Willow and the trip to the past.

A trip in time.

{{[{{ To understand what the hell is going on here, you need to read the Other Potter series. This is a split off from the beginning of book 5. J }}]}}

Grimmauld place is a hovel. It’s a shitty poo hovel. It’s so crap it makes me want to die. That’s probably why it’s called Grimmauld place. I mean, it’s grim and old. Even spending time here with my friends is difficult, especially because my brother is a tool.

I heard a knock on my door. “Dinner.” And with a sigh, I pulled myself up and walked to the door. That’s when I noticed a shimmering blue light around the outline of the door; for a moment, the door looked brand new, but when I blinked, it looked like it’s old crappy self. Ugh, I hate this house. I walked down to the kitchen and sat beside George.

“You alright Wil?” George asked. “You look distracted.”

“It’s this house, everything is boring and it’s making me depressed.”

“Has that effect on people.” Sirius added.

“I hate this house.” I said, smacking my head down on the table, and seeing a blue haze.

“It has that effect on people.” Someone said.

“You said that.”

“I said what?”

I looked up to complain and nearly crapped myself. I was still in the kitchen, but it was empty, everything was clean and nice. The chairs and table looked newer and there was a strange boy with dark hair and brown eyes staring at me from across the table.

“Who are you, and how did you appear in my kitchen?” The boy said

“I’m Willow. Willow Catherine Tree Potter.” I said automatically. “And you are?”

“Sirius Black.” I made a choking sound. “Hey, I know a Potter. James potter, do you know him?”

“You could say that...What year is this?”

“1972.” He said curiously. I felt my pulse increase. I’m out of time. Out of time and out of place. “Are you feeling okay?” he added looking at me.

I saw a faint green haze. “No not really.”

“Not really what?” George said from beside me, everything had returned to normal. I didn’t answer but I looked up to where a young Sirius was sitting 23 years ago, and the Sirius I know and love was sitting there.

“Hey, Sirius, has that always been your seat?” I asked randomly.

“Yeah, ever since I was a kid...” he replied awkwardly.

“Oh, kill me please.” I said turning to George. But an empty seat was beside me, all I saw was a blue haze. I quickly turned back to the chair and Sirius was sitting there again – the younger Sirius that is. Or was it. He looked older.

“You’re back.” He said excitedly.

“So it seems.” I replied.

“No one believed me! Dad said it wasn’t possible for someone to appear in the kitchen, but here you are! A year later you come back!”

“A year!” I said ludicrously.

“Yeah, you’re my imaginary friend Willow, but I know you’re not imaginary.” Twelve-year-old Sirius said. “You’re real.”

“My brain hurts.”

“Why?”

“It’s been a year here, but it’s been less than five minutes to me. Ugh, can I Google time travel? Do you have a laptop?”