"So, what do you need?" Harper asked once they were all back at Grimmauld place.

Barty was resting on the couch in the family room. The room was littered with family heirlooms and other useless knick knacks that made an already uncomfortable Harper, uneasy. To add to the unease, Barty just stared vacantly back at her.

"Hello? Anybody home?" she asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

Barty's hand shot out and grabbed her's, stopping the waving.

"Who—" his voice horse and scratchy, "Who are you?"

"Well, that's an interesting question, with an even more interesting answer. You see, I'd tell you my name, but I don't trust you to act without think and attempt to kill me in the living room of my father's house. So, instead let's go with the family relations explanation. My grandfather on my mom's side is your uncle, making you my first cousin once removed. Since we are purebloods, you are also my forth cousin on my father's side."

"Yeah I get it. We're family, but who the hell are you?"

"I'm Harper Potter."

On that announcement, Barty jumped up and managed to get a good grip around Harper's neck.

"I want to bring him back!" Harper gasped out, clutching at his hands as he attempted to strangle her.

"Who?" he asked, only slightly loosening his grip

"You know who."

"Why? He killed your parents."

"Technically just my mom," she said quickly, "but I plan to bring her back too."

In his confusion, Barty completely let go of her neck.

"How?" he asked.

"Mom is a little bit more difficult, but the Dark Lord isn't actually dead… just sort of… ripped from his body."

"Therefore, we need to give him a new body?"

"Yes. I was hoping you would help me."

"That's why you rescued me? How did you know I was there?"

"You know, now since I think about it. Not everyone in my family is for the Dark Lord, and not everyone hates him either—but everyone hate Crouch Senior."

"So do I," Barty growled.

"Well then, what do you say? Feel like getting one over on old dad, releasing all of his captives he was so proud of catching, gathering up the old crew, resurrecting the Dark Lord, and ultimately overthrow the government in attempt to return the Wizarding world to the old days of the Sacred Twenty-Eight reigning power?—Give or take a few families. I have to say, the title, Lord of the ancient and most noble house of Crouch, would look splendid on you."

"You are a strange little girl, Harper Potter."

"Want to know a secret?" Harper asked.

Barty nodded his head 'yes'.

"I'm not actually a Potter."

"Remind me why we are here," Harper politely demanded as she gazed around at the dingy alley.

Barty shot her a look, "Because what we are looking for isn't found in family friendly places. Scared?"

"No! You haven't even told me what we are looking for."

"You're potion for one," Barty said as they made their way down the alley. "Secondly, a wand for me. Thirdly, a few things that any respectable pure-blood heiress would have. Now keep up and don't talk to anyone."

There first stop was a clothing store by the name of Regalia Clothes Minded. The store had a opulence look about it, that bordered on ostentatious. The elderly woman, who seem to be the only other person in the store, was quick in her nosiness.

"What do we have here? A gentleman and his daughter?"

"Ah," Harper began only to be interrupted by a throat clearing.

"My ward, actually," Barty said, "We are in a bit of a hurry today, if you don't mind making this fast?"

"Oh, not at all," the woman said directing Harper to stand in front of the mirrors. "What is it that you need today, dearie?"

"She needs a black Hogwarts school robe, we were hoping you could handle our wanted alterations; it needs a hood, of course, and an unnoticeable inside chest pocket." Barty said.

"You'll want an expansion charm, along with a feather-light one, as well. Yes?"

"Yes, if you are able,"

"Of course I am!" the woman said.

The seamstress had the school robe finished, along with a full wardrobe for Barty, before the half hour was up, even Barty was impressed at that turnaround.

"I still don't understand why we had to come to Knockturn Alley to get an altered school robe," Harper said once they were back out in the alley.

"Because people here wont bother to waste their thoughts on why you need an altered school robe."

"Will I, though?" Harper asked.

Barty shot her a look.

"The point isn't will you use it or not, it's the fact that you have it. There are laws, rules, and expectations that govern us, only if we let them. The rule is that school robes should be unaltered. The reality is that no one likes to be handed things, and then required to continually hold them. It's a ridiculous expectation easily avoided with the addition of a pocket. Why would you not want a pocket? If the rules are stupid, or more importantly, not to your benefit. Then, disregard them, work around them, there is alway a loophole—how do you not know this? Even James Potter was a follower of this logic."

"Orphan, remember? I spent more time in a cupboard then I did in the wizarding world. I don't know any of this," Harper said, belatedly realizing that was the honest truth, even taking in account of the time travel.

"You mean to tell me, you don't know anything about this world that you are so intent to change?" Barty asked.

"I know from… let's call it 'reliable intuition' that the remaining house will be dead and decimated before the decade is out, if something doesn't change."

Barty stared for a bit, before agreeing, "Change sounds lovely."

He then proceeded to lead them into the next shop.

This one was a wand shop, evident by the wall lined with wand boxes.

"What do y'all want?" a man sneered from behind the counter.

Barty slowly looked around, "I'll give you three guesses."

The man humphed, "Wand arm?"

"Left."

Measuring tapes started flying around, measuring Barty.

"And here I thought you were dead, Bartemius Damien Crouch," the man said.

"Did you really get that from the tapes?" Harper asked.

"The arm measuring is just a cover for the identity check. They tell him a name, along with a detailed description of my magic, so he can appear all-knowing when he can quickly match me to a wand," Barty said to Harper, before flashing the man a mad smile, "By the way, sir, I'm waiting."

The man got the message, as he ran off to start pulling boxes of wands for Barty to wave.

On the third try, Barty's smile grew genuine.

"That's a thirteen inches long ebony wand with an ashwinder heartstring, a good wand for a dueler," the wand maker.

"Perfect," Barty said with a smile.

"And you miss?" the wand maker asked Harper.

"I'm good—" Harper began.

"And we're done here," Barty said, pushing Harper out the door.

The last stop was to an apothecary, Barty walked in and the woman running the place recognized him immediately.

"I'll be damned. Barty Crouch, back from the dead," the woman said.

"Yes, madam," Barty said with a flirty smile, "What do you say to doing an old friend a favor?"

"Depends on the favor… and the friend," the woman said, crossing her arms.

"I need you to get a message to the old crew, and anyone else whose interested—I'll leave it up to your digression," Barty said.

"Saying?"

"Winds are changing, a storms coming. He's returning, thought a few people would like to know. Feel free to have fun with the words—but make it ominous and scary," Barty said with a wink.

"And I'll be needing a blood cleansing potion, please," Harper said, reminding the two adults she was still there.

"So, princess, where do you want to start with this master plan of yours?" Barty asked.

They were back at Grimmauld Place, in the study. Barty sat with his fee propped up on the antique looking desk. Harper paced wall-to-bookcase going through different plans out loud, while Barty added his thoughts.

"We can't do anything about the Dark Lord, until we can track him down. He probably has plans for a ritual—or at least knows of one, that will give him a body again. Which means we should start with planning—"

"A mass Azkaban breakout," Barty hummed.

"Azkaban?" a voice screeched from the entryway hall loud enough to be heard three stories up and through a wall, "What is this I'm hearing about Azkaban?"

"I thought you and I were the only ones in the house?" Barty inquired angrily.

"We are."

"Then, who—"

"My dead grandmother." Harper answered Barty.

"What do you know about Azkaban?" Harper yelled to the painting.

"Depends," the painting yelled back, "on who's asking."

Harper, followed by Barty, made her way down the stairs to the front hallway to stand in front of the paint of Walburga Black.

"That would be me, Harper Potter."

"A Potter, in my house?" the painting shrieked.

"Only by technicality," Harper said.

"You were going to tell us what you know about about the prison?" Barty prompted.

"Why should I? A blood traitor and a stranger trespassing in my home, why should I help you two?" asked the painting.

"Because we are planning to breakout a few friends," Barty said, "including your son, Sirius."

"More blood traitors—"

"More importantly, the LeStrange's, Dolohov, Rowle, Yaxley, Travers, Nott—the purebloods locked up unjustly. We want to break them out. So, Madam Black," Barty gave her a winning smile, "what do you know that could help us?"

"I know my family helped fund the creation of the prison. I also know a copy of the most resent ward update is located in the library."

"Well, that's convenient," Harper said.

"We're going need more wands for this," Barty noted, examining the ward blueprints on Azkaban hijacked from the Black Library. "Possibly even an army."

"We don't need an army. Just a few good men," Harper said, looking at the calendar on the wall, which was dated August 31st. "Damn—and more time."

"Missy needs to drink." Dobby said, popping in to the room.
Dobby held out the blood cleansing potion to Harper.

Harper took the potion from the house elf, spinning it around in her hand.

"How much do you think your looks will change?" Barty asked.

"Completely. I look just like James Potter, that's all from the first potion, meaning I'm suppose to look just like my actual father," Harper said, downing the drink in one gulp.

Barty and Dobby watched as Harper dropped to the ground, in a heap of groans and cracking joints.

"Harper?" Barty inquired, only for Harper to wave him of.

Her skin rippled, bones shifted. She ran her hands up and down her face as her features reconfigured. The others stood, dumbfounded, watching Harper Potter, the-girl-who-lived, morph into Harper Black, the unknown heiress of the House of Black.

Her square features she had inherited from James Potter, now looked refined. Her previously untamable wavy brown hair had changed in to light bouncy curls of dark brown, almost black, hair. Her cheekbones became higher and sharper, and chin became more pronounced, creating a heart-shaped face. Yet, her eyes stayed the same green of her mother's.

"That was blood painful," Harper finally said after catching her breath.

"You really are his daughter," Barty said, "like a mini-female-Regulus. It's utterly terrifying."

"Thanks."

"No, really. If you knew your father you'd understand."

"Well, I've never met him." Harper said shortly.

"He was quiet. His whole personality was quiet. He had the ability to just sink in the shadows. If he didn't want to be noticed, he wasn't. Which was made all that more frightening when the Dark Lord took your father on as a progeny. He was a forced to be reckoned with, one that his enemies never saw coming."

"Why did the Dark Lord take such an interest in Regulus?" Harper asked.

"Because he was a Black. Same reason the Dark Lord courted Bellatrix to be a Death Eater. The magic that flows in the House of Black, in your blood, is raw offensive power—the family magic. The very magic you said was in danger of being wiped out."

"Do all the Sacred Twenty-Eight houses have the same magic?"

"For someone attempting to save the world, you are incredibly ignorant," Barty said.

"Story of my life," Harper said.
With a sigh, Barty answered, "No. The magic in my family is based in the mind. We have a natural strength in the mind magics, along with a talent of thinking strategically."

"My father is a Black and my mother is a LeStrange, what does that mean for me?" Harper asked.

"The family magic usually sticks close to the surname, passed down through the male line. This means you've got the Black affinity for offensive magic, your blood will sing with a good fight. With a side of the LeStrange talent in ancient magics. In whole, you have the potential to be a hell of a fighter, and an intimidating enemy."

"I do strive to please."

"Right. Now the question is, what are we going to do about Hogwarts, since you'll be boarding the train tomorrow morning?"

"Barty, how good are you at polyjuicing people?" Harper asked, with a sly smile forming on her lips.