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Chapter Two-Knockturn Alley

Theo blinked slowly, striving to focus his eyes. It felt as if someone had drenched him in a barrel of Firewhisky, and his arms were trembling. He tried to stand, and stumbled.

Someone gripped his arm and hauled him upwards. "Come on, Nott!"

Potter. Theo banished the impulse to simply crumple again, and rushed after Potter as they turned a corner and moved towards the center of Diagon Alley. Theo hadn't known exactly what would happen if the ritual was successful, if they would step into the bodies of the replicas with the replicas taking over afterwards, or—

"Theodore! There you are."

Or if we would seem to disappear and then come back to take our place one last time. Theo reached out his hands and clasped Elizabeth's, drinking in her face, the fine blue eyes and high arched eyebrows and dark hair that she kept in a long sweep draping down her back. This was the last time he would touch her like this.

It was worth it, to keep her from becoming the bloodied ruin he had sat beside for hours in the dark the afternoon it had happened.

"Yes, here I am, darling," he said, and held out his arm for her. "I've decided I don't fancy shopping in Diagon Alley this afternoon. Would you like to go home early?"

"Does this fancy have to do with hearing something?"

Elizabeth's voice was still the same low, thrilling contralto, but her eyes were locked on Theo's face. He nodded. "It may have." There were still people who believed that Theo had been a Death Eater like his father, never mind his lack of Mark or even an arrest after the war, and attempted to ambush him in one way or another.

Elizabeth nodded back, her face grim. "Then let's go." She grabbed his arm, and Theo led her to the nearest Apparition point, trying to memorize the warmth of her fingers on his skin.

It occurred to him that it was profoundly unfair that Pensieve memories wouldn't preserve physical sensations like this.

When they'd Apparated to the front gates of Nott House, Theo held her in his arms for a moment, drowning in the scent of her, the feel of her hair around his hands, the warmth of her body and the way she clutched at him. He was tempted to spend the fifty-five minutes he had left making love to her, trying to absorb absolutely everything he could one last time.

But he drew back with a shake of his head. If he did that, he would lose track of time, and he couldn't bear to see Elizabeth's eyes go cold as she stared at him and saw a stranger. He was trying to spare her pain, not give her a different kind.

"I'm going back to Diagon Alley," he said quietly. "I need to make sure that no one else gets caught up in whatever plot McLaggen is trying this time." Cormac McLaggen couldn't let it go that Theo had patented a potion they were both working on first, and was always trying this kind of thing. It was a believable excuse. "Promise me that you'll stay behind wards in the house?"

"Theodore, what is going on?"

"I promise I'll tell you later," Theo said softly. He could only hope that the replicas would have all the necessary memories. But if they didn't, well, there would always be a possible handy excuse, like Theo having been hit by a Confundus Charm. He traced Elizabeth's cheek with one finger. "Promise me?"

Elizabeth stared at him hard, and then sighed. "All right. I promise." She lifted herself on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Theo embraced her one more time, with an arm around her waist and one hand on the back of her neck, and watched until she was behind the gates and had waved to him. Then he turned and Apparated.

He needed to make sure that Potter kept his family and friends safe. He owed him a debt—he would never have been able to come back to the exact time and with the exact requirements of the ritual granted if not for Potter's strength in magic and his Parseltongue—and what he owed, he paid.

Theo found Potter again at twenty minutes after noon. And because he was married to a Weasley, of course, Theo also found him in the middle of an argument.

"Harry, I am not going home now! We haven't got half of Jamie's school supplies yet!"

"Gin, all I'm asking you is for us to go to Hogsmeade—"

"No!"

That seemed to be a chorus of several voices, probably not only Potter's wife but all his children. Theo grimaced, braced himself, and turned the corner.

Potter was standing in front of his family, looking harassed. Weasley—both the man and the woman—were glaring at him, their faces red. His three children were gathered around their mother, all frowning so hard that Theo felt their frowns as a force of their own in the discussion. Granger stood a little way behind them with her own children, her gaze intent on Potter.

Theo didn't think there was any way she could figure it out, not in the limited time she had, and he was about to introduce another wrinkle to the situation that should puzzle everyone further. "Potter," he said briskly.

Potter swung around to face him. His cheeks were red, too, but something like relief flashed in his eyes as he caught sight of Theo. He nodded. "Nott."

"Thank you for the warning," Theo said, keeping one eye on Granger and one on Potter. He would have to hope that Potter picked up on his diversion tactic fast enough to play along. Well, at least Granger was the only one they really had to worry about figuring it out. The Weasleys were too thick, and the children too young. "If I'd known what Cormac McLaggen intended, I never would have brought my wife here today. As it is, I've escorted her safely home."

"You're welcome, Nott," Potter said, and gave him a small smile.

"What? What warning about McLaggen?"

There. Granger was helping them rather than hindering. Theo half-turned towards her, then glanced back at Potter. "You didn't tell them?"

"I didn't think it was worth bothering about, since he isn't targeting my family."

Oh, very good. "I have heard some rumors swirling about how he hates you, too, though. Something about Hogwarts and feeling like he was tricked out of the Gryffindor Keeper position?" Theo shrugged and arranged an expression of concern on his face. "Of course, his hatred for me is deeper, but I think that you would do well to tell them."

"Harry James Potter, you tell me right now."

Weasley the younger's rage was also easy to direct, Theo thought, at least when she thought someone else had done something wrong.

Potter turned to her, the picture of contrition. Theo nudged his estimate of the man's acting abilities upwards. "I really thought it wasn't worth talking about the rumors, Gin. You know that McLaggen's always been a bit of a git. I just thought—well, better safe than sorry, you know?"

"You wanted us to go to Hogsmeade without telling us why."

"Well, yeah—"

"You could have told us why."

"And you should have trusted me!"

Theo could see this becoming the kind of argument that would last past the point that they had to change the timeline, so he intervened. "We heard that McLaggen was planning an assassination at least," he said coolly. "Of my wife. And while there was nothing so specific when it came to what he was planning to do to Potter's family and friends…I do agree with your husband, Mrs. Potter, that it would be better if you went to Hogsmeade."

Weasley turned away from glaring at Potter and glared at him. Theo bore it well enough, because no one in the world except Elizabeth mattered to him, and she wasn't here right now. Weasley examined him minutely, and then glanced back at Granger. "What do you think, Hermione?"

"I think that I don't want to stand around here arguing all day when we could be buying Jamie's school supplies and then going to have lunch," Ron Weasley interjected. "Let's go to Hogsmeade. Maybe this rumor is real, maybe it isn't, but there's no reason to keep standing here and arguing about it."

Theo didn't so far forget himself as to smile at Weasley, but it was definitely the cleverest he'd ever heard someone from that family be. "Remember that I thought it credible enough to take my wife home," he said lightly.

"And then come back yourself?" Granger demanded.

"The rumor said he was aiming to harm her, not me."

"And the same about you, Hermione, and Gin and the kids," Potter put in, gesturing with one hand. "Come on. Yes, maybe it's nothing, but do we have to parade around Diagon Alley and act as though we don't care about painting targets on our kids' backs merely to spite McLaggen?"

"No one ever tries to paint a target on my back," Ron Weasley complained.

Granger was glancing at her children, and her face softened, Theo was glad to see. "Yes, well, McLaggen was rather an—unpleasant to me during our sixth year," she admitted. "I have a hard time believing his grudge would take the form of murder, but there's no point in taking a chance. Come on, Rose, Hugo. Let's go to Hogsmeade."

Her children groaned and complained, but Granger was already shepherding them towards the far end of the alley where an Apparition point awaited. Theo was immensely relieved to see Ron Weasley going with them.

He turned to Potter and his family.

"We are going to have words about this later, Harry, and why you didn't tell us," Weasley muttered, but she turned and followed in Granger's wake. Jamie, the oldest and the one who would be going to Hogwarts this year, if Theo remembered correctly, trailed her, also complaining. His little sister skipped along in his wake.

Meanwhile, Potter fiercely hugged the second boy, the one with wild hair like his who had died in the attack. "Follow your mum, Al. I'll catch up in a minute. I just need to talk to Nott here."

The boy cast Potter a skeptical glance so perfect that Theo felt his lips twitch. It seemed that he had got all the intelligence and Slytherin traits in that family. But he nodded and went after his mother and siblings.

Potter straightened and shook his shoulders, seeming to settle invisible ruffled feathers. Then he turned and nodded to Theo. "Thanks, Nott."

"I thought you might need help," Theo said quietly, and tried his best not to sound condescending, because Gryffindors were sensitive to that kind of thing. "Is there anything else that you're going to do?"

"I don't know everyone who died in that incident," Potter said, and turned and headed for Quality Quidditch Supplies. "But I owe it to them to at least warn the shop owners about that stupid duel."

Theo inclined his head. "I'm going back to spend the last twenty minutes or so I have with Elizabeth."

"Understood, Nott."

Theo watched Potter's back for a moment, and contemplated the self-sacrificing idiocy it would take to give up the last minutes one would ever have with one's family for the sake of strangers. Then again, that was why Potter was an Auror and he wasn't. Theo backed up until he was at an Apparition point and Apparated home.

When it was one minute to the point that he would be replaced by his replica, and the air around him was starting to feel stretched and expectant, Theo managed to convince Elizabeth he needed to use the loo and stepped out of the sitting room where they'd been. He did go into the small bathroom on the first floor and leaned against the wall for a second, closing his eyes.

The shine of her eyes, the feel of her hand clasped in his, that he would never see or feel again.

And the sounds of the old house around him, the memories of chasing flying horses from portrait to portrait, the smell of books in the library, the feel of carpet beneath his feet…

Theo shuddered. There was an enormous drain of magic from him, and he had to go. He would be a stranger in the house to Elizabeth and his other self in a moment, and he still needed to gather a buried cache of Galleons from the edge of the grounds, one of the many his father had established for the sake of a rainy day.

Now, it's flooding, Theo thought, and cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself before he slipped out of the bathroom. He could hear soft voices coming from the sitting room, his own and Elizabeth's, entwining as they laughed.

You made your decision. There's no going back.

Theo nodded, and walked out of the house, unstopped by wards or house-elves, which at least for right now seemed to confuse him with his double. The edge of the grounds backed up on a small wood that filled with blossoms and light in the spring. It had been the one indulgence his father had ever allowed himself. Theo thought it was because the wood had reminded his father of Theo's mother.

Theo knelt and unburied the Galleons, slipped them into an expanded robe pocket, and looked back once. Nott House shone serenely in the sunlight, home to someone else now. From this moment forwards, what "Theodore Nott" did would belong to his replica, and Theo's actions would be those of someone else, unremarkable to anyone even if they noticed the coincidence of the name.

He was no longer Elizabeth's husband. He was no longer a Death Eater's son.

Theo nodded and decided that no matter how he ultimately came to feel about those, it was worth it to also have given up being Elizabeth's widower.

He had arranged to meet Potter in the alley nearest Quality Quidditch Supplies, although part of Theo had been convinced that Potter wouldn't show up. Perhaps he would try to stay with his wife and children after all, despite the fact that as far as they were concerned, after two minutes to one this afternoon, he would be a stranger.

But Potter was waiting for him, his head lifting as he spied Theo. He nodded to him and fell into step beside him as they walked into the main alley.

"Successful, then?" Theo murmured, and felt like smacking himself a second later. Obviously Potter had been, or the portion of Diagon Alley in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies would have been littered with glass and the screaming and dying. But just as he had left behind the Theodore Nott who was a Death Eater's son and a Slytherin and who had to judge every weakness he revealed by that, perhaps he had left behind the one who had to scold himself for stating the obvious.

That felt as if that could be…very freeing.

"Yes," Potter said, and gave him a half-smile. He was looking around them as they walked down the street, but Theo didn't know how much of that was paranoia about another possible accident happening and how much was because people might have mobbed him if they still thought he was Harry Potter. "I explained to the owners that I'd overheard two teenagers talking about a plot to steal one of their Firebolt Sevens and cause a diversion with a duel to accomplish it. After that, they were watching every kid who came in there like a hawk."

Theo bit back the correction "like an Augurey" that had risen to his lips. He didn't have to do that anymore, either. "What do you want to do now?"

Potter sighed a little. "I have enough Galleons with me to pay for food and rent for about a month, assuming that we find a flat in Knockturn Alley or the like. I'm not sure what to do long-term, though. Being an Auror is all I ever trained for."

"And I haven't had to work, given my money."

Potter started to answer, then glanced at him. "That's not the same as your not having worked."

Theo felt a smile stretch his lips that he didn't try to stop. At least he wasn't stuck with someone who was utterly oblivious. "Yes, well, I did brew and sell some potions. And I have a few caches of Potions ingredients stored here and there under Preservation Charms, ones I doubt my other self will miss or check at all. I can start making and selling them again."

"I never knew you sold potions."

"Not the kind that were taught in Snape's class."

Potter went from casually striding to walking on what seemed to be his toes in seconds. His eyes cut sideways to Theo. "Dark ones, then?" he asked, in what might have been a casual tone if you were deaf, ignorant of the politics in Britain during the last twenty years, and distracted by a chattering child.

"Dark ones, yes." Theo tilted his head at Potter, wondering if they were going to be the ones dueling now. "The Draught of Living Death, the Instant Alteration Potion, Veritaserum Maxima, Eternal Insomnia Draught—"

"Wait," Potter interrupted, looking confused. "None of those are illegal."

"I think you need to learn the difference between illegal and Dark." Theo shrugged. "The Draught of Living Death can be fed to someone against their will and put them to sleep for months. The Instant Alteration Potion can be used by the drinker to change something about themselves that they don't like, of course, but can also be used to change someone else. There's an antidote, or I think that one would be illegal. Veritaserum Maxima lasts for days. Eternal Insomnia is often used as a curse on an enemy."

"Why aren't they illegal, then?"

"Powerful people find them convenient."

Potter frowned some more as they walked towards Knockturn Alley. Theo thought Potter was right that they would stand the best chance of finding a flat they could afford for rent there. Maybe even a small house, although from what Theo knew of houses in Knockturn Alley, they tended to be ramshackle affairs assembled from larger buildings or old places that were too much trouble to knock down.

"I—I don't want you brewing potions like that anymore if we're going to live together," Potter said, clearing his throat noisily as they rounded the first corner that separated Knockturn Alley from Diagon Alley.

"That's one of our few reliable sources of income cut off, then," Theo said, as neutrally as he could. "What would you think should replace it?"

Potter narrowed his eyes at him. "I have extensive experience in the Aurors—"

"Which you can't tell anyone about here. Unless you know a way to fake paperwork from another country's branch of the Aurors?"

Potter ran a hand through his hair, which did absolutely nothing for it. "No. I don't have any idea how to do that."

Theo nodded and looked around. They were attracting some attention, although at least, thank Merlin, Potter wasn't wearing Auror robes, which would have guaranteed all sorts of unfriendly attention right away. Theo fixed his eyes idly on one of the hags who was staring at him, and she decided to find something else to look at.

"There are businesses here that would pay you to act as a skilled dueler," Theo said casually. "Either teaching people who aren't allowed to enter the Aurors for some reason, or who failed out of Hogwarts. Or young children the basics of Defense, before they go to Hogwarts."

"And is that the only thing someone might ask me to do?"

Potter was better than Theo had thought at noticing lies of omission. He turned his head and looked at him. "No. Someone might also ask you to curse someone else that they can't, or hurt them with offensive spells because they enjoy it."

"What?"

"I know, you're going to say in a minute that you don't want to be an assassin, and—"

"No, no. The last part." Potter was flushed from the bottom of his throat to the top of his forehead, and Theo suspected the blush extended much further down. "Someone would—there are people who enjoy that kind of thing?"

"My wife enjoys that kind of thing." Theo laughed at the expression that twisted Potter's face then. "Poor, sheltered, naïve little Potter."

"I never—I just—I don't—" Potter stopped and visibly struggled to find words. Theo stopped beside him and hoped that he didn't have to do too much protection of Potter from the unsavory elements of Knockturn Alley.

"I've just seen so many people hurt by those spells," Potter whispered, "that it's hard for me to understand how someone could want to undergo them willingly."

Again, Potter had surprised Theo. That was both more measured and more sensible a reaction than he would have thought. He eyed him, and then nodded. "Fair enough. And I'm not saying that someone definitely would ask you to do it. Just that it might be a natural consequence of being known as a skilled dueler in Knockturn Alley."

Potter nodded back. Then he said, "And do you have skills beyond Potions?"

"Of course. I also have some Galleons that I dug up from one of the caches that I buried near Nott House. My replica won't have need of all of them. I know where a few others are that my father left behind, as well."

"I didn't ask if treasure-hunting was one of your skills."

"I can duel about as well as an average person in their thirties, I suppose. I'm good at telling spoiled Potions ingredients from fresh ones. I like to catalogue things. I might look for a job in one of the bookshops here."

Theo wondered for a moment if Potter would object to that, too, seeing as the bookshops probably sold some Dark Arts texts. His jaw firmed for a moment as if he were going to. Then he shook his head and visibly restrained himself, maybe because he remembered that he had been the one to suggest a Knockturn Alley flat. "All right. Let's see what there is."

"Agreed. And it would be best for both of us if you let me be the one asking the questions, Potter."

After another moment, Potter grudgingly nodded.

"And you expect us to believe that this sofa was not Transfigured from a pile of rags?"

Theo could almost sense Potter's urge to shout from behind him. He probably assumed that bargaining with the person who would potentially rent a flat to them was supposed to be more polite.

But Theo knew how these things worked. He might not be much like his father, but that didn't mean Theo couldn't learn from him. And if they didn't bargain over obvious scams like this one, there was every chance that they would look weak to people on Knockturn Alley, and would have to spend weeks fending off attacks and raids and other nonsense.

Theo twitched a hand to Potter behind his back and smiled at the hag who had shown them this flat. "Well?"

"I expect you can put it right again when it reverts." The hag's eyes darted to the wand strapped to Theo's arm.

"I expect you expect that," Theo agreed. "But, of course, you should also consider what I'm capable of doing to you."

It sounded as if Potter was actually taking a breath to shout this time, but the hag cackled with appreciation, and the breath apparently came out in a whoosh. Theo ignored that as best he could and continued bargaining.

When he finished, the hag had agreed to rent the flat to them for one Galleon per fortnight, provided that Theo and Harry provided their own security. Theo was glad enough of that; the pathetic lock on the door wouldn't stand up to a determined third-year Hufflepuff, and there were no wards currently. The hag could claim that was for "the convenience of people moving in and out" all she liked. It was an open invitation to robbery even more than the lock.

Theo paid the hag the first month's rent and then stood there looking around as she stumped out the door. The flat was a dim, poky set of three rooms: one a bathroom, one a rudimentary kitchen, one a large room that had obviously been divided into partitions with curtains or the like in the past, given the hooks Theo could see in the ceiling. The cabinet doors were crooked. The loo worked, but begrudgingly. There was a bathtub with feet that looked as if they might come to life and rake them like a cat's claws, but no shower. And the walls looked as if a dragon had thrown up on them.

"This place?" Potter asked.

Theo glanced over his shoulder. Potter was still a little red in the face, but Theo supposed he should count his blessings. It had probably been years since Potter had had to resist shouting when he saw something that upset him. "You have a better idea?"

"No, but I thought…" Potter shook his head. "Never mind."

"Thought it would be bigger?" Theo asked sweetly as he cast Reparo at a few of the cabinet doors. They shimmered and rearranged themselves to actually show a smooth front to the world instead of bare shelves. Then he turned to the walls. "Nicer?"

"Maybe."

"Are you any good at Color-Changing Spells? Come here and help me with this."

Despite the inauspicious beginning, Potter had calmed down by the time that Theo led him out to get food. They walked down the middle of Knockturn Alley with their wands in their hands and their hoods pulled up. As impossible as it would be for someone to recognize their faces and connect them to Theo Nott or Harry Potter given the way the time travel ritual had functioned, Theo wasn't eager to stand out by walking around bare-faced.

Then a scrawny girl darted out in front of them, cupped her hand at Theo's wand, and hit him with a blast of wandless magic that nearly pulled it free.

Theo closed his hand around the wand and held steady, giving her a cold, unimpressed look. Admittedly, the way the hood was pulled up somewhat muted the impact of that, but it did make her pale and step back a little.

Potter was fumbling at what was probably his coin purse. Theo stepped on his foot.

"What?" Potter asked from the corner of his mouth.

"She came after my wand," Theo said, watching the girl. She had already turned and limped towards a gap between shops where a smaller alley wound off Knockturn. "Not my money. She'll only respect strong targets, and if you give her money, you're marking yourself as softhearted and a fine target."

Potter blinked, but his hand dropped away from his coins, and he had the sense to argue with Theo in a low voice. "I am compassionate."

"Why?"

"Because it's the right bloody thing to do, Nott!"

Theo shook his head and continued to lead Potter in the direction of the small market he remembered being held in Knockturn on Saturdays once he was sure the girl didn't intend to come back and didn't have compatriots. "It was the right thing for someone who was powerful and respected and rich and went shopping in Diagon Alley to do. It's not right for someone who lives in Knockturn Alley, where no one even knows who he is."

Potter once again drew in his breath to argue and then said nothing. So he can be taught, Theo thought, but had the sense not to say it aloud.

Potter seemed both horrified and captivated by the market, which was a series of booths sheltered, at the most, with a few curtains and some wards on the money. There were animals crouching in cages, bubbling cauldrons of stew in which multiple people dipped long wooden spoons, fruit speckled with flies and worse, trays of toenails and fingernails and hair clippings, and a smell that Theo had to cast a charm on his nose to make himself ignore.

"What are they doing with the puffskeins?" Potter said in an undertone as Theo stuffed the peaches he'd bought—after cleansing them and checking for common diseases—into a small bag. Potter nodded at the cage a few stalls down, where the small creatures crouched together.

"Guess."

"I—they can't be eating them."

"Stewing them. I understand they're quite good." Theo smiled at him over his shoulder and led the way to the next stall, where one of the cleaner vendors waited behind a set of trays crowded with slices of meat.

"That's…" Potter's voice trailed off.

Theo shrugged at him. "Some people like them, and some people need them, and some people eat them because they don't have the money to afford much else. I understand that the Ministry barely ever sent you into Knockturn Alley unless it was to investigate Borgin and Burke's or locate a place where some high-profile criminal was hiding?" He made sure to keep his voice down. Talking about the Ministry in the middle of Knockturn Alley would get too many ears listening to them, and while Theo wasn't above making some alliances here, he didn't want the wrong kind of attention.

Potter was quiet. Theo nodded and faced the butcher again. The old man, a warlock with more tufts of hair left than he had teeth, sneered at him. "What you looking at?"

"Testing," Theo murmured, and swished his wand. The meat on the tray lit up with a variety of colors: blue for beef, red for chicken, yellow for rat, and several others. Potter was staring at him. Theo nodded to the single slice of beef and one of the few chicken pieces. "We'll take those."

"Two Galleons."

Theo leaned in. "And how much is it if I tell your potential buyers what that is?" He nodded at the piece of meat in the bottom lefthand corner of the tray. Physically, it looked identical to the piece of beef Theo wanted to buy, but it sparkled white under the spell.

The butcher swallowed and looked for a second as if he might try a plea for sympathy, but he lowered his head. "Fine. Eleven Sickles."

Theo paid and walked away with the beef and chicken. He weighed the bag in his hand for a moment and decided they had enough for today. Neither of them would be eating as well as they had for a while, and honestly, establishing a reputation as wealthy and well-fed wasn't what you wanted in Knockturn Alley, anyway.

"What was it, Nott?"

"The meat on the tray?" It took Theo's mind a moment to return to what Potter probably meant; he'd been thinking that it was too bad the butcher hadn't had duck. Theo would have enjoyed that. "Unicorn."

Potter stopped walking, from the sound. Theo snorted a little and kept moving. He could understand Potter's disgust, but he wasn't about to stand out here in the middle of the crowd waiting for him to digest a revelation.

"That's disgusting," Potter whispered, catching up again.

"Why do you think I didn't buy it?"

"No, I mean—" Potter swallowed and cleared his throat. "Not disgusting to eat, disgusting to contemplate."

Theo nodded. He never particularly liked to think about the ways that unicorns were slaughtered. "Anyway, let's get home."

"Shouldn't we let someone know…?"

Theo stopped and turned around. Potter had his hands clenched, and his eyes were red-rimmed. That surprised Theo a little. He had expected to at least notice if Potter was weeping.

"Who?" Theo asked gently. "We don't have any information about who slaughtered the unicorn, or who sold it to the butcher. It might be the butcher himself, but we don't know any did. And what would be your instinct, as an Auror, if someone came out of Knockturn Alley and reported a crime like this?"

"I didn't know crimes like this happened!"

"Come on, Potter, you know well enough what I mean."

Potter set his jaw, and Theo concealed a loud sigh. Life would be so tedious if Potter acted as though everything had to be literal for him to understand it. But a man with that little mental flexibility would never have had the courage to contemplate the time travel ritual that had brought them here, Theo knew.

Finally, Potter nodded.

"You don't have the standing with law enforcement that you did before, either, to be automatically believed," Theo said. "You know you don't. And that loss of power and influence is something we'll both have to get used to, along with the loss of…other things."

Potter glanced away. But he didn't balk at following Theo back to the flat, and at the moment, considering everything, Theo was prepared to be grateful for that level of cooperation.