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The Shadow of Time

Summary:

‘Emotion was building in Harry’s throat, “This is very interesting Draco,” he admitted, aiming for casual but knowing the shaking of his hands was giving him away, “But how do we get back?”

Draco’s face crumpled, “I’m sorry Harry, there is no way back,” it was like a bell had been struck inside Harry’s head - all he could hear was ringing, “There’s no where to go back to,” Draco moaned, “He wasn’t just trying to travel in time - he was trying to obliterate his own,” Draco choked on his tears, “There’s nothing ahead of this to travel to yet Harry,” he let out a few more hiccuping tears before finally suppressing his noises of pain, “There is no going back,” he whispered.’

Harry had known working at the Department of Mysteries came with risks, but he never would have expected it to destroy his entire life. Now, trapped as his 14 year old self just after the resurrection of Voldemort with Draco Malfoy for company, they must try and figure out how to move forward.

-

(Spanish Translation Available)

Notes:

Mature except for a couple of explicit chapters.

Chapter 1: The Beginning and The End

Notes:

Art work made by the amazing Zevnie!
Also there’s a Spanish translation thanks to the very lovely AstralAnomalyy 🥰 The link is in the text!

Chapter Text

Spanish Translation available here.

30th of August, 2015 - Number 12 Grimmauld Place

If he hadn’t know any better, Harry might have been tempted to describe the way James and Albus were sat at the dining table as ‘patiently’ - but this would have been inaccurate. Though they were certainly sitting quietly -  Albus with his forehead pressed flat against the table top, arms stretched out in front of him, and James rocking precariously on his chair staring blankly at the ceiling - Harry knew this to be anything but patience. Rather, it was a kind of tortured zen calm that concealed the true turmoil within. It was something they had inherited from Ginny. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to wait much longer - if he could just find that stupid dragon!

“Dad - I can’t find him!!” Harry sighed, sifting through the robes folded on the end of the table, waiting to be hung in his wardrobe - he didn’t honestly think the little bugger was hiding amongst them but he’d been caught out before, “I can’t leave without him!!” Lily’s voice became suddenly louder - he heard her bedroom door close and the landing creek under her feet.

“I know Lils, I know - don’t worry we’ll find him,”

Hector was the dragon teddy Harry had bought Lily for her birthday three years ago - and while he was flattered at how attached Lily was to him (sleeping with him every night since), this wasn’t the first time they had run late because they couldn’t find the little bastard. He should have bought multiple copies of the menace when he’d had the chance.

He heard Lily thundering down the stairs, pausing to miss out the trick step, “Have you checked the living room?” He called.

Lily gave a long-suffering sigh, “Obviously! It’s the second place I checked!!” She appeared in the kitchen doorway, chewing her lip anxiously.

“Well, do me a favour, and check again,”

Lily let out a huff, but stalked off to do as she was told.

“Dad,” James started, a whining element at the edge of the word.  

Unfortunately, Harry did not possess Ginny’s faux calm, and instead needed to find genuine harmony - he took a steadying breath, and muttered under his breath, “Merlin give me strength,” before turning smartly to address his eldest at the other end of the table, “Yes James,”

“We’re going to be late! It’s already five past twelve!” James gestured to the clock above the fireplace - and as his son had said, they were indeed late.

It was a Weasley tradition for the entire clan to gather back at the Burrow the last Sunday before the new term started at Hogwarts - and this would be the first year he’d be sending off one of his own brood. Harry wasn’t particularly concerned about being late - he doubted anyone other than maybe Ginny would notice. If he was honest - part of him wanted to delay going over as long as possible. This would be their first time seeing the family since he and Ginny had announced their separation was permanent, and that they would be filing for divorce. His stomach clenched in anxiety at the thought, but he tried to soldier through - the kids didn’t need to know, and poor Ginny was facing the family’s well-meaning scrutiny alone.  

And so, Harry became suddenly serious, “James, Albus, there’s something I need to tell you,” Albus’s head popped up and his sons exchanged a look, “This is going to be hard to hear I know,” he stepped closer and swept smoothly down onto one knee in front of them - they were right to look suspicious when he took one of their hands in his own and said, in earnest sincerity, “But I can tell the time,” they let out twin groans, “I know it’s difficult to accept,” he continued gravely, “But you’re growing up and it’s time you knew the truth,”

Still rolling their eyes and groaning, they both wiggled their hands free from his grip.

“Why are you so weird?!” Exclaimed Albus, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“It’s a gift,” Harry admitted, pushing himself to his feet again.

“I found him!!” Lily’s exclamation made them all sigh in relief - she appeared, in the kitchen holding her stuffed Welsh Green out in front of her, one of his ears missing as a result of a recent run in with Crookshanks who, though now elderly and arthritic, still had it in him to take on stuffed animals.  

“Finally Lils!” Cried James, jumping out of his chair and standing in front of the fire place in preparation.

“Thank Merlin,” Harry said in agreement, herding his three children together in front of the fireplace and stretching onto his tip toes so he could reach the ledge at the top of the fireplace where they kept their pot of floo powder - he really needed to fit a shelf lower down for it, “Right then - James, you first,”

James curled his fist into the power to grab a decent hand full of it and stepped into the fireplace - he cleared his throat and said clearly, “The Burrow!” In a flash of green flame, he was gone.

“Me next, me next!” Lily stepped forwards, full of enthusiasm - Lily never volunteered to go first with anything, but Merlin forbid she went last. In a flash of green flame, Harry was left alone with his youngest son.

“Come on love,” Harry gave him an encouraging nudge forwards - much like his father, Albus was distinctly not a fan of floo travel.

Reluctantly, Albus took a fistful of the powder, “Why can’t we just apparate?” He grumbled, “and save ourselves the soot,”

“Side along apparating all of you is a bit much - not sure your mother would be best pleased if I splinched you all into one enormous mutant child,” Albus grunted, “It would save on the food bill though, you’re right - I’ll suggest it to her over lunch,” the look Albus gave him could only be described as withering - he too disappeared in a flash of green flame.

Now with no witnesses, Harry let his own feelings of displeasure escape - grimacing as he took a fist full of powder, he placed the pot back where it belonged, and reluctantly stepped into the fireplace. Yes, he could technically apparate himself at this point, but he’d never hear the end of it.

Taking a bracing breath in, he called out clearly, “The Burrow!”

Harry had found, over the years, that the best method to avoid braining yourself on a mantel piece, or losing your lunch on the way out of the fireplace, was to keep your eyes firmly open to watch the other fireplaces rush past and then, just as you were slowing down, to thrust your arms out ahead of yourself so that if you did fall, at least you wouldn’t smash your face on the floor. This technique hadn’t steered him wrong in over ten years, except for that time he decided to floo after getting extremely drunk with Ron at the Leaky Cauldron but, honestly, he wasn’t sure what else he’d expected. Ginny hadn’t been pleased with the mess - the vomit or the blood.  

The spinning was beginning to slow now, and Harry employed his well tested method, thrusting his hands ahead of himself as the Burrow came into view. Despite his best effort, he still stumbled on his way out, but a pair of hands steadied him.

“Harry!” familiar arms pulled him into a warm embrace - he twisted his head slightly to avoid a mouthful of brown hair and squeezed back.

“‘Lo ‘Mione,” she stepped back, hands on his shoulders and grinning widely, “How have you been?”

He ushered her to the side of the fireplace - it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been taken out at the knees by another Weasley arriving for this particular gathering. Unsurprisingly, the Burrow was a sea of chaos already - children sprinting through the house and adults precariously carrying plates and dishes out into the garden (Bill and George nodded and called out their greeting as they trouped passed laden with plates). The Weasley’s kitchen, unsupervised as far as he could see, was in full swing, cooking an entire banquet autonomously. One of the peelers had apparently found a particular potato unsatisfactory however and launched it with prejudice through the open window into the garden (outside, someone let out a furious “What the fuck?!” And someone else shushed them angrily and snapped, “George Weasley, watch your language!”).

“I’m great thanks! How about you?” Her grin suddenly felt too wide, and his heart sank just a little bit.

He hoped it wasn’t going to be a whole evening of people anxiously asking how he was. It felt insensitive to say that, actually, filing for divorce had been like removing a millstone from around his neck.

“I’m well, thank you,” he flashed her what he hoped was an acceptable smile, “Where’re Ron and the kids?”

She scowled, “Rose and Hugo are out ‘de-gnoming’ the garden,” she made physical quotation marks with her hands, “More like trying to re-home the gnomes - honestly, I don’t understand why they don’t want a crup or a kneazle like most other kids!” Her hands settled on her hips, “And Ronald got called into work on an emergency this morning,”

“Oh? I hope everything’s okay?”

She waved away his concern, “Something about an explosion in an empty shop in Knockturn Alley - I’m not really sure why they needed him to be honest, it doesn’t sound like the sort of thing you call the boss in for - and on a Sunday as well!”  

When Harry had caused a minor scandal by turning down the position of Head Auror - one he hadn’t even applied for but had been offered anyway - the position had been put out for interview, and no one but the man himself had been surprised when Ron got the job. He deserved it and, in Harry’s opinion, Ron was much better suited to the position than he ever had been. It had triggered Ron’s career to take off like a rocket, while Harry’s had quietly fizzled to nothingness. He didn’t mind though - instead he had made a lateral move when the dust had long settled and found himself a new professional niche in the Department of Mysteries acting as the resident specialist on all things dark magic.

“Must be serious-,” anything else he might have said was interrupted by the fire filling with bright green flame and a gangly body spilling out of it. Harry instinctively leapt forward, preventing the person from toppling to the floor. A shock of turquoise hair gave away who it was instantly.

“Uncle Harry!” He was nearly bowled over by the six-foot teenager barrelling into his chest, “It's so good to see you!! And Aunt Hermione!”

At his shoulder, Hermione called out her greeting, “Hello Teddy!”

“You too Ted - Merlin when did you get so tall!” Harry returned his hug just as fiercely - wrapping his arms around the boy’s shoulders and making him bend down to Harry’s height so they could embrace properly, “Or should I say, Head-boy Edward Lupin,” he teased lightly, releasing him; Teddy’s cheeks flushed but he looked quietly proud, eyes flicking between his godfather and Hermione.

“Congratulations!” Said Hermione, with an edge of wistfulness, no doubt still disappointed she had missed out on the opportunity to be head-girl back in their day, “I bet your grandmother was proud,”  

“She was - she must have written about a dozen letters bragging about it,” he admitted, “Aunt Cissy insisted on taking us out for lunch - it was nice! She was disappointed you couldn’t come though Harry,”

That he and Narcissa Malfoy had somehow become weird penpals would never not be surreal - ever since the trials, she had insisted on writing to him at least once a month, and it had felt rude to leave them unanswered.

“I know, sorry bud - if it makes you feel better, I really did try and dodge that blasting curse. I’d much rather have been eating scones with Narcissa than regrowing my big toe in St Mungo’s,”

Teddy looked quietly impressed, “You had to regrow your toe?”

“Yes, it’s not quite the same though,” he said, wiggling his foot demonstratively and feeling genuinely a little sad for his maimed appendage.

“I think Victoire was looking for you in the garden Teddy,” said Hermione lightly and the boy didn’t need to be told twice, disappearing without saying goodbye. Harry wondered if this was what passed for subtlety in her house-hold - Ron wasn’t an idiot by any means, but he always did have a bit of a blind spot when it came to his wife. Hermione tugged on his hand, “Come and sit with me a while,” reluctantly, Harry allowed himself to be pulled up to the kitchen counter and onto a stool - they were strangely camouflaged by the working kitchen, utensils and pans and food flying about their heads. The peeler banished another potato, and a different voice yelped in surprise.

With a wave of her wand, Hermione summoned a bubbling tea pot towards them and quietly poured each of them a cup, adding the appropriate amount of milk and sugar. Harry waited for her to speak, knowing she would not be dissuaded and that if he were to speak first, they would never get to the heart of the issue.

“So,” she said finally, “How are you really?” There it was.

“I’m fine,” he said kindly, but firmly - her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Really ‘Mione - I’m fine, I think we both are,”

She blew slowly over her tea to cool it, “That’s what Ginny said too,” she admitted.

“Because it’s the truth!” he said with a laugh, summoning the biscuit tin over and fishing out a hob-knob - he offered it to Hermione, but she shook her head.

“I know it’s none of my business,” she admitted, “It’s just… it’s just so unexpected! And I worry about you Harry. I just wish I understood - I worry that you wouldn’t tell anyone the truth if you were secretly not fine at all,” she caught his hand before he could stress eat another biscuit, “We love you, you know, we all do,” her gentle words sparked a knee-jerk rush of adrenaline - Ginny had told her, “And Molly herself said, even if you’re not married, you’re still a Weasley like the rest of us - I don’t want you thinking you don’t belong or some nonsense,” the panic dissipated - no, of course Ginny hadn’t said anything, she’d sworn she wouldn’t, “You can talk to me,”  

He squeezed her hand and hesitated, “I…,” her look intensified, “It’s not that I don’t think I can talk to you - I know that I can - I’m just not ready to,” if anything, the look of concern on her face doubled, and he regretted his choice of words, “And that’s not because anything is necessarily wrong ‘Mione,” he said with a weak chuckle, “I just don’t have the words right now,” her look took on a peculiar considering edge, as if she were truly seeing him for the first time.

Fortunately, Ginny had the timing of a saint, and saved him from any awkward mid-tea confessions.

“Harry!” she appeared suddenly in the doorway leading to the garden - he jumped up so quickly that only Hermione’s quick spell work saved him from pouring scalding hot tea down himself, “Come on!” she said brightly, “Mum wants us to set up the tables!”

“Yup - coming,” he flashed Hermione a weak smile and scrambled to follow his soon-to-be-ex-wife into the garden.

A chorus of “Hello Harry!” greeted him - as Hermione had said, Hugo and Rose were indeed flinging gnomes about the garden with glee, gaining height by standing atop a tree stump (Harry noticed with amusement, that a beady eye was peering out at them from inside a satchel leant against the stumps base - he’d let Hermione know before they ‘accidentally’ took the little beastie home) while their cousins, aunts, and uncles, whooped and cheered them on from by the broom shed, groaning collectively if their throws fell short of the high hedge and left a dazed gnome to stumble back into the fray. Percy looked mildly disapproving, while Fleur in particular seemed to be cheering them on with an excessive amount of vitriol. He knew just enough French to be relieved that his children didn’t know any.

He followed Ginny further into the garden where three enormous tables and more chairs than he could easily count were stacked, “Thanks for the rescue,”

She smiled knowingly, “ You looked like you needed it,” she freed her wand from her pocket and pointed it at the tables - they shuddered before surrendering to her command and soaring through the air to settle in the middle of the garden. A sweep of his own wand had the chairs joining the tables, positioning themselves smartly in rows.

“She means well,” he said reluctantly, “But she’s never been one to suffer a mystery,”

“She tried to corner me when I arrived as well,” Ginny confessed, napkins now materialising from the end of her wand and soaring to the tables under Harry’s guidance, “We’ve been separated for over a year, I don’t know why everyone’s so surprised,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Probably because we’re like this,” she glanced over at him in confusion, “We’ve kind of fallen back into our old ways - familiar, friendly. Certainly not what I’d expect from a couple about to get divorced either,”

She hummed her acknowledgment of his point and then hesitated, “Things would be easier if you told them the truth,” she said frankly, never one to beat around the bush, “I’m not saying you should,” she clarified, “Not before you’re ready - but it would be easier for them to understand why we’re not slinging shit at each other, or avoiding each other like the plague,” Harry had to dodge when the napkins unexpectedly became forks, “Sorry,” she said mildly, redirecting her wand to point skyward so there was a reduced risk of Harry being skewered, “They’d all be okay with it you know,”

He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, “I know,” he insisted, “Should probably tell the kids first though,"

“When were you thinking?” they were briefly interrupted by a gnome careening straight into Harry’s head, nearly knocking his glasses from his face (“Sorry Uncle Harry!!”) - he wrestled briefly with the little bastard before he finally untangled its fingers from his hair and threw it as far away from himself as he could, “I think we should diffindo them and be done with it,” Ginny muttered darkly, “Let’s see them find their way back with no head,” he looked at her reproachfully when she fired an especially sharp looking fork after the gnome that had been in his hair - it let out a tiny howl of outrage.

“Little bit murderous for Sunday lunch, don’t you think?” Ginny only hummed in response, “Maybe the Christmas holidays?” he said, continuing their earlier conversation, “We could all stay together for break and tell them then? James goes to Hogwarts in two days, hardly fair to dump it on him and kick him out immediately,”  

They were interrupted again, this time by Lily appearing in front of them looking especially innocent, Hector clutched to her chest - Harry was immediately suspicious, “Mummy, Daddy - when you get divorced, does that mean we get double Christmas presents?”

“No.” They answered firmly as one, and the act was immediately dropped, Hector swinging by Lily’s side as she stalked away muttering about ‘What’s the point of parents getting divorced if you don’t even get extra presents?’.

“Well at least they’re not scarred by us being separated,” Ginny said tartly, shaking her head and moving onto summoning the plates and bowls left in the kitchen (Charlie had to dive to the side to avoid being smashed in the face by a gravy boat), “Christmas sounds good,” she agreed, “Then what?”

“Then, maybe start telling people in small groups. Ron and Hermione to start with obviously,”

“Obviously,” she parroted back at him, “I think Ron’s finding it really difficult that there’s no side to take. I think it’s weirding him out that we’re being so amicable,”

“We might be getting divorced, but you’re still my best friend,” said Harry defensively.

“Aww Harry, you’re my best friend too!” she pulled him into a fierce hug - dropping her wand, and all of Molly’s dishes would have smashed down to the ground were it not for Harry quickly casting to catch them, all while enveloped in her arms, “Now come on you big softy, this table isn’t going to set itself,”

Harry ended up seated between Ginny and Molly at dinner, despite Ginny’s best efforts to seat both of them as far from her meddling mother as possible. Like Hermione, she meant well, but she seemed to be having difficulty with accepting that they really were getting divorced. She glanced between them sadly throughout the evening, even pausing to dab her eyes discreetly when Ginny was laughing particularly uproariously at Harry’s misfortune (the gnome that had been in Hugo’s satchel had made a surprise appearance, sprinting across the table, fork in hand with a tiny war cry - his goal had been Harry’s Yorkshire pudding, and Harry had cursed blue murder trying to wrestle his dinner back from stupid thing). Ginny had finally had enough.

“Oh, stop it now mother,” she said with a scowl, “I don’t know why you’re crying - we hardly look upset do we?!”

Harry was grateful that everyone else very pointedly continued with their own conversations, only pausing briefly perhaps to look out of the corner of their eyes. Angelina took the opportunity to divert her mother-in-law and ask extremely specific and detailed questions about how she had prepared the deserts (for of course there were multiple) - Molly reluctantly allowed her attention to be drawn away, looking faintly embarrassed at being called out about her wistful stares.

“So, Harry,” started Bill (who was sat opposite him) with an easy smile, sidestepping any awkwardness, “How’s work been?”

“You know,” said George, interrupting, “I always thought that not being able to speak about work was kind of the point of being an Unspeakable, William,” Bill rolled his eyes and elbowed his younger brother sharply in his ribs.

Work had actually been pretty terrible recently - someone had broken into one of the most highly guarded vaults in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries (and from his bloody department no less) and stolen some very specific but only mildly concerning items, considering what else was up for grabs. The current theory was that it was a pure-blood fanatic - all they had taken were the diary and wand that had once belonged to one Tom Marvalo Riddle. It was more concerning, in Harry’s eyes, that they had managed to break in at all.

But, of course, as George had pointed out, he couldn’t say any of this, so what he said instead was, “It’s fine,” with a shrug, and he took the opportunity to spoon more tiramisu into his mouth, “How about you? How’s Gringotts?”

When everyone had eaten their fill, the Weasley’s adult children and their significant others formed a surprisingly efficient plate cleaning production line. Meanwhile, Mr Weasley regaled his grandchildren with a detailed examination of the blender he had recently acquired, to varying effect - Fred and Hugo were very obviously snoring throughout the demonstration, whereas Rose had found a quill and parchment and was taking intense notes.

“Don’t you have a blender?” Harry had muttered quietly to Hermione.

“We do,” she admitted, “But it’s not like being muggleborn stopped me from taking muggle studies,” she looked faintly embarrassed, “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,”  

When it was time to leave, Molly wouldn’t let a single person leave through the floo without first holding them in a tight embrace and kissing their cheek.

“You’re coming to Kings-Cross on Tuesday, aren’t you dad?” James had asked whilst waiting his turn for a kiss goodbye from his grandmother before floo’ing home - to Ginny’s home this time.

“‘Course I am!” Harry assured him.

James hesitated, “You won’t be too embarrassing though, will you?”

Harry only threw back his head and laughed, refusing to either confirm or deny the accusation.  

When Molly said goodbye to him, she gave him a particularly fierce hug before holding both his cheeks in her hands, tipping his face down slightly to compensate for their height difference, “We love you son, no matter what,” he’d swallowed back the sudden urge to cry, “Now don’t be a stranger - I expect to see you at least twice a month for dinner,” he nodded, finding himself unable to speak, and stepped into the fireplace. He struggled so much with his address, it was a miracle he didn’t end up in the wrong hearth.

 


 

31st of August 2015 - London, The Ministry for Magic

It didn’t matter if Harry worked at the ministry for another twenty years, he would never understand why some employees voluntarily stood inside a toilet every day to gain access to their place of employment. There was apparating, and if you couldn’t apparate, you could use the floo system, and if you didn’t have access to the floo system, you better learn to fucking apparate.

Harry usually apparated in, then floo’d home. This was the perfect balance he found - he didn’t fall on his arse in the main atrium in front of everybody in the morning, and he didn’t splinch himself apparating home exhausted at the end of the day. Plus, he’d learnt to apparate with a cup of coffee in hand - something he was especially proud of. The first time he’d tried it however, the coffee had exploded unexpectedly in his hand and showered him in boiling liquid.  

This morning wasn’t quite as bad as that, but it still wasn’t going well.

He’d been crossing the atrium, still half asleep and minding his own business when- “Potter!”

The unexpected shout made him jump and turn in alarm, straight into a witch rushing passed. She hurried onwards, barely pausing to wave a hand to accept his apology. While she wasn’t any worse for wear for the encounter, Harry’s coffee definitely was. He stared down in disappointment at the mess his drink had made of the floor and the bottom of his trousers. He sighed before scourgifying the mess away and turning his attention to whoever had ruined his morning.

A somewhat sheepish Draco Malfoy was coming his way, his hand raised both in greeting but primarily, he thought, to get his attention, “Potter!” shooting the spot on the floor where his coffee had been a last mournful look, Harry started making his way across the atrium to meet Draco in the middle.

“Morning Draco,” he said mildly, as they met in front of the atrium's statue, “I really do hope that whatever you want is worth my morning coffee,”

“Ah, yes, apologies - I didn’t mean to startle you,”  

If going for tea and biscuits with Narcissa Malfoy had been a surprise, then his strangely good working relationship with Draco Malfoy of all people had been downright shocking.

Unlike Harry, Draco had joined the Department of Mysteries straight after gaining his NEWTs - Harry had heard they were the only Ministry department who even entertained the notion of offering him gainful employment. When he worked as an Auror, Harry had not so much as brushed elbows with him in the queue for the floo home, let alone worked with the man. In fact, the prospect of working with his childhood nemesis was the only thing that had made him hesitant to move departments.

Fortunately, that was a concern that turned out to be baseless. Firstly, Harry rarely worked with others except maybe on a consultation basis, and secondly, the man had been nothing but polite and vaguely friendly. Harry hadn’t asked, but he was fairly certain that that had been Narcissa’s influence - she had asked some rather pointed questions about her sons conduct shortly after he’d moved departments. He’d changed a lot since school, not just in personality but in appearance too.  

Though they had both obviously aged, Harry knew he’d be kidding himself if he said he’d aged quite as gracefully as Draco had. Tending to favour long, sweeping robes that ended below his knees, and with his platinum hair coifed smartly out of his eyes, he certainly cut a striking figure when he crossed the atrium. He managed to exude the air of grace and elegance his father had had before him, without the side of sneering disgust. Harry, meanwhile, had mostly retained his seeker-esque physique, being not especially tall but maintaining a decent amount of lean muscle. His hair was just as wild as it had ever been, giving the constant impression that he’d only just rolled out of bed and dragged himself to work, only now he often had stubble to really drive home the haggard impression. The faint, tired bags under his eyes only added to his mildly erratic appearance - like he was both on the verge of something brilliant or falling asleep unexpectedly.

Draco however, was, in a word, handsome, and the source of much of Harry’s light daydreaming, and had (unwittingly of course) been the catalyst for Harry’s divorce. It was nothing more than an idle daydream though. Sexuality aside, unlike Harry, Draco was, in fact, in love with his wife. He’d met Astoria once before while she waited for Draco in the atrium, and he had been immediately charmed by her.  

“Not a problem, what can I do for you?”

“I received a memo as soon as I arrived this morning - Crocker wants to see us both in his office immediately,”

Saul Crocker had been the department head for the DoM since before Harry had worked there - being summoned to his office was always a sign off trouble, either personal or organisational.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I haven’t done anything particularly controversial recently so I suppose we can presume we’re not about to be raked over the coals for something,” he held out his arm, palm open and gesturing to the lifts, “After you,” they walked side by side; Draco produced his wand and with a twirl and conjured a replacement cup of coffee - Harry wrinkled his nose, “Ah thank you but no, I always find conjured coffee gives me heartburn,” he admitted, rubbing his chest as if in sympathy for past pain.

Draco snorted and kept the coffee for himself, taking a delicate sip, “Suit yourself - do you always assume you’re in trouble when someone calls you to their office?”  

“Do you not?” Harry said, genuinely baffled - the idea had never occurred to him, surely it was a universal experience in the face of authority figures.  

“No,” Draco said mildly, pushing the button for the lift, “Not all of us spent our school career running around getting into as much trouble as humanly possible,” he glanced over his shoulder in mild disapproval as an arriving worker bumped into him - as happened every morning, a small crowd was gathering to wait for the lifts.

“In my defence,” Harry matched his tone, peering up slightly with their height difference, “I don’t think the rest of you had Voldemort trying to kill you every school year,” an empty lift arrived, and the doors slid open, “And by that, I mean you specifically, rather than being collectively targeted by a megalomaniac,”

“Well, I suppose I should give you that,” they stepped forward into the lift - Draco held out a hand to stop the crowd behind them from stepping in after, and slammed the gate shut.

The wizard who had bumped into Draco’s shoulder looked outraged, “Are you joking?!” He cried.

“Not even a little bit,” Draco jabbed his finger on the level nine button and the lift began to descend.  

“Some people would say that was rude,”

“Yes, and some people would stand in a packed elevator that stopped at every single other floor while on their way to an important meeting,” Draco snarked, resting his back against the elevator wall to face Harry.

Harry could only grin in amusement, “You’re such a dick,” he commented, though it wasn’t particularly a criticism.

“Someone’s got to be,” Draco raised his wand and gave it a smart flick, “How about conjured tea?” a cup hovered between them, “Or does this one give you indigestion?” He said mockingly, “It’s hard getting older, isn’t it Potter,”.

Harry snatched the cup out of the air with a scowl, “Well now you’re just being mean,” Draco let out a bark of laughter, “Any idea what Crocker wants?”

The elevator made to come to a stop at level two, but Draco prompted the lift to continue onwards with a smart flick of his wand.

“Not even slightly - it can’t be good if I’m needed though,” Harry could only nod as if he understood the gravity of whatever it was Draco worked on - he imagined Draco had no idea what he did either, “Anyway, how are you? How’s the wife?”

The question was just inane small talk to pass the time. Harry hesitated, knowing he was about to make this small talk into unexpected big talk. Ah fuck it - they’d agreed to start telling people, and it would be weird if Draco found out later, after Harry had side stepped the issue now.

“In the first steps of becoming the ex-wife actually,” he admitted lightly.

Draco froze, clearly taken by surprise, his mouth dropping slightly before he attempted a recovery, “I, uh, I didn’t know that," he said tentatively.

Harry chuckled lightly, sipping his tea and relaxing against the wall, “Calm down, you’ve got such a deer in headlights look on your face,”

Draco’s expression became confused, “A what in what? Actually wait-,” he held up a firm hand, “I don’t want to know, I’ll just presume it means I look startled or something,” Draco’s face dropped into one of disdain when Harry used his wand to conjure the sound of light applause in the elevator, “Yes, thank you for that - anyway, should I be giving my condolences, or congratulations?”

Harry was impressed by how quickly the other had recovered - he glanced at the elevator numbers to see they were just passing level five; these lifts were always so slow first thing in the morning.

“Uuh, neither I think actually?” he said hesitantly, “We’ve not like had a big bust up or anything - actually she’s still probably the best friend I have,”

“Why are you getting divorced then?” Draco asked slowly, overriding the elevator again when it tried to stop at level seven.

(“Oh for fucks sake, Malfoy!!” echoed above them).

“You should probably be in love with the person your married to,” Harry said shrewdly, “And I love Ginny more than probably anyone else, other than our kids, but I wasn’t in love with her, and she deserves to have that,”

Draco nodded, clearly contemplating what he’d said, “That sounds like a difficult situation to be in,” he finally said diplomatically, just as the lift came to a shuddering stop at level nine, “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry,”

“It was,” Harry agreed, stepping through the lift door and heading down the corridor towards the administrative side of the DoM, “And thank you Draco,” Draco only nodded, “How about you anyway? How’s Astoria and Scorpius? Did she get the letter I sent her?”

Draco stopped abruptly, “Why are you writing to my wife?” he asked incredulously, more confused than threatened.

“We share a mutual interest!” Harry flashed him a cheeky grin, opening the door that led to the administration corridor, “We compare notes on what pastries are best used to bribe your mother,”

Draco tipped his head back and groaned (if Harry’s eyes got stuck momentarily on the long line of the others neck, he felt he couldn’t be blamed), finally stepping through the threshold, “Are you the reason she was making French fancies all last month?! I gained half a stone Potter!” He looked down at his middle in dismay, “Mother pinched my cheeks and said it was like looking at my baby photos,” he grumbled. Harry could only cackle as they meandered through the corridor, finally coming to Crocker’s office door, “Oh shut up, at least pretend to be professional,”

Harry rolled his eyes and barely resisted sticking out his tongue while Draco rapped his knuckles smartly on the door.

“Come in!” Saul Crocker was a willowy man of nearly eighty years old, tall and slender with fingers like spider's legs, and a shrewd look about his face - his beady black eyes narrowed as they stepped through the door, “Ah Potter, Malfoy, you received my memo? Take a seat,” they did as they were bid (Harry suppressed a shudder as the office’s privacy charms washed over him), with a mumbled good morning, “I’m sorry to summon you to my office so early, but there’s been an incident in Knockturn Alley over the weekend - a shop exploded,” he twisted in his chair to reach for the pile of files stacked behind him, and selected two, pushing them across the desk for the men to take.

Harry leafed through it, skimming the information, his eyes lingering on a photo of a smoking bordered up shop, and then on a photo of a shrivelled and burnt human body curled into the foetal position. He jolted when he recognised something on the next photo, looking up sharply at Crocker but keeping mum - they weren’t called Unspeakables for nothing.

Crocker merely nodded, “You both have clearance to discuss any classified activities you are involved with, so long as it is pertinent to this case,”

“That’s Tom Riddles wand and diary!” Harry said, nearly exploding, “Are we saying this,” he jabbed his finger at the curled-up corpse, “Is the wizard who stole them?”

Draco expressed no surprise or concern that such items had been stolen from the department, instead he was tracing his finger over the picture in front of him, “The is a rune circle,” he said slowly.

Harry flipped to his own copy of the photo to see a strange, almost ceremonial looking circle. It wasn’t particularly clear in the photo, but he could make out: a small circle in the centre surrounded by two other larger rings working outwards, and four lines like spokes on a wheel crossing in the middle and ending in a circle (just big enough for a man to stand in) of their own. If he had to guess from the photo, he’d have said the whole thing was ten to twelve feet in a diameter and seemed to take up almost all of the floor space in the room.

Crocker nodded sagely, “The Aurors took these photos, then someone with a brain decided we should be involved - but only after finding the missing journals of Eloise Mintumble,” he said disdainfully. Next to him, Draco went pale.

“That name rings a bell,” Harry said slowly, “Wait don’t tell me - didn’t she do something stupid with time?”

“Yes, something very stupid,” Draco said faintly, “She travelled back five hundred years, and got stuck there for five days,” Harry winced, sipping his cooling tea, “And then she aged five hundred years when they got her back, and at least twenty five people became unborn,”

Harry whistled lowly, “Well this all sounds very bad,” he said frankly, “So I’m gonna' go ahead and guess you work with time?”

Draco nodded, “Something like that - and you with dark magical artefacts?”

He shrugged, “Eh something like that,” it amused him to no end that, despite being given the go ahead to discuss their work with one another, they were both still talking in vague circles, “Anyway, I’m guessing you want us to head to the scene?”

Crocker nodded, steepling his fingers together on his chest, “Yes, make the site safe, confiscate any relevant dark magical artefacts, and investigate what was being attempted before that wizard blew himself up,”

“Who is he anyway?” Harry flicked back to the photo of the shrivelled up burnt corpse, “‘Tiphys Pyrites’?” He read, “Huh, that rings a bell too,”

“He’s a known Death Eater,” said Draco, frowning distractedly as he skimmed his own folder, “That’ll be where you know him from - he was presumed dead though, was he hiding in that shop the whole time?”

“Hmm no that’s not where I know that name,” he mused.

“It’s been boarded up since the end of the second war, so perhaps,” Crocker, not sounding particularly interested in the who’s or the why’s - Harry supposed that was the purview of the Aurors, not them, “The Aurors are expecting you, I believe the Head Auror has been called to the scene,” he nodded meaningfully at Harry - at least that explained why Ron hadn’t come to dinner, “You’re dismissed gentlemen, I expect to be appraised of any significant findings as they occur, but otherwise I’ll leave it to your discretion as to when we meet again,” they nodded as one, filing out of the room and back towards the elevator.

Harry sighed, “He’s never been particularly verbose has he, old Crocker,” Draco only hummed, “I feel,” Harry continued, after pressing the elevator button, “That we’re about to have an incredibly shitty day,”

“I’ll buy you another coffee,” Draco grumbled, running his fingers through his hair, “Do you want to floo or apparate?” They stepped into the the lift and Draco jabbed the button for the atrium.

“Floo - Ron will have evacuated the entirety of Knockturn Alley as a minimum,” he said confidently, “possibly the nearest shops in Diagon Alley as well. Safer to just floo to the Leaky Cauldron and walk,” he gulped the rest of his tea and vanished the cup, eyeing the worried frown at Draco’s brow - he cast a strong privacy charm, “What are you thinking then? Must be bad, going by the constipated look on your face,”

Draco rolled his eyes, “That he was trying to travel in time, probably to stop Voldemort being defeated? Or maybe prevent his past self from becoming a Death Eater,” he said, “But if he was, he’s gone about it in a strange way - rune circles aren’t used for things like that,”

“What are they used for then?”

“Now? Not much at all, but before floo powder they were sometimes used to travel great distances - the ministry used to have one in the atrium before they put that massive statue on top,” Draco scowled when the lift made to stop, jabbing his wand aggressively at the controls, “What were you thinking?”

“Someone trying to resurrect Tom Riddle,” Harry answered immediately, no hesitation - Draco looked at him curiously, “What? It happens more than you’d think - a whole host of pure-blood extremists are essentially keeping me in a job if I’m honest,”

“How many times?” Draco asked curiously.

“If we include this time - which I do - four times,”

Draco looked disappointed, “Four times isn’t that many times,”

Harry scoffed, “It bloody well is,” he pointed an accusatory finger at the other, “If my excuse for missing important family events was ‘someone tried to resurrect this guy again’ - the same guy - four times, are you telling me you’d believe me more than once?”

Draco turned incredulous, “You missed family events four-!”

“That’s not what I said,” Harry interrupted firmly, refusing to elaborate as the lift finally reached the atrium - the matter was dropped entirely once they stepped out of the enclosed lift where a privacy charm would be less reliable.  

“How’s Edward by the way?” Draco asked suddenly as they strode towards the row of fireplaces reserved for exiting the ministry at this time in the morning, “I hear congratulations are in order - head-boy at Hogwarts!”

“He’s very proud of himself, as is Andromeda,” their conversation was temporarily interrupted by them reaching the fireplaces - one after the other, they took a pinch of floo powder and cried ‘The Leaky Cauldron!’ - Harry continued when they were side by side again in the dingy pub, “He seems to have shot up a foot since I last saw him,” he complained, inclining his head to Tom, who was eyeing the DoM pins on their robes curiously, “They have to be putting growth potions in the pumpkin juice at Hogwarts - he must have been pushing six foot!”

Draco smirked slowly at him as they stepped out into Diagon Alley, immediately noticing the buzz of excitement and anxiety in the air, “If they were putting growth potions in the pumpkin juice when we were at school, they must have missed your dose,”

Harry only rolled his eyes - at five foot eight he was only slightly below the UK national average (he had checked), but it seemed that this average was not quite accurate for witches and wizards, “Yes, but of the two of us, who defeated a notorious dark lord - twice?” they had to start politely pushing their way through the gathering crowd at this point - they must be close.

“The first time you were a baby,” Draco scoffed, “That hardly counts! Plus, if you’d gotten it right the first-time round, you wouldn’t have had to have a second stab at it,”

Ron was finally in sight, hands on his hips looking faintly murderous as he watched his minions keep the crowd at bay.

“Yes, let’s blame the eighteen-month-old for failing to vanquish the greatest dark lord of our time - you’re ridiculous,” he raised a hand to gain Ron’s attention as they approached the ward hovering mid-air that prevented the advancement of any on-lookers, “Ron!”

Ron’s eyes snapped immediately to his and he visibly sagged in relief, crying, “Let them through!” sharply to the hit-wizard closest to them. A flick of the wizard’s wand had the barrier opening immediately to admit them, before it snapped sharply back into place with a little show of red sparks. Ron shooed away his underlings at their approach, “Morning Harry, Malfoy,” he nodded at Draco, his gaze lingering briefly. He’d never quite warmed to the Slytherin.

“Good morning Head Auror Weasley,” said Draco, the picture of perfect polite professionalism - the sudden formality felt surreal and reminded Harry that, strangely, they were kind of friends.

“Guessing Crocker sent you?” he sighed at their nod, “Well if the DoM are taking this seriously enough to send you two here, I should probably feel less annoyed at Higgens for ruining my Sunday - how was dinner by the way? I was gutted I couldn’t come,” Rom said forlornly.

“It was amazing,” Harry admitted sympathetically, “One of your children threw a gnome at my head,”

“I always miss the fun ones,” Ron grumbled, while Draco glanced between them with a slightly incredulous expression, “Anyway - to business I suppose otherwise we’ll end up missing seeing the kids off tomorrow morning and you won’t be the only one getting divorced,” Ron immediately looked faintly guilty, even though Harry had only laughed at his comment - he continued after clearing his throat, “There was an explosion around seven am yesterday morning - the flat above number six,” he pointed through the entrance of Knockturn Alley, where Harry could indeed see smoke rising lazily into the air, “The shop and flat have both apparently been empty since before the second war - looks like it’s actually been occupied this whole time though. There’s evidence of a broken fidelius charm - the working theory is that that’s what actually caused the explosion. Can’t be sure though obviously - a charm’s specialist will be having a look when you two are done,” Ron beckoned to them, and they followed him down the deserted alley as he spoke.

Harry freed his wand from its holster and started silently casting, small white lights flying this way and that, inspecting the alley for any untoward magic.

“Crocker said you found journals belonging to Eloise Mintumble,” said Draco, “Where are they?”

“Everything was put back where it was found so it’s back in the flat. Considering the size of the explosion, there wasn’t actually that much damage, except for, well-,”

“The charred rema ins of Tiphys Pyrites?” Harry said lightly.

Ron grimaced and nodded, “We think he might have been his own secret keeper - never a good idea. Anyway, as soon as the journals were found, we figured this was a bit more than dark magic gone awry, and I owled Crocker. I’d quite like to avoid accidentally sending the whole of Knockturn Alley back in time two hundred years if I can,” he finally came to a stop, gesturing to the smoking building - the air shimmered all around it, a strong ward simultaneously keeping anything dangerous inside, and everyone else out, “Anyway, here we are,” Draco drew his wand as well, eyeing the building suspiciously, “Need me to come in with you?”

“Nah mate, you know how it is - Department of Mysteries kind of loses its mysterious edge if you start following us about,” Harry joked, calling the small white balls of light that were bouncing along the alley back to his wand with a sharp flick - the tense pull of Ron’s shoulders relaxed immediately, “We’ll come and let you know when it’s safe to reduce the exclusion perimeter,” with another flick of his wand, the section immediately in front of the shops front door began to raise up - like a curtain that had been caught with a hook and pulled, “See you in a bit,”

Draco and Harry ducked inside (Harry offering Ron a cheery wave) and the ward settled back into place with a slight whooshing sound.

With the ward in place, all outside noise disappeared, leaving them in the strangely silent shop. They caught one another’s eye at the same time and nodded, raising their wands defensively and advancing forward. Harry gave Draco another appreciative nod when, with a sweep of his wand, Draco cloaked them both in an advanced shielding charm.

The ground floor was unremarkable - empty counters and empty shelves, and an empty brass till were all there was to see, except perhaps for the alarmingly large spiders that skittered around in the dust. No wonder Ron had been relieved he hadn’t needed to come inside again. Harry cast a simple revealing charm in their direction, but unsurprisingly they were just normal spiders, even if they were unusually enormous.

Draco inclined his head in the direction of the staircase - the banister and its rungs were visibly splintered, “Ready?”

Harry nodded cautiously, and together they advanced again, both of them casting detecting spell after revealing spell after neutralising spell, working through every one they knew as they approach the stairs. The place appeared clean.

Draco held Harry back with a palm to his chest, “I’ll go first,” he insisted, “I’m not coming to get you from the sixteenth century,” he added. Harry acquiesced - he couldn’t help but agree that he was the one most likely to inadvertently trigger some kind of time booby trap. Draco’s eyes were narrowed in concentration as he proceeded up the stairs, peering cautiously over his shoulder into the room behind him above the shop - he paused, “It looks fine - super fucking weird but fine,” together, they emerged onto the first floor.

Harry could only agree - it was super fucking weird, “I would not recommend touching anything without monitoring that specific item for magical activity,” he warned the other, “I’ve been burnt before,” he added at Draco’s enquiring look.

The photos didn’t quite do the scene's unnerving quality justice. The walls were lined with shelves - but unlike the shelves in the shop, these were full to the brim with books, and measuring instruments, and jars filled with brine and body parts, and potion ingredients - all in various states of disrepair and decay. The musty smell was nearly over powering, and only his reluctance to introduce complicated charms with unquantified elements into the room prevented him from casting a bubble head charm. Multiple desks were scattered about the room - their wood splintered like the banister. Like the shelves, they were covered in items - mostly what looked like hand-written notes and broken quills and empty ink bottles. Like Draco however, the majority of Harry’s attention was taken up by the rune circle that took up almost all of the floor space.

The photos had been lacking detail, that much was now clear. The rings and their four intersecting lines had not been simply drawn on the floor - instead they had been etched as deep grooves into the wood, splintering the boards, and filled in with what looked like thick rivers of congealed blood. In the negative arches between the lines and rings were what looked like runes and mathematical equations - arithmancy perhaps? The eight rings at the end of each spoke of this strange wheel were not empty either.

He walked slowly around the circle’s perimeter to inspect it more closely. At the upper most ring, furthest from him and closest to Draco, was the scorched silhouette of two feet - Pyrites body lay just beyond it. In the three to the right were: a small pile of glittering sand, a large hourglass filled with some kind of golden liquid, and a twelve sided dice, about the size of Harry’s fist, etched with what looked like more runes. In the three to the left were: Tom Riddle’s wand balanced precariously on its tip, his diary pinned open at the middle page with what looked like more blood staining the pages, and-  

“Is the body missing a chunk of skin off its forearm?” He asked mildly, masking how queasy he was actually feeling.

“What?” Draco - who had squatted down with a notebook and a quill - paused, focussing on the body before slowly saying, “How did you-,”

“Because his arm skin and it’s dark mark are part of the circle,” Draco grimaced and nodded, before continuing with his note making.

Harry drifted away from the circle to inspect the surface of the most heavily laden table, shuddering slightly to relieve some of his nervous energy. One particular book caught his eye - a textbook of some kind, the only one amongst tens of handwritten notebooks. After shooting off multiple revealing and disenchantment charms and finding nothing, he gingerly flipped the book closed with the tip of his wand so he could read the title.

“I knew I’d heard that name before,” he said triumphantly - Draco hummed, clearly distracted, “‘Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science’ written by Argo Pyrites,” Draco's hum was distinctly more interested this time, and Harry flicked the book back to the position it had been open at, “A relative? His father perhaps?”

“Maybe,” Draco agreed - Harry glanced over his shoulder to find the other man crouching over the spot where the scorched footmarks were and peering at the floorboards, “I can’t possibly see what alchemy has got to do with all this though - it’s… it’s all so strange,”

Intrigued, Harry turned to return to the outer edge of the circle, “How so?”

“The items all around the edge,” he pointed with his quill, “and the runes on the outer band - they’re all associated with travelling through time. Look - sand from a time turner, a time turner hourglass, and a dice of fate. And listen ‘sands of time bend thy fate to mine will’,” he recited from what Harry now realised were translations he had written down, “And the other items, they’re all to do with the Dark Lord obviously, but they’re all so nonspecific and chronologically vague - none of these indicate a particular time in his life. Was he wanting to travel to when he bought his wand? Or started his diary? Or gave Pyrites his dark mark?”

“Unless something is missing?” Harry murmured.

“Maybe - but look closer at the hourglass - what’s that liquid inside of it? And the runes on the inner band! They’re not about travelling through time at all, they’re all to do with travelling in space or- or across space. Look, that one - ‘send mine soul to that which I desire’ - what? And have you seen what’s in the centre?!” Harry hadn’t realised something was in the centre. Looking, he was equally intrigued and disgusted - a burnt and shrivelled basilisk head with its eyes plucked clean, and a large, scorched bird with beautiful red and gold plumage sprawled in front of it, “That's a phoenix Potter!”

He jolted in surprise, realising it was true, “What the fuck,” he whispered, leaning forward making the floorboard beneath his feet creek - looking down, he realised he had wandered onto the circle directly opposite the one that Pyrites and stood on, and where Draco was squatting now.

“There are more runes here - where he must have stood when he cast his spell and sent everything to hell,” Draco continued but Harry was only half listening - he shuffled his feet back slightly to reveal another scorch mark on the floor, “But I can barely make them out - they must have been damaged by the explosion,” he crouched to peer closer but the mark was too indistinct to establish what had once been there, “The light is so terrible up here! If I could just see more-,”

Harry’s neck snapped up - eyes fixing on Draco to find the other had drawn his wand and was holding the tip low to the ground above the mystery rune, and Harry knew what was going to happen before it did. He threw out his hand, willing it to bridge the distance between them.

WAIT!!

Lumos!” Draco’s eyes met his, startled.

There was a moment where it felt like all of the air had rushed out of the room, making his ears pop. And then there was only white.