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Harrison's POV

Coming to he was in a world of pain that was worse than anything he felt before. It was worse the the cruciatus curse.

Keeping his eyes shut he did an assessment of his body. Across his chest and abdomen he could feel bandages. There was a bareness on his arms that signified he was without a shirt.

He could feel the soft fabric of his uniform pants was still there. That was a comfort in itself. Opening his eyes he found the white ceiling of an infirmary. The scents told him he wasn't in a muggle hospital. Magic was in the air and he could smell it.

Turning his head to the side he blinked at the sight of a suitcase open. He carefully sat up to get a better look at it. It seemed to be a regular suitcase. If his senses weren't so heightened he would have missed the hidden scent of magic. There was a powerful extension charm on it.

What the hell? He knew that wasn't his. The only wizards who carried suitcases like that were magizoologists.

The room had a single door heavily warded against him leaving. It seemed whoever had him didnt want to lose him.

Within his memory Harrison could not remember a time of getting in trouble with the Japanese ministry. Unless they were angry at him for being a King. Well, former King now that the Slate was gone.

Sighing he knew that was possible in itself. By the end of the King war they did not have a good relationship with the muggle government. It was possible for the wizards to take theirs counterparts side.

Harrison could only blink stupidly when a messy red head began to come out of the suitcase. He had on blue coat, brown vest, white shirt, bow tie, dark brown trousers and brown boots. He also wore a Hufflepuff scarf that looked old but well cared for. He was a was a tall thin man and if his scent was to be believed a wizard.

Gentle light green eyes met Harrison's war worn green. It took several seconds but the younger man recognized him. It shouldn't have been possible though.

He queried suspicious of the man in front of him, "Newt Scammander?"

The man looked only a few years older than himself. It was a huge change from when they met at Luna's wedding. There was no way that this could be the same man.

The red head cocked his head to the side in a curious manner as he answered, "Yes. You know me but I dont know you. You saved us when you appeared. How did you get through the wards?"

"Saved you? What are you talking about?"

A new scent stopped him from any further questions. It was a grassy plain scent.

A dark skinned woman with brown eyes came in. Behind her was a black haired man that made his hackles rise. There was something off about his scent. Almost as of it didnt belong to him.

Magic could fool a lot of people and creatures. It could not fool a scent seeker. A low growl erupted from the back of his throat.

The man didn't so much as jump but his eyes narrowed. The woman's wand was in her hand as she recovered from her surprise.

Scammander said sounding intrigued, "No flashes of amber. Wrong phase of the moon. You're not a werewolf. What are you?"

"Scent seeker," he growled. Werewolf, what was wrong with this man? He helped classify scent seekers as separate creatures years ago.

His breathing hitched at the thought. Glancing at the woman again he ran through his history lessons. He had to learn about ministers that were in office during the last three Dark Lord rises.

The name came to him with a bout of surprise. Seraphina Picquery. She was MACUSA's President during the war with Grindelwald. If memory serves she died years prior. So how was she there?

Even as the question hit his mind another slipped from his lips, "What is today's date?"

"6 December, 1926," Scammander answered.

Harrison turned his gaze to the ceiling. What little life had been in them died.

He had travelled to the past. It wasn't even a past he was particularly knowledgeable in. Almost eighty years in the past.

His hands shook as they gripped the bedsheets. There wasn't supposed to be surviving destroying the Slate. It was supposed to kill him in the explosion.

Now he was in an unfamiliar time. What was he going to do now? He didn't plan on surviving the battle.

Gellert's POV

It only took him two days to get out of his cell. Abernathy helped him but in a way that wouldn't ruin his cover.

Gellert wanted to know about the man that hit Ministry did not heal his wounds but his magic took care of it. His magic had been more alive than ever. It was excited about the new player.

He had short visions that didn't clear anything up. At first it was a pure black wolf wd with piercing green eyes. It was not a werewolf or an animagus. Whatever it was, it seemed to be in between them.

The second vision had been even more confusing. It was simply the full moon. Nothing more. Nothing less.

It was three more days before the mysterious man woke up. In the three days since Gellert escaped the Ministry had not left the man alone. When he woke it was Scammander on watch.

On top of the new person Gellert had to admit that he was wrong about Scammander. Despite not having a full education and a strange choice for a career he wasn't weak. Scammander had the strength of each of his creatures. Gellert had more of a respect for the younger man.

For now however he wanted to find out about the man. So he followed the president like a good little auror.

When they arrived he noted the war worn look. This man was someone who had seen the worst of humanity. For some reason he knew this was not someone who fought in the Great War. Instead someone who had recently come out of one. By his wounds he apparated to protect himself.

Gellert wasn't listening to the conversation. Instead was watching the man. Everything about him screamed predator. Three marks were on his skin. One on the right shoulder. Then there were two on the right arm. None of the were familiar to him.

A low wolf like growl drew his attention. There wasn't a hint of amber in the worn green gaze. The full moon was too far off for a werewolf.

Scammander said sounding intrigued, "No flashes of amber. Wrong phase of the moon. You're not a werewolf. What are you?"

"Scent seeker," the man growled.

Scent seeker? He wasn't familiar with that creature. By the look on the magizoologist's face he wasn't either. It was possible the man was lying but he doubted it.

The man kept glancing between himself and Picquery. A flash of recognition went across his face. It was soon followed by disbelief. Nothing about this man made any sense.

"What is today's date?" Came a hoarse reluctant query.

"6 December, 1926," Scammander answered.

Surprise and disbelief flittered across his face. There was something going on here that they weren't understanding.

Picquery questioned, "What is your name? What was the magic you used to stop Grindelwald in the tunnel?"

"Harrison Evans," replied the man, "And that wasn't magic. It was aura. Power given to those who met certain criteria. It should be fading if not gone now."

Picquery's eyes narrowed as she snapped, "And why is that?"

"Because they dead. The ones who gave the power are dead. Reisi..."

Even Gellert could hear the pain that came with that name. Evans's face softened with the name. It made Gellert realize the man was barely more than a boy. Something was going on here and it might just change everything.