Meda hugged Rabastan back with all the force of a stranglehold, kissing his cheek repeatedly and babbling nonsensically as tears dropped to her cheeks. This was amazing, absolutely amazing and it would fix everything. It would. She was certain of it.

And then she let out another shriek of glee when he spoke her mother's name. "Mum? Mum is here too? THIS IS THE BEST CHRISTMAS PRESENT EVER!" she yelled, throwing her arms tightly around his torso, as he had adjusted their positions. There would be no need to make Meda keep close – in fact, prying her off of him would be quite a feat.

However, by the way he was standing and looking around, she knew she needed to explain, and fast, before he worried more.

"Dad. Dad. DadDadDad." Once she was certain she had his attention, she gave him her most charming smile. "We're not where you think you are. Sort of. I mean, we are at Hogwarts. Just not our Hogwarts." This was not going as well as it had always sounded in her head when she imagined explaining everything to them. "We've... well, Dad, we've been pulled to the past. That's where I went, then Xander, and now you and Mum, so see I didn't break the rules, I've never actually left Hogwarts, not once the whole time I've been gone!"

Xander would probably have been better at explaining this, she decided on second-later reflection.

Instantly mortified for mistaking one of her son's schoolmates for him, but also immediately relieved this one seemed to know where Alexander was, Narcissa moved to stand back from, wiping at her eyes with one hand as she kept the other on his arm.

"I apologize, I thought you were my son from behind, but you said-"

And then she frozen. Before her stood her husband, only not. It was as though she were staring straight back into the past. And it was impossible.

The hand on his arm tightened, giving him no chance to escape from her, nor draw his wand, for a second later, his other arm was in her grasp. Though he had several inches on height on her, it was far from a disadvantages as even with her hands occupied, she could still deal him a painful punishment for this. Could, but would not. It, however, did not top her from looking as though a hex were only seconds away.

"Who are you and what manner of enchantment is this?" she demanded. The only thing saving this person from experiencing the tip of her wand against his throat was the fact that she could never draw her wand on someone who looked like Rabastan Lestrange. It was her one exploitable weakness, realized in not only someone donning the guise of Rabastan but of Alexander or Meda as well.