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Chapter Text

Of the sort of day Theseus Scamander wanted to be having, a light caseload, a cup of tea, lunch with his fiance, and leaving the office at a reasonable hour; fate seemed to flip everything to his side. Cases had flown in thick and fast from increasing amounts of Grindlewald recruitment, he hadn’t managed a cup of tea since breakfast and Leta had canceled lunch due to an urgent meeting.  

Now, a security breach in the Ministry of Magic itself.  Havoc and the stark, ozone scent of magic flooded his ears and nose as he skidded around the corner toward the Department of Magical Mysteries where the urgent note had fluttered from.  Aurors, witches, and wizards were fluttering around to avoid the roiling fog that leeched from the open door. Shoddy spells and hexes ricocheted out. Theseus threw up a protective charm, ducking behind a solid desk as he did so. 

“ They’re loose! Oh, GOD! They’re loose! ” 

Seizing a nearby wizard, he pulled the stunned man behind the desk. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know! I didn’t see!”  Both turned as an Unspeakable came staggering out, clutching their forehead; blood seeped between their fingers. Whatever was in there was fighting back, and he tossed a Protego at the narrow man before sidling around the desk. Before he could manage another step, a frantic paper crane fluttered onto his shoulder. 

Unknown Figure seen fleeing toward exit toilets.

“What the blast is going on!” He demanded, sealing the space where the door had been. Something had blasted it apart, damaging the walls and cracking the doors. Bits of wood and metal littered the hall but the fog had retreated. A few more Unspeakables staggered free, reaching for their companion and falling silent as they finally noticed Theseus. 

Department of Mysteries and their damn silence and secrets. With a growl and a snap at some of the junior Aurors to check for any non-ministry personnel; Theseus changed direction. 

Was Grindlewald after something in the Ministry? His followers? He had been captured in America and there hadn’t been any report of an escape. 

“Scamander!” Travis demanded from an open doorway. “What the devil is happening?” 

“Security breach!” With a flick of his wand, the alarms of the Ministry began to ring. Movement would be halted, leaving and entering would be impossible, and they could trap and track the intruder. Unknown figures shouldn’t have made it this deep into the ministry and he would be having strong words with whoever had allowed this to happen. 

Organizing a methodological search took longer than it should have, and he found himself forcing calm as chaos erupted around him. 

  Unknown figure near Auror offices ! Another note squawked at him, which gave Theseus pause. Were they after evidence? Any auror in particular? Why head to the exits and then back into the building? 

Whatever they had done in the Department of Mysteries probably wouldn’t be fully explained, but there was always a chance….with his wand at the ready and leading the quick charge to the officer's floors there was confusion and noise which didn’t extend down the hall. 

“They’re here,” he whispered to Weiss, who nodded. “Search, incapacitate, and do not kill. We need them alive to answer questions.” 

The intruder had to know people would be hunting them. That any incursion on Ministry grounds would not be acceptable, and that anyone would be apprehended. Perhaps that was arrogance after what happened at MACUSA and the fate of Percival Graves. 

They searched each closet, crawl space, and office for any sign of the intruder; and when nothing and no one turned up; he had to reconsider. 

“Did we get a description of the intruder?” 

“Nothing from the Unspeakables. They’d holed back into their department again. They kicked out anyone who tried to investigate.” Auror Bumperpatch said, scratching at the back of her head. 

Getting to the crime scene would be impossible then so their chance at the truth lay in if they could catch the intruder before the Unspeakables. 

“Are they looking?” 

“I’m not sure, sir.” The intruder had to be watching…waiting to escape.  Thesus held up a finger before gesturing for his team to start moving again. Softly whispering a locator spell, a spell that even a stupid intruder would be protected against; he was nonetheless shocked when it pointed him across the bullpen. Auror Toddlemire nodded, wand at the ready and the rest closed in slowly.  They were hiding under the desk, and even with the chair in the way it wasn’t enough to hide. From his location, Theseus couldn’t see; but watched the chair slam into Toddlemire’s middle and knock the man aside. A short figure with black hair, and bizarre clothes leaped out. Their escape attempt was brave, but the stunning spell struck true. 

They toppled from the desk in an ungainly heap of limbs and hair. 

Theseus moved around to the desks to find a child at the other end of his wand. 

Short, gangly, and thin with dark hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and wearing a complete and utterly bizarre combination of clothing. Tan slacks, a thread-bare t-shirt, and a very light jacket which was hardly suitable for the early October weather. His shoes were an odd sort, and he didn’t look particularly threatening. If it weren’t for the wand, which had rolled out of his fist and the buzz of fast-fading magical energy around him; Theseus might have assumed he was a muggle. 

“Christ! He’s a kid! ‘

“He certainly doesn’t look like one of Grindelwald's followers.” Bumperpatch tapped the tip of her shoe against the boy's leg.  

Theseus had to agree, but there was no time to leave room for doubt. “Call the mediwitches.” He ordered, “to the secure rooms. There’s a trace of powerful magic that can’t be explained and make sure nothing else has been tampered with. A patsy, even a confused one, is good for a distraction.” 

He didn’t stick around to watch them load the strange child onto the stretcher. He split the Aurors into teams, checking for any further security breaches and trying to calm the panicked, nervous witches about an imagined invasion of Grindelwald and his followers. By the time he had confirmed that all exits were secure, the concerns were soothed, and Travers slightly calmed with the news the intruder had been captured; it was far past dinner. There was no cup of tea or biscuit to be had before he apparated home, and he dropped by the secured rooms to find a medi-witch bustling out. 

“Ah, Auror Scamander.” She paused, pursuing the notes scribbled on the page. “You’re the head officer for this case?”

“I am,” he replied, a bit startled. “What is the prognosis? Is he awake?” He waited, stomach complaining about the lack of food She finally glanced up. “

“Oh, no. He’s not. That stunning spell was a wee bit overpowered for such a lad. He wasn’t in such….well.” Clutching onto his sleeve, she tugged him into the room. The boy wasn’t much to look at in the first place and seemed smaller, paler, and weaker now. His clothes were replaced with the rather uncomfortable standard-issue medical tunics, and his glasses were perched on the nightstand. Something about the magic in the room pinged at his attention. 

“What’s wrong with him?” 

“Well,” she moved to the head of the bed. “The stunning spell is about the least of it, Auror Scamander. There’s a curse scar,” she said and pointed. Theseus shuffled over, peering through the fringe to spoted the jagged white thunderbolt adorning the teenager's forehead. “And it’s a powerful one. We haven’t isolated the curse yet, but we’ve no idea how it will affect him when he wakes. There’s another curse which is rather….hmmmm…attached to him as well. We’re still isolating the magical signatures but it seems that a great deal of it is instinctive and it is unlikely that we might truly understand.” 

“Perhaps he can tell us. What of his want?” 

“I don’t know, sir. Wand registration was investigating. They might have an answer for you.” 

“I see….I want to be here when he wakes up.  I will be in at seven o’clock.” 

She rubbed her palms against her apron, brow furrowing. “I’ll send a note when he wakes. I’m not certain that he will be awake by then…but perhaps.” 

Thesus nodded. “Thank you, Healer. Pay no mind to the aurors guarding the door. They are simply here to ensure he doesn’t wreak any more havoc.” 

“I understand. I understand. Some patients can be frightened when they wake up.” 

He nodded a few times and excused himself for home. 

Chapter Text

Theseus arrived at the ministry having gulped as many stiff cups of tea as he could stomach and one of his housekeeper's scones wrapped in a napkin in his pocket. He made it to the young man's room just as Torquil Travers did. 

“Scamander.”  The man nodded sharply. 

“Sir.” He nodded in return. “Has he woken up?” 

“We’ll see.” Pushing the door open, they found themselves in the room with the teenager and a mediwitch still muttering over whatever diagnostic spell she’d cast. “Ah, Healer Johnson.”  She didn’t answer, and Theseus took the time to consider he teenager. 

“This might be an indication that Grindelwald is trying to secure the loyalty of the Indian wizarding community,” Travers muttered, squinting at the young man’s dark hair and skin. “If he was willing to.” 

“We don’t know if he’s associated with Grindlewald, sir. We dont know anything about him.”

“We know that stunning spell cracked a rib,” the healer said finally, looking up. “We can’t heal it with skeletal-gro, not damage from a stunning spell on such a young person. It will have to heal the old fashioned way, but we can’t keep it still. We also know that he’s been cursed…badly.” 

“What kind of curse? “

“I don’t know. We spent all night trying to identify it but came up dry. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was an…well….” 

“Well, what? What would you say?” Travers demanded and was rewarded with a stern glower from the unhappy woman. 

“Take a look for yourself.” She said finally, and threw the magical outline of the boy into the air. It shimmered, red and orange sparking along the chest, head, and in the center of his ribs coiled something dark and thrashing. 

Theseus felt his head ache just by looking at it. Something familiar about it shape and movement struck a memory in the back of his head. “It’s familiar.” He murmured. The colors denoted pain and injuries and there seemed to be alot. “Can you do anything for the pain?” 

“That’s a chronic condition. We can improve it, but he’ll have to take a light soother and repair potion regularly over the next few weeks spending on how bad it truly it.” 

“Do we know what caused the curse scar?” 

Again, the witch shook her head. Flicking her wand as the boy groaned, the spell vanished and the ugly mass was only a memory. “Ah….interesting.” 

Thesus stepped closer, watching the green eyes flicker open. He focused on the ceiling, confusion flickering over the young face before he turned to the mediwitch. Again, the confusion mounted. Staring at her uniform and then the room around him with wide, befuddled eyes before landing on Theseus and Travers. The boy jerked back, yelping as he jostled his rib; but managed to roll off the bed in a rapid, defensive maneuver that spoke of long practice and necessity. 

Theseus had his wand out before the boys feet his the ground. He buckled, yelping out a vicious curse and a dark hand patted the bed and then the nightstand. 

“Where’s my wand?” He demanded, accent thoroughly odd and perfectly English. “Where am I? Who are you? Where’s Ron? Where’s Hermione!” 

Theseus shuffled the names away for later. “Easy, easy, you’ve been injured.”  The wild, frantic expression shifted over toward him, a hand looped around the glass of water sending it flying toward Travers who had begun to approach with a furious stomp in his step. Since it wouldn’t actually hurt him; the taller Englishman didn’t feel the need to interfere and watch the glass shatter against his senior officers shoulder. Water doused him, and the boy scrambled over the bed, out of the healers grasping arms and towards the door. 

Habit and Newt’s half-remembered words flooded his mind; the blanket leaped out of the bed to wrap itself around the teenager and hoisted him back into the bed. 

“Why you little!” 

“Mind your ribs,” Theseus told him, neatly pushing Travers back as the boy hunched into a circle, arms bound at his side. The blanket smoothed out, and he lay gasping with pain. “That stunning spell hit you rather hard.” 

“Where….am I?  Who? Where’s Ron? Sirius?” 

Stowing his wand, Thesus raised his hands as the frantic, nervous boy glanced between the adults. Like a cornored animal that Newt might calm, Thesus stepped back a little and pulled his furious superior with him. Gesturing for the healer to back up, he tried again. “You’re at the Ministry of Magic.” 

The boy gaped. “The what?” 

“Ministry of Magic.” 

“Why?” Blood drained from his face, his head whipped around between the three. “What am I doing here? Why? I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“I’m not so sure,” Traver sneered, he hadn’t dried his suit yet and was red in the face. “You were found trespassing on Ministry property.” 

No one could have missed the utter confusion across the young face. “ What?”  

Before Travers could open his mouth, Theseus asked. ‘What was the last thing you remember?” 

“Remember?” He stared at his hands, making his fists and staring upward and then around the room. “I was…there was…Hermione she…” Swallowing harshly, he met Theseus’ eyes. “Who are you? I don’t…” 

“It’s alright,” the shallow, frantic breathes of a child working themselves into a panic alarmed him more than he wanted to admit. “It’s alright. My name is Theseus Scamnder. That’s Healer Johnson and Toquil Travers. Take a few deep breathes, we didn’t mean to alarm you.” 

“What? Why am I at the ministry?” 

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Theseus said plainly. “You … were found in the Ministry.”

“How did I….?” 

Theseus nodded, and conjuring up a few chairs settled into one. Looming over a frightened, injurd patient was always a poor idea. The boy’s breathing eased when both Travers and Theseus sat. Healer Johnson continued to fix the glass. “You don’t remember?” 

He shook his head. 

“Well…do you remember your name?”  Theseus asked and was rewarded with a deeply incredulous gape. “Well?” 

“My name? Harry….” 

“Harry…and?” 

He went to answer, only for his mouth to close up in an involuntary snap. Theseus started the boys hands shot toward his throat, coughing as he tried to answer.  He choked, voice fading as something brilliant gold flashed about him. Whatever it was left Harry gasping and the Healer calling for help.  It didn’t last long, and soon enough Harry was coughing and swallowing a glass of water as the Healers hovered around the bed in a frenzied rush. 

Chapter Text

Theseus and Travers left Harry in the Healer's capable hands. Tromping his way back to the auror office, buzzing with even more questions and concerns. Johnson had told them, on no uncertain terms, were they to disturb or upset her patient any further and to come back after he’d had a calming draught.  

“He’s hiding his identity.” 

“His identity is being hidden,” Theseus replied, thinking hard. “That magic…I’ve never seen anything like it. Have you?”

“It’s likely to do with the Unspeakables. Whatever he was up to in the Department of Mysteries will bind him.” The man shuffled uncomfortably into his coat. “There’s magic there that is beyond our understanding at the moment, and they do not speak of what they do.” 

“Do you think that Harry might be part of their plans?” Someone so young shouldn’t have been involved in any plans? Such a young wizard ought to have been at Hogwarts…but now the entire situation was muddled with strange magic. 

“I…if it’s not the Department of Mysteries then it has more to do with Grindelwald. Either way, we can’t let our guard down. I don’t trust this boy.” 

It was a little bit of a stretch, but Theusus hadn’t sensed anything truly sinister. If anything, the fear was genuine. “Sir, I’d like to call Newt to see him.” 

Torquil paused in his rant, jerking his head around to Theseus. “Your brother? The…he…this isn’t a creature, Scamander. I don’t need someone like your brother interfering with my case.” 

Swallowing his annoying, Theseus continued. “Sir, I believe that Newt might help. He’s familiar with a wide range of magic that might not be common on the continent. If anything, it might help calm Harry enough to speak to us.” 

“Calm him? Are you mad, Scamander?  Your brother has a case of illegal beasts and just because he’s published that book doesn’t mean he’s any better than he was.” 

“Newt handles dangerous beasts and creatures regularly, sir. If anyone can speak to a panicked child it will be him.” 

“ I can interview him, Scamander. I don’t need that spaz interfering.” 

It was everything Theseus could do to keep from slapping the man upside the head or across the face. Insults against his brother were normal, but the man must have been in a poor mood if he’d decided to let loose in front of Theseus. 

“Of course, sir.” His stiff reply was ignored and Theseus decided not to invite himself to the next interview. 

It went badly, so badly that Travers returned with his hat gnawing on his head and several paper birds pecking furiously at his face. Unsure if this was the work of Harry or the mediwitch, Theseus remained silent as the man brushed them back furiously. 

“Completly unhelpful! All he did was ask where his friends were and what he was doing there! He didn’t want to answer a single question!”  Travers might have been surprised, but no one else in the department had been. When Leta approached his desk around noon, Theseus felt some of his headache recede. 

“Dear,” she kissed his cheek. He returned the gesture with a pleased sigh. “Your brow is knit together.” Gentle fingers smoothed over his forehead, gently teasing out the furrows. “Is the intruder awake?” 

“He is, and apparently not speaking a word. Not that I blame him. Anyone else might be equally disoriented and confused.” She smelled delightful, the faint gentle movement of her chest as she breathed only pushed the scent further into his nose. 

“Well, I certainly hope someone can make sense of his arrival. The Unspeakables have been in a complete tizzy all afternoon. There were a few about his room before the Healers brushed them off.”

“Unspeakable?” Torquil hadn’t mentioned them. “Do you know if they went in?” 

Leta’s smooth eyebrows lifted. “I have no idea. Is it important?” 

“It might be.” He sighed. “I need to talk to him, Leta.” 

“You can manage him, if anyone can, Theseus. You are very good with children, and the nervous sort.” 

“Ah,” he tried not to blush. “Well. Newt.” 

“I know. Newt. Let’s go, shall we?” 

As always, Theseus was helpless to her commands. He followed down the halls of the ministry until they were outside Harry's room. An Unspeakable was hovering just outside and inched away as Theseus approached. 

“Would you like a word with him?” Theseus asked politely if only to get a rise from the robed figure. They paused and nodded. Fabric softly hushing as they all entered.  

Harry seemed calmer, an open calming draught on the nightstand and he was preoccupied with building a model airplane with a piece of paper when they entered. 

“Hello, Harry.” Theseus nodded, a little pleased when the suspicious glance glanced at the Unspeakable but not Leta. “How are you feeling?” 

“...better.” He replied. “When can I leave? I need to get back to.” Words froze in his mouth and his hands went to his neck again. “Ron…Hermione. I need to get back.” 

“Well.” Theseus paused as the Unspeakable approached, wand tapping at the end of the bed. “Gentle,” he whispered and the figure obeyed. Only for the spell to spark, fizzle, and backfire loud enough that they all jumped.  

After a moment of surveying their smoking wand, the Unspeakable hurried out. 

“What?” Harry gathered himself. “The hell was that?” 

“I’m not certain,” Leta admitted. 

“Language,” Theseus scolded on instinct. “There’s a lady present.” 

Harry’s bafflement deepened, he tore brilliant green eyes away from Leta and asked. “Where’s my wand?” 

“It’s with wand registration. They’re investigating.” 

“Why?” 

“Because anyone who can appear in the middle of the Ministry of Magic is a person of interest, Mr….Harry.  Forgive us, but this is a significant security breach.” 

He glanced at the folded plane in his hands. “I don’t know how I got here...I was at…school.” He tried, and when the curse didn’t activate, continued. “There was a…” He rasped, coughed, and downed some water. “I can’t say it.” 

“I’m sorry. It’s alright. Harry,” Thesues leaned forward. “Do you know anything about Gellert Grindelwald?” 

Harry’s brilliant green eyes blinked once, twice, and he asked a question that could have struck Theseus around the head like a brick wrapped in newspaper. “Who’s that?”

“Grindlewald?”  Leta asked, looking between the auror and the child. “Surely you’ve heard of him?” 

Harry shook his head.  “Who is he?”

“He’s…erm….ah…he’s a Dark Lord.” Recognition flickered in the green eyes. 

“Voldemort?” 

“Ah…not exactly, is that French?” Theseus glanced at Leta, who frowned. “Who is that?” 

“He’s the…” Harry shook his head. “Why are you asking me about this Grindle…Griddle.” 

“Grindelwald, because he aims to disrupt the magical and muggle world. He has fanatics in every country and government.” Harry only stared blankly. “Are you sure you’ve never heard of him?” 

“I’m sure,” Harry said, moving to sit up before seizing his ribs and falling back with a wheeze and a curse.

“It’s alright,” Leta said before Theseus could scold him. “You were injured by the spell. You ought to rest easy.” 

“I need to find Ron! I need to find Hermione! I shouldn’t be here! I’ll miss classes and I need to find Sirius!” Harry slid off the bed, buckling faintly but forcing himself to stand. “I need to get back. Buckbeak might be dead!” 

“Buckbeak? Who is Buckbeak?” 

“The…hippogriff,” Harry blurted, blinking back tears. One arm tenderly cradled his torso. “The execution wasn’t fair! He wasn’t dangerous! The prat got himself hurt!” 

“Hippogriff?” Theseus fought the instinct to usher the teenager into bed. He was sure it wouldn’t be met with acceptance. “What…an execution for a hippogriff?” That was a piece of clerical data he could work from. 

“Yes! Draco got himself hurt, and they were going to execute him! It wasn’t fair!” 

He could hear Newt, protesting the poor treatment of animals and creatures the world over. From his parents to Hogwarts; he’d always taken the time to care. “Of course,” Theseus agreed, both relieved and alarmed by the surprise taking over the young face. 

“You believe me?”

“Yes.” He promised, unsure why he was promising so easily. Doubt came easily to an Auror, but bright green eyes shone with desperation to be believed. To be trusted, and Theseus found himself responding.  

Harry sagged faintly, disbelieving. 

Exchanging a glance with Leta, Theseus asked one of the simpler questions. “What happened with..Buckbeak?”

“We…were in class. He didn’t greet him right…he,” Harry’s throat bobbed “He was a threat.” 

Theseus winced on instinct. A few mistakes with his mother's beasts and he’d gotten some scratches that had bled horrendously. “He was scratched.” 

“They want to execute him! The executioner was there! At the hut!” 

Sensing the boy was about to work himself up, Theseus raised his hands. “I’ll investigate, Harry. I promise.”  

Bitterness touched the young features, the scar pulling downward with his scowl. “You promise?” 

Nodding, he waited for Harry to consider him. “When can I leave?”

“You’re still injured.” 

“I’m fine . Quidditch is worse.” Harry moved to slide off the bed, only for the door to slam open with Healer Johnson exclaiming. 

“ Why are you disrupting my patient? ” 

“I was just leaving,” Harry replied boldly, setting his feet on the floor and managing under the adult's astonished gaze to not buckle. “I just need my clothes.”

“Get back in bed!” The woman exclaimed, “You’re injured!” 

“I’m fine!” Harry snapped still looking about. Where are my clothes?” 

“ Back in bed !” Johnson continued, fit to murder her young patient. “You’re injured and greatly confused!” 

“ I AM NOT CONFUSED !” He shouted in response. 

Theseus had to step between the bed and the Healer.  With the same soothing voice he’d used on Hippogrifs and Newt, said. “It’s alright, Harry.” Green eyes gleamed with just as much distrust as Newts when he’d been defending a host of flobberworms. “You’re not confused. Just injured. Healer Johnson,” he shot her a stern glare. “Is attempting to assist.” 

“I’m fine .” Harry bit. 

Johnson opened her mouth to argue. Leta beat her to the punch. 

“Are you in pain?” Leta asked gently, not having moved since the beginning. Sitting with her usual poise as Harry gnawed on his bottom lip. 

“I’m fine.” He repeated slowly.

“If you’re in pain, then Healer Johnson is here to help. Theseus will look into Buckbeak for you and report back.” Theseus tried not to think of the time he would be wasting in the legal department, and nodded in agreement. 

“What about Ron and Hermione?” 

“We’ll owl,” she replied, too used to suspicious stares and glowers to be upset by a thirteen-year-old. Theseus reached over to squeeze her shoulder. 

Harry stared at her a moment longer and slowly nodded. “Alright…how long will it take?” 

“A day or so,” Leta said smoothly. “You will have time to rest and recover. I’ll have some books sent in, some entertainment.” 

“I’m alright.” Harry wavered visibly, leaning against the bedpost with a wince. 

“Of course. We’ll look into things and get back, shall we? Theseus.” 

“Of course,” he nodded. “Let the healer do her work, and rest. I’ll be back.” 

“What about the other git?” 

“I can’t say.” it took a few assurances, but once they were in the hall, Theseus beamed. “You were brilliant.” 

“You are very good with him,” her smile bright. “He reminds me a Newt.” 

“Speaking of him, I would like him to look in on Harry….there’s a rather odd thing that I think he as the expertise to advise upon.”  both paused as another Unspeakable turned the corner. “Ah, I hope you’re not intending to speak to Harry. Healer Johnson is in quite the mood.” 

Most in the ministry would have turned around immediately to flee for safer corners such as the prison cells or the depths of a Scottish lake before facing a foul-tempered healer. This Unspeakable displayed great courage by hesitating a few moments before bowing and leaving. 

“That’s one way to be rid of them.” Leta mused even as Theseus wondered why they were in such a tizzy. Accidental magic happened all the time; Newt had done it often enough as a child, but it had never involved the Department of Mysteries. He wouldn’t get Harry to speak further without having an answer about Buckbeak… Ron, or Hermione. 

“I have to send an owl to Hogwarts,” he said, kissing her cheek gallantly. “And check on this hippogriff.” 

“I’ll have to get back to work.” She nodded, and only once she was gone did Theseus let out the aggravated sigh he’d been holding in. 

One thing at a time. 

Chapter Text

Travers found him, hours later, buried in files and paperwork and desperate to find anything that would indicate an execution for a hippogriff had been planned or taken place. So far, he had found nothing and certainly nothing would indicate anything had taken place on Hogwarts grounds. 

“What’s all this then?” Travers flicked his wand at the papers, which flew back into the drawers and folders. “Scamander?” 

“I’m looking for a name,” He replied, penning a mark next to a possible case that had happened in 1845 involving a threstal. “It was a clue, something that Harry mentioned. Buckbeak.” Traver’s florid face was twisted about in confusion. “Do you recognize it?” 

“No, why are you looking into this? Why not ask the damn Unspeakables?” 

Theseus wondered if the man really understood what he was asking, or if he was pretending ignorance again. Folding the papers over, he straightened. “Harry can’t speak of where he is from or what he was doing. I’ve seen evidence that the spell locks off his voice and causes him pain. What’s more, the Unspeakables won’t actually talk about it. If we want information, sir, we’re going to have to be careful with details and clues. He mentioned a trial, so I’m checking the paperwork to see how it relates to Harry and if I can find a clue.” 

It wasn’t exactly a muggle technique, but Theseus found most Aurors were reliant on magic for clues and information. It might not have occurred to some of his contemporaries to search for clues around the trial instead of pulling the memories from Harry’s head. 

Travers stared between him, the papers, and then the door. “Did you get anything else from him?” 

“I owled Professor Dippet to ask about the existence of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He can check the school records and confirm if these students exist.”  The man deflated as if realizing how ridiculous he’d been. “And there’s something else, sir.” 

Grimacing, the man waved for him to continue. 

“He claims that he has no idea who Grindlewald is.” Theseus watched the man carefully, noting confusion and then disbelief.

“You believe him?” 

“He called him Griddlewald.” Which wasn’t strictly a lie, but not exactly the truth. It was worth it to see Traver’s lip twitch. “And 13-year-olds aren’t exactly in tune with wizarding politics. It’s not unusual that he might miss it.” 

“Ah.”  Considering him, the head Auror sank into a free chair. “He might not be connected, but boys don’t just appear in the Department of Mysteries.” 

“No, sir.” 

Running his hand down his face, Travers sighed. “Have you found anything?” 

“Not yet. It’s very strange. I don’t know of a ministry employee who’d destroy a hippogriff like that. I’ll ask my brother, he might know. There’s another thing I’d like to consult with Newt on.” He pushed forward despite the man’s visible annoyance. “The Healer mentioned several curses. I believe we would benefit from my brother's knowledge.” 

“No, he can’t talk to regular people much less children.” Theseus knew his face was souring. “Did they give you any more information on the curse?” 

“No, sir. They seem just as confused…why the Department of Mysteries?” He wondered, digging back through the file he’d gathered on the situation. “What’s in there? Why would Harry be involved?” It was an incomplete picture, and with the curse currently damning him; there wasn’t much he could do.  

Travers watched him work. “Since the curse is keeping him quiet then we’d need to get information the slow way around.” 

Resisting the urge to point out the fact that he’d just said that, Theseus nodded. “And he actually talked to you?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Why?”  

Probably because Theseus had learned from Newt how to deal with nervous creatures and children. Because he could manage tempers and angry shouting figures as long as he felt was necessary. Probably because Travers didn’t have an ounce of patience for anyone who wasn’t ready to jump at this command. “I’m not sure, sir.” 

Clearly thinking something over, he finally nodded. “Go back. Whenever you hear back from Dippet, let me know. I’m going to bother that Unspeakable git for what information he will give us.” 

A task Theseus would happily do paperwork to avoid, so he nodded and returned to his work. 

#$#$ 

Harry jolted awake, eyes snapping open as the figure bustled into the ward. The healers, nothing like Madam Pomphrey, like to move around and wake him without a care or concern if he’d been sleeping. So far he’d suffered a half-dozen diagnostics tests which had alarmed more and more Healers. Spells he didn’t know, potions he’d tried and failed to throw up, and just about everything Healer Johnson could think of to help him speak past the curse.

It was a curse. Not just waking up in the Ministry of Magic but being surrounded by people who didn’t know anyone from Hogwarts was more confusing and frightening than Snape…Professor Lupin… Sirius ! 

The dementors, his patronus! Everything had gone horribly wrong and now he wasn’t even sure what had happened. 

He needed an answer !  

He’d been given Calming Draughts when he’d woken, panicked, and nervous, and as much as he could control himself now; Harry continued to flinch as adults and everyone moved around him. Shouting at Travers probably hadn’t helped, but the man was as useless as Fudge and with a much worse temper.   

Sitting up, he watched the now-familiar witch bring a tray of porridge and milk to the bed. It wasn’t as good as Hogwarts food, and there was probably nothing in the world as good. 

“Good Morning, Dearie!” She thrilled, setting the tray down as he retrieved his glasses. “How do you feel?”

Flexing his fingers, and toes, and considering his own body, Harry said, “Fine.” 

She didn’t look like she believed him and muttered a diagnostic spell as Harry dug into the food. “Well, do you think you’d feel well enough to speak to an auror? That Mr. Scamander asked if you’d feel up for a visit and he’s keen to talk to you…appearing like you did.” 

  Scamander? “Scamander?” He asked, rubbing his chest as his ribs ached. With a sigh, the healer set a potion on his breakfast tray. It was probably part of the pain-relief potion he kept avoiding. 

“The gentleman here yesterday. He was here when you woke up.” 

Oh! Now Harry could remember the tall, thin man in a neat suit, soft brown hair, and a pleasant voice. He’d been polite, visibly trying to rein in his colleague when the man’s temper got the better of him. The woman had been dressed beautifully, stylish, and elegant in a way that would have sent Aunt Petunia into fits of loathsome envy. 

Mr. Scamander had promised to bring information on Buckbeak, so Harry nodded. “Alright. I’m feeling fine. I ought to be going, shouldn’t I?” 

“You’re in no fit state to be going anywhere, Mr. Harry and you’re not released until the Aurors say so and release you to your guardians.” 

“I!” He couldn’t demand Hogwarts. Whatever had happened with the time-turner and Hermionie meant he couldn’t even mention the school. Still, everyone seemed to think Hogwarts when he said school so there had to be a workaround. There needed to be a work around. “Guardians?” Would the Dursleys come to pick him up? Grab him from the Ministry of Magic?  Alarm prickled under his skin, and he shoved a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. He wasn't sure of anything right now, and even trying to get off the bed the first time had pulled his aching ribs to the point the Healer had forbidden him from getting out of bed. Each time he’d tried, she’d come around to scold him. 

“Guardians, Mr. Harry. Someone to fetch you. I’ll let Mr. Scamander know you’ll speak with him. Eat your breakfast,” she smiled, suddenly looking much sweeter than before. “I’ll bring you something by. “

Harry nodded, working his way through the porridge. She returned later with a cup of tea a bit of paper and a pencil. It wasn’t the most entertaining, but it beat staring at the wall while his ribs knit back together.  It was another hour before someone knocked, the door opening to reveal the same dark-haired man as before. He smiled politely at Harry. 

“Hello, Mr. Harry.” 

“Harry,” he blurted, “You can just call me Harry.” 

“Well,” he entered the room full, hat in one hand. It was an odd thing, a little old-fashioned but not wholly out of fashion. He could imagine Uncle Vernon scoffing at the thing. “I’d call you by your last name as well, but we seem to be having a little trouble saying it, yes?” 

Harry nodded warily as the man took a seat. He’d been polite so far, and remarkably patient. Most ministry officials seemed to be out for blood….or ignoring him. 

Mr. Scamander nodded thoughtfully. “Tea?” He asked suddenly. 

“I’ve got.” He said, lifting his empty cup before realization struck. The man nodded, flicking his wand. Not much later the door opened and a serving tray rolled in. Mr. Scamander took a cup refilled Harry’s and procured a small plate of chocolate-coated biscuits. They weren’t particularly delicious, but it was better than porridge.  They drank tea for a moment before Harry cleared his throat. “Why are you here, Mr. Scamander?” 

Pleased, and a little amused the man set his teacup aside. He was an elegant man, Harry realized. Organized with a suit that must have cost a lot of money. “I’m an Auror. I’m investigating the situation of you appearing in the Department of Mysteries.” 

“An auror….like a detective?” Scamander tilted his head to the side before nodding. 

“Yes.” 

A little impressed Harry eyed the man in a new light. “Wicked.” 

“Ah…thank you?” He smiled faintly. “Harry, you were a little disoriented when you woke up. I’d like to ask questions about how you ended up in the ministry. I’ll try to avoid anything that might trigger the spell, alright?” He’d seen Harry tense. When Harry nodded, he continued. “Have you ever been to the Ministry of Magic?” 

“No…I’ve never been.” 

“Harry,” Scamander. “Do you remember what was happening before you woke in the Ministry?” 

“I….” Just thinking of Snape made his throat tighten. “My Godfather….there was a rat. We were in the.” Shrieking Shack. Again, invisible strings tightened around his throat. Harry gagged until it vanished. Scamander was still leaning forward, eyes sharp. “Sorry.” 

“No, no, don’t apologize. This may be more difficult. Can you say the name of your godfather?” 

“Sirius.” He shook his head, hand at his throat before he even tried to say Black . 

“Sirius…I see. Do you remember what was happening? In the fewest words possible, please.” 

Harry considered him for a long moment, shuddering under the cold and fear of his mother’s screaming voice. “Dementors….professor protected….um.” He waved a hand, scrubbing it down his face as he ran over the memories and found his voice failing. Sirius was gone. Lupin…the werewolf and Snape. Pettigrew had murdered his parents and Harry forced himself not to cry.  “Sir….what about Ron and Hermione?” 

Scamander poured him another cup of tea. 

“We’ve owled Hogwarts for information,” he said gently. 

“And Buckbeak?” 

“I…haven’t found anything yet.” He said plainly, and Harry’s eyes narrowed. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means,” he said patiently. “That there aren’t any records from the past century about the execution of a hippogriff named Buckbeak… never mind that they aren’t usually executed, but I haven’t found a case like the one you’re describing in any records.” 

Harry’s stomach swooped. “They didn’t give him a fair fight.” He said dimly, sagging back with the teacup sliding out of his hands. He scrambled only to find it levitating at Scamander’s command. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Of course. I’ll keep looking, and I’ll keep an eye out for a return owl from Hogwarts.”

He expected the man to get going, to stand up and leave once he’d finished but he continued to sip his tea. “It’s rather drab in here,” Scamander muttered. “Leta did say that she’d have some things delivered, but it’s been a moment.” 

As if summoned by his words a knock came from the door. Both jolted and Scamander went to open it. Behind it was a nervous wizard whose eyes jolted between Scamander and Harry for a quick moment. 

“Mr….ah, Scamander! I…didn’t.” Licking his lips, the man gestured with a wand case. “I really…erm, you’re here.” 

“Yes,” Scamander said simply. “Mr. Ollidora, what brings you by today?” 

“Just…,” Ollidora glanced between them again, nerves visibly failing him. “Um…questions.” 

“Is that my wand?” Harry realized. 

When Mr. Ollidora didn’t answer, Scamander did. “I believe so.” 

“Aces!” He held out his hand, bemused when neither man moved. “Can’t I have my wand back?” 

“Well….strange wand.” Ollidora shifted from foot to foot, avoiding staring at either man. “Strange, um….see.” Looking at his feet, he shoved the box at Theseus and vanished. 

“Did I say something?” 

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” the man sighed deeply. “Mr. Ollidora is brilliant, but he has his nerves…you handled that very well.” 

“Well….shouting and laughing doesn’t help. What did he mean that there was something wrong with my wand?” 

Theseus shook his head. “I’m really not sure. I’ll have to ask….Ollivanders?”

Harry nodded. The man considered him before passing the box over. The holly rolled into his fingers, a rush of magic and warmth filled him and warm lights pulsed from the end of his wand. Floating around the room; he glanced sideways at Mr. Scamander who seemed to be gaping. 

“Impressive,” he managed. 

“Oh….thanks.” Harry ducked his head a bit, pulling it close.  

“I wonder what he meant by strange. I’ll have to go back and ask.” He held out the box. Harry stared, hesitating as his wand hummed close. The man blinked a few times. “You’ll get it back, Harry. As soon as we’ve discovered what happened…perhaps even sooner.” 

“But what if you don’t. I don’t know how I ended up here,” Harry said. “I don’t even really know where I am. I….I just want to go back.” 

“I understand, truly.” Instead of snatching at his wand, Mr. Scamander sat on the edge of his bed; carefully adjusting his coat. “I’m afraid this case is a bit of a mess at the moment. Because of your circumstances, I can’t imagine that it won’t take long to clear up. As soon as the owl comes back from Hogwarts, we should have answers. I’ll keep it safe for you.” 

Harry wanted to trust him. He wanted to be able to hand his wand back without a complaint before letting the man leave. If anything had been clarified over the last few years it was that even Hogwarts professors and Ministry officials were suspect. Still, he didn’t think that keeping his wand was going to happen if Scamander really wasn’t moving until he’d sinched up the wood. 

“I’m going to want it back,” Harry promised, sliding the wand into the box it had been carted around in. “And…I.” He swallowed hard. The longer he went without information, the worse he felt. Even asking for more information was a struggle. Shaking his head, he shrugged and handed his teacup back. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Well…” Scamander tucked the box under his arms. “Hopefully, I’ll be back with information…and something to entertain you with.” 

It sounded promising, but Harry didn’t want to get his hopes up. He nodded instead, watching the man vanish through the door which Harry couldn’t seem to step through. 

Chapter Text

Newt Scamander heard a knock on the top of his trunk, a sound which echoed through some of the enclosures that would mind the noise and then through his skull. The sharp triple-rap of his brother brought him out of his work and up the ladder. Popping up from his case, he squinted against the form of his brother backlit by the lights of the office. 

“Theseus?” 

“Hullo, Newt. Have a moment?” 

Weighting the concerns of his brother versus his creatures, Newt finally clambered out and closed the case. After a quick spell to vanish the smells; he straightened. “What’s the bother?” 

“A bit of a strange case,” Theseus admitted. “You’ve heard about the debacle with the Department of Mysteries?”

“Erm…no.” 

Hardly surprised, the other man only sighed. Gesturing for Newt to take a seat as he snagged a chair. “There was a strange boy, he appeared in the middle of the Department of Mysteries a few days ago. Got stunned.” Newt winced. “He’s recovering, but the spell seems to have done a bit more damage than the healers anticipated. Something about bone density and previous injuries. Well, I’ve finally gotten Traver's permission to bring you in.’ 

“I take care of creatures.” Newt stumbled over his words. Pickett climbed out of his pocket. “Not children.”  

His brother raised an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you to look after him. This is a very specific consultation, possibly in your area of expertise.” Suddenly drawn, Theseus leaned back in his chair. 

“If he’s younger, then why haven’t you contacted Hogwarts?” 

“We did…Professor Dippet said that no student by the name of Harry is currently enrolled in Hogwarts.” Still, Theseus looked drawn and tired. 

“That’s certainly odd.” Newt agreed. 

“Yes, well. Come on. Just take a look at the image of the boy.” 

“What do you expect I’ll find?” Newt wondered, picking up his case and following his brother through the ministry. Still grave, Theseus paused before the door. 

“Newt…I’m afraid there’s….just take a look.”  Both Scamander brothers entered. Travers glanced up. An Unspeakable was in attendance and perfectly silent as Newt slowly entered. 

“Mr. Scamander.” 

“Auror Travers….Healer Johnson….Theseus asked for my help?” 

“I’m not certain you’re needed,” Travers scowled. “But since the healers don’t have a clue and the Unspeakables won’t say a damn word.” Glowering at the placid Unspeakable, he turned back to Newt. “There’s something you might take a look at. Healer Johnson?” 

“We have a spell mold of the child,” Johnson said, flicking her wand out. “There’s something rather alarming which looks like a dark magic imprint…or something similar. Your brother things.” 

Coalescing above them was the outline and image of a narrow, skinny 13-year-old. Centered near his heart was… “An obscurus.” Newt breathed, approaching the image and getting a closer look.  Something pulsing and midnight clung to the child in a manner far too similar. 

“That’s I what I thought.” Theseus sighed deeply. “Though, I am hoping I’m wrong. It’s too similar.” 

“It is…” Newt paced around the image. “He’s thirteen? Is he in good health?”

“There are a few other concerns,” Johnson said. “The sort usually associated with an obscure child, according to your book.” Newt didn’t have the time or energy to be particularly thrilled with the news. Another obscurus . Credence was dead, and it was a wretched agony to see another child in a similar position. 

“It’s a very strange obscurus,” Newt admitted. “If he’s 13 and still….alive and well enough.” 

“He seems to be in decent humor,” Theseus said. “I’ve spoken to him, but he’s still strange.” 

“And he doesn’t technically exist. He’s not actually a Hogwarts student and if that is actually an obscurus then we’d need to get it out of him or keep him away from students. We can keep him here.” 

“No,” Newt set his case down, and opening it ducked in for several packets of his reference notes. Emerging, he started filtering through them. “You can’t keep him confined. An obscurus in a child will fester with unhappiness and suppressed magic.” 

“His wand did react,” Theseus added. “And he seems to know a little bit of magic. It might not be entirely repressed but whatever brought him to the ministry of importance as well. Newt.”

“No…I don’t know if you intend to imprison him on an absurd charge of sealing him away.” the pulsing writing obscurous in the child's body was too small. Too centralized, something far worse might be here. A dark creature of unknown origin. “Credence was sealed away and….no. Theseus, he cannot be locked away.” 

“We can’t let him lose, now can we?” Travers scoffed. 

“He would still need to be monitored,” Theseus said quietly. “And we would need to find out what we can even with that strange curse of truth.” 

Newt paused. “Do you know of his family?” 

“He cannot speak of where he is from without choking. He can’t even speak his full name. Whatever brought him to the Department of Mysteries is preventing this.” All eyes turned to the Unspeakable who shrugged. Travers growled under his breath. 

“He can’t stay here…” At 13 this would be only a few years older than the girl in Sudan and much younger than Credence.  Still, something else was tugging at Newt's attention. 

“I would like you to speak with him,” Travers finally added, catching Newt’s focus. 

“Me? I can hardly. Well. I.” 

“Newt, you know more about an obscurous than anyone else in the world.” His brother nodded. “You can talk to him. Maybe get a better understanding of what we’re dealing with.” 

By habit, Newt did not often deal with children. His focus was often on his work and while animals and small children had many similarities, people were far less predictable. Even when he had been a child, it had been contentious. Still, Theseus was waiting for a response and he had a duty. “Alright…what’s his name?” 

“Harry.” Theseus straightened. “Shall we?”  

The strange assortment crossed through the ministry halls; workers and aurors glancing and staring at the strange assortment until they reached the more secure level where a warded and guarded door stood. The Aurors stepped aside as Theseus dropped the ward. 

“One moment,” Theseus said. “I don’t want to overwhelm him. He stuck his head in. “Oh, Leta! Hello, Harry. I’ve brought a few people to speak to you.” 

Newt shuffled in ahead of Travers and the group, finding Leta sitting at the bedside of a skinny, dark-haired child of Indian decent with sparkling green eyes peering through round glasses from beneath an unkempt fringe of dark hair and a slashing white curse scar over his forehead. An arguing chess set sat between his friend and the young man, the pieces craning their necks around to the newcomers.

“Leta.” Newt nodded to her. She smiled.  

“Harry,” Theseus gestured to him. “This is my brother Newt. You know Travers and Healer Johnson.” 

“Hello, Harry.” The handshake was surprisingly steady, Harry’s dark green eyes focused on Newt and dragged him to his case. 

“Hello, Mr. Scamander.” Harry was small but clearly self-possessed. He watched the adult in the room with a jaded, curious expression. He tracked where everyone went, and reminded Newt of a cautious animal.  It didn’t bode well. 

“I’ve asked Newt to consult on this case.” Theseus was saying, “Don’t worry, it will just be myself and Healer Johnson.” He shot a glance at the others. Leta stood gracefully. 

“We’ll finish our game later.” She said. “Mr. Travers, will you accompany me to tea?” 

Looking as if the man had swallowed a lemon, he nodded with a grimace and let himself be ushered from the room. The Unspeakable was seized by his sleeve and dragged out until it was the Scamanders and the Healer. 

“Why did he ask you?” Harry asked. 

“Well….I have varied expertise. I might be able to offer more assistance for my brother's investigation.” Pickett thrilled, emerging onto his collar and Harry’s eyes shot toward him. 

“Is that a bow-truckle?” 

“Oh…you know of them?” 

“I do! It was in my Care of Magical Creatures!” Harry sat up with a wince, pushing his glasses up his nose and peering at the suddenly shy creature. “Hello…don’t let me frighten you.” 

“His name is Pickett…he’s in my care.” Newt set his case down, taking the free chair. “Erm, say hello, Pickett.”  The bow-truckle waved, staring at the boy with a tiny, guarded expression before vanishing. “He’s a bit shy.” 

“It’s alright. The book said they can be awfully nervous around wizards.” 

“Ah, yes. They’re fascinating and have complex social lives.” Theseus coughed before Newt could continue. “Ah, right. Well…I’m going to run a diagnostic spell. If you could lay flat and erm…close your eyes.” 

Suspiciously, Harry obeyed and squeezed his eyes shut as Newt stood and muttered the spells over the narrow figure. The outline appeared above Harry with the same pulsing darkness hovering near his heart. 

Was it an obscurus?

“Do…do you know where you got that scar?”  He asked. Dark magic could leave a variety of imprints, and he wasn’t sure he’d seen this before. 

“Someone tried to kill me when I was a baby,” Harry replied. Newt glanced at Theseus, who straightened. “I…Professor….” he coughed a few times. Newt watched golden threads of magic tighten around Harry’s neck. Invisible to the naked eyes; whatever it was kept him silent. “Said it was love. He said the spell rebounded.” 

It might be the remains of a dark spell…but magic didn’t pulse like a heartbeat. Whatever it was, was alive.

Theseus’ jaw was clenched, he stared at the boy and then at Newt. 

“Harry.” He vanished the image, considering the teenager who opened his eyes. “Have…you always known you were a wizard?” 

Immediately guarded, the teenager's bright eyes darted around. “Why?” 

“Well, I’m curious…there’s…young witches and wizards with accidental magic…there can be…” Newt glanced helplessly at Theseus. 

“When I was…eleven,” Harry said slowly.

“Did strange things happen before then?” Here, Harry flinched. A familiar look of terror and fear made Newt’s stomach roil with discomfort. 

“Why?” Harry glanced around, scanning for an escape around. 

“I. Oh! Blast!” the clasp had come undone. Teddy was wiggling his way free and Newt scooped him up before he could start on demolishing the room. The squirming niffler in his hands offered enough of a distraction for Theseus to consult with Johnson in low whispers. “Ah…sorry. He’s a very tricky bugger. Erm, this is Teddy.” 

“What is he?” 

“A niffler. He nest was raided by poachers. I…I also take care of him.” Inspired, he held out the niffler. “He likes shiney things and such. He won’t bite.”  A little too accustomed to humans, Teddy sniffed at the carefully bandaged digits extended toward him. With a smile, Harry cautiously petted the small head. 

“He’s very soft, sir.” 

“He’s well-cared for.” Newt let him down and Teddy ambled across the sheets onto the boy's lap. “Keep an eye on your glasses. He rather likes those.” 

Harry nodded, carefully tickling the nifflers who relaxed with unabashed glee. 

“Harry,” Theseus spoke up. Harry’s eyes snapped up. “We ask…because young witches and wizards who suppress their magic or are around people who make them.” Again, Harry’s mouth tightened. “It can damage their magic and make them sick. It’s extremely dangerous to everyone.” 

“But mostly to the child.” Newt’s soft words seemed to be a catalyst. Harry blinked away a mirage of tears and looked away 

“Why….what?” 

“Harry.” Newt fell silent and Theseus conjourned up a chair. Taking the opposite side of the bed, his older brother hesitated. “Do you have trouble with magic?”  Harry shrugged. “Have you had bouts of accidental magic?” Narrow shoulders hunched and he shook his head. 

A lie so obvious even Newt could see it. Teddy hadn’t moved from Harry’s lap and was trying to get him to start petting him again. 

“You said it was a spell someone tried..do you know which spell?” 

Opening his mouth, the teenager tried to speak before rasping with a cough and sucking in careful air as he did so. “Yes.”

“I suppose you can’t  tell us.” 

Shrugging, he returned to Teddy. 

“Well…that’s rather nasty. Dark magic can leave traces on a person…like your scar.” 

“I know.”  Harry turned. “Is that why you came? Is there something…wrong?” 

“There…yes.” Unable to lie, Newt opted for the truth. “Harry…do you know what an obscurous is?” He shook his head. “It’s a…well, it’s a magical parasite of a sort. It’s not as rare as we’d like it to be. I’ve seen three cases in my lifetime and they stem from magical children who….were rather forced to suppress their magic. Whose guardians refused them their magic or treated them poorly.” Pretending not to notice the alarm, he continued. “It’s very alarming and.” 

“Do you think I have one?” 

“I do.” Theseus made a sharp noise, and Healer Johnson rushed forward. 

“Can….well…can they fix it?” 

“I don’t….know.” Unable to meet the bright eyes, he turned toward his case. “There’s rather…erm. We know how to treat some of the symptoms. That’s rather the simple part…” Gesturing helplessly, he turned to Theseus.  

“We’ll help, of course. We’d like to help as we investigate.” The older man assured him. 

Harry’s hands were over his heart, niffler forgotten. “I have a…parasite?” 

“It might be…it might also be from the curse scar. Dark magic can leave lingering effects and often it doesn’t give the chance to study it…or it can’t be helped. The fact that you can do magic and seem rather knowledgeable is good. It might not be draining your magic core. Still, it can affect other things and might be affected by outside factors.”

“Is it dangerous?” 

“It can be.” Harry didn’t look comforted and Theseus usherd himself and Healer Johnson out into the hall as Harry digested the words. Deciding to leave the niffler for company, he let his brother push him into a nearby office. 

“Well?” Travers demanded. 

“It’s alive….possibly an infant obscurus…it could also be a remnant of that dark magic used on him that gave him the scar.” 

“Well, we can’t ship him off to Hogwarts like this. That will put this kid in Dumbledore’s hands and I don’t trust him.” 

“Dumbledore is a teacher.” 

“Whose just a little too close to Grindlewalds for my tastes.” 

“And,” Newt added, apologizing to his old teacher. “He can’t give Harry what he would need. He needs to be monitored, but to upset or distress him greatly would only aggravate the parasite.” 

“We still don’t know if the boy isn’t connected with Grindelwald.”  

“He isn’t,” Theseus stressed. “But if he’s got an infant obscurous or other curse damage.” 

“Then he needs to be monitored.” Travers snapped. “Continuously.” 

“You can’t keep him here.” Pushing his falling curls out of his face, Newt shook his head. “If you keep him penned up the creature might lash out. He needs space and comfort and a guiding hand.” 

“I’m not giving him to you.” Newt jerked back from the vehemence in the older man’s voice. “You and that case are a complete…. you have your own….” both Scamanders watched in bemusement as his voice trailed off. “I’ll let you know about a placement. Healer Johnson, is he will enough to leave?” 

“Yes…provided he continues to take his potions and rests.” 

Not liking the contemplative look on Traver’s face, Theseus put in. “Sir, whoever Harry goes with would need to be even-tempered, patient, and willing as well as skilled at Defense, and  if he is holding an obscurus then also able to respond.” 

“Yes…Mr. Scamander. I have the perfect person in mind.” 

Chapter Text

It wasn’t often Theseus felt the world drop out from beneath him without the aid of a dark wizards attack. As it was, he couldn’t help the shock infusing through his system. 

“What’s the problem, Mr. Scamander?” Travers demanded, shuffling the file on his desk over to slap open before the auror. “This is a good match. You’re a ministry official, you’re an auror, and Merlin knows you’ve got experience with that brother of your handling strange children.” 

Managing to unstick his tongue, Theseus said. “Sir. I’m a bachelor. I don’t know the first thing about.” 

“You had your brother.” 

“We have parents.” He said plainly, “And this is highly irregular. Wouldn’t it be better if he were handed off to a family?” 

“Absolutely not. We don’t want that thing around other wizarding children. You know our work with Grindelwald, you can call on your brother in case he goes mad, and there’s plenty of space at your townhouse.” 

There was space at his townhouse, but that wasn’t the point. Every point Travers made only solidified Theseus’ fate of taking care of the unknown as well as trying to unravel his mystery. 

“Sir.” 

“You said yourself, Mr. Scamander. He needs to be observed if that spell keeps him quiet then all the clues are going to slip out little by little and besides. I’m making this an order.” 

That sealed his fate, and he bit back his protest after a long moment. “Sir…..this is unusual to say the least.” 

“Borrow one of your parents house elves.” Travers waved him off. “We can arrange a stipend to take care of him. Make sure he doesn’t fall into the Unspeakables hands.” 

“My parents do not have house elves.” Theseus replied grimly. Travers glanced up. 

“Oh right, the abolitionist. Then hire a valet, that shouldn’t be too difficult.” 

Very few wizards deigned to become valets. The pool was very shallow and….well, his parents knew most of them. As he considered the problem, he tried to imagine what his mother would say upon finding out that Theseus was responsible for a young man. She might coo over a grandchild or sigh with annoyed resignation. It was hard to tell. “Sir. I still don’t know how to take care of a young man. He’d need education, he’d need to be looked after.” 

“ Tutors , Scamander. A valet, tell me, what were you planning on doing when you had children. He’ll be good practice and out of the Unspeakables hand and Dumbledore's. Just think of him as practice. You’re getting married soon enough, aren’t you?” 

What would Leta think? Merlin! She would be around the boy and they would need to consider him…but the obscorous…everything would be very different. What could he do? He still didn’t know much about children, just memories to draw on with his own parents and dealing with Newt when he was younger.  

“Yes, sir.” 

Unhelpfully, Traver clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll arrange the paperwork. You speak to the boy.” 

 Theseus blinked in the space his superior had been, staring into the bizarre future he now faced. 

Still, he hadn’t made it through the Somme without learning to face the ugly battle ahead. Forcing himself back down the hall and into Harry’s room, he found the teenager working to pry open the window. With a soldiers speed, the boy turned sharply. Wholly unapologetic Harry straightened, chin high and green eyes cautious. 

“Did you have a plan for when you’d opened the window?” He asked, turning to examine the room for stolen materials or makeshift ropes. “We’re on the fifth floor. It lowers you directly in the central government center in London where your clothes will clearly mark you as a patient and possible fugitive.” Looming didn’t do well with nervous teenagers. Lowering himself into the abandoned chair and crossing on leg over the other: Theseus continued. 

Inching back to the bed, Harry used the brass post for support, staring intently at the auror. “I’ll plan my next escape better.” 

Just as stiff and defensive as Newt had been when he’d smuggled animals into his bed. Knowing a smile could be mistaken as an insult, Theseus sighed. “I certainly hope so. You seem to be a clever young man. I doubt this is your first escape.”  Narrowed green eyes told him all he needed to know. “If you’ll cooperate, we’ll be able to release you from the healers charge under provisions.” 

Harry didn’t move, which Theseus acknowledged with a nod. “Very well. I hope you understand with the discovery of the obscurus your case is rather unique. I am sorry to say that you won’t be returning to Hogwarts for the semester.” 

“What?” Shock left his clutching at the bedpost. “I can’t go back?” 

Theseus tucked the piece of information away for later. Harry was a Hogwarts student…but so oddly dressed? So strange that Dippit hadn’t known about him. 

“Sirius and Hermione and…Ron! I….” Harry paused, rubbing at his scar. “Are you sending me to my aunt and uncle?” 

His guardians. “Your muggle aunt and uncle?” The teenager nodded. “No. I…” They were likely responsible for the obscurous. “This is rather outside their purview. I’m afraid a young wizard with injuries and an infant obscurus is something they might not be capable of handling.” He said plainly. Harry blinked, fingers tightening over the brass. “Considering your sudden and bizarre arrival into the ministry….and your magical affliction you will need to be in the care and observation of someone who can assist in difficult situations.” 

Harry blinked. “They’re sending me away….to Askaban?”

“Azkaban?” The auror stared, “I’m not certain how you believe this would condemn you to Azkaban.” More alarming and uncomfortable information to shift aside for later.  “No, in the custody of a capable caretaker until your…situation is resolved.” 

“A caretaker?” Harry asked flatly. “I can owl.” 

“One has already been selected.” 

“I don’t need a caretaker. I can manage on my own. I can get a room at the Leaky Cauldron. I did earlier this year.”

“I…see.” Forcing down his instincts, he managed. “That is admirable that you are so capable, Mr. Harry, but currently you are recovering from an injury and a magical malady so rare there are only a handful of documented cases.  As capable as you are, this is still a unique situation.” 

“I’m going off to live with Mrs. Figg and her cats. I should go back to school and my friends.” 

“You can write them, and I do not know this Mrs. Figg, but you’re not going to her. No, Mr. Harry. You will be staying with me until such time that the Healers and the Ministry. “

“You?” He interrupted abruptly. Grateful that the boy hadn’t shot down the idea or protested furiously, he instead looked confused. “Why?” 

“I am an auror, a trained medic, and a sufficiently high ranking ministry official.” Obvious reservations lurked behind his eyes. 

“How long?” 

“That remains to be seen.” Theseus waited, fingers rubbing over the edge of his hat perched on his knee. It was new territory for him too, and Harry slowly sat on the bed as Theseus tried to think of how he was going to explain this to his parents. Harry would need the spare room, clothes that weren’t so thin and pathetic, tutors, medical check-ups.  

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Harry repeated slowly. 

“You didn’t, but this still remains a significant case with the intrusion in the ministry itself, the magic affixed to you, as well as the others.” He waved his hat about for a moment. “As the investigation continues you still need proper care and feeding.” And to be kept from the Unspeakable…from the strange influence of Dumbledore and if the spies in the ministry got word back to Grindelwald. “And education, of course. There are many tutors available.” 

“But I can’t go to Hogwarts?” 

“Not currently.”  He’d need to discuss the change with Leta. There would have to be improved security measures, and he’d have to tolerate the others ribbing once they figured out he was taking the intruder home.  

Harry slowly nodded, one hand around his ribs as he eventually settled back onto the bed. He would try to run as soon as he could. This was going to be the first of many escape attempts. 

“I’ll need your measurements for some clothes.” Theseus withdrew his wand. 

“I can wear my jeans…and clothes.” 

“We’re not Americans,” he scoffed, casting the spell quietly. A scroll popped up and he tucked it into his pocket. “Now. Please rest up. I’ll be back in the morning once all of the arrangements have been made. Is there anything in particular you are fond of?” He mind as well ask. Harry just tilted his head before shaking it silently.  “Very well.” He’d consult with Leta…and his mother. 

Chapter Text

As soon as Mr. Scamander was gone, Harry pulled a pillow over his face and let out a faint scream.  

Where was Fudge? Where was Professor Dumbledore? Why hadn’t anyone known him? His scar was what everyone in the wizarding world used to recognize him…but they didn’t know he’d survived the killing curse?  

He was being sent away! To live with the strange auror and….he dressed like he was from an old film. 

Pulling the pillow off his face. Harry needed his wand back. He needed to owl Ron and Hermione. The professor and the Weasleys…if Sirius was still out there…if Buckbeak was still out there then he could live with his godfather! 

His confusion stalled as the Healer entered with a new tray of potions. “Excellent news, Mr. Harry! I heard you’ll be staying with Auror Scamander for the time being.” She set the tray on his lap as Harry sat upright. “He’s a war hero, did you know that? Excellent reputation and record…I suppose he can manage you…even if he is a bachelor.” She scoffed faintly. 

“Bachelor.” 

“I don’t expect him to know how to raise a young man.” Healer Johnson sighed. Arranging his pillows. “That brother of his seems alright…but you never know what with the war on the horizon.” 

“That’s true.” Harry said grimly, and gulped back the electric green potion.  

“The Scamanders are a very distinguished family. They have an excellent estate in the country. I was a few years above Newt. He used to smuggle animals into the dormitories.” 

“My friends cat used to chase Ron’s rat.” Which had been Pettigrew…an old man…his father’s friend disguised as a rat the entire time. 

Shuddering with disgust that wasn’t entirely from the potion, Harry paused. 

Maybe something was wrong with the Time Turner? 

What about Time Magic? 

“Cats chasing rats is a tale as old as time. Now, Ms. Lestrange said she would return to finish your chess match. Here,” she pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet, folded and obviously already read. “This will keep you busy.” 

Would it? His ribs were still healing, and without his wand and a pair of shoes he couldn’t really go anywhere. With a sigh, Harry unfolded the paper and hoped he didn’t find anything about Buckbeak or Sirus being caught. 

What he found confused him even more. 

GRINEWALD HOLDS RALLY IN LISBON!  

Scamander had asked him about GrInewald before, but Harry had never heard of the man. 

Grindlewald?  

Flipping the paper over, he read the by-line and then his confusion mounted as he scanned the article. 

No mention of Sirius…none of Buckbeak or Harry missing from Hogwarts. 

He flicked to another article discussing the unrest in the magical Indian community. New security announcements, the construction of a new wing of St. Mungos, a war memorial. Harry flicked to the later sections, musing over the Chudley Cannons score before moving on. 

Harry paused, turning back to the article. Ron’s obsession with the history of the Cannons wins losses, games, and history meant Harry had absorbed a great deal of information second-hand. After the Great War the Cannons had gone on a wild winning streak, their surviving members turning the Quiddich and barely restrained violence as they recovered from the front. 

Skipping over the article, he scanned the date, and with a strange, muted horror turned to the front of the paper. 

October 14th, 1927 

The time turner had broken.

Harry Potter had time traveled. 

“I’ve!” Whatever prevented him front speaking cured around his throat. He coughed, gagging violently as he tried to speak.  “The!”  He couldn’t breath, air wheezed from his lips and the door slammed open as Healers rushed in. 

Whatever they were doing wasn’t working, and it was only once the world had faded to a ugly hazy gray did the cords loosen. Harry fell back to the bed, gasping for air and wheezing as every thought of time travel fled his mind. 

“Harry? Harry dear, lay back.” He had no choice, and stared at the witches as they muttered diagnostic spells and layered a cold white bandage around his neck. The bruising faded instantly, but the soreness remained. “Merciful heavens! Do you remember what was happening when this happened?” 

Harry nodded furiously, trying to massage his aching neck as he thought about time travel. The broken time turner had choked him. Silenced any opportunity to speak…and he couldn’t explain any of this to the Healers or Theseus. He couldn’t manage to get back, go home if he couldn’t talk about it. 

“Mr. Harry?” She leaned forward as Harry blinked tears from his eyes. 

1928. He was in 1928! 

Sirius, Ron, and Hermione were decades in the future, trying to look for him. They were probably wondering where he was…and Harry was in 1928. 

“Oh dear,” the Healer was muttering. “Oh dear, Mr. Harry. It’s alright.” 

It wasn’t alright, and when he reached to touch his face he realized that he was crying.  

They were gone. He was gone. 

“I’m alright.” Harry choked, terror and tears surging. “I’m fine.” 

None of the Healers seemed to believe him, but since the danger had passed they slowly drifted out. Once he was alone the tears came faster and heavier. With the new bandages and bruises he managed  his near silent sobs until a furry hand tapped his shoulder. 

With a curse, Harry jerked away only to find a strange creature standing on the other end of the bed. Short, with silver fur and brilliant wide eyes, it almost looked like a monkey. In the heavy, tearful silence, its head tilted to the side and inched closer. Unsure what it was doing, Harry watched it warily until the small hand tapped his foot. Bit by bit, it patted up his leg on it’s approach until it settled onto the bed beside his hips. With a chirring noise, the animal reached up to pat Harry’s head. 

“What are you?” Harry scrubbed tears from his face, leaning back against the pillows. It didn’t seem dangerous, more focused on trying to comfort him. “I’m alright.” It was soft, silvery strands of fur which puffed under his hands, and it crawled onto his lap still trying to pat his head. “Thanks….I…don’t know how to get home.” 

Time travel. A broken time turner and he didn’t even know if they’d managed to free Sirius. Why hadn’t anyone told him? Why hadn’t anyone mentioned his Godfather? Why had people wanted to protect him from the murderer but not his aunt and uncle? Why hadn’t anyone bothered.

The creature patted Harry’s cheek, rubbing its head against his chest as Harry’s chest hitched from unshed tears. 

So who was Theseus Scamander? Why did they even want him to stay with this strange ministry official…the strange auror? 

He leaned back, absently petting the monkey animal as the door cracked open. 

“Dougal!” Newt Scamander stuck his head through the door cautiously. Finding Harry awake and accompanied, sighed deeply. “I’m dreadfully sorry. He managed to slip out of my suitcase. I…” He shuffled into the room, a brown suitcase in his right hand. The bowtruckle waved a slight hello. “I hope he isn’t bothering you. As a demiguise he’s a caretaker…even if they aren’t his species.”  

Harry ducked his head. “It’s alright. He’s…very soft.” 

Newt cleared his throat, taking the free chair. “Are you…alright, Mr. Harry? He must have sensed some great distress if.” 

“They’re sending me to your brothers.” Curls bounced as Newt jerked his head around to briefly meet Harry’s eyes. 

“I…see. That makes sense, Theseus is….very good at what he does. Please, don’t be alarmed. He really is quite good, even if…well. He is an auror. You’ll be perfectly safe there.” Pensively scrubbing his hands together, the man sighed. “His fiance…Leta…she.” He was worse at talking than Ron, which was an impressive bit of failure. “I’m sure you’ll get along splendidly. His townhouse is quite lovely. Leta…helped decorate a bit.” 

“Leta….Lestrange.” 

“Fiance. I imagine you will see a great deal of her. She is…very lovely.” 

Harry wondered how different they were compared to his aunt and uncle? An auror…a magical family…but decades in the past. Sensing his distress, Dougal continued to pat Harry’s cheek.  

“It’s quite alright. Erm. you don’t seem to believe me.”   Harry shook his head. “Well…if my brother upsets you…send me a note. I’ll come set him straight.”

“Thank you, Mr. Scamander.”  Hermione would have a complete freak-out if she got the opportunity to meet him. She and Ron would have loved meeting Dougal. Maybe they could have bonded over an animal that didn’t try to eat other peoples pets….or people. 

It wasn’t long before someone else knocked, and Leta appeared at the door with a few books under her arms. 

“Leta!” Newt jumped upright. Harry and Dougal watched the exchange in silence. 

“Newt,” she smiled. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here.” 

“Dougal….he wriggled his way free. Seems rather attached to Harry.” 

“Oh?” Leta stepped around the tall man, eyeing Harry and the comfortable demi-guise. “Hello, Dougal…Harry.” 

“Hello, Ms. Lestrange.” He could at least be polite. If she and Theseus really were going to marry, then he didn’t want to upset the man’s fiance. 

“Leta, darling. Call me, Leta. We’re going to be seeing so much of each other. I brought a few books. Theseus says you’ll be leaving tomorrow for his house, but there some time between now and then.” 

Harry accepted the books with a quiet thank you, turning them over in his hands. “Tales of the Beetle and the Bard?” 

“A classic,” Leta muttered, conjuring a seat. “I was rather fond of Call of the Wild .” 

“A muggle book?” Newt turned toward her, blinking in surprise. “Truly?” 

“I have hidden depths and muggles write such entertaining tales. I’ve always been fond of Jack London.” 

Harry had heard of it. His aunt and uncle had taken Dudley to see the movie, but he’d never had a chance to read the book. He flipped to the first page, showing it to a curious Dougal. 

“Theseus has a tidy collection, but I’m afraid its not the most entertaining. We’ll have to change that. Oh, and that last book, Dragon and I . It’s excellent.” 

“It’s horrid,” Newt blurted. “They treat the dragons so poorly. The author has no understanding of how to connect with a dragon. You cannot act as their enemy. The colonel should know better, they aren’t circus animals….you can’t whip them. That…you shouldn’t whip circus animals. No. I. Terrible book.” 

Not at all surprised, Leta winked conspiratorially with Harry. “Well, I’m sure Harry will find your lecture enlightening, but perhaps he should find out for himself.” 

The flustered red-head waved for Dougal to venture back into the suitcase. Harry gave him one last pat before he vanished and Newt finally straightened. “Good  luck, Harry. I’ll be seeing you.” The suitcase banged against the door as he left. In the sudden silence, Harry was left with the new books, the realization that he was now decades in the past, and apparently going to live with complete strangers. 

“I am sorry to leave you, Harry. But I am expected back at my post. Try to get some sleep.” 

With that, she was gone too and Harry was left alone.

Chapter Text

Harry tossed and turned all night. His ribs ached, and each time he began to mouth the words time travel the broken strands of the time turner would tighten over his throat. Was anyone from the future still around? Dumbledore still had to be here, but he would be younger and might not understand time travel. He might not be able to get Harry home. 

Still, he was the only point of reference Harry had. Sirius wouldn’t be born for a few more decades…his parents !  Maybe he could find his grandparents? He didn’t know where his invisibility cloak had gone. He wasn’t sure of anything other than being in the past. 

Nobody had told him much history. He knew Goblin rebellions, the ancient wizarding wars, and bits and pieces of Voldemort; but nothing entirely concrete. 

He didn’t know the names of his grandparents. He didn’t know where to find them. No one had bothered explaining…anything really. Until he’d woken up he’d hardly heard of Grindlewald…did they think he knew him? 

Suddenly wishing, more than anything, he had Hermione here to consult with, Harry pulled a pillow over his face with a sigh.  He’d learned the first few nights that trying to get out of bed only alerted the Healers and everyone else on guard. He was pretty sure it was a spell, but had no real idea of how to counteract it without his wand. 

Unsure when he’d fallen into a fitful sleep, a sudden knock jerked him awake.

“Good Morning, Mr. Harry.” Healer Johnson bustled in, breakfast tray in hand. “You’ll be off to leave today, so try to eat up. Mr. Scamander will be by soon with your clothes and wand.” 

“I’ll get my wand back?”  He wondered, sighing at the sight of porridge. He could cook a better breakfast than this with a broken arm. 

“Soon enough.” She pushed more vials onto the tray. “Remember, you’ll be taking a few potions to help heal up. Mr. Scamander is under strict orders to make sure you take them. Nothing too strenuous or difficult until you’re ribs are healed.”

As with Madam Pomphery, he nodded silently and ate quickly.

It wasn’t Mr. Scamander who appeared with a garment bag and a hat box an hour later, but a harried trainee auror who passed Harry the hat and set the bag on a hook. “Mr. Scamander’s working a lead. He said to tell you that he’ll be back soon.” He sighed. “Once you’re dressed, just come outside.” With that, the junior Auror fluttered out. Harry curiously opened the box, it wasn’t a witches hat, but one he’d seen in older films Aunt Petunia had watched late in the evening when he was hiding just out of view. Setting it on his head, the brim effectively covered a portion of his scar. 

He wondered how much it cost.  Opening the garment bag Harry pulled out things wildly at odds with his usual fashion. The slacks were a dark brown, a simple white shirt, tie, jacket, vest, socks, and dress shoes.  Mr. Scamander had worn something similar, and when Harry glanced into the mirror he scrubbed but his hair. 

Aunt Petunia wouldn’t recognize him. This was a smarter look than Dudley’s ridiculous Smeltings uniform…but how much had it cost? Was Scamander expecting Harry to pay him back? If he managed to make it back to his decade then he’d look just out of place as he had appearing in this one.  

Almost like James Bond. Harry opened the door, tugging the hat off his head and swooping up the books Ms. Lestrange had left.  

“Oh, that’s a better look.” Travers voice rang through the hall. Harry jerked faintly, eyeing the older man distrustfully. Healer Johnson hovered nearby. “Scamander has good taste, but it could use a bit of tailoring. Still, better than seeing you in school robes.” 

“Shouldn’t I go to Hogwarts?” Harry asked, following the sharp gesture and making his way down the hall. “I’m of school age.” 

“You already know the answer to that. They’ll let almost anything go at Hogwarts these days, but not your…” Travers eyed Harry meaningfully. “Condition.” 

“My skin or my scar?” Harry demanded, words falling from his mouth before he could even realize what he was saying. The head auror paused in the hall, a nearby employee giggling faintly before vanishing through a swinging golden door. 

“Your condition ,” Traver managed past gritted teeth. “Now come on. Scamander is due back in a few minutes.” Harry obeyed, trying to mark every detail and entrance as they shuffled through the massive warren of halls and offices until Harry found himself in a harmless, empty waiting room with a fire-place. It flared green as Theseus Scamander sprung neatly into the fire, smacked his head against the stone, and stumbled into the room. 

“Blasted! Too damn short for. Oh! Harry, that’s an excellent suit. Mrs. Peters does excellent word with her needle, but we’ll have to do a bit of tailoring.” Theseus straightened, brushing soot from his suit. “How do you like the fit?” 

“It’s very nice, sir. Thank you.” Harry nodded. 

“Good. Apologies for the late arrival. Sir, nothing to report. All calm.” 

“Good. Here’s his wand.” Harry watched a narrow box pass between the men, hungrily eyeing where the phoenix feather wood should be. “You’ll have tomorrow to get him settled. The usual considerations and such.” 

“I’m right here,” Harry snapped, bristling under the patronizing stare aimed his direction. Scamander only blinked patiently, not reacting at all.   

“And see to his,” Travers waved a lazy hand at Harry before spinning on his heels and marching out of the room.  

Harry squeezed the books tightly, facing the tall auror with as much courage he could summon. Scamander was staring at the space Travers had just vacated, considering and quiet.  Eventually shrugging, said. “Personable, chap. Well, we’d best be off we want to make the train.” 

Train ? 

And they did have to make the train. Theseus led him out of the ministry and out of magical London into the dreary early-evening haze. Before, he’d only been to London a few times to get to the train station, but even then he’d caught enough of the skyscapers and modern roads to compare. 

It was nothing like home. Cobblestones, dresses, hats, old cars, carriages, and evidence of the Great War bombing raids. He tripped over his feet trying to mark each detail and keep pace with the long-legged stride. The second time he stopped to gape a shop window with an antique wireless on display, Scamander stopped as well.  Harry flinched as he approached, giving the man pause. 

“I’ve a gramophone at home,” Theseus shrugged, and pulled out pocketwatch on a neat silver chain. “Hop to, we’ve a train to catch.”

Harry had never been on the underground, and torn between complete awe of the twenties and a sudden surge of nerves, he stuck close to the man through a few stops until they emerged onto a street lined with elegant townhouses.  

He stared as they approached a beautifully painted golden door with red accents which opened before them. 

“Welcome Home, Mr. Scamander.” Tall, round, and peering through a monocle, the housekeeper took the older man’s coat , hat, and accepted Harry’s once it had been swiped off his head. “And your guest?” 

“Mrs. Leher, this is Harry. He’ll be moving into the Mural Room. Harry, this is my housekeeper, Mrs. Leher.” 

“Hello.” He held out a hand, which she accepted after a blink. 

“Welcome, Mr. Harry. Mr. Scamander, the room is all prepared as you’ve asked.” 

Theseus sighed gratefully. “Thank you, Mrs. Leher. Tea?” 

“Right away,” the coat and hats floated to the rack, and she vanished into a hall. 

“Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”  Down a hall, Harry stared into rooms which shouldn’t have fit into the narrow townhouse space. 

“It’s bigger on the inside!” He said quickly. 

“Charms, old charms to enlarge the space. My brother is a master of them, but these are set charms that were built with the house. I’ll give you the tour later. Come on.” Harry followed. Not all of the portraits and paintings moved.. A few photographs looped endlessly in their frames. Up the hall and past a small library until they reached an oak door. It opened to a comfortable room, larger than Dudley's, Harry noted. A bed, desk, and shelves with a trunk. The window was home to a comfortable looking reading nook. 

“This is my room?” Harry wondered, stepping inward and turning on his heels as he did so. One wall was dominated by a mural of a landscape dominated with flowers and animals. A few baby foxes tussled in the tall grass as hydrangeas bowed under an invisible wind. 

“It came with the house.”  Mr. Scamander said quietly. “Couldn't really bear to paint over it. Not such a lovely piece of work. Well, I’ve gotten a few simple things in the closet. Your clothes will have to be fitted. I’ve an appointment tomorrow morning. What’s in here should suffice until then. Here, your wand. Don’t cast anything at the moment.  The W.C. is across the hall. Get settled and head down for supper.” With a final squeeze to his shoulder, Theseus moved down the hall. 

It was his room.

Harry eyed the mural, the bed, and peeked into the closet. 

It was a soft bed. Wrapping around him as he flopped backward with a groan. 

What was he supposed to do now? Live in the past? He needed to get back to his time, back to his friends and….how could he get back? This house was luxurious by his and the Weasley standards. He’d never been inside another wizarding home, and wasn’t sure what else might stand out from Privet Drive. 

“Harry!” He jerked, blinking back into focus as Mr. Scamander’s voice sounded near the end of the hall. 

“Coming!” The hall was empty, and Harry  slipped down the stairs to find the food being served. Mr. Scamander stowed his wand, flipping open the Muggle paper. Bangers and mash, stewed cabbage, and a tall glass of milk next to his plate. 

Mr. Scamander might not know it made him sick, so Harry avoided looking at it as he poked at the rest of the food. It wasn’t Hogwarts, it wasn’t the Dursley’s leftovers, and it wasn’t hospital food.  It looked fine, and he experimentally tried some of the sausage. 

It tasted incredible. Mrs. Leher beamed from where she was pouring tea as Harry dug into his meal.  Mr. Scamander’s newspapers snapped down, blinking rapidly enough to give the teenager pause. “Your manners need work.” 

“Sir.” 

“I’m sure that tutor can explain.” He vanished behind the paper again. “We have a schedule tomorrow. Breakfast is at seven.” Seven wasn’t so bad.  He’d gotten up earlier to make Uncle Vernon’s breakfast before he left for work. Mr. Scamander didn’t seem too fussy so might be alright with something regular…if there were regular foods in this place. Harry wasn’t sure how people had eaten at this time. “Best clothes, please. This will do until you have more.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He was finished with his food in a few brisk, efficient bites. 

Theseus set the newspaper aside. “I haven’t seen a plate cleared that quickly since the Somme. Did you even taste it?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

With a wry smile, the older man picked up his fork. “Do you give a different answer?” 

“...yes, sir.” Harry froze as he laughed, curls bouncing as he shook his head. 

“It’s quite alright. It’s not running away from you, Harry. Try to eat your pudding a little more slowly.” At his words, Mrs. Lehrer bustled out to retrieve his plates and set a slice of cake in front of him. 

“Yes, sir.”  It was a simple seed cake, nothing overly sweet like he might have gotten at Hogwarts or in his own century, but plenty tasty. True to his word, Harry savored each bite as he glanced around the dining room.  

“Don’t forget your potions.” The vials came wizzing through the doorway to settle beside his plate. 

“Oh…” He washed the taste down with tea, finding his fingers and nerves soothing as it took affect. “Oh, that’s much better.” 

“That’s why we take them. Well, how about a tour. The library isn’t much yet, but I hope it will be larger in the future.”  The front parlor was a neat, comfortable room. There was a drawing room, the library, an attic which Theseus cautioned him to stay out of for the time being, and several empty rooms which were dominated by furniture covered in sheets. The office wasn’t off limits, but the master bedroom was. The washroom had a deep claw-footed tub, a rack of fluffy green towels and window overlooking a back garden. 

“Do clean up before you go to bed. It’s getting a bit dark to be in the garden, but you might has well poke around.” He checked his watch. “I have a fire call to take in a few minutes. Listen to Mrs. Leher.” 

Harry bristled, too unsure of his standing to snap back, but nodded grimly. At the very least the auror didn’t pat his head or pinch his cheeks. He vanished down the hall, and Harry slipped into the garden. 

The flowers weren’t as lively as Aunt Petunias, he noted dimly. In fact, the whole garden was rather dreary and boring. It was uninspired and…dull. Kicking at a lackluster bush, Harry sighed. 

Where were his friends? Ron and Hermione. His godfather, even the professors. Were they missing him? Did they know he was gone? 

What about London? It was before the second war, and he’d never even been in London properly…just as he as taking a step toward the back gate the door opened. Mrs. Leher stood framed in the warm light. 

“Harry? Harry!” 

“Yes, Mrs. Leher?” He stepped into the light, inching closer as the witch gesturing him forward. 

“Come along, young master. I’ve got your bath ready.” 

“... my what ?” Harry jerked to a halt, staring at the woman unsure if he ought to be embarrassed or insulted. 

“Bath,” she explained, “it is ready and I’ve laid out your pajamas?”

“I can get myself to bed and do my own bath.” Harry explained. “And I don’t need someone to do it.” 

“Do you think I can’t manage my duties? I am perfectly capable of managing Mr. Scamander’s household! Including his young ward!” Steaming, she gestured indoors. Unsure how or why she’d taken it as an insult; Harry decided to follow. 

As he pulled the blankets over his shoulders an hour later, listening to muggle London outside the window; Harry turned on his side to see the shadows cast by Theseus as he walked past.

This wasn’t the Weasleys, crowded and noisy with people thundering around at all hours of the day. Not Hogwarts with its routines and schedules, and certainly not the Dursleys. 

He hoped wherever Ron and Hermione were, they were alright.

Chapter Text

Instinct prompted Harry awake early, he blinked into the darkness of his room.  He sat up, ribs protesting faintly, and slipped on his glasses. 

 Gentle moonlight shone from he mural, the foxes curled sleeping in their den. A painted owl hopped through the grass in the search for mice, and bats flitted overhead.

Smiling at the foxes, Harry slipped off the bed. Unwilling to wake the animals, he dressed quietly and in near darkness. Cautiously, he inched into the hall. 

Still quiet, no one in the house seemed to be moving around. Down the hall, avoiding every creaky stair he’d heard Theseus hit on their way up; and into the kitchen to find it empty and cold. It was… odd . Old fashioned, unfamiliar, he fumbled for matches for a few minutes. The last time he used them had been on the little island when the Dursley’s had fled the Hogwarts letters. Hargid had smashed in the door and and whisked him away. 

….no one was coming for him now. Pushing the thought away, Harry lifted the oil lamp and surveyed the kitchen. Copper pots and pans hung from hooks just out of reach. A kettle waited on the stove, a sink, pantry, and an ice box. All simple enough, he tucked one of the aprons around himself and started by filling the kettle. As thhe water boiled, Harry began to prepare the ingredients, which he also set aside to set the table. All in all, as he proceeded almost grateful for something of his routine to be the same; a strangle tone cut across the early morning silence. 

“ Mr. Harry .” Mrs. Leher stood just outside the kitchen door; eye skipping across the room to eventually settle on Harry’s face. “What….are you?” She seemed at a loss for words. Unsure if or why she might be angry with him, he fetched another teacup. 

“Tea?” He offered. “I’m almost done with the tomatoes.” 

Mechanically, she took a seat at the work table with her attention on the teacup. After a few sips, as Harry deftly shunted the tomatoes into a separate bowl, asked. “Mr. Harry….what are you…what are you doing?” 

Unsure if she was mocking him or if Mr. Scamander hadn’t told her about breakfast, he carefully answered as he poured the eggs into the pan. “Mr. Scamander said breakfast was at seven. It’s almost seven.”  Omelets were tricky without decent equipment. Thankfully, he’d found a good pan in the back of the pantry. Aunt Petunia refused to buy new pans unless she planned on using them herself. Harry’s kitchen equipment was always stored under the sink and usually needed to be scrubbed free of rust. 

“I’m not sure he…I’m not certain Mr. Scamander meant for you to make breakfast yourself, Mr. Harry.” She hesitated over her next words. “Rather that you should join him.”

“...join him?” He paused, staring at the bubbling food and considered the possibility. This wasn’t Hogwarts, he wasn’t eating with students or classmates. This was someones home, and he’d been sent here because no one knew what to do with him. Mrs. Leher seemed perfectly confident, visibly baffled by Harry’s actions. 

He opened his mouth to reply only for a clatter to echo down the stairs. “Mrs. Leher! Harry is missing!” Mr. Scamander rushed down the hall, skidded into the kitchen and jerked to a halt. Harry and the housekeeper watched the Auror lower his wand, alarm replaced quickly by confusion and bemusement. “...Harry is a guest, Mr. Leher. Not an employee.” the hard edge of reproach cutting the tension. 

Harry froze, realized the eggs were burning and removed them from the heat. 

“I am aware, Mr. Scamander. I believe the confusion is that your expectations were clarified .” A dozen glances went from person to person, and she finally smiled sharply. “Thank you, Master Harry. I will finish up here.”

He was being dismissed, and after turning the stove off, rushed out of the room. Passing Theseus, he cast the older wizard a carefully blank glance before shuffling out. Even pausing to eavesdrop, he found all sound from the kitchen muffled and deadened. An anti-eavesdropping spell?  Only once he was sure he wasn’t going to hear anything, did he leave. Returning to the dining room a few minutes later he found Mr. Scamander reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a cup of tea in one hand. So much like Uncle Vernon he had to pause. No, Vernon’s hands were fat; round sausage links of limbs crushing the pages of the paper and anything else he touch.  Scamanders were delicate, gentle to not crease the page. 

Harry’s cooking had been set out on both plates joined by bread and jam. He settled into his chair, unsure if he was supposed to wait. After a moment, the newspaper folded down. 

“Well, eat something. We’ve got to be at the shops soon.” 

He was a few bites into his breakfast when he realized Theseus hadn’t started. “Sir?” 

“Where did you learn to cook?” 

Screaming, shrieking failures, pots being flung at his head and his aunts bony fingers digging into his shoulders when something cooked too long. Breakfasts, meals, and watching heaps of food vanishing down his cousins gullet. Harry hunched inward, scraping the tines of his fork over the plate. 

“Never mind. It’s very good, but I should clarify.” Harry shot the older man a glance. “You’re not here as staff. You’re here as a guest and a resident. I’m sure Mrs. Leher appreciates the assistance today…but you should be resting and leave her to do her duties.” 

Swallowing, pushing the food around on his plate he offered a tiny, “Yes, sir.” The question of how he was going to earn his keep rattled around his in his head as they left the townhouse and started down the busy London streets.  He was wearing his new suit and wishing he had a pair of jeans. It was nice, but was he supposed to dress like this all the time? People he saw wandering about were dressed well too. 

“Mr. Scamander?” He ventured, the man slowed down long enough to buy a muggle newspaper from a newsboy who stared at Harry with unnerving intensity. Harry stared back. Theseus tugged him along. 

“Yes, Harry, what is it?” 

“Where are we going?” He tried to get a glimpse of the paper in his hand. What were the muggles concerned about now? Was it the economic crash?

“The shops.” 

“But isn’t Diagon Alley the other way?” 

“We’re not heading to Diagon Alley. It doesn’t have what we’re looking for.” Mr. Scamander raised a hand, whistling sharply as a taxi cab pulled to the sidewalk. He climbed in, Harry furiously distracted by the vehicle he’d only seen in history books while Mr. Scamander gave the address. As far as Harry could tell this was a muggle cab. Nothing overly magical about it; but if the Auror took the muggle tube then maybe it wasn’t too strange. 

Mr. Weasley would have loved this, he realized. The trains and the cars and….Mr. Weasley was decades in the future. Further away than he’d been while Harry was in Hogwarts and…what would Ron think? Maybe he’d be impressed by the Auror or even time travel…he’d more likely be interested in Harry’s cooking and the fact that he wasn’t living with the Dursleys. 

He slumped in the seat, watching the strange streets pass by until they turned onto a well-kept street with wide streets and shops.It looked expensive and even in his own time he’d never been here. 

“Wow.” 

Theseus smiled, ushering him into a clothing shop where a woman glanced up from the front desk. 

“Mr. Scamander, welcome back. It’s a pleasure to see you.”  she smiled with a brief look at Harry. “Is this your ward?” 

“Yes, Ms. Peters. This is Harry. Harry please meet Ms. Peters. Her mother is one of the finest tailors in the world.” 

A tailor? Harry took in the dark wood, thick carpet, and heavy armchairs with a sinking feeling. It was expensive, and a tailor couldn’t be cheap even now. 

“Hello, ma’am.” He managed, receiving a bright smile. 

“Excellent. Please step this way.” 

It turned out to be a lot like Madam Malkin’s except they were in a private room. Mr. Scamander settled onto a couch to observe as a tray of tea and biscuits were served on the side table. His attention was mostly on the paper, but he glanced at Harry. Mrs. Peters rushed around him, wand flicking around his head to fit suits, vests, and hats to his body. White marks appeared on the cloth and fluttering about, 

“It’s good you’ve brought him here, Mr. Scamander. I’ve seen so many young wizards with their unfit clothes because they couldn’t be bothered to learn some howhold spells or go somewhere they can be fitted correctly. I certainly hope you don’t want your young man to be wandering about looking like some miserable sailor.”

“Which is why we’re here, Mrs. Peters.” Mr. Scamander replied, stirring his tea.  

Mrs. Peters, a portly woman with a densely obscured east-end accent seemed perfectly charmed by Mr. Scamander. She seemed thrilled to be designing an entire wardrobe for Harry. Thrilled by the business and clearly enjoying watching Mr. Scamander. 

“I read your engagement announcement. I hope you’re going to introduce your charming fiance to me, Mr. Scamander.” A leather hat flopped onto Harry’s head, he shook it free only for a suede had to approach.  “Hold still, dear.”

“I’m certainly hope so, but I’ve been told a lady often chooses what she likes for a wedding gown.” His handsome face compressed to hide a smile as the tailor huffed. 

“Well, I hope she’s met you, Mr. Harry. It would be a nasty shock to bring home a ward before a wife.” 

Harry blinked, realizing she was waiting for his response. “Oh, I’ve met her.” The suede hat flew back to a shelf. 

‘Well…good.” she hesitated, and gestured for Harry to put on his previous outfit. “I’ll make the final adjustments, Mr. Scamander and have the packages delivered.” 

‘Thank you, Mrs. Peters.” Theseus stood as Harry emerged from the changing room. “I appreciate your efforts on such short notice.” 

“Better than a department store,” she scoffed, fabric, buttons, and needles flying back to their places. “And don’t worry, it will be reflected in my bill with a bit off for such a well-behaved young man.” she caught Harry’s frown. “Most of my young men are dragged in here by their mothers and spend the whole visit sobbing about needles and shrieking about Quidditch.” 

“I like quidditch,” Harry said quickly. 

“Well, you’d best not wear your good suits on that broom, Mr. Harry. I take great pride in my work and don’t like to have it ruined by reckless little boys.”  she was smiling, and Harry ducked his head to grin at the floor. 

“I’ll be careful,” he promised. 

“Very good…well. A young man with sense then. Hmph, those are all about extinct these days. You take good care of him, Mr. Scamander.” 

Theseus nodded, ushering Harry from the shop after some polite good byes. “She means well, but she really does the best work. Now, we have a few more appointments to make.” 

Not just a few. Harry visited a barber, a shoemaker, and they spent a good while picking out new spectacles at a magical eye-doctor who clucked over Harry’s broken frames. Black plastic wasn’t an option, and his new glasses were round, golden-rimmed frames that Theseus complimented him enthusiastically over. After a brief stop at a muggle tea-shop for lunch, which Harry perked up for, they returned to their busy schedule. A visit to a healer, several introductions to tutors who Harry would visit and also receive at the townhouse, and a brief check at the post office. It was a busy, maddening day and when he returned with packages and things to Mr. Scamander’s house, it reminded him briefly of his first day in the wizarding world. Everything was new, his school supplies and Diagon Alley and his own money…now he was even more confused with this angle of the wizarding world. 

Was this here in his time? Would the magical tailors and doctors existed? Did they still exist...why hadn't he know about them? Why had he only ever  known Madam Malkim? Why didn't anyone wear muggle suits and clothes now? Long robes and tall hats...but every wizard now seemed to be dressed in the style of the day.

Mrs. Leher clucked affectionately as she helped Mr. Scamander with his coat. “You look a mite tired, Master Harry.”   He had to drag himself from his thoughts, blinking as the pair watched him.

“I’m afraid I’ve run him off his feet,” Mr. Scamander admitted, taking a pile of telegrams from the front table. “But it takes a great deal to get a young man situated.” 

“That it does. I’ve put his new things away in his room and Miss. Lestrange sent a few things to the house, Mr. Scamander.” 

They both paused. Harry, leaning against the wall and thinking longingly of his four-poster bed at  Hogwarts, of Ron's conversation, and even Neville's snoring.

  Theseus sighed as he flipped through the messages. Smiling, Mrs. Leher continued. “For Master Harry.”

The auror sighed deeply. “I’m sure she did. Where are they?” 

“I took the liberty of putting them in the parlor, sir.”  They both looked to Harry who hadn’t moved. “I’ll have some tea as well.” 

Taking the hint, Harry ducked into the other room to find two brown-paper wrapped packages sitting on an armchair.  Presents? He remembered the first time he’d gotten presents. A jumper from Mrs. Weasley…and he didn’t even know Ms. Lestrange very well. Sure, she was going to marry Theseus but then….

Would he be stuck here? Back in time without his friends? Without his Godfather? Couldn’t there be a way to get him home? Maybe they’d find a way to send him back and this would just be a strange, bizarre memory.

“Leta’s invited us to dinner the day after tomorrow,” Theseus entered, clearly paying more attention to the note in his hand. “At the Cafe de Paris. I hope you’re up for it. Oh, Leta . What did she get?”

Harry stared blankly. He wanted to open the packages…he wanted to see what was inside, but this was too exposed. Someone else was watching him and the last time he’d opened a gift from a classmate Dudley had screamed himself hoarse.  Hearing the man move around to look at his face, he still couldn’t move.   Theseus paused. “Harry?” 

The Dursley’s weren’t here. It was just Mr. Scamander and…Harry reached for the first package. It was a book, a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them . Newt Scamander’s signature was scrawled on the first page. 

Hermionie would love it….a first edition copy and signed by the author? She would have shrieked louder than her cat. 

It time turners spell tightened around his throat as he opened his mouth, and found himself brushing a stray tear away.

“Leta has a sense of humor.” Still, Theseus was smiling faintly.

There was a set of Gobstones, he wasn’t sure how to play and somehow in the three years he’d been in the magical world had never been interested to learn. Everything at Hogwarts kept happening….too often for him to be regular wizard. 

“Do you know how to play those?” Harry shook his head. “I suppose you prefer quidditch?” 

“Seeker,” he replied. 

“Ah…chaser myself. Newt as well.” Mrs. Leher came in with a tray of tea and sandwiches. “He was a devil on a broom. The team captain wanted to put him in as seeker but Newt is…easily distracted even if he has a good eye for detail.” 

“I’d like to fly…I flew Buckbeak.” Harry rolled the balls back into the bag. Scamander seemed impressed. 

“How many lessons did you have?” 

“One.” Theseus choked on his tea. 

“One? And you flew a hippogrif?” 

“Erm…yes.” Where was Hagrid right about now? Was he still at Hogwarts? Was he at Hogwarts at all? 

“Madness. They can be violent if they think they can get away with it.”

“Buckbeak didn’t.” Harry said shortly or maybe he had because he’d been freed and then the time turner had broken…and then… He helped himself to a sandwich and a cup of tea. If he thought about his situation even for a moment it would be…difficult. “Do I need tutors…you said…the other man said that I can’t go to Hogwarts…”

He half expected the man to get angry, to start scolding him about not listening; but Theseus only tilted his head. “Yes. an infant obscurus is a very serious matter. School and be a unique difficulty…and offer distinct pressures which such a creature might not react well to.” 

“I can manage school.” Harry’s tone hardened. He’d managed a lot worse and his magic hadn’t gone haywire. 

“Of course you can, but then there is your…break-in to consider…the spell restricting your speech. Hogwarts is an excellent place to learn;but some families have tutors regardless. This isn’t a personal matter, Harry, it’s a security concern.”

“Because of Grindelwald?" Harry asked.

Theseus blinked a few times. “Because anyone appearing randomly in the Department of Mysteries is a concern.” 

Oh…Harry still wasn’t sure what to make of it all. The ministry had always been a distant figure until Sirus Black’s escape. Fudge and the executioner….the school board in his second year.

Curious, he flipped through the book. Newt Scamander’s section on Basilisks was concise and informative. Gripping the portion of his arm where the tooth had gone through; he shut it just as quickly. “I’ll go up to bed.”

The man wasn’t stupid, with a curious, cautious look, he nodded. “Alright. Rest up. Don’t forget to take your potions.” 

“I won’t. Good night, sir.” With his new possession in his hands, he moved back into the room. The foxes were batting a small ball back and forth, looking up when he entered. Ignoring them all, he dumped his new things onto the bed and flopped over, too tired to think straight…too tired to think. 

Chapter Text

Nurmengard Castle loomed over the edge of the mountain range. Perched on the edge of the cliffs with a hawk-like watchfulness. Massive pine trees cascaded across the nearby slopes in curtain of spiked green. 

Cyril Keitel couldn’t see the alpine meadows which spread around across the rest of the hillside, but he knew it was there. He hadn’t seen the spring flower, but apparently it was supposed to make the mountain unlike any other.  This late in October snow had already gathered over the mountain and trees. Cold sliced through his coat until he tapped a warming charm against his chest. 

He had several kilos to go to the entrance. 

Cyril wasn’t a skilled enough wizard to keep snow out of his boots and he warming spell active for long. By the time he reached the secret entrance his bones felt cold enough to shatter. 

He was grateful when the cook on duty handed him a cup of tea before turning to bark at an under cook. Knives, spoons, and ingredients moved around on their own accord and carried by harried assistants. 

“What’s happening?” He wondered, gulping the tea and settling next to the fire. 

“The master is hosting a few lords and ladies tonight. The dinner needs to be perfect.” He turned, shouting in French at another young woman who started shouting back. It wasn’t clear exactly what they were saying. Judging by Pierrie’s wands shaking furiously in front of her face and the young woman’s cleaver in his face; Cycil could make a few guesses. He waited until the situation was de-escalated, sipping his tea the entire time and waiting for the warming potions to kick in.  “Here!” He shoved something warm and heavy at him. A meat pie so hot that Cyril had to settle it over the teacup to avoid burning his fingers. Obeying the gesturing motion, he abandoned the kitchen for the rest of the castle. 

People were cleaning, working, and the residents of the castle were moving around with their usual tasks.  Preparing for the dinner party and the regular maintenance required. He found himself in front of the door to Juergen Dietrich’s office. It bounced inward once Cyril knocked, and the deep, Prussian voice barked. “Get in!” 

Cyril obeyed, flinging himself through the door carefully as it snapped shut directly behind him. Once his eyes adjusted to the low light, he spotted the short figure leaning over an odd, glowing map which vanished the moment the man looked up.  

“Cyril, sir.”

“I know who you are. Why are you late?” He tapped his wand. The lights rose only enough Cyril to make out the rest of his form. It must have been one of his migraines again; and Cyril fished around in his pocket for the packet of tea he’d bought before the trip. Handing it over inspired a look of bewilderment from the other man.

“Me mum says it’s good for headaches.”” Cyril added awkwardly, softly. 

Juergen nodded and they sat in near silence as the tea was brewed. The kettle opened to avoid any whistling screams. Only bubbling water and the hiss of the pour managed to be heard. Once both men had  a cup of tea; Cyril’s poured reluctantly and only a bare concession for his gift, did the man speak. “Now, why are you late?” 

“There was a break-in at the Ministry of Magic. In the Department of Mysteries.”  He said. He waited for the realization to sink into the other man’s expression.  

“Ah….that is…unusual?” 

“Very, sir. The suspect was taken into custody. He’s a mixed boy with Indian blood, and he was…wearing American jeans.” 

Again, bewilderment crawled over the man’s face. “Jeans? Those ridiculous clothes their farmers wear?” 

Cyril nodded. “Aye. The Unspeakables haven’t said a word, but no one knows how he got in.”

“Is that so strange?” 

The double-agent considered his tea. “No one has ever survived trying to break into the Department of Mysteries. It’s not a place where anyone can enter. Even the Minister can’t go in without an invitation. He got into the Ministry by escaping the Department and no one knows how he got in or out.” 

Jeurgan leaned back, eyes flickering closed. “That is…unusual.” 

“Yes, sir.” He waited a moment. 

“Where is the boy now?” 

“He was…given to the custody of Theseus Scamander.” Again, he fell silent as he felt the fury and annoyance mount across the table. Muttered curses in German followed a sigh. 

“Damn the man….why was he not sent to your English school? Surely that would have more expedient.” 

Now, Cyril hesitated. “Politics, I think. I’m not certain…” 

“Guess.” 

“Travers, he’s got something against the teacher, Dumbledore. I don’t think he wants to give the boy up.” 

“So he sent him to live with a madman?”  Juergan let the lights brighten.Lines had carved themselves around his eyes and mouth, which were drawn tight. “It is certainly most impolitic. What’s is the boy’s name?” 

Cyril wrinkled his nose. “Harry.” 

“Harry…very well. I will bring this to his lordship’s attention.” 

#$#$# 

“You’re learning very well. It’s rather impressive.”  Mr. Bird felt for the teacup which had been set at his side.  He’d taken a seat an hour ago while Harry was trying to manage a more recent practice of Transfiguration.  It wasn’t a spell he’d seen before, and he was almost certain it was something more suited for a 5th year or Hermione. 

“Professor.” 

“Mr. Bird will do,” the man replied gently. 

Harry nodded, realized the man couldn’t see it, and said. “Yes, sir…but I haven’t managed to transfigure it properly yet.” The pillow was deflating, fabric turning back into features. 

“Not yet, but that’s alright. You’re very tenacious. Talent is all well and good, but work will see you through to the end.”  

That sounded nice, but Harry tried not to roll his eyes. He tucked his wand back into his sleeve. He’d only been in lessons with Mr. Bird and the other tutors for two weeks now.  In a strange schedule and utterly at odds with everything he’d known.  

In the morning he might breakfast with Theseus if he hadn’t gone into the Ministry early or had even come back the night before. Once, Harry had carefully picked through his breakfast while Ms. Leher had served the man his dinner, he’d been so late coming back.  

Lessons would start after that. Schedules adjusting as necessary for the lives of his tutor and the occasional visit to the Healers which Harry loathed with every fiber of his being. His lunches were free and generous with time. Time he’d spend in the back garden taking out his frustration on the weeds, overgrown trees, and bushes. 

After an etiquette or other lessons in the early evening he’d be free from lessons for the rest of the day. Time he spent reviewing his books and school work; trying to find anything on time travel, or staring moodily out the window to the city beyond. No matter how he tore through the newspapers which showed up around the townhouse; Harry couldn’t make sense of the news he read. His brief moments of consciousness in his History of Magic class hadn’t covered much of the recent century 

He’d known about the muggle wars’ but not with any particular certainty. Apparently so many gaps in how knowledge of muggle culture, wizard culture, and magic; that Mr. Bird had actually scheduled more classes than originally agreed. He’d also had several muttered conversations with Theseus behind a privacy charm. 

Probably telling Theseus that Harry was a stupid as Snape and the Dursley’s had always said he was. Proving his parents bad blood and being a disgrace to his family and Hogwarts and….he flung a weed against the back garden wall. It sailed over the edge and someone shouted on the other side. 

A young, dark face popped over the fence, scowling. His hat was scattered with dirt and grassy weeds over his shoulders. He looked much like Harry; the same shape of nose and chin; but dark brown eyes under thick eyebrows. “OI! Do you need to fling that about?” 

“What?”  Harry asked dumbly. After weeks of wizards and witches and tutors, he realized he hadn’t seen someone his age since he’d come back to the past.  The boy scowled and vanished. When it was clear he wan’t coming back, Harry sprinted toward the back gate and flung it open where the stranger was still brushing down his jacket. 

It was clearly well-loved, mended, and when he smacked his hat against his leg to knock some of the dirt loose, Harry noticed just how nice his hair was. The same dark curls, but oiled and maintained, none of the frantic, fly away hair he’d had his entire life. 

“Hello.” He said quickly, shutting the gate quickly.  

The stranger looked him up and down. “Namaskār.”  When Harry stared, visibly uncomprehending, he sighed. “You don’t know your own language?” 

“....English is my language.” Harry leaned back, a bit unsure. The brusque tone wrapped around the strange, lilting accent which Dudley’s friends had often used to mock Harry. It was nothing like their mocking, exaggerated tones; but was sweet even as it grated reflexively against Harry’s nerves.  

“Of course it is. Dev Patel,” he held out a hand, which Harry accepted. 

“Harry….erm…just Harry?” 

“Hari,” Dev said simply. “What is your last name?” 

“I can’t say it.”  Explaining magic and the torture of the broken time turner wouldn’t do him any favors. Dev’s dark eyes narrowed between Harry and the garden wall behind him. 

“You can’t…say your last name?” 

“No.”  

“....I see. Why are you throwing plants, Hari?” 

“I was gardening.”  

“And you throw dirt?” 

“Is that all you can talk about?” Harry demanded. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

“Of course not…..but why did you throw them?”

“I was irritated…a bit like I am now.” 

Finally, Dev smiled. “I see.  You have a good arm, Hari. Have you played cricket?” 

“....no.” He’d played Quidditch, but that would be even more difficult to explain. 

“Would you like to?” 

Harry stared, unsure if he was going mad or if the other boy was making fun of him. “I don’t know how to play cricket.” 

Dev reached around, tucking an arm around Harry’s and pulling him down the back lane. “I will teach you, Hari.” 

“Well…..” Harry let himself be dragged along with only a glance back at Scamander’s townhouse. Could he stay? Could he turn the first invitation of friendship he’d gotten since he’d come to the past? 

“Will your masters miss you?” Dev paused, glancing over Harry and then at the house. 

“....no. Let’s go.” 

Dev obeyed, and pulled Harry along the strange, unfamiliar roads of London.