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Chapter Twenty-Four—Coming of Age

"So you've left me alone for a suspiciously long time."

Mariana raised her eyebrows. That was the first thing Harry had said to Orion Black when he walked into the Prince home; Seneca, as usual, had been "usefully distracted" elsewhere. Harry had greeted Sirius and Regulus, and indulged Severus, who was clutching his hand with a determined expression and shooting the two Black sons dark looks that said Harry was his first.

Black only raised his eyebrows a little. "I didn't wish to pressure you any more than I had with the money."

"So you were hoping the delay would sweeten my disposition?"

"I was hoping that it wouldn't hurt." And Black bent towards Harry and spoke, softly, but not soft enough to avoid Severus's ears, which Mariana knew meant there would be questions about it later. "To show you that I don't truly wish to enslave you or have you bound to me against your will."

"You want to enslave Mr. Harry?" Severus demanded.

Or questions right now, Mariana thought with a sigh, and crossed the large space of the drawing room, through the sunlight shed by the large windows, to gently place her hand on Severus's shoulder. "Of course not," she said. "You just heard Mr. Black say that he doesn't wish that, Severus."

"But he used to want to."

"And now he doesn't," Mariana said firmly, glaring at Harry when she saw a smile tugging at his lips. He had helped to bring up the subject, so he could help in soothing Severus now. It seemed that he saw the justice of that, and he turned and squatted down in front of Severus.

"No, Severus, it's okay," he said, brushing the thick black hair out of her grandson's face to expose the lightning bolt scar. "I promise, okay? Mr. Black doesn't want to do bad things to me, and even if he did, he wouldn't have the power."

From the look on Orion Black's face, he only agreed with the second of those statements, but Mariana didn't think it would be wise to point it out. Severus stared intently into Harry's eyes for a minute, much more intensely than Mariana would have been comfortable with herself, and then he nodded.

"All right, Mr. Harry."

Harry stood up and changed his tone to a light, airy one, while taking a few steps back from all of them. "I thought we were gathered here to celebrate a birthday? So where's the cake and the presents?"

"My birthday!" Regulus yelled from the floor. "I'm three!"

"Well, I'm four," Severus muttered as Harry went over and snatched Regulus up, reeling him around his head while the little boy laughed. Mariana gently pressed on her grandson's shoulder, making up, she hoped, for the loss of attention, and Severus did ease back a little from glaring at Regulus.

"I do find myself wondering," Orion said in the casual sort of voice that meant nothing casual was happening, "when Mr. Potter's birthday is."

Harry's shoulders jerked, but he still put Regulus carefully on the floor, not that Mariana would expect anything less from him. Then he looked over his shoulder at Orion and shook his head. "You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do, or why would I ask the question?"

"No. I meant that it wasn't a sincere request for information. It's just more of the sort of nonsense that you like saying to me." Mariana was sure that, without the children around, Harry would have used a stronger word than "nonsense." He was glaring at Orion with his jaw tense, and only an interruption from Sirius, who was in the middle of the purple rug in front of the fireplace, made him leave off.

"I thought your name was Evanson, Mr. Harry. But you're really a Potter?"

"No," Harry said, his voice so soft that Mariana couldn't really hear him. He reached over and brushed his fingers against the scar on Severus's forehead again. "I'm just the person I named myself as."

"You're Harry Potter," Orion Black said, but his voice was heavy. Harry jerked his head up to glare at him again, and Mariana sighed. It seemed that months of leaving Harry alone until the end of his first school year as a Hogwarts professor hadn't cooled Harry's boiling temper that much. "I wish you would accept it. I want you to have everything you want, and it's obvious that you want a family."

"I have one," Harry said, and his eyes closed for a minute. Mariana suspected he was remembering the people he'd left behind in his first world, the original timeline. Then he shook his head and sat back. "Or I'm trying to have one. Anyway, I thought we were gathered here to celebrate Regulus's birthday?"

"I'm three," Regulus said again, and held up his hands with three fingers on either one spread. Sirius nudged him.

"That's six, idiot."

"Sirius Orion Black, do not call your brother an idiot."

Harry said that harshly enough to make Sirius curl up a little, and Orion sighed as if he suspected it was the only way that he'd hear Harry saying his name any time soon. Mariana caught his eye, staring at him. Orion nodded back and changed direction, saying, "Yes, this is a birthday party, and we've only kept the gifts and the cake out of the room so that they wouldn't get damaged by a whirlwind of children."

"I am not part of the whirlwind," Severus insisted.

Mariana chuckled, and Harry did the same, and the awkwardness of the moment passed.

"Enough is enough," Albus said quietly as he walked into the library where Gellert sat holding a book and staring at the wall.

Except for the twitch of his neck, Gellert might not have noticed him. Albus stood between him and the fire and waited for a long moment to be acknowledged. But Gellert ignored him, just as he had since the evening the Aurors had questioned them. Months of the silent treatment. Albus had tried to put up with it, had tried to ignore it, had tried to reassure himself that at least it meant that Gellert wasn't trying to enlist him in any more attempts at restarting the war.

"If you feel this strongly about it, I'll turn you over to the Aurors," said Albus.

Gellert started and looked at him properly for the first time in months. "What?"

"This silence pretty much accuses me of betraying you." Albus folded his arms and paced over to the far side of the library. Suddenly he was the one who couldn't look at Gellert. But he had promised himself he would end the silence, one way or the other, and this was the only way he could think of. "It says that you would prefer to spend your time in the custody of Aurors or members of the Wizengamot. Or perhaps simply in Azkaban. You could trust them to be what they are. You don't trust me anymore."

"I—Albus, that isn't true."

Gellert sounded honestly lost, but then, he had sounded honest when he had forsworn any desire for world domination years ago, too. Albus turned around and leaned his back against the nearest bookshelf, keeping his expression as calm as he could. "Then please explain to me what this temper tantrum you've been throwing is all about."

Gellert glanced aside from him, his hands clenched for a second on the arms of his chair. Then he said, "My curiosity is driving me mad."

"Your curiosity."

"The war must have gone differently in that world Potter comes from," Gellert said, and then he was on his feet and pacing back and forth, one of those fluid movements Albus never actually saw him make, only saw the aftermath of. He had dueled like that, their last time fighting and other times, too, all power and grace like swift smoke. "There can't have been two timelines that were exactly the same. What happened? Where was I? How close did I get?"

"And you think that you could be happy if he would answer those questions?"

"Not happy." Gellert glanced at him and let out an abrupt laugh that sounded chopped off at the end. "Not when my husband was carrying the weight of spells around in his head to alert the Aurors if I ever sounded like I wanted to start the war up again."

"I paid the price for that. I won't apologize."

Gellert turned away, but his hands were trembling rapidly. "Bring Potter here. Make him tell the truth. Then—maybe I could give this up. If I knew for sure that what happened to me in the other timeline was worse."

Albus closed his eyes. He disliked the idea of forcing Potter into compliance with Veritaserum or the like, especially since their alliance was already delicate. The less association they had with the time-traveler, the better.

But he also wanted peace in his own home again. And it might be that he would be able to persuade Potter—Evanson—however he wished to be known.

"All right. I'll Floo him."

Harry walked into what was apparently the Minister for Magic's house with his head high and his worries dancing around inside his head. Maybe he should have refused the summons. The problem was that he wasn't really sure he could. After all, Dumbledore and Grindelwald knew what he was. He would lose everything he'd managed to build if they exposed him.

Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe that would finally pay for what you took from everyone.

Harry bit the thoughts off sharply, reminded himself that at least one of the men he was here to meet was a Legilimens, and came around the corner into a shining white sitting room that said, more clearly than even the spotless floors had, that there were no children here. Dumbledore stood up with a smile to welcome him from an armchair that nearly matched his beard for color.

"Welcome, welcome, Harry."

Harry nodded distantly back, keeping part of his attention on Grindelwald, who sat in another white chair nearer the fireplace. His attitude was perfectly relaxed, which just sent Harry's instincts to screaming new heights.

"I invited you here because my husband has—well, some curiosity about your original timeline and how he fit into it."

"I've told you what I'm willing to tell you," said Harry, and faced Albus for a second. The Elder Wand made a little murmur in its holster wrapped around his wrist. Harry wondered fleetingly if it was confused about a copy of itself so nearby.

"That's unfortunate," said Albus, with what seemed to be genuine regret. "But it is driving him, well, nearly mad. He wishes to know whether he was successful in conquering the world that you came from."

"And what happened to me if I was not," Grindelwald interjected, sounding as if he resented even having to speak the words. "And what happened to Albus. And whether he became Minister."

Harry growled under his breath. "I can't help you. That timeline is gone and buried." The Elder Wand's humming was louder now. Harry touched it to try to calm it, and saw Albus's eyes dart to the holster briefly.

"You've dropped hints," Grindelwald said. "But how can we be sure that you're telling the truth? I have to know."

"Why? So you can try and resurrect that timeline if you think it's better?" Harry spun around to face Dumbledore. "Let me tell you this: you weren't married. You weren't together. He was in prison and you were dying."

Dumbledore sighed out, but he still stood closer to Grindelwald than Harry, and that shadow of regret was still on his features. "I'm afraid that I agree with Gellert to an extent. We can't be sure that you're telling the truth."

Harry knew the sparkling vial that appeared in his hands, and he reacted without thinking, but with the blast of power from the Elder Wand. The vial broke apart, scattering the potion all over the nice white carpet.

"Bastard," Harry hissed, still aiming the Elder Wand while Dumbledore was shaking shards of glass and drops of blood from his hand. "You think that you're going to force me? Go fuck yourself."

Dumbledore's jaw fell open a little, as if he truly hadn't expected that. Grindelwald was the one who laughed like the madman he was and stood up.

"I told you that wouldn't work, Albus. He has his reasons to conceal the truth from us. For lying. Whatever he did to break time has to be a part of it." Grindelwald prowled forwards, and Harry recognized the expertise of a master dueler. He hadn't drawn a wand yet, but maybe he didn't need to. "Stand still, Potter, and I won't wrench the sanity from your mind along with the truth."

Harry whipped the Elder Wand up to face him. "And are you the one who came to me in a cloak, too?" he demanded, too on edge for caution. "Who messed with Seneca Prince's mind?"

Grindelwald halted at that, staring at him with dark eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Determined to betray no more of his secrets, Harry held onto his wand, and ignored the Disarming Charm Dumbledore flung at him. It wasn't going to work, not when the Elder Wand wanted to stay with him. "It doesn't matter. I'm not going to be your guest here, and I'm not going to tell you any more secrets."

"Please, Mr. Potter, see sense." Dumbledore took a step towards him, too, but halted when Harry stared at him. "Harry. All you need to do is tell us what the other timeline was like, and we'll let you go."

"No." The thought that they were willing to use Veritaserum on him made nausea rise up in Harry that he hadn't felt since Umbridge was at Hogwarts in his first world.

The one he'd destroyed. The one he'd broken.

"I did enough harm to other people when I came here, when I altered time. I won't do more." The words burned like an oath in him, and they should be. He had said the words to himself when he woke up each morning, when he stared into the mirror and thought about the fact that Sirius and Regulus were growing up without their mother, when he saw the lightning bolt scar on Severus's forehead and resisted the urge to tell Severus what he had once been.

"Just telling the truth wouldn't harm anything, Harry."

"You don't think so? When your husband would keep digging for more and more truth, and insisting that it couldn't be real even if I was under Veritaserum?"

"What happened to me?"

And something else broke, splintering in Harry like the shards of the mirrors he remembered falling about him as he tumbled through time, leaving his original world behind, along with all the friends and the people he'd ever loved.

"You lost the duel to Dumbledore," Harry said, and his voice was cold with fury, but that appeared to make Grindelwald more inclined to listen. "He put you in prison. Nurmengard. You languished there for years and years, while Dumbledore became Headmaster of Hogwarts. In the end, you were killed by Voldemort because he was looking for the Elder Wand, and he thought you would know what had happened to it."

The wand in his hand hummed. Harry ignored it for the moment, consumed with watching Grindelwald blink hard and visibly try to wrap his head around the words.

"And Albus didn't—come to me?" Grindelwald's voice was subdued.

Harry laughed until he choked. "How should I know? I was a kid. I didn't know about that kind of thing. I only knew what the public knew. Not even as much as that, not until I was older." And that was true, and not a lie, and it didn't require them to know who he'd been. "I know Dumbledore was honored for dueling you, and he became Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, but never Minister. He was also one of the few people leading the resistance against Voldemort, when he returned. He died fighting him."

"So he was defeated, as in this timeline, but he returned?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry glanced at him and nodded. "Surely you don't believe he's really dead, when he has his obsession with immortality?"

Dumbledore blinked. "I'm afraid I didn't know that about him."

Of course he wouldn't. He isn't Headmaster of Hogwarts in this world. He didn't go to retrieve Tom Riddle from the Muggle world, or at least I don't think so. Harry closed his eyes and sighed out. "Well, at least in the original time I came from, he was obsessed that way. He'll still be alive. You should do everything you can to protect Severus Prince."

"It seems as though you're already doing that, my boy."

Harry's eyes snapped open before he thought about it. "Don't call me that."

Dumbledore hesitated and glanced over at Grindelwald, who hadn't moved and hadn't repeated his demands for information, either. "Yes, well, perhaps I have lost the right," he conceded, and managed to make it sound as though he was being magnanimous.

Harry just shrugged and looked away. His fury had drained off, but he wasn't going to trust them ever again. He could still see the glittering drops of Veritaserum out of the corner of his eye if he looked. "Are you going to let me leave?"

"Yes, of course we are. Gellert?"

Grindelwald was standing there staring at Harry, but he started and jerked his head up when Dumbledore spoke. "Yes, of course. You can leave. I—I never tried to leave the prison and do anything?"

"If you did, it wasn't as though I would have known about it." Harry kept his voice as emotionless as he could. The last thing he wanted to reveal now, after having convinced them of his lack of other knowledge, was that he'd been the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Of course." Grindelwald stood there looking faintly disturbed and nothing else as Harry went back to the Floo.

He stumbled out of the fireplace in his Hogwarts professor's quarters—it wasn't as though he had anywhere else to live—and sat down on the floor, not in a chair. He put his head on his knees and wrapped his arms around himself.

He had made his peace, mostly, with living in this world that he had more than half-created. But nothing before had brought home to him so forcefully that there was no one here who really cared about him, no one who knew who he was, no one who would stand to fight for him against figures as powerful as Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

Merlin, he missed Ron and Hermione.