Convincing Inspector Granger magic was real wasn't easy.

It shouldn't have been surprising. Like his descendant, Robert Granger had a very set view on how the world was supposed to be and it was only natural the odds of him accepting magic could be real were as high as Hermione acknowledging Divination could be more than one gigantic scam.

Nonetheless, for the man to have a fighting chance to handle the wizard harassing the Evans, he needed to know what he was going to face. Meaning Harry had to outright break the statute of secrecy, an offense that was much more serious than moonlighting as a magician or just using magic on muggles just to have a shadow of a chance to get everybody out of this mess.

Inspector Granger nervously ran a hand through his hair. "You've got to realize how… how mad this all sounds, right?" he agitatedly said once Harry was done explaining the situation. "Like- like- I'm not entirely convinced you're not pulling my leg and just want to see how gullible I am. I should- I shouldn't even consider such- such madness ."

"Then why are you?"

A wet snort. "Maybe I'm a little mad myself. And also-"

"Yes?"

The man closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "Well, I have to listen, don't I?" Harry frowned but the inspector wasn't finished. "If you believe your family to be in danger, I've got to listen to you. What I think about this whole 'magic is real' business and what you believing it says on your sanity is irrelevant."

Harry hadn't known what to say to that.

The older man slowly retrieved a cigarette from his cigarette box. "If I understand you correctly, Mr. Evans' stories on the existence of a magic world living right next to ours are, in fact, utterly true and the man's angered a few people who wants to keep this secret world secret. Am I correct so far?" Seeing Harry nodding he continued, "But you've just told me yourself that vanishing cabinet was a normal cabinet like any other. So why would these people be worried?"

"Well, here's the thing: they don't know that."

The man couldn't stop a snort as he was searching for his lighter. "Jumping to conclusion, aren't they? But then again, anything can look like witchcraft to small-minded people."

He then paused and frowned, as if considering something of great importance.

"Magic is real," Harry insisted. Seeing the man startling he pushed, "I know it sounds mad. Trust me, I've been there, but you need to understand just what these people can do. Last time you confronted that man, you couldn't do anything and he erased your memories. If you don't-"

"He what ?"

"You came to me," Harry started explaining. "I don't remember it myself but I'm sure it's what happened. You came to me because you've seen that person and found him suspicious. As you probably were uneasy, you must have asked me if I knew this person and we went to Mr. Evans' room. Seeing things were going sour you tried to intervene and he attacked you." Seeing the man slightly freaked out face he asked, "What did you think happened?"

"I-I don't know. I-I assumed somebody had attacked me from behind and chloroformed me. True, it doesn't work like it does in novels but I had no injury so- so that surely had to be it, right? Even though no known drug can incapacitate a normally built man and erase an hour of his memories without the slightest side effect."

When the man finally lit his cigarette, his hand was shaking.

"A-And there is also no known substance that could burn a furniture this size so quickly and leave nothing but ashes either so how? How did this all happen and what kind of mess did your lot get yourself into?"

Harry painfully closed his eyes. How many times would he have to tell the man magic was genuine?

Inspector Granger abruptly searched his pocket. Before Harry could ask him what he was doing the man retrieved a little siler key he put on his drawer's keyhole. Once he opened his drawer he retrieved a pen knife before abruptly closing said drawer and lock it. With shaky fingers, he opened the pen knife and put the blade in the lock.

The strangled noise he left out when the drawer opened made Harry wince.

"Oh God, it's actually true." Face rapidly losing all colours, he shakily put the pen knife back in his pocket. "It's actually true. It's actually true. It's actually-"

And Inspector Granger utterly lost it.


Mrs. Evans carefully looked at him the next morning and slowly crossed her arms. "Alright, what happened now? What did you do?"

Harry cried over his tea cup.

The people at Scotland Yard had told him once Inspector Granger was forcefully taken away that the man had the bad habit of overworking himself. They had also assured him that with some well-deserved rest, the man was most certainly going to be fine.

But if the people at Scotland Yard believed it was the last case he had to deal with and the superintendent's remontrance that did it, Harry knew he was the one responsible for the man's burn out and him losing it.

Looking at his empty tea cup Harry could see the tea leaves had taken the shape of a butterfly. Remembering the animal who was still flying around him from time to time, Harry irrationally wondered if he hadn't just permanently removed the man from the world of the sanes and if his friend would even be born after what he's just done. Why did that shit always happen to him? Why did he always have to make the wrong choices? Why did that shit always befell him?

"I'm a failure."

The woman rolled her eyes.

"I thought- I thought I was doing the right thing but I failed and now it's worse and-"

"Believe me," she dryly interrupted, "I've seen a lot of failures in my life. Do you know what they all had in common? It's not that they failed at something, it's that they loved feeling sorry for themselves and wouldn't even lift a finger to get themselves out of their mess. Is it really what you're going to do? Sadly look at your teacup until your problems magically fix themselves?" A pause. "Can your problems magically fix themselves?"

Harry miserably shook his head.

"Well then, you've got no choice but to fix them the normal way."

"Which is?"

"You're going to work for it."

Harry looked at the butterfly in his teacup and sighed. "I'm not sure I can."

"That's not a good enough reason not to try."

Harry sighed and tiredly nodded. "Right, sorry."

"What did I just say about feeling sorry?"

Harry couldn't help a little smile. "Sorry. I mean- I'm going to see what I can do." When he finally got up the woman took his teacup. "Do you want me to help with cleaning the dishes?"

The woman waved a hand as if to say 'get out'. "Stop stalling."

"Right, sor- I'm going now."

Once Harry finally left the Evans' home he sighed.

It was easy to say he was going to fix it, he really had no idea what he could realistically do. If Harry couldn't use magic and stop this Auror Greengrass what could he realistically do? Find the man in the wizarding world and threaten him to stop?

Harry didn't like how tempting the idea was.

It wouldn't be hard, he reasoned. If the man was indeed an Auror he would most certainly be at the Ministry of magic and the trace would most certainly not react there meaning that Harry-

Somebody grabbed him by the collar.

Before Harry could scream bloody murder the man dragged him in a darkened alley.

"You've got some serious explaining to do," the man gravelly said.

For a moment Harry didn't recognize the man in cheap muggle clothes but looking at the man's bushy moustache Harry just breathed, "How did you get out?"

"Sorry to disappoint but I wasn't sent to the asylum," the man dryly answered. "I was just told to stay in bed and rest. Doctor's orders. But how can I rest when I know what I know now?"

It was then that Harry noticed the man's haggard face and Harry couldn't stop a wince at the realization the man hadn't slept at all. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" He lowly chuckled. "You come to my office to tell me of the existence of honest to God magic, I have to go through something similar to a copernican revolution and you have the gall to say 'sorry'?"

Seeing Harry didn't have nothing to say he shook his head and began searching for his cigarette box. Once he lit a cigarette he sighed. "To think I've always called the people believing in all these conspiracy theories gullible idiots. But how can you possibly keep such secret secret? Magic?" Seeing Harry's apologetic face he sighed. "Of course, it is magic. But why ? Why is the existence of magic some big secret? It's- It's completely illogical."

"Well, I'm not good at History of magic-" At these words the man rolled his eyes "-but the gist of it is that there were many conflicts between wizards and muggles, non-magical people, and it was judged in the seventeenth century that it'd be better for wizards and muggles to live separately."

"Conflicts?"

"Witch burning, that sort of thing."

The man absent-mindedly nodded. "That part makes sense at least. The part about you succeeding in not being found out less so but what do I know?" He bitterly laughed. "What do I know indeed."

Harry winced. "You- I'm sure you know more a lot of people."

The muggle wetly snorted.

"I mean it," Harry insisted. "The world- The world hasn't just- You're just seeing it in a different way. It's- It's all a matter of perception."

The man numbly nodded. "True, very true. But isn't the world we live in nothing but that? Perception? We've got to rely on our senses for how imperfect they can be. We are nothing but prisoners of our own senses after all, condemned to stay in the cave and attempt to make sense the shadows we see in order to find something resembling the truth."

Harry paused a moment.

"Still, before yesterday I could at least comfort myself with the idea that at the very least I was real. Cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. But why do I get the feeling even that is false? If somebody can erase my memories, can't that same person pose false ones and I wouldn't know any better? How can I know my own memories are real? How can I know that I am real?"

Harry winced at the realization of how deep the man's existential crisis was running. "There are things magic cannot do," he tried. "Nothing can create gold, nobody can live forever or create life and you cannot create love. There are rules in the universe even magic cannot break. You just- You just don't know them."

The man didn't say anything for a long time. Finally he sighed. "Back to square one, am I?"

"Not really. I mean, you know magic is real now. So you know more than before."

The man gave him a humourless smile. "I suppose I do."

After smoking for several seconds, the man exhaled a big cloud of smoke.

"Nonetheless, I'm afraid I don't understand what you're expecting me to do. If some magician-"

"Wizard."

"If some wizard wants to harm Patrick Evans, I do not see what I can effectively do to stop him."

Harry stilled. Because yes, what could a little inspector do against an Auror? What could a muggle do against the elite of the wizarding world?

It had been so easy to forget this fact. At the revelation the man was Hermione's relative, he had been very quick to believe the man like his descendant would somehow find some way to solve this big mess like she had so many times. Had Hermione been there, had Ron been there, Harry wouldn't be feeling like he was drowning. Were his friends here, perhaps he could fool himself into thinking he could do it.

The man looked at him and sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll go down the rabbit hole." At Harry's confused face he shrugged. "You must be very worried for Mr. Evans if you're ready to break some very important law of this magic world and I don't believe that worry is unwarranted. I may not know what I'm going against, that doesn't mean I can't learn and see what can be done."

Harry opened his mouth in shock. After rapidly shaking his head he spluttered, "You're- You're a muggle. Wh-Why would you help-"

And Inspector Granger looked at him as if he was the densest man on earth.

"Why would I help you? Because that's my job."


There was something utterly surreal in bringing Robert Granger to the Leaky Cauldron and breaking yet another law.

But Harry had already come this far. What was one more rule at this point? He's made his choice and the bushy-haired man was right: they had to go down the rabbit hole and Harry had to show him what magic could do.

"Let me guess," the muggle said as they entered the pub, "there's some secret passage leading to that magic world there."

"Correct." Once the two of them reached the courtyard Harry began searching his pocket.

The man snorted and tapped with a finger the brick that any wizard wishing to enter Diagon Alley had to tap. "And now you're going to take some magic wand and tap that brick."

Harry paused. "What makes you say that?" he carefully asked. "And why that brick?"

"The marks on the brick mostly. It's like somebody had repeatedly hit it with a thick and long object." He humorlessly chuckled and removed his hand. "But what do I know really? It's not as if there's anything logical in all thi-"

The man abruptly stopped when the bricks disappeared to form a large archway where at the other side numerous people in colourful robes where walking in what looked like a street."

Harry put his wand back in his pocket. "Suppose you know more than you think."

The muggle shakily reached for his cigarette box.


"Alright, I've got questions," Robert Granger finally said after finishing yet another cigarette to calm his nerves. "I've got a lot of questions."

Harry's lips curled. "I'm sure you do."

And sure enough the man started bombarding him with questions Harry had to answer on the spot as he was searching for a quiet place.

Yes, that was an honest to God wand. Yes, he needed it to do magic. No, he didn't know how to use magic without one. Yes, he supposed it was possible to do wandless magic but he had never seen anybody really using it except perhaps Professor Dumbledore but Professor Dumbledore hardly counted. Yes, unicorns were real. Dragons and leprechauns too.

Soon enough the salve of questions got more technical and Harry started to get the impression he was undergoing yet another test to show whether or not he had memorized his lesson. And, like it was the case whenever Hermione was doing it, Harry wasn't supposed to answer 'I don't know'.

"How can you not know that?" his friend's ancestor exclaimed once Harry failed to answer yet another of his questions. "If I were in your place and had to learn magic, the first thing I'd do would be to read everything on-"

"I know!" Harry irritatedly interrupted. "Believe me, I know. I even know more than anybody what kind of pupil you probably were at school. But this isn't school and I certainly don't need you to-"

"I've never been to school."

Harry's thoughts came to a sudden halt. For a moment Harry could do nothing but numbly stare at the man who seemed to have declared the Earth was flat.

The older man looked away.

It was Victorian England, he numbly realized. It was Victorian England where only rich kids went to school and poor kids had to work. If very few things seemed to have changed in the wizarding world, Harry seemed to have taken the habit of forgetting just how alien the muggle world was to a person from the late twentieth century and how unfair it could have been.

"Sorry."

The man didn't acknowledge the apology. He just leant against the building and looked at the wizards passing by, face inscrutable.

"It's funny," he finally said. "Ever since I learnt to read, I did everything to learn as much as I could. I tried to understand how this world works and now as I was starting to believe I had the basics down I realize that I know nothing and that everything I learnt is most probably untrue." He bitterly chuckled. "I wonder why I even bothered."

Harry winced.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to say something but he couldn't see what. This sort of problem was way out of his league and he doubted anything Harry could say would manage to reach the man. But at the same time Harry knew he needed to just do something.

"You found out how Mr. Evans's tricks work," Harry tried. "I didn't, the man that burnt down the cabinet didn't, and these people here wouldn't have either. That has to count for something, no?"

A man incredulously snorted. "Anybody could have found that one out. The only reason that man hadn't is most certainly because he hadn't cared enough to try."

And Harry understood. "But you have. You care."

Later Harry would probably say the man cared too much. But in a world when everybody would turn their head in front of an injustice and say there was nothing they could do perhaps caring a little too much was better than not caring at all.

"I've got this friend," he began. "She's very clever and is way better at magic than I am. A friend even called her 'the brightest witch of her age' and she did amazing things. She… She even solved a thousand years old mystery on her own when she was thirteen."

"A thousand years you say?" the man said after a moment.

Harry nodded. "But you know what she told me when I said she was a better witch than me? She said there were more important things than books and cleverness. Some things are more important than what we learn at school, or what little trivia we try to learn. Things like friendship, and bravery. I'm sure she'd say caring is just as important as the other two. And that it is far more important than knowing."

And maybe there was nothing Harry Potter could say that'd shake Robert Granger out of his mood. But if Harry Potter couldn't find the right words, perhaps Hermione Granger could. Maybe the only words that could reach Robert Granger were his great-granddaughter's.

The man didn't say anything at first. Slowly a small smile appeared on his face and he softly chuckled. "Well I'm pathetic. Needing to be mollycoddled when I should be the one helping you. I'm pathetic and I'm stupid. I'm stupid, and your friend is very wise. I hope you realize how just lucky you are to have a friend like her."

Harry grinned. "I do."

Looking at the people in the street, he sharply nodded, as if he's made a decision. "Alright then. I suppose it's time for us to leave this strange world." Looking at Harry he explained himself. "I know what I need to know. No point in wasting more time on all that magical business that will lead nowhere."

Harry drew back at these words. "Lead nowhere? But, this is an Auror and-"

"So?" Seeing Harry's spluttering he amusedly shook his head. "I understand your worries, Mr. Potter, and I don't doubt you when you say a wizard can be very dangerous. But while I admit I have not dealt with a wizard before I can assure you I have dealt with a lot of dangerous people who want to cause troubles."


When Inspector Granger told him to go back to the Evans' apartment, Harry couldn't help protesting.

The older man raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you tell me yourself you couldn't be at the theater because of some 'trace'?"

Harry reluctantly nodded. "But if he-"

"If he were to become violent and attack me or Mr. Evans, I most certainly wouldn't want a civilian to be caught in the crossfire." Seeing Harry's face the expression on his face softened. "Everything's going to be fine," he assured him. "And I know this is difficult to do but you've got to trust me there."

Harry looked at the man and sighed. "I'll try," he mumbled.

"That's all I ask." The man paused. "Well, maybe there is another thing I want to ask you."

Harry couldn't help smiling. "What do you want to know, sir?"

"What's your relation with Mr. Evans?"

Harry startled.

"Every since you came I've been wondering whether you were a nephew, a half-sibling, a cousin or if you were more distantly related. Problem is, I didn't find anything on you on the civil records and all I got on Mr. Evans is his marriage licence. I suppose that is understandable now but I… May I know just how closely the two of you are related?"

"We-We're not related." Seeing the man's dubitative face he insisted, "I met him at my school and as I didn't have a place to stay for the holidays he was kind enough to let me stay."

"You met him at your school." Seeing him nodding, he continued, "And he just let you stay at his home. And he- How did he even know you needed to place to stay to begin?"

"W-Well, he had to grab something near Kings' Cross and he saw me a little… overwhelmed at the station so he…"

The man dubiously looked at him. "I suppose it doesn't ultimately matter how closely the two of you are related," he finally decided. "Siblings, cousins once or twice or I don't know how many times removed, two people not sharing a drop of the same blood… There is most probably no hierarchy and no rule when it comes to what makes a family." The man took his watch and looked at the time. "Oh well, it's getting late. I need to make a little detour before going to the theatre so I should probably leave now. Until next time."

Harry numbly looked at the retreating figure wondering what could have given him the idea he and Mr. Evans could be family.

They didn't look very alike, he thought as he headed home. If there was one thing they perhaps had in common it was probably the fact they both had green eyes but while it was not very common colour, that didn't mean two green-eyed people were necessarily related.

But the man had been so convinced he was right and he had never been wrong the other times. So what? What did he see that Harry just couldn't?

Harry had barely knocked that the door of the Evans's home abruptly opened.

Mrs. Evans' high bun seemed to have seen better day and with several strands of dark hair on her face it was clear the woman was agitated by something.

"What happened?"

"My husband forgot his watch."

Harry drew back, surprised how something seemingly insignificant could upset her so much. "So?"

"You don't get it!" Pacing like a lion in cage she began ranting, "Patrick never forgets his watch! It-It was his father's so he never departs from it and- And he should have noticed by now he doesn't have it and he would have gone home to grab it so-so- Wh-Why wouldn't take it before going to work? I-I was about to go to the theatre and give it to him when you came. Did you come to grab it for him? No, no he wouldn't do that. He'd rather do the travel himself and-and why aren't you with my husband right now?" she finally accused.

Seeing the fob watch Harry had seen the man checking so many times on the table, Harry suddenly had a bad feeling. "You say it was his father's. He was a clockmaker, right?

"Y-Yes. He'd make magic watches for big clients."

Taking the closed silver watch in his hand, he asked, "So is it possible that this watch is charmed?"

She wetly sniffed. "It is. I've never managed to open it so I don't know what it does but I know he always checks it before a representation or when he is worried. S-So why didn't he come back for it? Why did he-"

Harry opened the watch. Looking at the dial, the first thing that struck him as odd were the numerous hands of different colours and size. The second thing he noticed were the planets that were where one would expect the numbers to be, and a few rocks Harry suspected represented moons moving counterclockwise.

Behind his shoulder, Mrs. Evans incredulously snorted. "And you can actually read the time with that?"

"I-I suppose you can."

Remembering the man would sometimes tap the crystal, Harry gently gave it a poke. Immediately the hands and the stars disappeared to be replaced by a more traditional dial.

"Well, that's better."

Except the second hand was moving backward. It wasn't a clock, it was a countdown timer. But what was it counting down?

And then Harry finally looked at the image at the center of the dial. And when he did, he bolted out of the apartment, running as fast as his legs would let him.

He might not know how that thing worked, there was no way to misunderstand what the skull was supposed to represent.


Some time later in the darkened theatre, a man behind the curtain was looking at a cabinet.

Putting a hand against the closed door, he mused for quite a long time. Finally dropping his hand he sighed and went to take a trolley.

He was about to take the cabinet and put it on the it when the piece of furniture started hoovering.

He sighed and turned his head. "Brutus," he greeted the man behind him who had his wand pointed in the cabinet's direction.

"Patrick." The man looked at the cabinet. "You know, I could have sworn the curse I put on your cabinet would be enough to break it down. So you can only imagine my surprise when I saw you using a cabinet tonight as if nothing I did was enough to stop -how do you call it again? Ah yes- your show tonight."

"Let me reassure you then: your spellcasting is as good as ever and that cabinet is not the one you destroyed."

The man smirked. "And do you honestly believe this one will not share the same fate? That I couldn't have destroyed it right when you were on stage and everybody was looking at you? You've always been optimistic but even you at this point must realize doing the same thing over and over again and expect a different result is pure stupidity."

"Believe me, I have. I have, and I think it's time to do something."

The man slowly nodded. "So that's why you wanted us to talk about. I suppose I can humour you just this time. What do you want?"

"I don't think we should talk about this here. I've asked the staff to leave early but you never know."

"Very well." The man moved his wand and the cabinet obediently followed him. Seeing the squib raising his eyebrows he explained. "I'm going to destroy it later and I don't want to spend more time than necessary in this… muggle place. Better to destroy it somewhere else, don't you think? Somewhere nobody will see what is going to happen."