Hy guys!

First of all, thanks everybody for the kudos and kind comments. I'm so, so please that you enjoy this story! I'm currently drawiing a few fanarts, that will be posted on my tumblr and my deviantart page (respectivly Ladybraken and LadyZombiedraws). However, as my entrance exams are coming up, I might not be able to post much things for a while. If you have any question, I'll answer them here and on my tumblr account :)

I'll probably finish Regulus and post a new chapter of Black Waves in the next month, but it might be hard to work on this particular story (as it need a lot of reshearsh on the era, time-related clothing, music, behaviour and such).

I hope you will like this chapter! don't hesitate to comment :)

A big thanks to my beta, adlertyperighter!

~LadyBraken

REIEWS ANSWER: Chronos 666: Ah! du Français! ça fait plaisir :) Merci pour ta review! Oui, Newt va être un des personnages centraux de cette fic, mais il va arriver un peu plus tard. La fic commence en 1928, c'est-à-dire deux ans après les évènements de Fantastic Beasts; je ne prendrais en compte que le premier film évidemment dans les cannons (J'ai très, très peur pour le second, je ne sais pas si je suis la seule^^). Selon mes calculs, le petit Tom doit avoir à peu près trois ans.

Robin Lynn Smith: Thank you! Yeah, I've been told for the typo, even with a beta these things tend to happen sorry ^^ And non, there isn't a prequel, every unknown information will be or discussed later in the story, or let at the reader's imagination :)

Guest: To you, anonymous someone: thanks for the review! I do indeed a lot of work on the historical part of this fic - the 20's are such a fascinating time!

For the beta, well, I already have one, a native English speaker. I'm sorry for the few mistakes, sometimes it's a bit harder to work efficiently, but normally it's supposed to be quite correct T-T well, I'll check it out twice next time to be sure ^^

Oh, and I'm not in Paris for holidays! I live here haha. Trust me, if you want to travel, it's a wonderful place, but live in here it's not that wonderful ^^

A big thanks to every other reviews!

Chapter 9: M.A.C.U.S.A

Harry didn't know if spying on the President had been a curse or a blessing. A blessing, of course, one must always be prepared for what's to come, and it did no wrong to know that the M.A.C.U.S.A wasn't less shitty than the ministry of magic, and the president less manipulative than any politician - but also a curse, really a curse. To know that he still wasn't safe.

That they still would try to use him.

Strangely, he didn't feel angry. More like a vindictive sadness.

Because the man he had saved had given him up on a silver platter to what Graves knew was hell, and he knew it, Harry could see it written all over his face. He didn't know what he had expected, really. Harry would have done the same in similar circumstances. Once upon a time, of course, and certainly not in favor of any ministry.

Still, he was disappointed.

He almost didn't feel a pang of guilt when he interrupted the (very cute) hug Graves was giving to… Goldstein, was that it? Of course, almost being the key word here.

"Hey!" he said.

Immediately, Goldstein turned around, her hand on her wand. Well on where her wand was supposed to be as Harry currently was waving it in his left hand.

As if he would really surprise an armed Auror.

Her face became red with panic and anger. She rose and put herself in front of Graves, shielding him.

"Who are you?" She asked almost threateningly. He didn't know if she was very brave or very desperate to threaten without a wand.

He looked at her curiously. She really didn't look like much, small and thin with some sort of nervous tremor in all of her gestures, as if always ready to bolt away.

"Hi... I'm Harry!"

A loud sigh interrupted whatever Goldstein was about to say. "Do you do that to all the new people you meet?"

"Well, not quite. Only when I have to sneak out on powerful people to do so." Harry answered. He straightened his back and completely got out of the cape.

"Goldstein."

Graves looked much more tired than the last time Harry had seen him - probably the stress backlash. "This is the man that saved us. The one that helped us escape."

Her eyes widened almost comically and her posture relaxed a little. Harry smiled.

"Since when are you here, Harry?" asked Graves faintly.

"Long enough."

"Ah."

There was an awkward silence. Harry knew and Graves knew he knew - at least the man had the decency to blush, if only slightly. Goldstein cleared her throat and made a few steps to hold her hand out to Harry.

"Tina Goldstein." she said with a new confidence, "Auror."

He shook her hand - her grip was quite firm. "Harry. Jobless," he said with a smile.

She nodded, making her hair jump around her cheeks. "I- thank you. for saving Mr. Graves, and the others. Truly, we had … we had lost hope that they would come back."

Harry nodded, he knew the feeling very well. Dark Lord doesn't tend to capture people and let them go in one piece. He wanted to say that anyone would have done that, that she didn't need to thank him, but he knew she wouldn't accept it.

"You're welcome," he said softly.

"Mr, Graves!"

A young woman, all in bright joy and exuberance, entered the room. She quite looked like Miss Goldstein, except for her blond wavy hair and the general relaxed and colorful air she drew with her. She might have been a bit taller too, but it was quite hard to tell as she was leaning forward to plant a kiss on Mr. Grave's cheek. This was immensely unsettling the poor man by doing so. She was wearing a big pink cloak, delicately styled, and a small hat of the same color.

Harry saw her blue eyes light up as she cooed over Mr. Graves like he was a five year old in her care and smirked at the definite blush that was spreading on the man's cheeks.

"Don't you worry, dear." She said lightly, "No one will judge a small blush here!"

Mr. Graves grumbled something about the respect of authority and a proper attitude towards the opposite gender as the woman patted his hand, her smile unwavering.

Harry almost made a comment before he remembered. Of course, in the 20's, people interacted differently… Did women even have the right to vote? He was fairly sure that black and indigenous people didn't, he had learnt it at school when he was a child (it felt like another life - and, well, it had been). Surely he would give himself away if he tried to act differently right now.

He knew he still wasn't trusted.

The blond woman turned towards him a looked at him strangely. It was only at this moment that he felt…

"You are quite a progressivist, Sir!" she noted.

He lowered his eyes immediately and rose his poor occlumency shields. "Don't look into my mind, please, Miss."

He had avoided being legilimensized by Grindelwald, it wouldn't do to let anyone else enter into his head.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried, shaking her head, "I'm a natural. Sometimes, I just can't stop it…"

A natural Legilimens? Harry's curiosity was definitely pricked. He had, in his life, only met one, and Riddle surely hadn't made the best use of his gift. It was quite rare, almost as much as his old Parselmouth, with the exception that it was even harder to trace, as the gift could declare itself at random. Quite peculiar that two of them would live in the same time-period…

But it was also very, very dangerous.

Harry rose his hand, determined to assume the best and prepare for the worse. "It's ok," he said, "just ...try not to do it again."

She nodded. "I'm Harry, by the way," he said, holding out his hand."

She looked at him like he had grown a second head, but finally took his hand and shook it. "Queenie. I'm Tina's sister." She said, nodding towards the other woman.

Harry heard a snort as he withdrew his hand. He sent an interrogating look towards Graves. "Do you often shake hands with women?" the Auror asked derisively.

It took a moment for Harry to put his finger on what he had done wrong. Well, he understood that he apparently shouldn't have shaken Queenie's hand, but why and what was the proper thing to do, he had no idea.

"Well, she's not made of ice to break under a hand shake, Mr Graves." He said, hoping that it would be enough to cover his slip. Graves still looked incredulous, but he could see Tina puffing her chest in pride and agreement.

Oh, well.

"Queenie, this is… Harry. The man that sa- brought us back, Mr. Graves."

Her smile brightened, even if Harry wasn't sure that it was possible. Did the woman ever stop smiling?

Well, he wasn't going to complain, really. The world was dark enough not to spit on a genuine happiness, no matter how strange it was. Harry self-consciously passed his hand through his hair, messing it up, even more, and offering an awkward grin to the woman.

He did notice, however, how Tina hadn't pronounced the word 'saved'.

But there was more… pressing matters at hand.

"I'm sorry to disrupt your meeting with Miss Goldstein, I was wondering how you were?" he asked Mr Graves.

"As well as one can be in these circumstances, Harry."

The young man nodded, recognizing the answer for the dismissal it was. He was used to it: most people that had gotten through such torture would or wallow in self-pity, or in guilt, but in both cases completely refuse to talk about it.

As much as he wanted to shake the man. To accuse the victim of withholding their reaction to their own trauma was not only counterproductive, but wholly outrageous and downright cruel.

"Well, I think I'll-"

The door burst open. Before even thinking about it, Harry's wand was in his hand, pointed towards the threat.

Two Aurors had entered the room, heavily panting, wands drawn and eyes panicked. They were young- about Harry's age, maybe a bit older. Rookies. Harry knew that the legal age to enter into the Auror's academy had lowered after each war. After Voldemort, people were accepted at fifteen… not that they had much chance to survive long enough to become full-trained Aurors.

But no war had happened in the wizarding world in at least two centuries, and none of them were as traumatizing as the ones Harry had lived through. Thus, the two Aurors, around twenty five, were completely panicked and probably in front of the first task they had to achieve.

"We're sorry, Sir, but the wizard escaped!" bellowed on of them.

Immediately assessing the situation, Graves held up a hand. "Calm down. Speak clearly. Which wizard?"

"The- tha one from Numengard! He wasn't in his rooms! I heard he is very powerful, Sir, we came to warn you!"

Harry had to bite his lower lip not to burst out laughing. Graves threw him a no-nonsense look.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, MacGreen." said Graves. The Auror followed his gaze and his eyes became round like galleons. Harry waved his hand and smiled innocently, watching with unrestrained amusement as the Aurors didn't know if they should raise their wand at him or not.

But Harry's amusement faded as he noticed the room was getting crowded, and all the exits blocked. His breathing accelerated - and he only listened distractedly as Graves told the Aurors to calm down once again, to lower their wands (for Merlin's sake!). He concentrated on the panic slowly rising in him trying to crush it at the back of his mind. He fought in himself to ignore the pang in his chest and the urging to open the window, to hide under his cape, to flee.

It had been a long time since he had felt like this. Harry reassured himself it was probably his nerves reacting to the aftermath of all the Grindelwald's thing.

Trying to distract himself, he accidentally caught Queenie's eyes. Her face paled slightly, and she turned toward the Aurors, who were still arguing with Graves and Tina about Harry. They were explaining that their orders were to send him into custody for interrogation as soon as he was well enough to be able to get out of the hospital.

Queenie whispered something in her sister's ears, and, after a worried look towards him, Tina crossed her arms over her chest. "I am the Head Auror, by the President Pickety's orders." she said, looking more sure of herself when it was about work, and almost unconsciously adopting Grave's tone, " You will obey me if you wish one day to be promoted to something more interesting than broom-regulation."

The threat seemed to have its effect, as the two men - boys, really, hurried out of the room, even if Harry knew it was to report to their superior about his whereabouts. It meant that he didn't have much time left before being sent to the ministry - and frankly he was considering making an escape before that.

He really, really hated the ministries stuff. In general. He had been put on trial twice, attacked at least five times and generally dragged in the mud by this type of institution; and he had good reasons to think that things weren't better a century earlier.

He wondered if the US had a Azkaban-like jail, and thinking about it, they very certainly did. He remembered seeing a movie on this - people escaping from an prison on an island, somewhere in the United-States. Well, he had only seen half of the movie, and even, only a part of the screen, hidden in his cupboard and peering shyly through the half-closed door. But it was a muggle thing, wasn't it?

He should have done more research.

That particular thought sounded like Hermione, and a pang of sadness spread in his chest.

It's our last chance, Harry.

He pinched his lips and concentrated to throw back and crush the wave of painful memories that was threatening to overthrow him.

"I'm glad you're well, Mr. Graves." Harry said finally, a bit awkwardly.

He couldn't really feel happy about it, after all, three people had died for this, and it was his fault… Graves seemed to have caught something on his face because, after a moment, he said: "Krum was a good fighter and an honourable woman. She had worked all her life against Dark Wizards, and half of it against Grindelwald. She would have hated herself not to die on her two feet, in battle, to help an innocent." His voice was firm, probably more so than his beliefs. "Don't beat yourself over her death. Honour her by continuing your own fight."

Harry smiled bitterly. "There is no way to honour the dead, Sir. Only to help the living."

For some reason, the three others looked quite gobsmacked, but he didn't have much time to wonder about it as the Aurors returned in force to the room, earning themselves a menacing grunt from Graves.

"I'm sorry, but President Piketty asked for him to be taken to the M.A.C.U.S.A. They want to ask him questions."

"And are the docs ok with this?" asked Tina.

The two men looked at each other, then at Goldstein. Harry sighed: it was very clear that he couldn't avoid it without making an out-law of himself, and considering why he was here, it clearly wasn't a good idea.

It wasn't like Harry had ever listened to whatever the doctors, nurses, healers of every sort told him.

"I'm fine, Miss Goldstein. I'll go." He turned to the Aurors with a raised eyebrow "Would you be so kind to find me proper clothes? I don't think your president really wants to see me in pajamas."

The Aurors had the decency to blush and hurry outside to find him proper clothing.

After a last glance towards Graves, who looked like quite put out by the situation, Harry followed the Aurors out of the hospital room.

They didn't let Harry return to his room, but allowed him to go to the bathroom to change. Harry would have chuckled at their poor attempts to keep him captive - he had had at least three opening to escape between Grave's rooms and the bathrooms alone- if he hadn't been wincing at his new and not so new wounds.

His back was burning, and he really didn't want to see the wound. At least the healers had made a good bandaging on it, as far as he could tell. It was more than he usually asked for.

He would go to the M.A.C.U.S.A. He had information on the organization that would one day become one of the most dangerous political movement in the wizarding world; he couldn't really keep it all for himself.

Saving people and whatnot.

When Harry arrived at the hospital's entrance, he was surrounded by the two Aurors. Harry was then joined by the two Miss Goldstein's. Tina was wearing a big blue coat with a high collar that gave her a more intimidating posture than before. Her eyes scrutinized him.

"I've signed the papers to get you out of here. We'll come with you," Tina said. She held a bottle of a too familiar red potion. "For the nerves, if you still have tremors." She indicated, maybe a bit deflated.

Maybe being cursed with the Cruciatus wasn't usual in this time?

Apparently not, as everybody around him had paled slightly. Harry had to remind himself that they hadn't passed through three wizarding wars like he had (even if the first one had been quite short for him).

Harry nodded thankfully and took the flask. He sniffed it and passed his hand above the lip, checking for poisons or curses, ignoring the shocked look of everyone around him ( constant vigilance, of course). He gulped part of the potion and winced. Ah, yes, this recipe hadn't been improved by Voldemort, and later Snape. Truly, the taste was atrocious, and he had a fair idea that the results would be limited.

As long as he could run and hold his wand, he would be fine.

Harry sealed the potion wandlessly and put it in his pocket. He scoffed awkwardly at the way everyone was staring at him. "Shall we go?" he asked softly, but his voice was firm and commanding.

Tina was startled out of her thoughts and nodded, but her sister was frowning. Harry really hoped that Queenie wouldn't go into his head and see things that she shouldn't. It could be dangerous for her, for everyone, and even for Harry.

He didn't have the time to ponder too much on this as everything about New York's streets assaulted his senses. People walking all around with Bowlers, Derbies and Fedoras hats and long cloaks. Shining cars that looked far more beautiful than the ones Harry knew, but more dangerous as well, spitting black smoke and encompassing the street with the smell of gasoline. The shattered bright light reflecting on the windows made the greyish streets come to life, but set Harry's nerves on edge.

"Can we apparate?" He asked, unsure that he could manage to walk in the open in the city without an accident.

"We will, as soon as we get out of the wards. We had to put them in for the President's visit," explained Tina while conducting them towards a dark alley - away from sight.

"Don't worry, muggles don't bite!" whispered Queenie conspiratorially.

Harry couldn't help but to look at her like she had grown another head. She frowned but didn't add anything.

Weren't people supposed to hate muggles at this time? Of course, Harry knew that Dumbledore was pro-muggle, and with him a certain part of his friends and students, but he had read that the U.S practiced muggle segregation with as much enthusiasm than Muggles did with black people at the same time.

Maybe Queenie had deduced that his 'progressiv' ideas on women meant that he would think the same about muggles. Maybe she was part of the 'Happy Few' that were already all for a weakening of the Status of Secrecy but without Grindelwald's extremism. Those who really liked muggles as fellow humans.

It was startling to see that this type of thinking still had the chance to exist - and if everything went well, would do so for many, many years. No one would have to worry about guns, bombs and witch hunts.

Tina grabbed his arm, preparing to apparate. "I must warn you I can get quite sick," said Harry, feeling like the previous shocks of the last few days would do nothing to soften his landing.

She didn't have the time to answer before there was the familiar tugging in his navel, sending him into a compressing tube until he landed, back against the ground, at his destination.

And it was grandiose.

Harry hated it on sight.

It wasn't the chaos of Numengard -full of life- where everything had been done by the people, with enthusiasm and ingenuity. Where everything had a meaning, where colorful clothes had been left to float on the wind to amuse the children.

No. The place was cold and business-like. The floor was made in dark-grey stones, lightened only by the gigantic windows with golden panels. The stairs were made more to impose than to be useful: high and large, they led to a central platform where the elevators were situated.

Old house-elves were serving the wizards like… slaves, really, cleaning their shoes and such. Harry pinched his lips, reminding himself that the S.P.E.W laws weren't even imagined yet. At least, they didn't look like they were beaten or abused - if anything, the wizards tended to ignore them, even if they were right in front of them.

Harry heard a big tic and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. What he had a first thought being a simple clock was actually an enormous golden magical clock, each of the five faces indicating many things; such as the weather, the hour, the number of people inside (a very reckless information to give; what if someone attacked the ministry?), or the well-being of the Status of Secrecy.

Harry didn't have the time to further his scrutiny as Tina grabbed his forearm and lead him onto the platform.

Many witches and wizards were walking like they had no time for the rest of the world all around them, nose up and hands full of papers. A real little army of Percy Weasley. Harry noticed with a start that none of them were wearing traditional wizard robes. Their clothes were following the muggle fashion of the time, with only a few modifications here and there, but genuinely the same.

Everyone was looking at him, or was it, Tina? oddly, but Harry had become a master at ignoring looks and whispers in the corridors. Considering how the young woman was flushed, she wasn't as good at it as he was.

They passed a black statue of a young girl holding her arms towards a circle of other women. Her expression was happy, peaceful. It was a strange sight, this statue in the middle of all the metallic refinement of the hall, completely black as if made of carbon, in the middle of the business-like wizards.

"It's in commemoration of Salem," explained one of the Aurors, following Harry's gaze, "It's very important, around here."

"I can imagine," said Harry in the most neutral tone he could.

They had stopped making statues, in his time. They had destroyed the old ones too, useless reminders of a glory that once was.

Harry was almost dragged to one of the elevators.

A gobelin was waiting in the elevator. He took a good look at them and activated his lever without ever asking a question. Harry felt the small tug as the elevator started to go down far, far too quickly. A small smile graced his face, but it was gone as soon as the doors opened the underground Auror office.

Harry would have recognized it immediately, even without the goblin's announcement. It just reeked of Aurors, from the spartan-but-chaotic setting. he urgent notes accumulating on the desks in piles, turning into figures and fighting each other to death to decide which would be read first. To the blazed faces of the poor blokes doomed to paperwork when they were made for the field. The friendly smiles and leery eyes.

His cape florating behind him in a silvery glint of what appeared to only be a casual, if old, pattern, his wand safely hidden against his wrist, his ring warmly tight around his finger, Harry walked passed the Aurors with assurance.

He didn't think himself graceful by any means nor was his stature imposing. But his back was straight, his chin held not with pride, but with assurance, his hands safely folded like he had no care about where he was.

Queenie took off into one of the closed offices, with a big smile and a flourish of her pink coat.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry." She said politely, before kissing her sister's cheek.

"Your wand, please." Demanded one of the Aurors, holding his palm open expectantly. Harry didn't make a move, but his back tensed and his mind unconsciously started to register every way out of the place. He held the man's gaze, assessing him.

He was rescued by Tina, who held up her hand in a peaceful gesture. "He isn't accused of anything yet. We have no right to take his wand."

Harry breathed in with relief. After the Grindelwald's episode, he really wasn't comfortable with the idea of giving up the Elder Wand to anyone. The man probably had spies in the ministry.

Harry was taken to a room which, although everything had been done to keep him from running away, was obviously a question room. Harry did not struggle and sat quietly on the chair that was indicated to him. He had the feeling that it was going to be very, very long session.

Miss Goldstein sat in front of him, eying him strangely.

Tina waved her wand and a long golden quill shot up above a parchment, not unlike the one Rita Skeeter used during her interviews. She opened a small file with, surely, all the information they had on him dutifully consigned.

"I am Porpentina Goldstein, head Auror, and this is Mr. Ravier, Unspeakable. This interview takes place the third of November 1928." She said formally, nodding towards the light haired man behind her. Really, what was that name, Porpentina? No wonder she was called 'Tina' by everyone! Apparently, American had even a worse taste in names than English.

Then, he remembered that his home was called Hogwarts, and all traces of mockery faded. He nodded politely towards the unspeakable for good measure.

"And you are…?"

"Harry," answered Harry.

"Any last name?"

Harry thought for a moment, but there was no way he could escape the last name part inside the ministry. "Potter."

"Any link to the pureblood family?"

"Probably." he shrugged.

He could feel she was starting to tense to his elusive answers, but really, he didn't have much more to say. He threw her an apologetic look, but her glare didn't lighten.

"Did you help the fifteen prisoners to escape Nurmengard on the night of Samhain?"

"Fourteen."

She look up from her file expectantly. "Mrs. Krum died on the way," Harry said.

He could feel the guilt wash over him again, but he ignored it. He knew it would be returning to him in his sleep with a vengeance, but he couldn't let himself be distracted right now. Tina nodded, lips pinched, and went back to her file.

"How old are you?"

Harry pressed his hand at the back of his head, thinking. How old was he indeed? Even without talking about the time-travel problem, he really, really wasn't sure. He hadn't kept a calendar during the last war, and Dark Magic tended to mess with the climate, making it impossible to recognize one season from the other with certainty.

"I'd say around twenty…"

Her eyes shot up, widening slightly.

He felt like a bad student again, not being able to explain what was a bezoar. Who cared how old he was? He was clearly of age, so no legal problem.

"You're… not sure. Of your age."

"No."

"You don't look above seventeen…"

"Nah, I'm twenty- something. I'm sure of that."

This was very embarrassing. Tina looked at him, obviously searching for any trace of a lie, and then returned to the file with a frown.

"Your knowledge about yourself is quite… lacking, Mr. Potter. Can I guess that you don't know where you are from either?"

Harry grinned to hide his concern. Could he say that he was from England? Surely it would be more difficult to come up with a good origin story, as the English ministry probably had informations on every wizard being born on its land - even more during the schooling.

His silence was apparently all she needed. With a wave of her hand, the quill scratched something on the parchment. The unspeakable gaze, however, became quite unnerving.

Harry was sure there was no way for someone to find out about when he came from - this type of time-travel had been invented by his friends. From what he remembered, even the hourglasses and time-turner had only been invented somewhere between the end of the First Wizarding War and the beginning of the Second ( Why was Grindelwald's war not called the First Wizarding War he had never understood, but his dates were right, he was sure of it).

So, theoretically speaking, he was safe.

"What were you doing at Nurmengard, Mister Potter?" She asked finally.

And that was the true question. The one they all been asking themselves, even Harry. He could see in Tina's eyes that she was still unconvinced that he wasn't a threat- no matter her earlier peace offering.

"That's a pretty long story, Ma'am." He said with a grin.

"I have all the time in the world." She said sternly.

And Harry knew there was no way to get out of this.