMo I’m doing to truly egregious levels.