Nunquam Somnus: Never Sleep

Words: 9,565

Disclaimer: Own not, profit not. If you recognize it, darn good chance it isn't mine. Not for the closed minded. And it's only as canon as I want it to be. So nyah. Spoilers from all seven books, plus made up stuff where I don't like what they have. A bit of a "Super Harry" fic, in that he is competent. And yes, I am very much female.

Warnings: Spoilers from all books. DH and HBP ignored sometimes (such as in the cases of the Happily Ever After, Harry not taking the Elder Wand, he actually learned how to do wards and stuff, he's competent, etc). Dumbledore and Prewett/Weasley bashing. Mixed up genders. Mentions of child abuse and sexual abuse. Extra characters, mainly minor. Some characters have different names. May be more warnings in later chapters. Impolite language. Same sex pairings.

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Chapter 1 – Stranger

"It's alright for a stranger to kiss your hand as long as he's perfect." Mae West

Charlotte Potter had never been an ordinary girl by any means. She grew up with her aunt and uncle, Patricia and Vernon Dursley, and her twin-cousins Dudley and Delilah, all of whom were terribly normal. Aunt Patricia was a botanist that worked at a nearby nursery on the weekends, while Uncle Vernon sold drills. Dudley was a fat boy with a penchant for hitting people, though not girls because that wasn't socially acceptable. Delilah didn't have that limitation though, and the large girl – who wouldn't be out of place playing men's rugby – would often beat Charlotte up, because she was a "freak".

Her aunt always called her a freak, and maybe she was. Charlotte was an orphan, who didn't know her own name until she started Kindergarten. That was the year the social workers started coming, because she hadn't known her name was Charlotte, not just "girl" or "freak". They never found evidence though, despite the purple bruises and worn out clothes that she got from Delilah, even though teachers and neighbors constantly called to try and get an investigation.

Charlotte always healed quickly too, her bruises gone the next day, broken bones completely mended in a week, though still tender a while later. Once, when her aunt had given her a haircut "so she wouldn't waste so much shampoo", she woke with it full length again, though a bit darker. She'd been locked in the cupboard for a week that time. She also got the extra punishments that no one but she and Uncle Vernon were to know about. Those were the worst, because it made her Uncle so happy. She hated to see him happy. If she could really hate anyone in the world, she could hate that whale of a man.

Strange things just happened around Charlotte, including odd people greeting her when she swore she had never met them. One moment she might be walking to school, and suddenly an odd man or woman wearing a bathrobe would shake her hand vigorously or bow, saying it was such an honor, and then walk off. Whenever the Dursleys asked after them, she would always answer that she really didn't know what was going on.

It was a dream of hers that, one day, one of these random people would take her away. They were her mother's uncle or something, and they would take her away from the Dursleys, the beatings. They would take her some place magical and wonderful, where she might have her own room and food on a more reliable basis than whenever the Dursleys remembered to feed her.

When she turned eleven, a large man came and took her to Diagon Alley, where she learned that she was a witch. She spent the next three years attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, because she was, in fact, a witch. Hogwarts was amazing, and it made a small smile come upon her face to do so much as to think about it. Hogwarts with its moving staircases, her friends, and even the Chamber of Secrets (though that was rather unpleasant to think of the battle, the Chamber was a quiet place to just sit and think of other things) was home.

But every summer she had to return to Number 4 Privet Drive to be bullied and harassed. At the end of third year, after meeting her godfather, that Charlotte had a name for what her Uncle did to her. She knew it was illegal, and he could be put in Azkaban for it because of the fact that the man did it, and not just because it was to her, Charlotte Potter, She-Who-Survived, or because she was a witch, because rape was illegal, always. It was a rare moment where such things wouldn't be special treatment at all. But every time she tried to report him over the summer, Hedwig would return with no reply, and her feathers tweaked, as if she had been intercepted. If she tried to tell the muggle authorities, she couldn't find a police man, or the phone would be unhooked. She could only wonder what force was working against her. Voldemort didn't have that sort of plan for her. The dreams showed otherwise.

It wasn't until her 14th birthday that something happened, something wonderful. A man appeared. He looked to be 17, perhaps 18, with messy black hair and she couldn't help but imagine who he could be. He looked a lot like her father from that distance, despite the dark hair, she thought. Perhaps he was a cousin, she had wondered when she saw him walking down Magnolia Crescent. Her gaze was trained on him, and she did not see Delilah come up behind her.

In an instant, her gaze on the stranger was broken as she was shoved off her swing with a small cry. Charlotte stood delicately, turning to face her cousin, but unsure of what to do. Her wand was in her cupboard, and she had no way to defend herself against the heavyset girl. Delilah just stood smirking, taking a bite from a Whatchamacallit.

"Why are you even here freak? Don't your freaky friends even want you?" Whenever Delilah would say that, Charlotte wanted so badly to cry, but she did not. She couldn't. Honestly, she was aware, truly aware, of what her friends thought. They thought she was way too emotional, but, because she was She-Who-Survived, they stayed with her. She was so desperate for friends that she didn't even mind.

"Excuse me," the low voice with a slight hint at an American accent caused both Charlotte and Delilah to jump. The stranger who had, just five seconds ago, been half a block down, was suddenly just next to Charlotte, looking as if he had walked over calmly. She could tell he was definitely 18 now, maybe 19, recently out of Secondary School, and probably a private boarding school from his nice clothing, though, if the silver earring (in the odd shape of a triangle containing a circle and a vertical line) in his left ear was anything to go by, he can't've gone to one that was too prestigious.

"You're excused," Delilah said quickly, trying to be clever. It wasn't working.

"Good to know," Dismissed the man. He turned to me, sticking out his hand. "Evan Pronghorn."

"Charlotte Potter," the green eyed girl took his hand nervously, marveling at the young man before her. He really did look a lot like her father, though his eyes were a vibrant Evans-green flecked with violet oddly enough, his hair was as dark as that of her mother, and his chin wasn't as square as her father's. His features, in general, were much softer than those of Lukas Evans, his hair grown out below his chin, but obviously messy, accentuating his near-effeminate features.

She wasn't tricked of course, but the disguise was impressive. The similarities were glaring from a distance, but up close this guy – Evan Pronghorn – was very much different. He looked like perhaps a relation of her mother, but the few similarities were his hair, pitch black and messed – and as his physique was just as lean, his skin the same creamy color. In all honesty, he looked like he could be related to her, though which side he would be from was iffy. There was really little alike between the pair, and yet Charlotte knew they had to be related, if only distantly.

"I rather thought so," he released his grip, turning to Delilah with a look of disdain. "Delilah Dursley, right? I suggest you leave unless you want me to inform your father of exactly who stole his new car and took it for a joy ride a couple weeks ago, hm?"

The brown-haired girl had paled instantly, backing away several steps before turning to run off, in search of her "friends", who were really girls too afraid of Dudley's wrath to deny to pudgy girl. Charlotte smiled faintly, but stopped. No one outside of Delilah and herself knew about the car incident. How could this man know? Was he some sort of wizarding-stalker that wanted to corner her alone? Were Voldemort's followers spying on her house? Was he a mind reader maybe?

"Well, now that your corpulent cousin has been put in her place," Evan – if that was his real name – rolled his eyes, Charlotte noticed as she kept a steady eye trained on him, "I can get down to business, hm? Right, well, my name is Evan Pronghorn; I'm a cousin on your father's side, magical of course. Your grandfather Edmund had a younger, magical sister, Lily, who married into the Pronghorn family. They had me, and then they died.

"Essentially, now I'm of age, in ways both magical and muggle, I came to take you into my custody. I'm financially sound, so I won't be trying to dip into the Potter fortune through guardianship. In fact, I intend to get you emancipated, as my cousin Lukas' will states was to happen when you turned eleven, if you couldn't be placed under the custody of any of your chosen guardians. Obviously, the Dursleys were on the 'no way in hell' list, which included several death eaters. My parents were on the good list, but died before your own, so I'm afraid that never happened. I'm sure you already know about Black being your godfather, so I won't even go into that. The others on that list were Remus Lupin, who fought old Dumbles tooth and nail to even see you once, you should know, Peter Pettigrew, who I hope to find in Azkaban some time in the future, preferably soulless, or the Longbottoms, though why they can't I am not at liberty to inform you."

"So basically, you're my cousin, you don't like Dumbledore, you know about Sirius being innocent... and you want to adopt me?" Charlotte was extremely hopeful he would be telling the truth, but knew, in her heart, that he couldn't be. If she had had any family other than the Dursleys, she would not be with the magic-hating menaces. And how could he know of Sirius' innocence without being a death eater, or present that night? If he had known before, why wouldn't he have reported it to the ministry? Fishy.

As she thought this, Evan's face broke into a grin. "Good, you already know not to trust anyone who helps you," He was positively beaming, eyes twinkling in a near Dumbledore-esque fashion. "Much better than I was expecting really. If you had believed me, I'd have to wonder after your sanity. Living as you have, first betrayed by you family, then a Professor that wanted to kill you, a diary, and then by your friend's pet rat. Good to know you can learn the good old muggle lesson to 'never judge a book by its cover', hm? Couldn't have hoped for more, really."

"Oh, so I'm right in my suspicions?" He was batty, Charlotte was sure now. Congratulating her on not trusting strange men? Of course, she really couldn't say he didn't have a point. When she was eleven she'd trusted Hagrid just because he claimed to have known her parents. At twelve, she trusted a diary she'd seen floating in a toilet, and the year just past she trusted that Hogwarts was safe, when the rat that had done it all was sleeping in her dorm! She could only imagine the perving he could have done in a girls' dormitory. The very idea made her want to throw up. She needed what little nutrients she got over the summer though, and couldn't afford to blow chunks.

"Only some, if any, I assure you," Evan pointed to the blank skin on his arm, "I'm not a servant of Lord Voldemuffins – " He paused to smirk as Charlotte gagged. That moniker for Voldemort was outrageous! She'd have to tell the twins about it, if only so that they would be able to say "flight from muffins" in regard to the Dark Lord. " – Nor do I sympathize with him in the least. I couldn't report that your godfather was innocent because I didn't know until about when you did, nor would I have been able to locate Pettigrew, so I really can't take the blame for that. Crouch, Sr. was in charge of that one, so be sure to give him hell should you ever meet him."

He's mental, Charlotte decided after a moment. And it's a bad disguise. He looks more like Mum than Dad... except... She paused her thoughts, appraising him again. It wasn't so hard to believe he was who he said. His eyes were certainly the Evans eyes, even with the violet flecks, and she recalled his chin from an old photo-book of Aunt Petunia's. In fact, he really did look like he had descended from the Evans family. Perhaps the Pronghorns had just been distant cousins of the Potters or something?

"Anyway," Evan continued, "I don't want to adopt you. Guardianship at the most, I promise. I'm only four years older than you after all, and like I said, I intend to get you emancipated. Besides, if I adopted you, that would make me your father, an awkward undertaking in that I'll be doing my seventh year this up and coming. That would just be odd now, hm? No, I'm just offering you a place to stay where you would be ten times as safe as here, a place to call home so long as you do so wish."

"I... well, I suppose?" Charlotte was completely flustered now. He seemed genuinely concerned! It was so odd to meet someone outside of Hagrid who actually cared about her. "How exactly do you expect to get by Dumbledore?"

"If he tries to say I can't do this, I'll show the wizarding world that he circumvented your parents' will, going directly against it, and allowing Sirius to go to Azkaban without trial despite knowing the man was innocent. Because he did, he knew. Sirius just thought that Dumbledore didn't know, but the man has spies everywhere, like Mrs. Figg – she's a squib by the way - who is currently standing by the swings to get one of her cats. She thinks I'm giving you tips on how to keep your cousins from bothering you, mind. Another is Professor Snape, who watches the Slytherins mostly, and Hagrid, though the man doesn't mean it, I assure you. Anyway, if I threaten to bring that up, he'd not dare, and he won't know until you're emancipated anyway.

"Of course, you'll never have to see Patricia and Vernon ever again, and any cases you wish to put against them will be finally able to make it to the courts. With Dumbles out of the picture, and you emancipated, you'd be free to actually be able to contact whomever you please. 'Course, even if you don't accept, I'll scare the Dursleys so badly they'll want to move to Finland in case whatever they do makes me angry. They wouldn't like me when I'm angry..." He smirked again, his skin turning bright green for a half second, before he quit it. "Always wondered what would happen if I went all Hulk on someone..."

He at the very least knows something of muggles, if he knows about the Hulk, Charlotte reasoned. No stalker-wizard or follower of Voldemort would bother trying to trick me with learning something muggle, or so randomly... right? It gave her a slight head ache to manage the process, but Charlotte had soon decided.

"I suppose it wouldn't kill me to go with you..." She kept a wary eye on Evan, but he just smiled.

"Cool. So, since the Dursleys never adopted you, or even took legal guardianship, we can just go grab your things and take off. Emancipation will come tomorrow, after you get settled in," He seemed to nod to himself. "Being emancipated means you can do magic outside school, so if you want to know anything about magic – whether it's transfigurations, charms, defense, whatever! – I can teach you over the holidays if you like. Piece of cake."

Charlotte could only nod, and Evan broke into a smile, gripped her shoulder, and suddenly the pair vanished with a nearly inaudible "pop!". Charlotte felt as though she was being squeezed through an airless tube, only noticing as they reappeared in front of Number 4 Privet Drive because she could feel a breeze. They both looked a little green.

"That was Apparition," Evan grimaced. "The most uncomfortable of the magical teleportation styles. Portkeys can break an ankle, and during floo travel you can die of smoke inhalation. 'Beam me up Scotty?' Psh... give me a broom any day..." Evan shook his head with a sigh and rang the doorbell. A half second later there was a shrill cry.

"Just a moment!" Called Patricia Dursley as she stampeded to the door. The thick woman opened the door, strawberry blonde hair in a bun with a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Her jaw was partially horse-like, but still attractive. She gazed down at Charlotte as she stood by Evan's side and pursed her lips. "Oh, was she bothering you? I'm terribly sorry. The girl's a bit of a delinquent I'm afraid, takes after her parents like that..."

"Not at all Mrs. Dursley," Evan shook his head, smirking. "Actually, I came to collect her. It's been deemed unsafe to have her here, so I'm taking custody. She'll be far safer with me anyway. You see, I'm your Aunt Lily's son, so the blood wards will work just fine at my home, quite a lot better really, as it's a place that Charlotte can willingly call home instead of your prim and proper prison. We will be no more than ten minutes getting her things, and then you will never see her again. Get it?" Patricia nodded. "Good. Come on Charlotte, let's grab your things then."

Evan rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and dropped his hand again. Charlotte led the way into the house and to her cupboard. She had always though that, maybe, if she'd had only one cousin she'd have her own room instead of just the cupboard, at least after the Dursleys had found out she knew what she was, but they had Delilah and Dudley, and the guest room was too nice for her.

When she opened it to reveal her trunk laid on the floor under the cot, and with the Hoover next to said cot, she looked up and saw Evan's eyes narrow. He looked ready to kill.

"Mrs. Dursley, you can expect a court call very soon, for purposeful neglect at the very least," He said coolly, trembling as he restrained himself. Charlotte felt a soft feeling growing in her stomach. He actually cared about her! He was angry on her behalf! She felt warm on this overcast summer's day.

The trunk was slung over Evan's shoulder before Charlotte even had time to blink, and blink she did. Her supposed second-cousin was much stronger than he looked! The fact that he was hardly even 5' 9" and quite lean made her quite surprised to see that he was strong enough to lift her trunk like that. Not even her crush, Oliver Wood, could do that, and he was pretty well built!

"Good bye Mrs. Dursley, we'll owl you with the court date," Evan called over his shoulder. "And don't bother with a muggle solicitor; we're taking this straight to the Wizengamot. In all likelihood, you and your husband will spend sometime in Azkaban. Dumbledore can't protect you anymore."

When the pair was in the parlor, Evan dropped the trunk to the ground, putting a dent in the floor, before shrinking it and putting it in Charlotte's hand. She stuffed it in her pocket as he grabbed her upper arm, smirked maliciously at Aunt Patricia, and Disapparated with She-Who-Survived in tow.

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Life was good. Harry Potter had killed the Dark Lord, obtained the Deathly Hollows. At least, life had been good, until the infamous doom's day, the last day of exams (though the Golden Trio, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter, didn't participate, as they were going to finish their schooling the year up and coming) came, and the back up plan, whatever it had been, of Voldemort struck.

Hogwarts was decimated that evening. The Boy-Who-Lived had been getting butterbeers and firewhiskey for everyone to celebrate the end of the exams, and the castle just... vanished. Nothing else, it vanished. It took most of the people he cared about with it. And, to add salt to the wound, Dumbledore's portrait and Fawkes came. He knew, the entire time, what was to happen, and had called Fawkes to bring his portrait to the boy instead of saving the hundreds of students and the few guests who had come to celebrate with them! Needless to say, Harry had been outraged.

Still, Dumbledore gave him useful information, not that he would trust the old coot. Dumbledore told him of a ritual, had Fawkes pull the formulas out of an extra-dimensional pocket (which seemed odd at first, but then he realized it was par for the course – the "light" creature seemed capable of anything), and expected Harry to play the Gryffindor and not bother finding out what it was. Even if he was mourning his suddenly-dead friends, he wasn't stupid, not after everything. He read the notes, collected his money from Gringotts (finding in the process that he actually had a second vault that contained heirlooms, his mum's old journals, a lot more money than he thought he had, and a portrait of the marauders and his mum that just so happened to have Wormtail hogtied), made sure that his trunk, which he had worn in his pouch (that he'd received for his birthday from Hagrid) for the past year – Hermione had insisted he keep his personal things safe since they couldn't depend on her never losing the bottomless-bag – was still full of his things, and did the ritual. Harry Potter wasn't as lost as Dumbledore wanted him to be.

He bought a house as soon as he arrived, a nice one in the country, three stories and a pleasant interior, and a few acres that he promptly filled with trees, a large pond, and a few animals. It was under the Fidelius soon as well – the charm was surprisingly easy to perform. Harry had had home set up before June was even over, and he was able to sit and find out more about his situation, where exactly the ritual had sent him, and what he probably would have to do there.

The dates corresponded, except that it was four years prior to his leaving. Harry had known that would be the case though; the ritual required a 3-7 year slip back in time to cross dimensions, to "move diagonally through time", which was really just a cross through 6 dimensions: front, back: left, right: up, down: time: space: reality. He chose four, because that was when the Triwizard Tournament was to take place. The "Harry" of this world, whom he found was a she named Charlotte, would need more help this year than others, and he could save Cedric. If Harry could enter in the Hufflepuff's place, then Cedric wouldn't die. He had it all planned out, and even sent an admissions note to Dumbledore with his grades, misdemeanors, and medical record, (after some doctoring of names, dates, etc.) which had somehow found their way into the trunk. Harry suspected foul play on Dumbledore's part again.

'To Whom It May Concern,

My name is Evan Romulus Grimm Pronghorn. I would like admission into Hogwarts for my final year, as I haven't really had the chance to do so until now. I am 17 years old, 18 by the time school will start, and an American.

I can give you a brief summary of my life to go on. My parents, Lily and James Pronghorn, died when I was a child, and I went to live with my aunt Petunia, on my father's side, a squib who didn't like magic at all. My mother was a muggleborn which, Lily Marie Evans, though that's really all I know about her, and that I am the last of the Pronghorn line. My aunt died in May, with my uncle and cousin, in a car crash, ironic in that this is how I was told my own parents died before I started to learn magic.

I was home schooled by an ex-Professor who, upon finding I was magic (and that my aunt wouldn't pay for school) taught me. He set me up to take my tests and everything. As you will tell from my scores, I specialize in Defense, and I would like to Apprentice in the subject, perhaps even teach it, when I am graduated, eventually.

As is, my family is all dead, to my knowledge, and my teacher died last year of a muggle disease, Cancer, which, being uncommon in magical folk, has no cure muggle or magical. His death and my mourning period being my reason for not attending any Ministry sanctioned schools this past year. So I am in need of a way to continue my education. I heard that my mother attended Hogwarts, and having read her journals, I thought England might be the ideal place to continue my studies.

All of my grades, medical records, and misdemeanors (ranging from setting a firecracker in my teacher's cauldron to breaking curfew in my town) are in the packet enclosed, as well as all information needed for enrollment. Hopefully, you shall let me attend, but if not, I'm sure that Beauxbatons wouldn't be too bad.

Sincerely,

Evan R. G. Pronghorn'

The fake history corresponded well enough with this world, as in both this reality and his own he had a great aunt Lily; in his own "dimension" his mother had been named for the ostracized witch in the long squib line, Lily's grandfather's jealousy that his daughter should be the magic bearer of that generation not daunting the protective older brother that went on to name his first daughter for her. No one would think twice about the combination of "Lily and James" because they never existed. In this world it had been "Lukas and Josephine", or, more commonly, "Luke and Josey Evans", the parents of Charlotte Potter (for, it seemed, Potter was a matrilineal name).

Harry – now Evan – had been accepted too, after he performed a quick ritual to change his name, magically, so that he wouldn't have to worry about magical scanning devices, such as the Marauders' Map, from showing he was not, in fact, Evan Pronghorn. He had an entire life set up by the end of July, and he was ready to complete his initial plans. He apparated to Little Whinging, deciding to try the park on Magnolia Crescent before the Dursleys' actual house. That was where he had usually spent summer days, if only to be in public when Dudley went to hit him.

He saw her immediately. It wasn't because she looked anything like him really. Charlotte Potter had dark auburn hair, or, more accurately, black hair that looked red under the sunlight, and she had the Evans eyes. Her skin was pale, she looked ill, obviously underfed. His opportunity to approach came sooner than expected as a fat girl whose name he gleaned (using his very shoddy legilimancy "skills") was Delilah Dursley shoved her over and taunted.

He apparated to Charlotte's side, glad that the only muggle too close by was one familiar with magic. "Excuse me," Evan said as he appeared. The fat girl looked ready to jump out of her skin!

"You're excused," she replied snootily after she had collected herself. Evan smirked lightly as Charlotte watched our interplay. Oh, this would be fun. Just because he had made peace with Dudley (not that they really had, he'd really just shaken Harry's hand saying good bye; he hadn't really apologized, and even if he had, after everything he'd done it wouldn't have been enough) didn't mean Evan couldn't pick on his counterpart.

He made quick work of the girl, sending her off so she wouldn't dare make mention of him to her parents, and turned to Charlotte, quickly feeding her the made up story. She didn't quite believe it, and Evan felt proud, but sad. She was four years younger than he was, and he had been more trusting than her until the end of the year she was about to go into. What had she gone through he had not that made her so wary? While it was good she was (CONSTANT VIGILANCE!), it was sad that she had to be.

It took about five to ten minutes before she had decided Evan was safer than the Dursleys, and he apparated her to Privet Drive. Patricia Dursley was a tall woman, the same height as Evan (a not-so-intimidating 5' 9") and rather round. No fat per say, but she could do to lose some weight, if fashion magazines were anything to go by. Or perhaps she merely seemed large next to Charlotte. The ensuing conversation was enlightening, and the introduction to Charlotte's "room", the same cupboard Evan had spent ten years in, taught him quite a lot about the family.

After promises of legal retribution, they left, and he apparated them through the wards on his – hopefully their – home. Evan turned to his female counterpart and gestured she sit. She did.

"This is my home," he started, "I've got several names going for it right now, from 'Antler Cottage' – that's a pun on my surname – to just 'Pronghorn Homestead', and there were some outrageous ideas that popped in randomly, but I can't think of anything really good yet. Until then the floo is the house address, which, unless I personally tell someone, means they can't come because I've got the Fidelius charm on the entire property, which is about six or seven acres – can't really remember. There are three aurors and one of the Hogwarts professors in the know, as is legally necessary, as well as the three house elves on staff and the farm hands I hired that will take care of the animals, and since they're squibs they won't be able to get into the house to kill us in our sleep.

"The address is 27 Appaloosa Drive. We aren't in any town proper, though we're relatively near to Liverpool, I think. If there is anyone else you would like to know the address – friends, classmates, your godfather, teachers aside from Professor McGonagall – just tell me and I will be sure to inform them of the address. You can pick any room you like, bedrooms are on the top floor, and we can hit a muggle furniture store to get you what you need. Do whatever you like with it, really.

"The house has three levels, not counting the kitchen, potions lab, and wash room at the bottom. The first floor has the parlor, a living room, game room, dining room, a bathroom, and my personal study, which is where I lock all of my books that I'd rather you not look into. If possible, knock before entering. The second level is all bedrooms, eight of them, since I expect when I get to know people in the country I'll be having guests at times, and your own would be welcome as well. The one the closest to the stairwell is mine, so that if there is an intruder I can slip downstairs to nip them in the bud before they can do any damage, and before you decide to get them on your own. The other six are guest rooms, or can be permanent rooms if we ever take on any other misfits. The top is a library on one half, and the other is divided into a study area and an arts area, for music, visual, or even dancing, if that's the sort of thing you're into. I honestly just couldn't think of anything else to do with it. The owlery is up there too.

"One more thing to mention though," Evan smiled softly. "You are more than welcome to invite your godfather to stay here. He will be safe, be able to eat properly – I highly doubt being on the run allows him proper nutrition after all – and I'm sure you'll be glad to have him about if I somehow turn out to be a creep. Besides, the man has a reputation as a prankster. I'm sure he'll be able to help liven this place up a bit."

Charlotte seemed speechless, until her face broke into a broad grin. The entire explanation had been a bit long winded, and there was sure to be some issues later, but for now it seemed that the girl was pleased with everything her "cousin" had said. Perhaps extending his hospitality to Sirius as well had greased the wheels a bit, but that was fine by his book. So long as Charlotte was willing to stay and have an easier life, a safer life, than before, he was happy.

"Can I owl him right now?" She asked excitedly. Evan smiled.

"Of course. Your owl should be to the owlery by now. He's quite smart," he informed her, standing to lead her to where the owls were. "If not, feel free to use my snowy owl. Her name is Hedwig, and she can find anyone in the world, though if Black is half as smart as I think, he'll be country hopping for a while, letting himself be seen in random countries, far from Hogwarts." Evan smiled lazily as he escorted his cousin, knowing it was precisely what the animagus was planning to do. "I'll give you a formal tour and show you the grounds. The animals right now is pretty much just a couple of horses, two owls – not counting yours – and a few chickens, but once I can figure out how to make a magical enclosure – I'm seeing to that tomorrow – I'll look into getting hippogriffs or something. The area above the woods is perfect for Quidditch, a lot harder to spot a snitch there... You do fly, right?"

"Yeah, I'm the reserve Chaser, though I'm actually a lot better at Keeping," Charlotte explained as Evan led her up the staircase and to the level containing the owlery. "I'm going to be trying for Wood's spot this year, but I dunno if I'll get it. Cormac McLaggen – he's a year above me – is supposed to be pretty good at Keeping."

"Probably just a braggart," he assured her, recalling the boy and what had been infamously dubbed "the bludger incident" before Hogwarts blew up... or whatever it did. "Though this year that won't be happening. I have a couple of ins at the Ministry, and apparently there's to be a bigger competition this year. A tournament for any students seventeen or older from Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts. If they're picked that is. No Quidditch unfortunately, though I wouldn't be surprised if someone started an unofficial league between schools during the Tournament."

"Tournament? What contest would have...? Oh!" Charlotte stopped in her tracks, about five feet away from the owlery door. "The Tri-Wizard Tournament!" Evan was shocked. How could she know about it? He voiced the question. "One of the boys in my year, Hayden Granger, is a bit obsessed with 'Hogwarts: A History'. He talks to anyone about that book, and I'm a frequent victim."

"Ah," he shrugged. Figures that the Hermione of this place would be just as obsessed with that book in particular. "Well, here's the owlery," Evan opened the door, which released a small amount of rotting-mouse-carcass stench before there was a hoot and two owls flew out. Hedwig, a newly purchased and fairly younger snowy owl than his own, dead companion, and a noble looking male snowy, Charlotte's "Arcturus", named for King Arthur. Evan had the feeling the pair had been flirting.

While Charlotte cooed over the pair (it was amazing how she had gone from terribly suspicious and meek to excited and happy in ten minutes) Evan set to writing the letter to Sirius.

'Snuffles Zwart,

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. I hope this gets rid of some suspicions at least. I figured it wouldn't be safe to owl you using your real name, in case this were intercepted, so I came up with a nickname for you. I hope you approve. The second bit is Dutch, if you were wondering.

My name is Evan Pronghorn, I'm an American wizard. My mother was Lukas Evans' aunt Lily, and now I'm of age, I have taken your goddaughter under my care. I don't know what she will write to tell you, but I'm going to say what I can.

First is this: do not trust Albus Dumbledore. I've seen a letter that my mother received from Lukas, telling of the switch, not long before both pairs died. While your friends believed that the meddling old bumblebee was best left out of it – which they were right to do – my mother didn't share the sentiments. She told Dumbledore that it was Pettigrew who was the secret keeper a month before she died – three months before your friends, my cousins, died. He knew, Snuffles, and he let you rot in Azkaban to keep you from Charlotte.

My second statement is that I wish to welcome you into my home, 27 Appaloosa Drive. Enclosed is a Portkey, as it is difficult to find, Fidelius charm or no. Only the bare minimum of people know about it, I assure you. Among them are Aurors Tonks (your cousin), Shacklebolt (a very trustworthy man), and ex-Auror Moody (who tried to get you a trial, I think you'll be glad to know), as well as Professor Minerva McGonagall and the squib groundskeepers. You are more than welcome to live here, from how Charlotte reacted, I'm positive she would love to get to know you better. You've hardly spent more than an hour together after all.

I've charmed this letter to be readable only by a true marauder, and if Pettigrew were to so much as touch this thing, his hands would burn off. I am sending a similar missive with my own owl to Mr. Moony, as I'm sure he, as another friend of Charlotte's parents, should be included in this undertaking. I expect you to bring any of your belongings and Charlotte's dear Arcturus with you on the Portkey.

Mischief Managed,

Evan R. G. Pronghorn'

Evan picked up a simple stone from the floor, turned it purple, and muttered "Portus" over it, setting it to activate as soon as someone who knew his address were to touch it. Being around just Hermione for several months had been useful, even if it resulted in his wand getting severed by her misaimed cutting hex.

"I've written my letter to Mr. Black," he informed Charlotte. In her hand was a hastily written note as well. "Send them both along with Arcturus. The stone in the bag," Evan indicated the Ziploc that contained the purple Portkey, "will bring your godfather to the parlor when he touches it, but only after he reads my letter. I am sending one out to Mr. Lupin, so that he knows where to contact you and his friend, if nothing else."

"Right," Charlotte nodded hastily, tying both letters together with a ribbon from the corner and giving them to her owl. "Take these to Sirius. I'll see you soon, okay?" The owl hooted in recognition, nipped her ear, and flew off as Evan wrote down an annotated version of his letter to Remus and sent it away with Hedwig.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

It was three days later that Charlotte received her first letter of the summer at the newly named Stag's Sanctuary. It was a simple note from Rhianna Prewett, a rather shallow, sport (and the boys that played them) obsessed girl. Remus had dropped in that day, having been dragged to a muggle shop by Charlotte to fill his "guest" room (for Evan suspected that he would be staying much more often than he said) properly with furniture and what not the day before. So, naturally, he had stayed the night, hoping Sirius would use the Portkey today and he could greet him.

It was at breakfast that an owl, looking suspiciously like Pigwideon, Ron's owl from Evan's original dimension-y... thing, carrying a letter on nice parchment with pretty, glittery purple ink. The fist-sized owl landed next to Charlotte's plate, and was hopping around excitedly in her eggs until the letter was removed before he started flying in circles. His personality was exactly the same as in the other dimension.

"Evan," Charlotte began with a questioning tone, "can I go to the Quidditch World Cup with the Prewetts? It's Wales against Brazil, two of the best teams out there you know, and it's the biggest game of the decade. They've even got box seats..." She trailed off, sending her "cousin" a hopeful look. Evan grinned back, amused with the query. He'd rather she not get too involved with the Ron of here, but she would realize in her own time just who her true friends were. This Rhianna was not among them.

"How quickly you've forgotten, young Cheri!" This was his new nickname for Charlotte, Cheri (pronounced like the fruit of course), because her given name was awfully formal, and the nicknames for it were rather lacking. So, Cheri she was. "What did we do two days ago?"

"We went to the Ministry and – but what does me being emancipated have to do with anything?" She asked, confused. "I can do spells on my own and go for an apprenticeship... but there really isn't much else. Since I'm not actually of age I can't drink or apparate..." Charlotte continued thinking, and Evan kept smiling. Really, he would have done the same thing, not thinking of the truly big picture. Although he might not have thought about the drinking aspect at her age, but oh well.

"You don't have to ask permission for these things," Evan expounded, "so I guess Remus, Sirius, and I will see you at the cup... though Sirius will be under Polyjuice..." he paused. "Still have to collect hairs for him. Can't have him running around looking exactly like someone else after all. Anyway, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Just keep your wand in hand. There are a lot of people with sticky hands at big things like that. You wouldn't want it to get jacked, hm?"

Remus, of course, had sat bolt upright when Evan mentioned him going to the cup. "I couldn't... I mean, they don't..." He paused. He hadn't told the young man that he was a werewolf, and Charlotte hadn't obviously (Evan would know), as her eyes grew wide as the lycanthrope tried to find the words to say.

"Not at all Remus," Evan waved him off. "Even if the game were to last the six days between the start and the moon, I keep a stock of all sorts of potions downstairs in the labs, Wolfsbane included." Remus jumped a bit, and Charlotte looked terribly surprised. "I like to be prepared. After all, if Cheri were bit and didn't want to tell me at first, I've got about... two years' supply down there in the storage cupboards, and they'd keep for at least a decade. I spent most of my first month in country decorating the house and brewing potions actually, so we're set with everything really, including your nutrition potions Cheri." He gave her a stern look. For the past few days she had been on a nutrition potion, some with every meal, to make up for the malnutrition with the Dursleys. It would take until just after Halloween before she was where she ought to be, Evan was pretty sure.

The girl in question blushed a bit and downed the phial of potion that sat next to her orange juice, grimacing at the taste. It tasted even worse than Skele-gro, but it was the fastest stuff out there. By the time Hermione had found out about it, it was too late for Evan as he had already hit his "big" growth spurt that really only barely boosted him from a rather pathetic 5'3" to a still short 5'8", though he had gained an inch the past year because of the potion, since he'd caught the tail end of the spurt. He was pretty sure they had caught Charlotte right at the start, so she would be healthy.

"There," Evan smirked. "Now then, send your reply on with that... very tiny owl," he made a show of giving it an incredulous look, "and finish your food, or the other way around. Just remember, if, at any time, you want to be with us three, I have a spare tent for the night, and a spare ticket for the game. If you're uncomfortable, suspicious, scared, whatever, just come see us, hm? And tell her not to write the muggles, you can get to their house on your own."

He smiled and left the dining room, heading out to the parlor. Both people that he left behind were at least slightly flabbergasted, and were talking in hushed tones as to "how in Merlin's name Evan could possibly have figured that out after a day!" They didn't even mention that he had anticipated it, by making so much Wolfsbane. In a tongue-in-cheek way, he wondered if people would start to think he was some sort of Seer. It would make a nice cover though.

He started thinking he really might be, as the moment he entered the parlor a rather ragged and wary Sirius Black appeared, bearing the purple stone in his left palm. His wand was up immediately, pointing at Evan. Sirius looked just how The-Boy-Who-Lived remembered from after his third year. His beard was trimmed, his hair properly washed, and while he certainly seemed to have been roughing it, it wasn't so bad as when he had been living off of rats. Evan just smiled brightly at him, took his wand from its holster, put it on the ground, and thrust out his hand to shake.

"Evan Pronghorn," he introduced. Sirius took the proffered hand tentatively, and they shook. "Right then. Remus! Cheri! Sirius is here!" There was a loud clatter as two sets of footsteps came down the hard wood hallway. Two blurs came one after the other, and Sirius was on the ground being hugged. Evan had to fight to keep from bursting out laughing. He smiled at the ecstatic reunion, rather wishing he could do the same. Obviously, he could not.

"Welcome to the Stag's Sanctuary, Mister Black. We are located at 27 Appaloosa Drive, kept under the Fidelius charm, and you are now one of very few who know the location of this home. The others, as the letter stated, are Alastor Moody, who has been briefed about your situation. Like I said, he tried to press Crouch for a trial. Then there's your cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, who is quite eager to see you again, Kingsley Shacklebolt – he is trustworthy, don't worry – and Minerva McGonagall. As she was the only member of the staff Dumbledore told about you, I figured it wouldn't hurt, since it's a member of staff had to know where Cheri and I live since we'll both be attending the school this up and coming term.

"Remus can give you a tour, and when it comes time to furnish your room I have some Polyjuice in the lab. We're leaving on the 14th for the Quidditch cup, and I've got a nice supply of the stuff for you to come as well. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like, and I've set up a Portkey system throughout the house. Each room has at least five Portkeys, eternal two ways, so if you feel the overwhelming need to go to Hogwarts or something, you may. If Cheri wants to visit you, I've already given her a Portkey that will take her to and from her room here to wherever she set out from, calibrated to slip by any wards... though it wouldn't be undetectable, unfortunately, so the Hogwarts option probably isn't a great idea. Any questions?"

Sirius had, by this time, managed to get out of the hugs from his friend and goddaughter. He was standing again, still ill at ease, but calmed by the presence of the two. However, Remus was the one to ask a question.

"Why? Why are you so kind about all of this?" The lycanthrope asked. He seemed quite confused. Of course he would be! After all, he was an impoverished werewolf who no one would hire. Evan was being more compassionate than Dumbledore had been. The Headmaster who let him into Hogwarts hadn't even brought him in as a full time member of the Order like the Evanses and Sirius had been. Yet, here this stranger was, bringing him into his home, with open arms, and even while somehow knowing him to be a werewolf. Honestly, Evan would have been suspicious in his shoes too.

"Well, if you're referring to the situation with Mr. Black here – is it okay if I call you Sirius? – it's because an innocent man shouldn't have to be on the run with a hippogriff... he was brought to the paddock by the way, when you touched the stone," Evan explained. "If it's about you and your lycanthropy, well, why should I hate or fear a man because he turns into a slightly larger wolf once in a while? Besides, I already told you I keep a hefty supply of Wolfsbane."

"How do you know about that?" Sirius was surprised that his host revealed this. The teen just smiled.

"Same way that I know how you escaped Azkaban, Mr. Padfoot," Evan grinned, "same way I know about a lot of things really. It's a gift... and much more reliable than Dumbledore's supposed omniscience. The man knows many things he shouldn't, but it didn't stop him from letting you go to Azkaban without a trial. Nor did it stop him from letting Charlotte's parents, not to mention my own, die, when he knew all along the exact dates Voldemort was planning to for the Evanses and Pronghorns."

There was a moment of silence. "Dumbledore really did know?" Charlotte asked. "He knew about Wormtail and the swap?"

"Of course he did," Evan replied with a scoffing noise. It was the truth, too. Dumbledore had admitted to it in portrait form. He also admitted that Fawkes was only bound to him because he had been his father's, and as the eldest son he was the one to get the familiar bond, because the Phoenix really couldn't be with his human in Azkaban, now could he? Dumbledore had known about the attack on his mother's aunt, who had existed in his realm as well, and was his mother's namesake. However, after Hogwarts, the woman had moved to the states, and only Lily (or Lukas in this place) Evans knew what had happened to her beyond that. Dumbledore only knew they were in frequent enough contact that she had been informed. Indeed, he had admitted to knowing the date of the Potter attack, and that Voldemort was after his great aunt as well. The man's manipulations were horrifying.

After further discussion (mostly just comments and shouting of "He knew! That bastard knew!") the quartet adjourned to the breakfast table. Shorty – one of the house elves – reheated the food and everyone sat down to finish breakfast. Charlotte finished her eggs slowly (not the ones that Pigwideon had been hopping in of course), smirking at the sight of her godfather – and Evan's own technically – wolfing down a rasher of bacon. It was mildly entertaining, though it occurred to Evan that he would have to go into town later in the day to buy more bacon for tomorrow's breakfast. Eggs too, as the chickens weren't old enough to start laying just yet.

The day was spent mostly getting Sirius settled, taking him clothes and furniture shopping while Polyjuiced to a body the same height and build as his own (Evan had to spend an hour elsewhere trying to find the right body type before he could go). He was soon set, and Remus was "coerced" into staying the night, though Evan was rather shocked to hear Sirius whining about the two having to have separate rooms. It was rather disturbing to find out one's godfather was actually the lover of the person who named you their child's godfather... but then, it was an alternate reality. If Grindelwald could reciprocate Dumbledore's feelings, who's to say that Sirius and Remus couldn't have a different orientation too? It was still a bit of a shock though.

The week came to a swift end, a routine setting in quickly as everyone settled. Remus stayed almost every night, alternating between sleeping in his own room (where he was often joined by Sirius unless he locked the door), and sleeping in Sirius'. Charlotte took her three potions a day, and even after just a few days she was doing much better. Evan was usually buzzing about setting up for Buckbeak, making at least a few of the house's Portkeys legal, and many other things. Everyone kept busy, and they all had time for Charlotte. It was rather nice, really, having a family.

X.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.X

A/n: Yes, that's the first chapter of Nunquam Somnus. Hope you liked it :)

Kinda everywhere at the mo', but further in it'll be easier to understand, all right? I write what I like, and anything not canon? Well, I don't give a shit. Take care!

Edit: made fully third person. See Author's note 7 if you care why. You probably don't though since it's obvious.