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Chapter Eleven—Face-To-Face

"Look, Harry, you've acted nervous for days now. Does this have something to do with Black?"

Harry blinked and looked up from the practice wand that he'd been adding defensive spells to. Laocoon had decided to branch out from making them just as toys to selling them to parents who were worried about their children being hurt by magic or by accident in public. "I mean, a little? But mostly I'm not sure why I'm nervous."

"You're not sure why you're nervous." Laocoon's voice was cool. "I hope that you're not going to end a contract that brings in as much money as our connection to the Black family does, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. He was comfortable with Laocoon, but this was an example of the kind of thing that meant they would never be close friends. "It's not a contract, and it's my connection more than yours, Laocoon."

"But people have been buying the practice wands like they're Galleons ever since there was that story about the Black scions using them."

Harry shrugged and reached for the practice wand in front of him again to avoid showing how distasteful he found the whole fucking thing. Black had gone to the papers to talk about Sirius and Regulus and the wands, and mentioned that they came from Laocoon's shop. Luckily, he hadn't mentioned Harry's name. Harry assumed that was coming if he didn't respond the way that Black wanted him to.

Which was…bewildering. What Black would take someone who was a half-blood at best and from a totally unknown background, and who was stubborn and angry all the time, as a friend, let alone the adoptive brother it seemed Black wanted to make of him?

"Well. As long as you're not deliberately sabotaging it."

"No, Laocoon, I'm not. But I have to warn you that the connection will probably only last a few more weeks. Months, at most."

"Why?"

"Don't whinge, it's unbecoming," Harry snapped at him as he concentrated on funneling a charm against broken bones into the wand in front of him. "And because Black wants something from me, and I'm not going to give it to him, whatever it is, and that frustrates him and he'll eventually lash out."

"Whatever it is?"

Harry glanced up, raising an eyebrow. Laocoon had an odd tone in his voice. "Yes," Harry said slowly. "Whatever it is. I have to admit that I'm not sure if he's trying to be my friend, or take advantage of my power, or make me some kind of permanent tutor to his children, or find a way to enslave me for the good of his family. But whatever it is, I'm not going to give it to him, and that makes the connection weak."

Laocoon leaned back against the worktable behind him, his eyes as direct as Harry had ever seen them. "I honestly didn't realize—Harry, the nature of the connection is perfectly obvious to me. Orion Black wants you as an ally."

Harry blinked, then shrugged. It would make sense of the different, disparate ways Black had treated him—claiming some kind of life-debt, trying to get him to be a tutor, inviting him over to the house—but he still had no interest in a long-term association. "Oh, well. Then I suppose he'll probably back away once I prove frustrating."

"You're really powerful."

The Elder Wand vibrated for a second in Harry's grip. It seemed to think a compliment to Harry's magical power was a compliment to it. Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I know."

"That means Black isn't going to give up easily."

"But he's used to being deferred to and getting respect even from pure-bloods. I'm a snotty upstart half-blood who won't give him that respect."

"So you are sabotaging the connection on purpose!" Laocoon pointed a finger at him that would have been more threatening if Harry hadn't faced down Death Eaters and Voldemort in his time.

"I don't want it. I don't want the interest of a prominent pure-blood family."

Laocoon rolled his eyes, not as refraining as Harry. "That doesn't matter. You have it, and your attitude isn't going to put Black off. Harry, how much do you know about the ways that pure-blood families build alliances?"

"I know they use blackmail and compliments and bribes," Harry said, and shrugged when Laocoon gaped at him. "Sorry, that's been my experience," he added, thinking of the way that Lucius Malfoy had influenced Cornelius Fudge in his first timeline.

"And other things," Laocoon said quietly. "Offers of marriage. I think that's where Black is heading, Harry."

Harry just stared. Then he laughed. Laocoon had never taken a joke this far before, but there was always a first time. "Yes, Laocoon, that's really funny. Like Orion Black would want to marry a snotty upstart half-blood, and a man at that." He snorted and turned back to the practice wand. "Don't you have more plausible lies to spread if you're going to spread them?"

Laocoon leaned forwards and placed his fingers over Harry's, pinning them to the table. Harry frowned at him. Laocoon was slightly shaking his head, and he looked as if he was about to start scolding Harry, but then he managed to get hold of himself.

"This is no joke," he said. "This is no lie. Pure-bloods have married people before to secure their alliance to a particular family, and if they already have children, no one objects if they marry someone who couldn't give them any. I want you to at least consider what's here and what you could be giving up."

Harry blinked several times, then sighed. "Well, it wouldn't matter anyway, Laocoon. Orion Black couldn't pay me to marry him."

"Is that so?"

Harry sighed as Black's voice came from the door of the shop, and turned around to look at him. Black was giving him a tight smile, but his eyes weren't focused on Harry's. They were locked on the work table. Harry turned to follow his line of sight, wondering whether the man was so infuriated as all that that Harry was making more of the practice wands like the ones he had brought to test Sirius and Regulus with.

Then he realized. Black's eyes were on the place where Laocoon still pinned Harry's hand to the wood.

"If I had realized that you had a suitor already, Mr. Evanson," Black went on, gaze raking up and down Laocoon, "I would have backed off."

The words sounded like a dragon about to flame. Laocoon hastily let go of Harry's hand and backed up towards the far wall of the shop, waving his arms around. "You've got it wrong, Mr. Black! I wouldn't marry Harry if he paid me! I was just informing him about the niceties of a pure-blood maybe expressing interest in him—"

"When you knew that it was up to the pure-blood in question to explain such intentions?" Black took a flowing step forwards that reminded Harry a lot of the way a Dementor moved along the ground. It wasn't a comparison that predisposed him any better towards Black. "Then I suppose I shall have to tailor the curse I give you more precisely than I planned to, Palmer."

"What curse?" Harry asked, and stepped in between Black and Laocoon. Black came to a halt and considered him, not seeming upset at the close proximity. Harry forced himself not to flinch when Black lifted his hand to let it hover near Harry's cheek, although he didn't actually touch him. "Explain to me why you would be able to curse my employer."

"I violated etiquette by talking about his interest," Laocoon whispered. "He's right. I deserve a curse as punishment. I should have remembered that it was up to him to declare it."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever fucking heard," Harry said, and grinned fiercely when he saw the way both Laocoon and Black turned to stare at him. That's right, that's what I am, crass and not someone you can just draw into these games. "I don't live my life by those rules because, guess what, I'm not a pure-blood. If you don't want me to tutor your sons or otherwise involved with them, Black, just tell me. But don't try to play some trick on me where you tell me that you have the right to curse my employer and expect me to believe you."

"It is an ancient custom." Black was staring at Harry as if he had sprouted dragon scales, but then he glared at Laocoon again. "Not one that—that many people would violate—"

"Stop glaring at Laocoon, he had to tell me because I had no idea," Harry said. "And frankly, considering the way I would have punched in your face if you told me, you should be grateful to him."

Black turned away from Laocoon, which was all Harry had wanted. Laocoon stood up and brushed his robes off, but wasn't bright enough to retreat. Harry held in his sigh. "Why would you have—struck me?"

"Because I'm not some weapon you can own or some asset you can buy." Harry knew that his magic had picked up and was whirling around the room in subtle winds, from the way he saw papers flutter out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't care. Maybe Black would even take the hint and back the fuck off. "I don't care about your rules. I don't care about the customs. I care about protecting children and doing what I can to make up for wrongs I committed and protecting my own freedom."

"If you want to make up for this harm that you claim you caused the Black family," Black began.

"I'm not going to make myself a slave to do it, Black."

"I was considering you for a marriage partner! You ought to know that's the opposite of a slave bond."

"Considering what your first marriage was like, I'm not convinced that you know the difference."

Black's face was twisted with a desperation and madness that made him look like a combination of the adult Sirius and Bellatrix from Harry's original timeline. Harry caught up the Elder Wand as Black drew his wand.

Black did pause and take one deep breath that might have been his attempt to restore calm to the situation, but that ended when Harry called, "You probably had some speech prepared about how grateful I should be for your attentions when I'm a half-blood, right?"

"I am going to—"

"I hope that we're not interrupting anything."

Harry spun in a crouch to face the door of the shop. There were two elderly wizards there, one in bright robes, with something silver hovering in front of them—

One of them was Albus Dumbledore. And based on the pictures that Harry had sometimes seen in the papers since he arrived here and his faint memories of photographs from his other timeline, the other one had to be his husband, Gellert Grindelwald.

Panic flooded Harry, and the Elder Wand stirred in his grasp like a living thing. Harry slashed it hard across the air, thinking with thoughts as forceful as his channeled magic, Make them forget everything from today!

Albus watched in some curiosity as the young man that the Expiscor appeared to have targeted made the motion for the Memory Charm. The magic soared out and dissolved against one of the silver points of the weapon. At the same time, the diamonds in those points flashed once, and it moved closer to him.

"You're the one we were looking for, I think," Albus said, after a quick look at the other two people in the shop. One of them was Orion Black, a surprise and yet not. The Blacks had far too great a propensity for dabbling in time travel. The other was someone Albus didn't know, but who could be easily Obliviated if necessary. "The time traveler?"

Black's eyes widened, and the shopkeeper, as he must be, gaped at the dark-haired young man in the center of the shop. Ah, then they had not known. Albus felt a twinge of conscience that he and Gellert couldn't have confronted the man in private, but then again, he had no desire to play around with someone who had managed to hide himself from the Ministry so thoroughly.

"Frangere!"

This time, the spell that sped from the dark brown wand the stranger clutched—which seemed to hum unpleasantly, in rhythm with a buzzing in Albus's teeth—struck true. Albus fell back with his own wand upraised, but the time traveler had aimed for the Expiscor, nor him or Gellert.

The Expiscor made an unpleasant noise of its own as the Breaking Hex collided with its silver star, but continued to hover. However, one of the points broke off, and the diamonds gave a second, sudden flash that told Albus the protection it had given them from spells like the Memory Charm was likely ended.

Gellert made a wounded sound and said, "If you would care to explain yourself—"

The young man was already moving, though, rolling underneath the table and from there using his wand to blast a hole in the wall at about waist height. He dived forwards and through it so smoothly that Albus found himself caught flat-footed. He moved almost like someone who had had Auror training.

Of course, who knew what war he might have fought in, and even broken time trying to set right?

"Gellert—" Albus caught his husband's eye as he bent over the broken Expiscor, and Gellert sighed but began to run after their fugitive. Albus turned to Black and the shopkeeper with a faint smile. As the Minister for Magic, he was the better one to soothe ruffled feathers, assuming that the two men had them.

"Why were you attacking my employee?" the shopkeeper asked before Albus could get a word in edgewise.

Albus shook his head. "We did not mean to. I, for one, didn't know he would take it as an attack. I wanted to speak with him. What is his name?'

"Harry Evanson," began the shopkeeper, which told Albus nothing. Evanson wasn't a familiar name in any way, which made him wonder if it was assumed. Although Albus had labored to change things, Muggleborns still didn't have the same rights as pure-blood wizards.

"Why do you want to know?" asked Black, taking a step forwards.

Albus eyed him. Yes, it was likely Black had known about the time travel before this no matter what his reactions were. There was no reason for him to be involved with a random employee of a shop in Diagon Alley. "He traveled in time."

"What is your proof of that?"

That was not a question Albus had expected, but perhaps he should have. Of course Black would try to protect his investment, which was worth less if other people knew about it. He nodded to the broken Expiscor on the floor. "This is a device that can find those who traveled in time. We knew someone had—"

"And you think that you had the right to find that person and startle him into flight? Why?"

Albus held back the temptation to ask Black why he cared about that instead of about the chance to take advantage of a time traveler's knowledge. "Of course we did," he said gently. "There is evidence that he has already altered the timeline. I don't wish to kill him. I think that's barbaric. But we need to secure him and find out what he knows."

"He's been my assistant," the shopkeeper volunteered. "For two years. He's never tried to change anything. I don't think he has any ambition. That's just—not Harry."

"He has already changed things," Albus corrected. He sighed at the looks on their faces. He hoped he wouldn't have to Memory Charm them, but it might be for the good of everyone involved. If Black had truly not known, he would seek to use the time traveler, and the shopkeeper seemed a simple soul who couldn't understand the contribution to chaos that time magic would make. "He has altered the original timeline. We are, in fact, lucky that the shards assembled into a stable universe."

He heard footsteps behind him and turned, only to find Gellert standing there empty-handed. He met Albus's eyes and shook his head.

Albus sighed. "We will have to contact Izzy again." He handed the broken Expiscor to Gellert and turned back to Black and the shopkeeper. He wouldn't use the Memory Charm on them after all, since it was possible this Evanson would come back to them if they had a connection with him. "You'll tell us when you see Evanson again?"

The shopkeeper nodded quickly, but Black took longer to say, "Very well, Minister. I suppose you would be the best-situated to deal with time travelers."

"Know that we will intervene if he comes to harm, Black."

It was Gellert who said that, and Albus gave him a questioning look as they left the shop. "Why do you think Black would try to harm him?"

"There is a ritual to gain more powerful magic which requires the human sacrifice of a time traveler."

Albus shuddered. Yes, Gellert would know, practitioner of the Dark Arts that he was—had been. And if there was any family that would practice an art so Dark even Gellert thought it something to flinch away from, it was the Blacks.

Albus himself was irritated, but not overly-concerned. They had traced the traveler once by house-elf magic. They could find him again that way, and this time, they would know better than to underestimate him.

Orion left the shop with a smile that he could barely suppress. Palmer seemed intent on reporting Evanson to the Ministry the moment he saw him again, but Orion was going to send an owl that would extend a Portkey and a permanent invitation.

A time traveler.

Orion could not imagine the knowledge that Evanson held. The mysteries that he might be able to solve and the questions he could answer!

Orion would go against the Minister, the former Dark Lord Grindelwald, the entire Ministry, to offer shelter to such a one. And his determination to bind Evanson to the family in some way had only increased.

For now, though, the best lure he had was in his sons and Evanson's fondness for them. Orion smiled as he ruffled Sirius's hair when he came into the house, gathered Regulus close for a hug, and then went to write a very-carefully-worded letter.