Harley didn't take the big black dog straight back to the Dursleys' house. Instead, she gently rubbed its head and said softly,
"Stay here and don't run off. I'll go get some money and come right back.
"You're so filthy. I'll have to take you to a veterinary clinic for a bath first, get your fur and nails cleaned up, and buy you something tasty while I'm at it."
As she spoke, two strands of Spider Silk attached themselves to the window of Harley's room, while the other ends fastened around her slender waist.
"Oh, right." Harley seemed to remember something. "To stop you from running around, I'll need to reinforce your restraints a little."
With that, she gave the dog's head a gentle press with her left hand. Several strands of Spider Silk bound the Scottish Deerhound's legs.
Harley nodded in satisfaction, backed up two steps, and tilted her head to examine her handiwork.
Then the Spider Silk wrapped around her waist pulled taut, and the girl shot into the air, hauled back into her room.
By now, the large-boned Scottish Deerhound had given up struggling and was lying on the ground.
Sirius was baffled, plunged into deep self-doubt.
He suspected he hadn't escaped at all and had instead fallen into some massive illusion spell aimed at him.
First of all, and most importantly, something was wrong with this world.
Why was it Harley, and not Harry?
Where was his godson, the boy he'd imagined as so plump and adorable? How had his godson turned into a goddaughter?
When Sirius spotted a newspaper in a Diagon Alley trash can reporting that Harley had won the Wizarding School Potion Championship, his whole dog—no, his whole self—felt dizzy.
Though Harley's appearance had convinced Sirius that she was Lily and James's child,