Sorry for any typos! Enjoy!

A Chance in Time

Chapter 10 – The Epitome of War

Tom exhaled loudly, as if he was holding his breath all that time that Grindelwald and his men were here, as if he'd forgotten how to breathe. His eyes closed, hiding troubled dark green eyes as he coached his lungs to work. He had never been so afraid, never, never in his entire life did he feel so close to death.

But he lived. They lived. He didn't know how, he didn't know why Grindelwald changed his mind, but – he tilted his head back to look at his still tense brother's face – he had an inkling that Sebastian's burst of uncontrolled magic had something to do with it.

Speaking of which…

Stepping up towards the front of the shop, he inched towards the door and shut it. Locked it from the inside. He turned around, resting his back against the door and observed the damage made. And what a sight it was.

New and old books alike were strewn haphazardly on the floor, on the stairs. Parchments were burned, or singed or crumpled. A few shelves were ripped from the wall by whatever force that had exploded from Sebastian. Logs, thankfully unlit, lay in bits, crunching under his feet. Blood splattered the wooden floor and the blue walls and one side of Sebastian's pale, pale face…There was no way that the bookshop owner would come back and be unable to guess that something extraordinary had happened tonight.

Walking hesitantly towards his brother, Tom took in his form: his eyes were hooded making it almost impossible to see the emerald green of his eyes. He had no expression on his face, only a tense clench of his jaw.

"Sebastian?" Tom began. "Are you alright? You look – " he paused so that he could reach out his hands and grip the front of Sebastian's jumper. "You look very tired."

Sebastian frowned slowly and blinked as if for a second he had forgotten where he was. "I am tired, Tommy," he whispered back, his voice sounding hoarse like he'd been screaming or shouting. He licked his lips and pushed back inky black hair from his forehead, exposing the red-raw scar. "I think," he said, lightly placing both of his hands on Tom's narrow shoulders, "I think I just need to rest. I used too much magic too soon, maybe. I don't know –"

"It's alright, Sebastian. I understand," Tom said and he did. He remembered the magic he used when confronting Mr Malfoy, that had to be a lot of magic. It wasn't like the nice practiced swish-swish and flick that he saw Lady Malfoy use when healing Abraxas' cuts and bruises. No, not even a little. Sebastian's magic was full-blown. It was addictive. It was nauseating. Tom had never seen anything like it. And then Sebastian had to use that powerful magic again the same day when he faced Grindelwald's men.

Tom pushed against his brother's chest so that Sebastian was forced to take a step back, and then another step until the back of his legs touched a rocking chair near the big counter. Sebastian sat down heavily, rocking the chair back until it smacked lightly against the wall.

"What can I do?" Tom asked. "Shall I get you some medicine?" What did he call it before? A potion? Did they even have any potions here?

Sebastian didn't react. His eyes were shut now and his body was no longer tense – it was relaxed. When Sebastian didn't answer, Tom shook his shoulder, confusion settling in. Was Sebastian – ?

Oh.

Asleep. He was asleep.

And now Tom was alone again. Sebastian was gone and it was up to him to clean up the mess they made in the shop. It was up to him to find some potions to heal his brother and fix the cuts on his own face and –

What was he going to do?

The answer didn't come however; instead, the shop door clicked open and in stepped in a woman.

Oh no.

oOo

Ingrid Trelawney was not one for being shocked too easily, nor would she have had described herself as stoic; but when she entered the Shop that Friday morning to find it in a battered state…well, she was quite shocked. She was used to her shop being attacked, of course – no sane witch or wizard liked to associate themselves with the Trelawney family; not when they had been labelled dangerous all those years ago. Not when Cassandra Trelawney made so many apt prophecies, prophecies that awed but frightened them. It seemed that sometimes, the truth was very hard to hear.

Ingrid wasn't distinguished the way her grandmother was, the woman who was celebrated for having the Inner Eye, for being a Seer. The main reason was because Ingrid liked to keep to herself. She preferred it that way, and she rarely let anyone into her life. Especially since her poor Landon died. Especially since Grindelwald started hunting her down. Her Seeing ability was a curse as well as a gift.

Despite all this, she couldn't help hiring that strange boy only a week ago to help out at the shop. He was nothing special but Ingrid was talented in reading people. And that boy was desperate. The way she was when no one wanted to hire a Seer for fear of having their death prophesised.

Honestly, as if they were so important.

There was something else about the boy, too. She couldn't place her finger on it, but she knew one thing. His soul was damaged. His very soul was irrevocably and thoroughly damaged.

Unfortunately, now that the boy had entered her life, it was up to her to keep a close eye on him. It wouldn't do for his damaged soul to affect his magical core. The Wizarding World wasn't ready for another insane Dark Lord. And most importantly, Ingrid wasn't ready for another insane Dark Lord.

She had enough on her plate.

oOo

Tom stilled in his ministrations at the sight of the stranger entering the Shop. She didn't seem to react and Tom found himself expecting something to happen with bated breath. A scream, or a gasp – anything. But she didn't react.

The boy's hands shook as he waited and eventually after the woman had done a sweep of the shop, she finally stopped still in front of Tom.

"What are you doing in my shop?" she asked gruffly and Tom gulped nervously. He wasn't stupid, he knew they weren't exactly invited but what should he tell her? Yes, we knew we were essentially breaking in, but we did it anyway? No, it wasn't that had no other choice, what were they supposed to do? Camp outside in the freezing cold until their toes fell off?

For some reason the words wouldn't come, for some reason they were lodged in his throat and Tom started shaking in expectation of the women's anger.

"Grindelwald was here, wasn't he?" she finally asked, frowning at him and cocking her head to one side. Tom thought she resembled a bird like that. A bird with wild, white-grey hair and piercing eyes that looked like they were seeing directly into his soul.

Wordlessly, Tom nodded. The woman sighed as if she had expected as much. She didn't seem afraid or angry or excited – if anything she looked more resigned about cleaning up.

"Well, let's see the damage then," she said reaching behind Tom towards the bookshelves. She picked up a book on one of the top most shelves and opened it to reveal a small shred of parchment hidden inside. The woman suddenly grinned.

"The man needs to hire new goons; they're getting terribly bad at getting the job done," she said and Tom wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or simply thinking out aloud. Before he could even attempt to crane his neck to have a look at what the shred of parchment read, the old woman had already stuffed the nude-coloured parchment – or was it a piece of leather? - into her large multi-coloured bag hanging off her arm, and turned to face him.

The dark-haired boy stood stock-still while she assessed him; she took in the superficial cuts and grazes and bruises that decorated his face and forearms and tiny little fingers and tutted almost pitifully. Slowly, she lifted up his chin with a finger and thumb to stare unwaveringly into his eyes.

"You weren't scared, were you?" she asked suddenly. Tom didn't want to admit it but yes, yes he was very scared. But Tom wanted her to think that he was brave, he wasn't sure why – and maybe it was because Sebastian was unconscious and it was up to Tom to do the thinking now – but he really, really didn't want the woman to underestimate him.

"You are Trelawney," he said instead and the woman smirked, dropping his chin. He hoped that he pronounced the name right.

"So the mad fool has been busy, hm?" she said in answer and smiled slowly.

"He was looking for you. He said, he said…"

Trelawney suddenly let out a bark of laughter, short and cynical. "He is always looking for me, that snake!"

Tom gulped, why wasn't she afraid of that man? That horrid, dangerous, frightening man? "My brother, um, my brother - Sebastian - he works for you, he -"

"He is asleep."

"No," Tom said almost angrilly. "I mean, he's…um…unwell. He single-handedly stopped Grindelwald. He -"

"He stopped Grindelwald?" She cut him off, eyes wide and shocked. Suddenly she threw back her head and laughed. This laugh lasted longer than the last one and looked like it was being ripped out of her tummy! She clutched her chest, as if finding it difficult to breathe, and laughed and coughed when it became too much.

"Oh, dear me! And what did the old fool do to your brother?" When Tom stood shocked and unable to reply, she continued. "Does your brother have a death wish or something?"

The old woman watched as Tom suddenly paled, as if all the blood disappeared from his skin. His lips parted as he tried to bring the words forward, to explain to her that she was wrong - that Sebastian wasn't afraid of that. But instead his lips trembelled and his whole body shook.

He blinked rapidly as he suddenly felt a hotness in his eyes. And no he was not, not going to cry. But before he could mask it, a small chocked sob escaped him. Too many thoughts were scrambling into his head, none of which were pleasant at the very idea that Grindelwald could take it all away from him.

"No," he stated firmly through gritted teeth as he willed the lump in his throat to disappear. He whimpered unsure what to do now - he wasn't usually a cry baby. He was just shocked and hurt and suddenly very alone all over again. If something happened to Sebastian – if something happened and he had to go back to…to that place…

Trelawney stared at the boy, her eyes wide and mouth twisted into a grimace. She was clearly uncomfortable. And worse; so was Tom.

"Alright, dear," the woman began, "there's's need for any of that, I'm sure." She reached out a hand to awkwardly pat his shoulder. "Come on, now. Let's see if we can sort this mess out, eh?"

Tom sniffled and nodded acceptingly.

He stared as the deceptively fragile woman as she quickly took out the wand sticking out of her bag. Eyebrows forrowed with determination, she got to work as Tom watched dumbly in one corner of the shop. He watched as logs for the fire disappeared, how the stains on the floor dissolved (though he didn't imagine the raised eyebrow at the blood splatter) and was tranfixed at the sight of furniture moving around the room to their original positions.

Despite himself, Tom was amazed at the demonstration.

"How –?" Tom began quietly, he shook his head; magic was truly amazing. "I can help. Please let me help."

Trelawney smiled, eyes still fixed on the damage done, her back to Tom. "A bit young to be able to hold a wand aren't you?"

Tom frowned perplexed. Didn't all witches and wizards possess a wand? Young or old, rich or poor? He bet Abraxas had an expensive one, he bet Marcus from the bakery had a two because he was always so rushed. He bet -

"How old are you, any way?" The woman enquired and Tom lost his train of thought.

"Um...I'm eight, ma'am."

She chuckled with sampathy. "Oh, you've got a few more years on you before you start Hogwarts, boy. But I suppose -" and here she sneaked a peak at Tom's unconscious big brother "- I suppose you could make a start with learning a few things..."

Tom had no idea what Hogwarts was, but nodded quickly to the idea of learning magic. Gosh, he'd always thought his brother would be the first to teach him; like how to hold a wand (would you grip it like a pencil or like Ms Cole's cane?). And how to remember all those swishing and flicking and jabbing. He wiped his runny nose with the back of his sleeve impatiently. Suddenly Tom was excited at anyone teaching him anything related to making magic, even if he was a bit sorry that Sebastian wasn't going to be that person -

"You'll have start with theory first, though," the old woman said pushing a errant lock of wild frizzy hair from her bright eyes.

Theory? Like reading and reading until your head exploded? That kind of theory? And Tom's thoughts were confirmed when after a bit of scrounging around, the old woman thrust a book under his nose

Tom's shoulders sagged and he sighed quietly. He knew it was too good to be true! Though he enjoyed reading - and he enjoyed it a lot - he had been thinking about practicing magic since he had arrived in this new world! Slowly, as if waiting for her to change her mind and give him a wand instead, Tom reached out to take the heavy tomb from her grasp.

"You sit, boy, and I'll see if we can wake up your lazy brother."

The dark-haird boy brisstled at the description. His brother was not lazy! She had no idea the kind of things Sebastian did for them.

Seeing the expression on his face, Trelawney chuckled. "Don't get your nickers in a bunch! I'll be careful with him!" She chortled all the way towards the end of the room to reach Sebastian's sprawled form on the large brown rocking chair. "Lazy boy, indeed!"

She pointed the end of her wand towards his chest and tapped him. "Enervate."

Tom watched fascinated as his brother took a large gulp of air as if breathing for the first time. His arms, on either side of the rocking chair, no longer lax gripped the armrests hard enough to turn his knuckles white. His eyelashes fluttered and finally opened slowly. Tom heard him mumble something - which could have also been a groan - and shifted a little in his seat.

Without realizing, Tom found his feet dragging himself to Sebastian's now awake form.

"Ah! Not too close!" cried Trelawney before Tom could reach out towards his brother's hand. "Not until I've examined him."

The young wizard could only stare helplessly as she threw Latin word after Latin word all doing a variety of things to Sebastian's body. A red pulsing sphere danced before Sebastian's chest in time to his heartbeat. A gold translucent thread weaved between one of Sebastian's fingers and rested above a gash on his arm. A tinkling bell could be heard surrounding his shins and slowly rising towards his neck.

"Wha-?" mumbled Sebastian and Tom could see how confused he was. Should he explain it to him? Or should he wait to see if he remembered the events himself? It didn't take long for the latter to happen and the transformation in his brother's face was almost instantaneous.

His eyes widened in comprehension, whilst simultanously brushing away a blue cobweb-like spell that brushed the crown of his head. His mouth shut hard and he clenched his jaw.

"Oi! At least let me finish examining you, you silly boy!" Trelawney exclaimed. "From what I heard, you had a rough encounter."

Tom watched as his brother squinted up at the old woman's haggard face before finding the strength to stand up slowly. Like an old man, thought Tom.

Trelawney tried again; "Sit back down, will you?" her hand on Sebastian's upper arm. "You don't want to faint again, do you?" she didn't wait for his reply; instead, she gently pushed him back on the rocking chair.

"Fine," Sebastian whispered in a breathy way, "fine." His eyes were half-closed when one of his hands slowly reached out towards Tom and pulled him closer. Tom couldn't help noticing how slack the hold was, how his hands were shaking, and the dark bruises under his brother's eyes as they did their own examination.

"Are you alright?" Sebastian asked as Trelawney went up the stairs to retrieve a few things for him. He didn't mention the previous events, he didn't complain about his hurts; it was as if it was a normal morning.

Tom nodded wordlessly in affirmation and allowed Sebastian to lift him up and place him on his lap. Tom laid his head under Sebastian's chin and they both waited for Trelawney to begin her healing.

If Sebastian wanted to pretend that nothing happened, then Tom would humour him.

For now.

oOo

Trelawney had banished Tom to one corner of the room as she continued to examine Harry. She had given Tom A Beginners Guide to Household Charms by Sweety Gladrow, to which the eight-year old had scrunched his nose up at, and began filling Harry up with a number of potions and skin relievers. She began with a Replenishing Potion for his sudden magical depletion (and Harry was glad of it), a Calming Draught (even when Harry insisted that he was calm), and a paste to heal the burns that he acquired from a number of burning logs (and Harry pretended that Trelawney wasn't giving him a strange look when he explained this to her).

Finally, the woman's curiosity began to creep up and she began to throw question after question at him – none of which, and Harry was grateful for this, were about how and why Harry and Tom intruded into the shop in the first place.

"So what did Grindelwald want then?" she began and Harry answered by shrugging wearingly.

She sighed and tried again. "What did he say to you?"

"He sends his regards," Harry told her. He hoped that being difficult to talk to would mean that she would eventually tire of his not very helpful answers.

"Did he now?" Harry didn't deign to answer that. He had said that Grindelwald told him that didn't he?

She patted his arm lightly; he had hurt it during the confrontation and couldn't remember how. "How is your arm feeling now?"

"S'fine. Thanks." And it was true; Trelawney certainly knew how to take care of wounds.

"And your headache. Still there?"

"Yes, but better. Thanks."

"And how did you sustain these injuries fighting Grindelwald and survive?"

Harry frowned confused. "Who said I fought Grindelwald?" he stopped himself and peered over at Tom who was pretending that he wasn't listening to the conversation and quickly looked away. Harry sighed. "I fought his men, not…him."

"Ah," the old woman said as if that explained that. And maybe it did, thought Harry, had it been a fight with Grindelwald it would have certainly ended differently.

Trelawney reached for a bruising balm to rub onto the side of his neck where thick-fingered black marks decorated his Adam's apple. Harry winced at the cold temperature and its rotten tomato-y stink.

"You're very calm about all this; most people would have run away screaming."

Harry thought about that and couldn't find an answer – he supposed that having Voldermort chasing him for so long had taken away any run-away-screaming traits he could have developed like most people.

"Must be the Calming Draught I gave you." Harry rolled his eyes; he hadn't needed a Calming Draught.

Daft woman.

"Why did Grindelwald not kill you?"

Harry shrugged again. "He said he would see us soon." Harry gulped at the image of the blond man making that promise. At the time, Harry was too fuzzy-headed to think much about it. Now, however…

"You have a strange accent," she suddenly said.

"I do?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes. You're not from around here." It was a statement, not a question as if it was obvious that Harry was an outsider.

"No. I'm not from around here," Harry almost smirked at that, though a small smile did lift one corner of his lips as he thought of the strength of this statement. Was his accent so different from the one in the 1930's? "Muggle raised," he said instead in answer.

"And your Tom?"

"He's Muggle raised. I am Muggle raised. We are both Muggle raised."

She rolled her blue eyes at him. She continued to rub the bruising balm on his neck and he scrunched up his nose at the tickly feeling the healing solution gave when activating. It was most uncomfortable.

And, Merlin, it stank.

"You have a smart mouth, boy. I'd be careful if I were you."

"Okay," he said and unintentionally let out a surprised snort. This was completely surreal.

"Do you want a piece of advice?" she asked him suddenly.

Harry raised his eyebrows up until they disappeared into the fringe of his hair. "Um, to not have a smart mouth?" he guessed. From across the room, Harry could hear Tom giggle into his book. And somehow, he guessed that it wasn't because A Beginners Guide to Household Charms was so amusing.

Harry felt a light smack against his temple from Trelawney. He gave her an amused look. She glared right back at him.

"If I were you, I would run to Albus Dumbledore and beg him to save you. Grindelwald is the epitome of war."

Suddenly, the smile on Harry's face was wiped off. "Really?" he asked, his voice quiet now as he contemplated her serious face.

She nodded gravely and almost pitifully. "You are only boys, you two."

"I can take care of both of us," Harry whispered. He had come this far, hadn't he?

"How old are you, Sebastian?" she asked, her head cocked to one side, assessing him. Always assessing him.

"Nineteen," Harry lied.

Trelawney frowned at him and simultaneously raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Eighteen?"

"Try again, boy," she said with a glare. Again, Harry could hear Tom trying to muffle a snort of laughter in his corner of the room.

"What does it matter?" Harry snapped. Grindelwald wouldn't catch them. "He won't find us again, I promise you th-"

"Why aren't you in Hogwarts?"

"What is Hogwarts?" Tom suddenly asked, exasperated. "Everyone keeps mentioning it all the time…" he trailed off, realising that he had interrupted when he should have been acquainting himself with charms to remove lint from one's dress robes.

As if he' ever use that.

Trelawney ignored Tom's outburst and continued. "Has he even shown any power to you?" she asked, nodding her frizzy head at the little boy.

Harry frowned. Was she referring to Tom? About Tom's magic? "I…" His frown deepened as he tried to remember a time where Tom had shown any type of magic.

"Not even accidental magic?" Trelawney asked disbelievingly. "At his age?" Harry wished she would stop talking; Tom was smart enough to pick up on the topic of the conversation.

"Are you talking about me?" the eight-year-old enquired quietly.

Again, Trelawney ignored his comment and focused her watery-blue eyes intensely on Harry's own bright green ones. "Be careful, Sebastian. Be careful so that you don't smother your brother's magic with your own uncontrolled, unschooled magic."

For once, Harry was shocked into silence.

A/N: Better late than never, eh? I'll try to answer everyone's questions. Apologies if I've missed anyone out; I try very hard not to :) Reviews are very much appreciated!