.oOo.
Mycroft
.oOo.
Living with Harry and the baby was frighteningly easy. Mycroft's two guests slept in the spare room, shrouded in enough silencing charms that he could sometimes pretend they didn't even exist.
And yet, Mycroft found he didn't want to pretend. It was real, excruciatingly so. Overnight, his entire life had changed for the better.
Harry made breakfast every morning. He took great joy in watching Mycroft eat, wearing a smile that said this was new to him. Mycroft deduced that his future self would lose weight while gaining an unhealthy relationship with food. He pocketed the deduction for later, though he did find it heartening to know that in some parallel universe, Mycroft Holmes wasn't overweight.
Then Mycroft would go to work, Blainbridge would come to babysit Henry, and Harry would go off to do god-knew-what. According to both private investigators watching the front and back, Harry never left the building. They didn't even report the sound of a car backfiring that would have been consistent with magical teleportation.
Harry kept his clothes absolutely immaculate. No dirt on his shoes, no wrinkles in his trousers, no creases in his button-down shirt, and adorned with the customary poppy. His style of dress was nondescript but casually professional, barely narrowing down the places he might be going. He kept his things in a bag that was evidently bigger on the inside, not to mention tamper-proof.
It took a week for Mycroft to gather his frustrations and formulate them into a polite conversation over tea and biscuits. Blainbridge had been a terrible secretary, but he had some skill as a baker. The coconut macaroons were rather good.
Baby Henry was playing with coloured blocks that Blainbridge had assured were suitable for a one-year-old. Mycroft could see at a glance what the infant had eaten for lunch, which colours he preferred, how long it would be until he fell asleep. Henry was a quiet baby, always watching them keenly. Most of the time, he was entertained by Harry's various magical lights.
Looking at Harry, the most Mycroft could tell was that the man was tired, and that he was very, very fond of Mycroft himself. They had reached the point where Mycroft could no longer prevent himself from staring, no matter Mummy's wrath should she find out.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, running a hand through his hair as he slumped against the settee. The steam from his mug wasn't fogging up his glasses. "Your future self liked to deduce me to death, so it got to be a bit of a game. When I found the right combination of spells to stump you they became a habit. For what it's worth, future-you hated it too."
"I can't imagine why," Mycroft said. He stopped himself from sighing; he couldn't begrudge the man wanting some privacy. The easiest route would be to just ask, but Mycroft wasn't ready to trust Harry like that just yet. He took another macaroon.
From the way Harry was smiling, he not only saw the thoughts crossing Mycroft's mind, but found them amusing.
"I'll answer your questions if you answer mine," Harry offered.
These kinds of games had backfired horribly before. Whenever Mycroft played with his sister, Eurus would win. "That will be acceptable," he said. Harry was intelligent, but not frighteningly so. "I will begin. Where did you go today?"
"London." Harry's eyes were twinkling. He broke his biscuit into crumbs instead of eating it, making a melancholy pile on his saucer. "There's a magical shopping district, I've been getting the supplies I'll need to back up my identity as Harry Black."
"All week?" Mycroft's people had taken less than a day to finish creating Harry's two new identities as Metis Selwyn and Harry Charlus Black.
"I'm the guardian of a very famous child. I want it to be as airtight as I can make it." The crumbs kept getting finer; Mycroft's throat felt dry just from watching. He took a sip of his tea, a lovely Darjeeling Harry had bought for him. "A wand," Harry continued, "is a wizard's ID. Ollivander's on a trip to Spain at the moment, so I'm in for a wait. Meanwhile I'm negotiating with goblins, greedy buggers always want a bit of gold to grease their palms. I'm also looking for a nice job in the Ministry."
"Very sensible."
Harry smiled, then sighed. He threw his head back, showcasing a lovely expanse of neck. "It's strange, being able to hear them without having the connections to do anything yet. Your other self said he could hear them like an orchestra, for me it's the sound of a chattering river."
Never, in all his thirty-two years, had Mycroft thought he'd meet anybody he'd want to tell about that. To have someone already know his deepest truth was beyond unnerving. There was a gaping chasm bubbling in Mycroft's chest. He knew he'd felt something similar before, so it didn't take long to name the emotion.
Vulnerability, his mind provided swiftly.
Mycroft made sure his hands were steady as he drank.
That was the precise moment that Eurus chose to make her entrance, having picked the lock to his front door.
Mycroft raised his free hand to his face and quietly groaned. "This isn't what it looks like," he said pre-emptively before looking up.
She appeared haggard, like she hadn't been eating often enough. Her hair was limp, tucked under a winter cap. The cloak she was wearing hung straight off her shoulders, as if trying to hide that there was a woman underneath it.
Her dog was executing a perfect heel. Eurus' eyes were as sharp as ever.
"Eurus Holmes." She shook Harry's hand, helping herself to a macaroon. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise," Harry said. They watched the poodle walk over and give Henry a careful sniff. If the child wanted to and Johnny would allow it, he was just the right size to ride that dog like a horse.
"Pa'foot!" Henry said. Pain flashed across Harry's face, and Eurus pounced.
"You're a wizard," she told him, then continued without turning, "What are you doing playing house with a wizard and his baby, Mycroft? I find it very difficult to believe that this isn't, as you claimed, what this looks like."
Her face was a mask of eager curiosity. Whatever favour she'd come to ask, she'd set it aside for this latest mystery. Mycroft swallowed his annoyance; he knew that she never manipulated him on purpose, she just didn't know how to do things the normal way.
"Johnny, down," Eurus said. Her hand found the dog's head automatically as she leaned in to examine Henry more closely. "Fascinating," she said.
Harry got up and collected Henry, sitting down with him cradled against his chest. Eurus smiled even more widely. "I won't hurt him," she said. "How did you get to be so familiar with Mycroft without him ever telling me?"
It was a rhetorical question, and all of them knew it. Mycroft leaned back and sighed.
In Harry's arms, the toddler started fussing.
"Oh, how marvellous," Eurus said. "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."
"Eurus, Harry and I are not a couple and it's not my baby." They all turned to see that Mycroft's spoon was shaking in his cup. He used both hands to set the saucer down.
All the misdirection in the world couldn't step between Eurus and the truth. "He knows you very, very well," Eurus explained, still watching the wriggling child as Harry tried to soothe him. "The great Harry Potter." She shook her head, tilted it back, laughed. "Oh, Mikey, what fun!"
She didn't need to rattle off any more deductions, not when they all knew the facts. Eurus had never been one to show off; her mind would always be racing to the next thing like a greyhound that had realised the rabbit was a trap.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to influence my mind," Harry said then. The man's tone was conversational, but they could see him fingering his holstered wand.
"She can't help it," Mycroft said. She was his little sister, confound it all. Just like she'd always looked up to him, he'd always look out for her.
"You're telling me," Harry said, holding Henry even tighter, "that you're casting a wandless, wordless Imperius without meaning to?"
"You're telling me you can resist it?" Eurus sat on the sofa beside him, with enough distance to avoid making Harry more uncomfortable. "You can feel it?"
Mycroft's mind lurched. If Harry had never met his sister before…they'd been living together for a week, and Harry hadn't once mentioned that Eurus didn't exist in his original universe? Had she died in the fire alongside Sherlock?
He used both hands to stop his cup from trembling as he took another sip. Without Eurus, surely he would have grown to be a completely different person. So many of Mycroft's decisions were made from his foundational urge to protect her from the world.
Also, to protect the world from Eurus Holmes. Whenever she was bored, there was bound to be trouble. He swept his eyes over her again, cataloguing the careful way she'd assembled her tired appearance. She'd come here on a mission; perhaps she'd finally realised that Oxford was the wrong choice for her higher education.
Harry was watching Eurus too, and he still looked entirely too surprised. As much as Harry pretended to know who Mycroft would be, he couldn't know him well without understanding Eurus. "I can probably teach you to control it better," Harry said. "I know more about the Unforgivables than most."
A dozen tutors had tried to teach Eurus magic and control when Mummy had found out, but nobody had managed much beyond theory. Mycroft wished he knew enough to identify if Harry's claims were guff or not.
"I'm taking a break from my studies. Oxford is boring. Political science is all wrong, I'd rather study anything else."
Mycroft only had the one guest room. He'd have to arrange for other accommodations, perhaps a flat. He excused himself to go make some calls to arrange it. Johnny pattered after him, claws clicking on hardwood.
"Not right now," Harry said. Mycroft stopped and turned. Only one person had ever refused Eurus what she wanted, and he'd died in a suspicious house fire, age six.
"I wish I could, Eurus," Harry continued. "I have a few very time-sensitive things to take care of, you know I only just arrived. Once Henry and I are settled in, we'll see what we can do about regular lessons."
The air felt heavy, almost charged. Mycroft stepped forward, already calculating the best way to defuse the situation.
Eurus nodded and stood. "That's very reasonable. I'll take a semester abroad, learn a few new languages. I've managed twenty-four, what's another few months?" Her laugh was too perfect and smooth; if she'd truly meant it her nose would've crinkled.
Mycroft tried to bring Eurus to the door, but she waved him off. The kiss to his cheek, at least, was real. "I can make arrangements for you if you like," he offered.
"Don't be stupid," she replied fondly. Then she stepped away, calling over her shoulder as she left, "Bye Mikey, bye Harry, bye Henry! You make a cute family, Mummy will be delighted." Johnny trotted after her, faithful as ever.
"Pay her no mind," Mycroft said once he'd settled back into his armchair. "She likes you."
If the building didn't burn down in a freak accident overnight, Mycroft would consider it confirmed.
"Still, it's probably best if you don't refuse her again."
Harry had looked shaken before, now his eyes were twinkling again. "Is that why you didn't insist that we're not a couple?"
"Of course we're not a couple," Mycroft said. "You've only been here for a week."
"There's a chance then?"
Nothing was impossible, at least not until it had been eliminated. Mycroft looked at the man with the shaggy hair and the overly fond smile. They both knew Harry was teasing. Nonetheless, he hadn't realised that homosexuality would be so commonplace and acceptable within only thirty years. They must have solved the AIDS crisis, for one.
"Don't be stupid," Mycroft settled on saying. He was a man of intelligence and control, there was no reason for him to start falling in love and raising a baby. He was far too sensible for that.
.oOo.
Harry
.oOo.
For the eighth day in a row, Harry stood before the Gringotts counter, scowling at the clerk. This one had only half a nose, matching the missing chunk of its heart.
"Look, this is delicate," Harry said. "I know that there's nobody's better at soul magic than goblins." Harry had the lines by heart now. Going by the goblin's bored look, he did too. If the bank had water coolers, it'd probably be the weird not-Potter-not-Black that they spent their breaks gossiping about.
"This is a human matter. We do not interfere with human matters," the goblin said. The sign said his name was Sharpock, but the last seven goblins had used that same name tag, too.
"Yes, I know that, I was hoping—"
"You are—Narrzug—a fool. Stop hoping. You can leave now." Not-Sharpock tilted his head towards the next person in line.
"Alright, alright, what will it cost me?" Harry had really been hoping to avoid haggling over this. Voldemort had been terrible for business—Gringotts should be all for getting the taint of the man's soul nice and banished. But no, nothing ever happened in the bank without at least a few coins changing hands.
"A hundred for a meeting with Spinwisp, the Lestrange account manager. The same again for a meeting with a goblin healer."
Harry had arrived in this world with none of his carefully packed fortune. Arcturus had set him up with an empty account, and Harry wouldn't be getting the Potter vault key until Henry turned eleven. The goblins knew this, of course.
A grand British of extortion money would have hurt less if it wasn't coming out of Mycroft's pockets. The man's guarded generosity was bound to run out soon. Harry followed 'Sharpock' to an office feeling like he'd already lost.
.oOo.
"I'm saving you from another bloody war, how can you not see that?" Harry took a deep breath, but it didn't really help. He was cramped in a goblin-sized chair with his knees jutting awkwardly.
Healer Ironrott's face was twisted into a malicious grin. She looked like a sprouting potato, if potatoes could express killing intent. Madam Pomfrey had always been a menace, but at least she was maternal about it. "We signed a treaty, she said. "Treatise B paragraph thirteen states that the Goblin Nation will not engage in warfare involving humans."
"Technically, You-Know-Who is a monster. He lost the last of his humanity a long while ago."
She shook her head. "You do not want us to make an exception. Curses are not broken on loopholes, human."
Back in 2008, it had been Bill Weasley's idea to ask the goblin to do what Dumbledore himself couldn't. Harry sighed. He wished he hadn't had a whole year to warm up to the hope that Healer Ironrott would be able to help. "Please, the alternative is that he dies. He's just a kid, he deserves to grow up without an extra soul attached to him."
"If it has only been ten days," Healer Ironrott said slowly, "they should not be too hard to separate." She was still scowling, but the growl in her voice had softened. "He will be tired after. You don't go mixing around people's minds without a toll."
"So you'll do it?" After Spinwisp's resounding 'No' regarding getting Hufflupuff's cup out of the Lestrange vault, Harry had almost resigned to doing it all by himself.
"Bring him on the new moon. I will prepare the ritual."
Harry's next breath came all the way from the soles of his feet. He got up, blinked twice, then swallowed. "Thank you," he said.
She walked him back to the bank's main hall personally. Her lopsided smile didn't make her look any less like a potato.
Just before she left, he remembered to ask, "Am I supposed to destroy the, er, other ones before or after?"
"Hmm? Before," she said, already turning away. "It will destabilise him, yes. Very good, human."
On the way to the Knockturn Apparition point, he stepped into the apothecary and bought a calendar. Thirteen days until the new moon. If Trelawney were there she'd be calling it an omen.
.oOo.
Besides breakfast, Harry didn't see much of Mycroft or Henry. He had five Horcruxes to destroy, and a deadline to do it by. The sheer amount of unhelpfulness had Harry ready to tear his hair out.
Dumbledore answered Harry's letter offering to break the defence curse with a polite but firm 'No thank you,' meaning Harry had to sneak into Hogwarts on top of robbing Gringotts.
The deal to purchase Kreacher was finalised after another long lunch with Arcturus. At the end of it, Harry convinced the glaring elf to hand over his precious locket long enough for Harry to cast Fiendfyre.
Then the Aurors showed up, because he was casting dark magic in the middle of a muggle field. Harry barely dodged the row of stunners, grabbed his new elf, and apparated out. Whatever was said about Mad Eye behind his back, he ran a very tight force.
Kreacher still wasn't quite ready to trust Harry after that, but he was willing to help with the Hogwarts break-in. The school wards worked against random people entering, and other wards protected from foreign elves' apparition. However, elves walking in was a loophole that Dumbledore's portrait had helpfully provided back in Harry's old world.
Thank Merlin and Morgana, so far everything else on the magical side was holding true to Harry's expectations. He didn't know what he'd do if, on top of Sherlock having been replaced by a Holmes sister, Voldemort had also hidden his soul somewhere new. Even his last-minute letter to Moody had worked, or at least the Longbottoms' murder hadn't made the Prophet.
Narcissa was happy enough to entertain her newest family member, especially when he was introduced as a barrister working on getting an Azkaban conviction overturned. After extracting another vow, Arcturus had agreed to distract her long enough for Harry to accidentally slice his way through the drawing room wards. It hurt to have to obliviate Dobby, but it was worth it to kill the third Horcrux.
The Gaunt shack should have been the easiest. Harry knew this universe's stone couldn't tempt him, and he was immune to whatever fame, glory, or affections Tom's wraith would offer. Dumbledore's portrait had walked Harry through exactly what he had to do, but they hadn't accounted for the mirror.
It was the size of his torso, lying right over the floorboard Harry needed to move. Without stepping out of his invisibility cloak, Harry tried to push it aside with magic, then with a large stick. He tried his Patronus, a transfigured dog, and a conjured snake. Just like the only way to take the locket was by drinking the potion, the only way past the mirror was by picking it up.
Harry had taken four hours to weave his way past the wards, and he only had three days left to break into Gringotts. He didn't bother with subtlety. The muggle that he chose off Little Hangleton's streets had twigs in her hair by the time his summoning charm set her gently on her feet. He took down his hood and smiled sadly. "I'm sorry about this. Imperio." Harry had a Dark Lord to vanquish and his younger self to save.
She held the mirror out in front of herself, transfixed. Hoping that his luck would hold, Harry eased away the only unrotted floorboard and scooped Slytherin's ring into a containment box.
"You're done now, love," Harry said, looking at the helpless woman. "Set it down and follow me out."
Muggles weren't supposed to be able to fight the Imperius, but this one did. Harry tried to shove it from her grasp, and caught a glimpse—
"Confringo," Harry said. The spell shattered.
He suddenly really needed to piss, which was a much simpler urge to satisfy than what the cursed mirror had shown him. Harry walked his unwilling puppet all the way to the edge of the village, where he thanked her, obliviated her, and left.
Mycroft did not ask him what happened when Harry came home. "Potter, next time you disappear for more than a day, you should leave a note," he said instead.
"What?" Harry cast a Tempus, then cast it again. He felt like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
It was the night before the new moon—he'd lost almost three days. The mirror must have enchanted him and he hadn't even noticed besides feeling hungry.
"Harry?"
There were warm hands on Harry's clammy ones. He leaned into the touch, forcing himself to inhale.
"Are you alright?"
When Harry looked up at him, Mycroft's cheeks were pink. He'd probably never asked something that stupid in his thirty years of life. Harry smiled weakly and the man let go, backing into the kitchen counter.
"I…" Harry licked his lips. "I fell into a trap. Voldemort was bonkers, but he knew how to set up better protections than I gave him credit for."
A year's effort preparing for this trip and he might have ruined it all. He could still see the mirror's vision like an afterglow from the sun. It was part of why he'd apparated straight into the kitchen instead of going to find Henry first.
His heart's desire, it had to have been. The mirror had enchanted him with a familiar yearning. Lily and James were barely buried, yet he'd seen them on the other side of the glass. In some other universe they were raising Harry without Voldemort hanging over their heads. In a different universe than this one, Harry Potter had a real family.
Harry shook his head. He knew where he was and who he was. He was an orphan in this world, just as in his old one, and he knew what had to be done. "I'm bringing Henry to the goblins tomorrow night," he told Mycroft. "I have no time to plan a Gringotts heist. How would you rob a vault guarded by goblins and magic?"
.oOo.
In the end, Eurus just had to walk into the bank with an invisible Harry by her side. She barely spent a minute talking to the teller before she was being led to the tunnels. The dragon didn't need the clankers, shrinking back as soon as its eyes met Eurus'.
Harry was sweating from having to control his Fiendfyre so precisely. His spell took out half of the trophy case that Hufflepuff's cup was on, but it left the rest of the Lestrange vault intact. Eurus made their goblin bring them back to the surface, then paused in the door to the main hall. "You've shamed your people," she said. Even under Death's cloak, Harry could feel the brunt of her words pressing on him. It was as if the tunnel were crumbling, until he was once again a boy in a dark cupboard.
"I have shamed my people," the goblin said. His heart heavy in anticipation, Harry watched him walk back to the cart.
The goblin didn't get into it. Harry winced, squeezing his eyes closed as their guide stabbed himself in the chest and threw himself off the side of the tracks.
When he turned back to Eurus she was nodding, her face wearing a bored smile as she stepped out into the main hall, holding the door just long enough for Harry to slip through behind her.
He apparated her back to Oxford, unable to say a word, not even a thank you for the impossible task she'd managed. A single casualty was nothing compared to the many that had died when he, Ron, Hermione had escaped on dragonback.
Sherlock had been a high functioning sociopath, but he'd never shown himself to be anywhere near as calculating.
Once back in the flat, Harry picked up Henry, feeling numb. He brought the toddler to Healer Ironrott, whose scowl only emphasised that she looked impatient. He wasn't allowed to watch the ritual, but Harry knew from Bill that she was the best for the job.
When Henry was thrust back into his arms, the cut on the boy's head was oozing. "You can heal it the normal way," Healer Ironrott barked. "One human with only one human soul, that makes ten thousand Galleons. Your account manager will talk to you about monthly rates."
Harry barely heard her, too busy trying to shuffle Henry into a comfortable position. He was much too limp in Harry's arms. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
"Soul magic is like mind magic, very messy. The soul was strong, he must rest a long time." Her grin showed a lot of teeth, but Harry supposed that by goblin standards, it would be comforting. "It will be long until he wakes. Do not worry. The little human has time, he will grow strong again."
"Hear that, Henry? You're going to be just fine," Harry said, forcing his voice into the right pitch. "Thank you, Healer Ironrott. And your fees are already on the way, I promise."
"Bah. Take your worthless words. Farewell, human."
Harry gave her a last nod and left.