He had walked at least two miles away from the rocky valley where they had set up their ragtag base and refugee camp.

The sky was a dull, persistent grey. There was a chill in the air that he combated with a heating charm, on top of the dark wizarding robes he was wearing.

Modesty trudged beside him, along with the Arden siblings. It was still strange, sometimes, seeing his sister after eight years. She was sixteen, her blonde hair cut short in a fashion that uncomfortably reminded Credence of Mary Lou Barebone – and she was no longer quite the scared child she used to be.

But then, neither was he.

"This should be the place," Credence said, finally, halting next to a narrow river.

Theseus Scamander had promised to deliver a message via his brother's creatures. Regular owls or pigeons weren't exactly safe – they learned that lesson the hard way the last time, and it had forced them to relocate.

Credence examined their surroundings. The narrow river ran through the entire woods, but they'd stopped in the center of it. The river rushed and whispered, the cheerful source of survival for the local wildlife.

This area they were in America had gotten lucky. It had avoided the magical devastation that Gellert Grindelwald had wrecked across the globe, enchanted explosions that left the lands in ruins and thousands dead, magical and non-magical alike.

"I still don't think you should put this much faith in this Albus Dumbledore of yours," said Esek Arden into the silence.

Esek was a Muggle and so was his sister Esther. They were no ordinary Muggles, however, but Scourer descendants. They had been raised for this moment in history – when the Statute of Secrecy would fall and everything would go to hell – and Credence didn't trust them.

Credence could barely trust his own sister, who had been taken in by the same Scourer faction that the Ardens were a part of.

This is why Albus has to return, he thought. Credence wasn't made for political maneuvering, never mind military leadership. All he could be was a weapon and nothing more.

He didn't argue with Esek, only started pacing to see if he could catch sign of Theseus' messenger. Suddenly, his eye caught a flash of blue.

Credence quickly grabbed it. He knew that Accio wouldn't work on a magical creature, and instead sent out a wisp of a shadow to snatch it, a jet black claw that shot out of his outstretched palm.

It was a Billywig. Credence took out his wand and trapped it in a shield charm bubble, not wishing to get stung, and he carefully dissipated the Obscurus claw.

"Credence Barebone," he said to the sapphire beetle. "We wait for light, but behold obscurity. For brightness, but we walk in darkness."

"Always the most dramatic watchwords," Esther said with a snort. Her arms were crossed and she watched the proceedings while leaning against a tree, her curled dark hair brushing against the trunk.

"The verses can never leave me, either," Modesty said, quietly. She met Credence's eyes briefly, then looked away.

Esek visibly grimaced. Despite Credence's wariness of him, at least he was in agreement about the Second Salemers' religious fanaticism.

The Scourers today were a complicated sort. The original Scourers were wizarding mercenaries who'd been targeted by MACUSA after enabling the events of the Salem Witch Trials.

The surviving Scourers passed on knowledge of the wizarding world to their children, as well as a grudge against magical authorities. Some of them brought cultish religion into the fold, while others formed what was essentially a secret organization of Muggles who kept a close eye on magical society, waiting for the day when they would reveal themselves.

Their motivations were murky and strange, and they were trusted merely because they were allies in the war against Grindelwald.

Credence shook off the thoughts of the Scourers from his head. It wouldn't do to dwell on their machinations.

He made himself concentrate as he listened to Theseus' message, a low voice that abruptly crackled from the Billywig's stinger. It was spelled so only he could hear it.

The message had just finished when they were attacked.

Credence immediately called Fawkes to his side, and the phoenix appeared in a burst of flame.

"Esek, Modesty, Esther, return to camp," he said in a low voice. "Make sure they're safe. I'll stay here."

Credence knew that he was the one they were after. Esek, Modesty, and Esther darted off, slipping away through the trees, and even after all this time, Credence found himself whispering a prayer to Modesty's retreating back.

The attackers were Grindelwald's followers, clad in dark blue cloaks that were inscribed with that familiar insignia of his. They circled the river, wands drawn.

Grimly, Credence stretched out his arms, gathering the shadows around his body. His vision flickered white.

As he gathered shadows, Fawkes gathered fire. The darkness and the light swirled together, Fawkes hovering behind him.

"If he wants me," Credence said to the blue-clad figures, "he'll have to come for me himself."

He swept the fire and shadows outward, an arc of grey and black and orange and red.

It got at least two of them—he could sense the moment when the gale of Obscurus wisps and phoenix fire burned the attackers, scorching against skin and strangling.

Spell fire erupted from the trees, jets of light hurling toward him and Fawkes. Credence swerved out of the way, his long shoulder length ponytail swaying as he moved, the mass of fire and shadow coalescing around him like a cocoon.

If Albus Dumbledore was here, he'd likely disapprove of Credence's heavy reliance on his Obscurus, with Fawkes usually present as a stabilizing factor. Albus had always tried to emphasize classic dueling techniques when he'd mentored Credence. Transfiguration, Charms, Defense – the words, the wand movements, the strategy.

Credence was used to being a blunt instinctual force. It was a difficult thing to grow out of.

He stalked toward the trees which the attackers were using as covers.

"I will burn you," he said, "if you don't Disapparate and tell your lord to face me in person. If he's here about the contents of the message I received today, tell him to send a Patronus."

He said it loudly as clearly as he could.

He continued, "I will meet him by myself, away from any of the Muggle refugees, and I will talk to him."

It was his last warning. He closed his eyes and summoned a storm.

He opened his eyes to a wasteland. Fawkes perched on his shoulder and started to sing a soft hymn that Credence had taught him.

The river was gone, and so was most of the woods.

Credence felt utterly drained. He staggered, then managed to use the last of his energy to Apparate back to camp.

He appeared to the sight of Esther standing over the bodies of three other Grindelwald followers.

"You missed the fun," she said, clipping a knife back onto her belt. It was a magical artifact that the Scourers had somehow managed to get their hands on; its blade was able to block most spells and it could even pierce Protego.

Esek emerged from one of the tents. Unlike Esther, he hadn't been trained to fight. "What did they want? The message?"

"Yes."

Esek swore. "We'll have to move camp again."

"I think he's willing to bargain," Credence said. He tried to smooth his uneven breathing, straightening his posture. "Wait for him to send word. I'll talk to him—"

His vision swam before his eyes. He slumped onto his knees, and he heard Modesty's worried voice. She ran over to bend beside him, and she said, "Brother."

She helped steady him and eased him onto a bed pallet in one of the tents.

"You can't keep doing this," she said, eyes narrowed, her mouth in a solemn frown. "The Scourers kept records on Obscurials. You'll burn yourself out from overuse. Even with Fawkes helping."

Credence wasn't certain what to say. He knew he had to keep the Scourers and refugees alive until Albus came back. He let out a soft sound like a sigh, and let unconsciousness pull him downward.

He woke up alone to an empty tent. A ghostly black phoenix blazed in front of him.

It spoke.

He met Gellert Grindelwald in the empty bowl of earth where the woods had stood, now a barren wasteland.

Grindelwald wore a dark cloak that fluttered in the cool night breeze. His blond hair was streaked with white, and his eyes were the same cold and fierce color of blue.

The last time they had seen each other, Credence remembered, it was a battlefield in the Forbidden Forest.

With the help of the dragons Newt led, the wizards and witches there managed to fight off Grindelwald and his forces. Hogwarts was still one of several remaining strongholds in Europe, its grounds overflowing with refugees both magical and non-magical alike.

After the battle, Credence had departed for America when the Scourers had contacted them. Sometimes he wished he hadn't left. Even if Albus was gone, he missed Newt, Tina, and Theseus.

"You cannot keep protecting Muggles, Credence," Grindelwald said, into the space of silence between them. "You're dying. I've seen it in with my Inner Eye."

Credence didn't reply. He knew he was.

Grindelwald continued talking in that smooth, warm voice of his, as if it was eight years ago and Credence was the same boy in the alleyway. "You're not like Albus, Credence. You don't fervently believe in magical harmony between wizards and Muggles. You don't care about ideology, not after being raised by that Muggle woman. Come with me."

"I won't," Credence said, meeting Grindelwald's gaze without flinching. "This is the side of the war I found myself on. You lost your chance when you lied to me eight years ago."

Now, he fought for Albus Dumbledore's vision of the world.

"It was a grave mistake," Grindelwald said softly, stepping forward, reaching his hand out to rest on Credence's shoulder. "I will always regret it."

The world was in chaos, magical and non-magical society at a tipping point and Credence caught in between.

Credence closed his eyes. He could feel a sensation roaring through his blood, through his veins, and it was as if the Obscurus was breaking through the surface of his skin and swallowing him whole.

When Grindelwald drew back, Credence said, quietly, breathless, "You need to stop doing that."

This constant, insistent gentleness.

Grindelwald looked at Credence like he had said something terribly amusing. "It's what you want."

"I want," Credence said, "to smother you to death with my Obscurus, to force the shadows down your throat until you choke."

He wanted Grindelwald to drown in shadows, to drown in him.

And Grindelwald just chuckled, fond, as if Credence had pledged him his life. "Yes, I know you feel something like that."

Credence hated that Grindelwald had made him like this. Grindelwald had given him hope and affection when he was a boy in New York, then he'd taken it away.

The story would have played out differently if Grindelwald had realized the truth earlier and taken him in. But now, Credence was tired, he was exhausted, he was fighting a war that he had followed Albus Dumbledore into, even though on some level, he was still a scared child frightened of his own shadow.

"You're not here for me," Credence said. He chose to get right to the point. "You want to know where Albus is."

"You said that you were willing to talk," Grindelwald said, with a shrug. "But you're correct. His disappearance has become a concern for both of our sides."

"I'll tell you what Theseus' message said if you'll allow the Muggles I'm guarding have safe passage to Hogwarts."

"I'm not certain I should let you do that," Grindelwald murmured. "Those Scourers of yours are tricky little nuisances. MACUSA should have wiped them out centuries ago."

"They're not all Scourers," Credence said. "Most of them are refugees. Harmless Muggles. Take the risk, Gellert."

A pause. "Stubborn boy. Fine. You have a week for evacuation."

Credence felt a momentary twinge of guilt, but he knew that Albus could defend himself and Albus would likely approve of a deal like this for Muggles' lives. And he was probably long gone from any of the places that Theseus had mentioned, anyway; the information was months old, from a searcher that Theseus had dispatched after him.

"He was last seen at St. Mungo's and the Ministry of Magic before they were destroyed," Credence said. By you, he didn't add out loud.

"After that it's complicated. Theseus said Albus met with magical researchers who he then Obliviated. They remembered seeing him, but not why he was there. Then he might've gone to wherever the goblins have been hiding, but nobody knows where that is."

"St. Mungo's, the Ministry, magical researchers, and goblins," Grindelwald repeated. "Strange. I thought he would be seeking the other Hallows…"

"We don't know why he left," Credence said.

Theseus and many of the others were hoping that whatever Albus' reason for leaving, it was supposed to help win the war. A weapon, perhaps.

Grindelwald looked thoughtful. Then he nodded. "Thank you. You have your one week, Credence. Are you certain you still won't come?"

He held his hand out, palm upturned, and it would have been so simple to take it.

Credence didn't. He tilted his head toward the sky, speckled with winking stars, and he said, "Your Patronus. Is it because of him or me?"

Grindelwald only smiled, and he Disapparated in a burst of black.

Credence stood in the devastated wasteland for what felt like an hour. He almost didn't notice when Fawkes curled his talons against his shoulder, appearing in a gust of fire.

Fawkes held a drawstring pouch in his beak.

Credence extricated it from the phoenix's grasp. He took out his wand and muttered a few basic diagnostic charms, but it seemed like it was safe.

He opened the pouch. In it was a golden hourglass laid into a necklace.

There were two dates etched into the hourglass – written in Albus Dumbledore's familiar spidery handwriting – and Credence felt his whole body still.

"Albus," he said. "What have you done?"

The hourglass turned on its own volition. Credence cast a hasty Disillusionment Charm around himself and Fawkes, feeling the cold sensation cloak him before he disappeared.

There were three boys dueling in a field of grass, spell fire sparking from their withdrawn wands.

A girl ran out to the middle of the duel, yelling, and she was struck by a beam of green.

She exploded into a shrieking black cloud, dissolving, and invisible, Credence caught her. He grabbed a shard of her where he sensed she lingered, and he held it between his palms.

The moment he did, the hourglass necklace draped around Credence's wrist turned again.

He opened his eyes to his old bedroom in the Second Salemers' chapel. His hair was no longer long again, but cropped short, and he was younger.

Credence wandlessly dispelled his Disillusionment Charm. He kept the one on Fawkes, who seemed to have settled on top of one of the bed posts, judging by the rustling sound from his wings.

Grimacing, Credence realized that he didn't have his wand on him anymore. At least he could perform some basic wandless magic and anyway, he could always draw power from his Obscurus.

He cradled the black fragment in his hands and breathed into it. He blew swirls of smoky grey, ushering shadows to make it grow.

The black fragment started to reform, and eventually it flashed. In the place of the shadow there was an unconscious young girl lying across Credence's lap.

She had blonde hair that reminded Credence of Modesty, but it was long and curled like Queenie Goldstein. Credence stared at her. She was fourteen, if he remembered correctly, and he couldn't believe what Albus had put into motion, what he expected from Credence.

This was madness.

According to the hourglass, the year was 1926. The year when Credence discovered what he was. Soon he would be seeing a disguised Gellert Grindelwald in the streets. And Newt would arrive in New York—and Tina working with MACUSA—

Credence inhaled, exhaled, and reached for the drawstring pouch. He returned the hourglass necklace inside, and upon further exploration, found that the pouch was stuffed with money.

It contained a substantial amount of Wizarding coins and Muggle dollar bills. The bag had been charmed so that it wasn't heavy. It would be enough to support Credence and the girl for years.

Finally, he discovered a piece of parchment.

Dear Credence, it read. I apologise for imposing this burden on you. I would have gone myself—or gone with you—but I could not.

I know you must think me a fool for playing with time. But it's the only solution that I believe can change the course of this war, however dangerous.

You must stop Gellert before the Statute of Secrecy is broken and the world falls into ruin. I have faith that you can do it, and I am not asking you to do this alone. Approach me and your other friends who you deem trustworthy. We will always be here for you, no matter what timeline.

As for Ariana – saving her is truly foolishness on my part. No, it is selfishness, too. I knew that only you could save her, as an Obscurial who can channel his powers, and that is why I sent you.

This Time Turner, which I commissioned the goblins to build with certain specifications, is capable of only sending one person. There was no time to modify it to accommodate another person.

I very badly wanted her to live. Given this chance to meddle with time, I wanted to give her the life she never got to live.

You did not ask for this mission, but I chose you because of your nature and for that, I am sorry. I hope I will be able to make it up to you in the next life.

Albus.

Credence ran a hand across his now uncomfortably short hair. He was…stunned, and he had no idea what this meant for the new future.

Grindelwald had been right. Credence wasn't an ideologue. He wasn't a revolutionary. He was an Obscurial who served in a time of war for the people who had befriended and mentored him, and he expected his own shadows to kill him one day, because he was born to die like that.

He gathered Ariana Dumbledore in his arms—she was surprisingly light—and placed her in bed, tucking her underneath the blankets. He sat on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, deep in thought until he finally fell asleep.

He woke Ariana early in the morning. She stirred at the touch of his hand, and her eyes were wide and uncertain when she saw him.

"My name is Credence Barebone," he said, sitting at the edge of the bed. He gestured toward Fawkes, still perched on the bedpost, now visible since the Disillusionment Charm had worn off. "And this is Fawkes. He's a phoenix."

Fawkes made a pleased chirping noise. He flew over to her, bright red feathers brushing against her hair, and she smiled when they tickled her chin.

"I won't hurt you," Credence said. "I'm a friend of your brother's. Albus sent me to help you."

"Where is this place?" she asked, peering at the mostly empty room. She spoke in a soft, tentative voice. "The last thing I remember—they were fighting. I tried to stop them. And I turned into that—that thing again—"

She stopped, realizing what she said to an apparent stranger.

"No," Credence said. "I'm like you, too. That's why Albus sent me to help you."

He held out his hand and a ribbon of small shadowy flowers linked on a vine danced across his fingers, then melted back into his skin.

"I didn't know there were others like me," Ariana said in a hushed whisper. "I'm supposed to keep it hidden so I won't hurt anyone."

This girl, Credence knew, killed her mother.

He did, too, and he had killed his sister as well.

"It can be controlled," Credence explained. "It takes practice and time, but it's possible. I've been able to do most of this because of Fawkes. Albus told me that it's old elemental magic theory that isn't taught anymore. Fire can stabilize darkness. Your Obscurus—your shadow—can be held back so it doesn't devour you entirely."

His original training had been a rocky process. He had stumbled through figuring out the variations on and limitations on his Obscurus abilities, toying with shadows and fire.

Ariana blinked up at Fawkes, then looked at Credence. "I want to be able do that. Can you teach me?"

"I'll try," Credence said. He knew what it was like to be an Obscurial child. "But there's something else I need to tell you."

He told her about the Time Turner.

He didn't want to kill his mother again.

He knew that Mary Lou Barebone had turned him into an Obscurial. She made him scared of his own magic, inherent magical ability curling inward until he became something like a demon.

But he didn't want to kill her. She wasn't a witch or wizard on the battlefield.

She was reading the Bible when he went downstairs. Chastity and Modesty were preparing today's breakfast offerings for the street urchins, while their mother had her Bible out, sharp eyes scanning the pages as she mouthed along with the familiar words.

"Mother," Credence said, his voice soft but firm. "You will leave this house."

She glanced from the pages, looking at him with disbelief as if she had entirely missed his words. Slowly, she said, "Credence. What did you say?"

"You were right," Credence said. "I'm a witch. And you're not going to hurt me for it anymore. I'm more of a monster than anything."

He loosened it, just a little, his eyes glowing a faint white. Chastity and Modesty were watching him, paralyzed in what appeared to be shock.

"You will not order me out of my own home," his mother said, striding forward. "You evil creature—I took you in to purify you because nobody else would. Witches burn, Credence, and you must not embrace this wicked nature of yours."

"You can't treat me like this," Credence said tightly. "I wasn't born a monster. You made me one. You gave me this."

He let go. He didn't want to be here—he didn't want to be human, to feel this real, to remember what it was like to be struck across his hand, trying not to cry—and he expanded as a bundle of shadows.

He shouldn't be doing this, not without Fawkes, but he didn't care.

"Credence!" shouted a voice. It was from upstairs, and Credence turned the mass that was now his body to see Ariana Dumbledore standing with Fawkes behind her.

"You told me you could control it," she said.

I can, Credence thought, from within the darkness. He could. But there was something about this place that made him feel young and scared and hurt again. The memories of being punished and being unable to stop it—why didn't he have control over it, then? Why didn't it kill him like it was supposed to?

And his feelings were a tangled mess on other matters, too. He was in the past, on this mission of Albus Dumbledore's, and Albus had sent him here to all places and times. Had he known that Credence would have to confront his mother-?

Meanwhile, Ariana stretched out her hand. She touched Credence, and her arm shimmered, turning into shadows as well.

Fawkes beat his wings. Flames rolled outward from his feathers, trickling them both with sparks that couldn't burn, and to Credence, it felt like rain.

"I killed my mother," she said, holding his hand through the darkness. "I still don't know exactly why I was angry that day. I think I wanted to leave the house—to go outside—because I'm never allowed. And I lost control more than usual and everything was a loud, blurry blackness. It's the worst feeling in the world."

Credence found his own hand, found his skin and bones again. He gripped her hand in return and then found his feet and legs and the rest of his body, the Obscurus fading rapidly fading away.

Still holding Ariana's hand, Credence stood in front of the trembling Mary Lou Barebone.

"You will leave," Credence said, "and never come back."

She gave him one last cold stare, and left.

Credence took some money from the pouch Albus had given him and left it on the dining table.

"Chastity," he said, to his older sister standing a wary distance away. "Keep this. Take care of Modesty."

"Where—where are you going?" Chastity asked.

"I'll rent an apartment somewhere in the city," Credence said. "You and Modesty, you can leave, stay, do whatever you wish. The Second Salemers won't be able to keep running without Ma, but you can turn it into a legitimate church organization. Or you can find a job and live elsewhere. Or…"

He stopped. It wasn't the best idea, but maybe it would be advantageous in the long run. He regretted leaving Modesty to grow up among the Scourers again, but she had loved learning and she'd turned out to be a well-read scholar of the wizarding world, and he might need her again this time around.

The Scourers would also keep Chastity and Modesty safe, if Grindelwald or MACUSA ever thought of seeking them out because of Credence.

"Chastity," he said, "there's a woman named Mabel who goes to our church. Go find her and say that you want to settle the Barebone debt with the Ardens. They'll take you in."

"The Barebone debt-?"

"If you go to them, they'll explain," Credence said.

He didn't want to break the Statute of Secrecy any further than he already had.

After they had an awkward breakfast with Chastity and Modesty, Credence and Ariana set off into the New York streets in search of an apartment building.

Credence hugged Modesty tightly before he left, promising to try to visit her, no matter what she and Chastity chose to do. He wished that he could take her with him, but Rappaport's Law was still in full force in America, and he didn't want to thrust her into this life of his just yet.

Fawkes had another Disillusionment Charm placed on him and he was currently nestling on top of Ariana's hair. Ariana was wearing one of Chastity's old winter coats, and she looked around at the tall buildings with wonder. Eventually, she grew bored and said, "What was that all about with your sisters? About a debt?"

"It's American history," Credence said. He launched into the story, which he had read from a book in the Hogwarts library a long time ago, and he'd heard the version of the tale that Esek Arden had told him when they had met.

In the eighteenth century, there was a man named Bartholomew Barebone, one of Mary Lou Barebone's ancestors. He was a Scourer descendant, aware of the existence of the magical community, and he attempted to expose them.

It eventually failed. Bartholomew was thrown into Muggle jail for killing Muggles who he had mistaken for wizards.

Yet Bartholomew had succeeded in finding and revealing numerous wizarding addresses and practices.

The Scourers—the more knowledgeable, in touch faction of the Scourer descendants—disapproved of Bartholomew's rash actions. They didn't want the reveal to come like this, and they weren't prepared, either.

However, Bartholomew's leaked information was genuine and the details were valuable. The Scourers recorded the facts, retrieved a wand Bartholomew stole, and covertly visited the area around several wizarding locations.

In sum, they owed the Barebones a debt. The leader of the Scourer faction in the 1800s was a woman named Arden.

"In the time where I came from," Credence said, "the Scourers settled the debt themselves by taking in Modesty. Esek Arden trained her to be a scholar."

"A scholar?"

"Scourer scholars analyze wizarding history, current events, magic, politics, culture," Credence said. "Stockpiling knowledge. It's a way to be ready when the Statute of Secrecy fails. There would be a power vacuum, Muggles unsure how to handle magical society, and the original plan was for the Scourers to step in, armed to the teeth with all that knowledge, and they'd be the new Muggle leaders."

"That doesn't sound pleasant," Ariana said, with a frown. "That sounds almost like what Albus and Gellert talk about. Muggles being dangerous."

Credence halted walking, then made himself continue. He hadn't told Ariana that the dark wizard he had been fighting in the future was her brother's friend Gellert Grindelwald.

"It didn't end up working out like the Scourers wanted," Credence said, eventually. "The war turned everything around. They allied with the wizarding resistance against the dark wizard, because we had the same enemy."

"What a strange future," she murmured. She reached her hand to her head, presumably to pet Fawkes briefly, and a lost expression shuttered her face.

Credence was reminded how young she was, and how Albus had written that he couldn't do this alone.

"Do you want to go to your brothers?"

"You said you wanted to stay here in America to take care of that dark wizard," Ariana said. "I want to stay with you, so you can teach me how to control my Obscurus. I want to make sure that I won't hurt my family anymore."

Her eyes were a bright, determined blue, and Credence looked at her, then nodded.

Credence had never been able to kill Gellert Grindelwald in the future. Their duels always resulted in stalemates, or they were interrupted with one side retreating depending on the circumstances.

Once, Albus had gotten the closest to killing Grindelwald. Then, of course, he vanished, on that quest of his to assemble a Time Turner.

This time, Credence thought, I can kill him.

He wanted to do it mostly alone, at least for now. He didn't know why he couldn't bring himself to reach out to Albus—maybe it was cowardice, maybe it was anger—but he would finish what he was sent here for and he would make sure that Ariana eventually reunited with her brothers after she got a handle on her Obscurus.

"You have to let your entire body go," Credence said.

They were moving onto the next step of their so-called Obscurus training. It was beyond the usual lessons of playing with pieces of shadow; it was the transition of sublimation, the complete phasing of a solid to a gaseous state.

"I've only done that twice in my life," Ariana said. She didn't look at him.

"It's important that you know how to switch to it and out of it," Credence said. "It's when we're at our most dangerous, our most unstable."

"Can you change with me?"

Credence took her hands into his. Fawkes perched in between them, hovering above the place where their fingers interlaced.

He said, "I will."

Her pupils fogged over, a film of white, white, white. The energy of the Obscurus swept her hair behind her shoulders, the blonde strands rippling as if caught by the wind.

"When I was little, there was one story in the Tales of Beetle the Bard that Mum never read to me," Ariana said, apropos of nothing, her thin lips moving underneath her now glowing eyes. "Mum thought it would scare me, it would remind me what happened to me.

"There's an innocent maiden in the story, and a warlock rips her heart out and she dies. I suppose it's almost like what happened to me.

"But one night, when Mum and my brothers were sleeping, I took the book from its shelf. I read it by the light of the moon from the bedroom window.

"I didn't think I was like the maiden, when I read it. I think I'm like the warlock. He had a black heart."

She pulled backward, folded her hands over her chest. Then she melted into a swirling vortex of shadows.

Credence recognized this.

"This is what it means to be an Obscurial," Credence said, reaching his hand out to meet the cloudy form of her. "We will always think it's our fault."

He said, "It isn't."

Credence thought of Mary Lou Barebone with the belt and her denunciations. He could never shake off the feeling that he was sinful, he was tainted, that magic was inherently wrong. It was why he usually shied away from using normal magic, retreating into the comfort of the Obscurus' darkness.

He twisted forward to join Ariana, an accompanying bolt of grey, and Fawkes whistled, sending simmering flames coursing through the both of them.

Tina stood in front of the bustling department store where the anti-magic No-Maj group usually gathered in the mornings. It was another stakeout, tracking to see if they were a genuine threat.

She remembered the young man she had seen the last time, a boy named Credence Barebone. He'd handed her a flyer, his eyes averted, and she'd introduced herself to him.

Today, the Second Salemers weren't here. She frowned, wondering if they'd changed the meeting schedule.

Her eyes lingered over a blonde No-Maj woman passing by, and she was lost in thought for several moments, thinking-

Then she saw him.

Credence Barebone was wearing a long dark coat, his hands shrugged in his pockets and his eyes observing the passerby. Next to him was a girl dressed in a burgundy coat who Tina had never seen among the Second Salemers before. She had her hands pressed against the department store window, studying the displayed clothes.

When Tina walked up to him, she was surprised to see that Credence broke into a genuine smile. It was a quirk of the corners of his mouth, before it disappeared.

"Credence," she said. "Do you remember me from last week? I'm Tina."

"I remember," Credence said. He gestured toward the girl at his side. "This is Ariana."

Ariana stared at Tina with narrow blue eyes. Tina heard a lilting British accent in her voice when she spoke. "Hullo, Miss Goldstein."

"Hello, Ariana," Tina said, with an attempt at a smile. "Are you with the—Second Salemers as well?"

"The Second Salemers has been disbanded," Credence said. His tone was brisk and low. "I told my mother to leave, and the organization is gone."

Tina hadn't expected for her case to be abruptly dropped like this. But it wasn't the case she was thinking about, not truly. She had seen how Mary Lou Barebone acted toward her adopted children, dragging them across the city and threatening punishment.

"Are you and your sisters doing okay?" she asked.

"Modesty and Chastity went to stay with…family friends," Credence said. Then he smiled. "Auror Goldstein. I'm here to see if I can ask for a job at MACUSA."

Holy Tituba, Tina thought. What?

"You're a No-Maj," she said. "Er. Aren't you? You grew up with the Salemers. I didn't know—"

"I thought I was," Credence said. He started walking, and said, "Come on. We can discuss it over lunch if you want."

A thousand questions were buzzing in Tina's mind, and so she chose to accompany him.

On the walk to a nearby café, Ariana talked to Tina. Credence had instructed her earlier to not say too much, and she obeyed, telling Tina only that she was an orphan, fourteen years old, and a witch.

They took a seat at a booth, Tina across from both Credence and Ariana. After they made their orders and the food came—three plates of sandwiches, two coffees, and hot cocoa—Credence waved a hand, his eyes screwed in concentration.

"Just a Notice-Me-Not charm," he explained, after he dropped his hand. "So the Muggles—No-Majs don't pay attention to us."

"You don't have a wand?"

Credence grimaced, recalling his abrupt transportation across timelines. "I lost it. I've been meaning to get a replacement because I'm not the best at wandless magic. And a wand for her, too, if she wants."

"I'd like an American wand," Ariana said. "My mum had one."

That was news to Credence. Albus had never told him much about his mother. "She did?"

"She was born here," Ariana said, looking down at the mug of cocoa. "A Muggleborn. She emigrated a long time ago."

"I'm sorry you lost your mother," Tina said. "I lost my parents to dragonpox when I was a kid."

"Sorry about your parents, too," Ariana said. She seemed like she wanted to say something more-that it was different-but she cast a sideways glance at Credence and sipped her hot chocolate.

In the past week, Credence Barebone had found that Ariana Dumbledore wasn't anything like Albus.

On her good days, she was a fast learner, bending Obscurus shadows to her will with Fawkes at her side. On her bad days, she was moody and silent, staring blankly outside one of the windows in their small apartment. Every time Credence offered to contact her brothers, she refused, and Credence wondered if she was quietly blaming them for the duel at Godric's Hollow, the duel that was supposed to kill her. Credence often ended up sitting beside her, his hand wound into her fingers, his attempt at silently conveying, I understand.

It reminded him of growing up with Modesty.

For several moments, the three of them ate in silence, but it was clear that Tina was bursting with questions. Tina really was the same.

Credence took the initiative. "Auror Goldstein, what do you know about Eloise Mintumble?"

"Mintumble?" Tina repeated. "I think I heard something about her in history class at Ilvermony."

"She was one of the first recorded time travelers," Credence said.

He had recently tried to retrace Albus' plan on constructing the Time Turner, borrowing books from one of the magical libraries in New York. There was something calming about research – it distracted his mind away from Grindelwald, and it was like the years when he had stayed at Hogwarts under Albus' tutelage, constantly frequenting the Hogwarts library to learn more about the wizarding world.

Tina said, "I think I remember. She went far into the past and when she came back, she aged considerably, then died. I believe she was a British Unspeakable-? Don't tell me you're trying to say you're a-?"

Credence inclined his head.

"That's ridiculous!" Tina said, her voice rising. "What happened to her proves that time travel doesn't work without killing you. That's why unauthorized time travel experiments are illegal and government projects are highly regulated by the ICW. You're either crazy, or I'm going to have to take you in."

"I hope you don't arrest me," Credence said. "We were friends in the future. Tina—let me show you. Please."

He withdrew a memory from his temples, a string of silver, and held it out to her. He didn't have a Pensieve with him, but he knew that Tina's Legilimency Auror training would suffice when it came to viewing a memory.

Eventually, Tina believed him.

"That Albus Dumbledore friend of yours is nuts," she said. "Your future sounds grim, but I can't believe he would actually mess with time like this."

"Are you still going to arrest me?"

"I'll—I'll help," she said, after a pause. "If this goes too far, though, I'll have to report you."

That was close enough, thought Credence. It felt reassuring to have Tina on his side again.