Author's Note:

To Kainee: Thanks for all the conversation! No, seriously, it gets ideas flowing again when I have none, or gets me off my bum when I can't find the power to do so. Your messages are real-life proof that reviews do affect writing speed.

I managed a rather long chapter this time, people. Probably because of all the historical accuracy I can't stop myself from inserting. Look, we have a real date, people! As you read, it would become clear that this is sometime in March 1933.

'-

Diagon Alley II


Still in Diagon Alley (and thereabouts). New Clothes and Lunch are Scheduled. Floo Network. Some eavesdropping commences. A reflection on the future.

'-

Tom marched forward like a man on a mission. Anakin had to put some effort into following him because many things caught his attention; there were fireworks whose sparkles did not dim or fade during the day, for one, the seller casually lighting a few and let them burst above his head. He had paused at a small cart that seemed to sell small trinkets and jewellery. Nothing fancy, but some were just the right combination of elegant simplicity that he thought Padme would like. Or maybe it was that kind old lady with the flower cart, encouraging him to pause and take a whiff of what spring had to offer, flowers yellow and gay. He reached out at the blossoms with a light heart, the wand holster on his arm an unexpected and new weight.

He'd thought of giving some to Mrs. Cole – he'd bet ten to one that she didn't have any family of her own, considering the hours and dedication she gave to the orphanage. But as much as he liked daffodils, weren't they too common still?

"Anthony!"

Anakin turned around and found that his twin was easily three storefronts away. He stepped away with a sigh.

"What's the rush, Thomas?"

Tom strode back in no time, not waiting for him to catch up. "Too many places to visit. There's the bookstore, obviously, and I'd want to catch up with some news, but I think it's better if we get some clothes first."

"Clothes?"

"We look like muggles," he said flatly. "Poor muggles, at that."

"Non-magicals," Anakin insisted. His twin waved it away.

"No matter how unnoticeable most small children are, I'd rather not take the risk."

Anakin shoved his hands in his pocket and settled for following his brother for now. It was a lot more annoying to wait for him to get out of a strop than to prevent it in the first place. "Maybe you need to talk more like other kids too. You always sound too fancy."

That earned him a snort. "And sound like an idiot? Never." Anakin rolled his eyes.

And without a word, Tom marched off again...

...to buy some ice cream. And then he marched back, and before Anakin could express his surprise or even ask why, he had bitten off a good chunk out of it and slammed the cone on Anakin's shirt. Ice cream side first.

Anakin hissed in surprise at the sudden chill on his shirtfront. "What the bloody hell?"

"Here, have the strawberry one." Tom handed another cone over to him with aplomb. "I suggest that you eat that for a bit before you put it on my shirt. It's a waste to use all of it without enjoying it at all."

He narrowed his eyes at his brother's complacent expression. No explanations, as usual. One of these days, he'd find a way to get him back for that habit or break him out of it, but that day was probably not today. He calmly licked at his ice cream as if that had been his plan from the beginning.

It didn't mean he wasn't going to go for payback, though.

"You're right, this is nice." He picked the chunks still on his shirt and ate it. The best part of being a kid was the ability to eat like a slob and barely anyone would notice.

"I think I like this brown thing better, though."

"That's chocolate," Tom clarified, obviously holding back a twitch. Anakin licked his ice as if he had no other concerns or even noticed his brother trying not to start brushing off the remaining ice cream from his shirt. Tom's brows furrowed, his hands twitching at his side.

"Anthony."

"Yes?"

"The ice cream—"

"It's delicious, thanks."

"Put it on my shirt." He insisted. Anakin made a show of staring at the ice cream and then Tom's shirt, before he shook his head.

"I don't know. I think I agree with what you said. It's such a waste to not enjoy it, isn't it? You didn't even explain why I need to do that."

His brother gave him a look of disdain so cold that any other kid would have frozen in place. Against him, however, he could still shrug it off easily and kept walking at the same pace they had before. Now, they were even at the ice cream place he'd dropped in at. Anakin glanced up at the sign. It was made of wood and carved, and was probably as ancient as it looks. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

"Look, we need to look dirty."

He turned his attention on his brother once more and Anakin thought he could see the tension in Tom's jaw.

"For?"

"Clothes. It's not as if kids go off and buy clothes all on their own without adult supervision—not as if most would enjoy it either like a toy store. It's our excuse. The shopkeeper wouldn't be looking too closely at what we're wearing if it's dirty." Tom said all this rapidly, as if he was racing against his annoyance to explain. Anakin was more interested in the dirty plates left on the tables outside of the ice cream parlour, no waiters have gotten around to them yet.

Anakin shook his head with a disappointed look. "You could've said that before."

"I would've been done if you would just do it."

"I don't do things without an explanation." With that, he casually dropped his left palm into an empty plate with lots of gravy, and proceeded to wipe that on his brother's always-perfect hair. He knew just how much more careful Tom was with his appearance compared to Anakin, and that he actually combed his hair without prompting from their minders. That was also why he targeted Tom's shiny black hair.

Tom looked murderous.

The blond grinned and finished wiping his hand on Tom's shirtfront, making sure the hand print was wide. "And I can have all my ice cream to eat. No waste! A much better idea, right?"

Before he'd even finished speaking, his brother had climbed over a chair, taken a bowl of abandoned sundae from the table and dumped it on his head.

Anakin's laughter rang in the clear morning, even as he dumped what remains of his ice cream down his brother's collar.

Curses in English and Latin followed him as he ran.

'-

They ended up chasing each other on the streets and using any ammunition they could get their hands on. First were the leftovers in the ice cream parlour, but they had swiftly moved away before any waiters came out or anyone took a good look at them. It wouldn't do to make people remember them, after all. Anakin had started for a side-alley more than once to find a puddle deep enough for him to kick mud at Tom, splattering his shorts. His brother picked that trick up quickly to pay him back and multiplied it by throwing dirt for good measure. Shocked ladies and outraged matrons followed them, with not a few reprimands by a wizard or two, but they ducked away from it all.

When Tom slipped into a clothing store, Anakin followed hot on his heels.

"And what do we have here?"

The snapping tone was enough to stop Anakin in his tracks. Tom had stopped much earlier, head tilted up at the middle-aged woman barring their way, expression not at all amused. Anakin couldn't even stop the slight guilt from surfacing within him, too used to hearing Mrs. Cole use that tone against them as he scrambled for an explanation.

"Um, we were just..."

"We need new clothes." Tom rushed. "Because we have to meet Grand Aunt Livia. Not that we really want to, oh no, we just have to, no matter what. So I thought me 'n Anthony here could look disresp—unrespec—dirty. We could look dirty and nasty and so we can't meet Grand Aunt Livia like that, can we? But noooooooooooo. She just pulled our ears and scolded us to heck and back and said we could buy some change. Because she said we'd need wizarding clothes anyway. So she sent us away while she plays nice with our b—boring Grand Aunt."

"That's not a nice thing of you to say about your Grand Aunt," the lady gave them a disapproving look. Anakin was generally immune to them as he put on his best expression of innocence.

"You can say that because you haven't spent an afternoon with her."

Tom shuddered, as if trying to remove the memory of a strict society matron that would force them to be on their best manners for the entire afternoon. As annoyed as he was, Anakin had to admit that Tom's ability to make a story on the spot was incredible. He suddenly saw what they would be trying to sell.

"Are you going to throw us out?" Anakin asked. He didn't even have to pretend to look hopeful, because running around like crazed womp rats had been more fun than he thought it would be. Even when Tom started playing dirty and tripped him more than once. He'd dragged his brother down with him when he fell on more than one occasion.

Even when they probably have more scratches now than even from their sparring sessions.

"I mean, we'd have to tell that we'd get thrown out, but then we won't have new clothes." Anakin said.

"And we won't meet Aunt Livia." Tom finished with relish.

The witch stared down what must have looked like two raggedy scamps on her front door. "I think...I think I will ensure that you look respectable enough to make up to your mother."

'-

It took some sleight of hand to hide their wands, but that was nothing beyond the ability of either Tom or Anakin. What was a little beyond their ability was to outmanoeuvre the stern and too-helpful owner of Madam Malkin's from putting them into dress robes, along with her insistence that they either choose to take a bath on their own or she'd bathe them. The only concession Tom managed to get out of her was to get a few normal day robes as well, because they've been 'growing so fast' and all. It took a bit more customisation to get clothes that could adjust in size, clothes they wouldn't need to change for the next two or three years, but beyond that it was too expensive to be worth it.

Anakin was far from comfortable with the pomp he was dressed in, even as Tom moved with the grace of one born into it. The Jedi had robes, sure, but they sure didn't have this much lace trim either—he couldn't see his wrist from all the froth. Even the coat had lace. They looked like some Coruscant nobs, for goodness' sakes, not even mere senators.

"Don't tell me we're going to be wearing this all the way home," Anakin muttered under his breath, trying to loosen his necktie (he could almost hear Tom's voice correcting him in his head "it's a cravat, Anthony"). How his brother could stand getting his neck wrapped and covered like that, he had no idea.

Tom shook his head. "Of course not. We can change later. But it's pretty convenient to blend-in this way. We look like a couple of pureblood kids out on a stroll."

The dark-haired twin had picked up a newspaper left on a bench and tucked it under his arm. His pace had picked up again and Anakin had no problem keeping up. The first store he entered had an odd, almost unnoticeable curve to its front and window, its sign proudly proclaiming it to be Scribbulus' Writing Instruments. The more he stared at it, the more it seemed that the walls were straight and normal, but eh, what did he know of this strange place?

He hadn't even taken a step into the store before his brother came out again, a pile of scrolls at hand and more that he'd stuffed into his weird bag of the folded dimensions. And wait, were those feathers? Why on earth are they buying feathers?

"Right. That's done. So, what do you think of having lunch?"

"Lunch sounds like a good idea."

"Great. I can finish the letter while we eat." Tom said.

That made Anakin slow down. So, Tom would be finishing the fake letter from their dead mother now. He knew it was foolish, but for some reason he couldn't help wondering what their father was doing. Did he ever think about his children, at least, even if he didn't care about the woman who forced him into a marriage he didn't want? From the way Tom had talked of him, his brother was convinced the man was a coward and a fool.

It didn't stop him from wondering about the man.

'-

Tom's wand had almost started the beginning movements of apparition, he shook his head and stopped himself. The odds that the current him could apparate himself and his brother was not good. That was when he changed direction and headed for Diagon Alley's Floo Terminal.

"Where are we going?"

"The Floo Terminal," Tom answered.

"Is that where everyone goes to catch a cold?"

Tom turned at the lunacy in the question before he caught the sarcastic look on Anakin's face. Tom tilted his head to the side as he thought. If he'd said fireplaces, Anakin was just going to keep staring at him as if he was nuts and demand more explanation. And the next one wouldn't have explained it enough for him—there'd be more. And more.

"It's...the hub of a...transportation system." Tom finally replied.

"The pauses in your sentences are giving me questions."

"I've never tried explaining it to someone who hadn't grown up in the wizarding world before." Then, he continued to mutter under his breath. "We're going to need lots and lots of books. Look, it's faster if you just come along and see how it works, alright? Time's a-wasting."

That seemed to settle Anakin for a while as Tom made quick work of their progress, cutting paths through side-alleys and even going through a rather sleepy store once and came out through the back. Even after the years and through his death, he hadn't realised that he could still navigate through Diagon Alley with his eyes closed. It was almost like a limb he had suddenly regained, hello there old hand, there are uses for you that I miss having.

A building grew into view, curling upward in the lazy way that whipped creams and ice creams does, as colourful as a dome of St. Basil's Cathedral in the Red Square. Where an ice cream may have one biscuit stick on it, it was dotted with innumerable ones, with the ones at the base being stout and unimaginative and getting taller and fancier as following its spiral up. These, as could be expected, were chimneys. Generally, green smoke curled up.

"Ah, there it is. The Floo Terminal."

"There's no landing zones or runaways," Anakin pointed out, still gaping at the improbably-shaped building.

"No extensive, large-scale travel by air yet, remember?" Tom replied with only half a mind. He was trying to remember where the short-distance fireplaces were, hoping his memory still served him. The larger chimneys are certainly for hopping across the Channel, or maybe across the North Sea and into Norway.

"I've been reading about trains and there are no rails there."

"This isn't the train station." Tom replied, weaving through the crowd.

He preferred to side-step anyone who blundered enough to be unaware of them, but he wasn't above occasionally shoving people either with nary a blink (really, it's surprising how far a six-year old can shove given the lack of concern of whether it was right or wrong). Anakin gave an awkward apology twice to confused people before he caught up to Tom. The blond pulled him aside just before he was about to shove another wizard.

"Sheesh, save your energy. We're not going to get there that much faster, and it certainly takes effort to go against adults, right?"

Tom blinked. "Ah, you're right. Let's move a bit to the side."

"And I thought you were trying to keep a low profile."

"Yes, thanks for the reminder."

The gothic-revival archways in front of the building kept a steady flow of people coming and going from it. Anakin was obsessively noting the building architecture, probably trying to find some sort of garage.

Which he definitely will not find, Tom thought.

"There's no multiple gates out of this place either," Anakin said again, his voice strangely calm even if he was rapidly turning his head this way and that. "The only reason I'm not worried that maybe we're walking into a giant oven that cooks people is because a lot of people are also heading out from it."

That pulled Tom out of his head. His amused smile was replied with a demanding look from Anakin's side.

"I guarantee you that we're not Hansel and Gretel, walking headlong into a trap."

"A line of ovens would explain the chimneys." Anakin was as stubborn as they came.

"Well, we are looking for a fireplace to jump into." His reply was too flippant that Anakin took a second look at him, clearly wondering if his brother had suddenly been replaced by doppelgänger. Tom rolled his eyes at the rapid steps back Anakin just took.

"No, I'm not suicidal, stop looking at me like that. We're not going to die. This is magic, remember? Nothing is what it seems."

"There's 'nothing is what it seems' and there's 'no rhyme or reason at all'." Anakin groused. "Guess which one is the wizarding world?"

He didn't stop himself from chuckling. "Relax. We'll be fine."

"I'm not relaxing until I see you jump into the flame and not die."

Tom nodded. "Fair enough. Let's buy some Floo powder from the counter over…there, and then we can move on."

'-

Since he wasn't an actual kid, Anakin could rein in his panic and just wander around and gather more information to settle his nerves while Tom went to get some Floo powder. A freckled teenager in livery and a perpetually bored look greeted him promptly.

"How much would you need, Young Master?"

"There's me and my brother, say…thirty trips for two people."

"Right-o."

The respectful address made him blink, at least until Tom realised how he was dressed. He and Anakin was as smoothly dressed as any pureblood child. He pulled out seven galleons and waited for his change and bag of powder.

"Here you go."

"Thanks."

"Have a safe trip." The staff nodded at him and he nodded back. As he turned, the young man behind him greeted him with a casual nod before moving forward himself, and Tom found himself returning the greeting automatically without thought.

It was slightly surreal. Tom hadn't realised that he'd gotten too used to wearing hand-me-downs from the orphanage, the clothes he had never quite fitting and his presence along with Anakin's always easily ignored by most adults. Now, people's glance actually stayed at him for more than one or two second, probably as they try to decide whether he was someone they knew or not (which would make them try to locate the responsible adult to catch up with some news if he was someone they knew).

It was a different sort of inconvenience.

As he walked onwards to find whichever chimney Anakin had gone off to observe (and hopefully also amuse) himself, he saw people with scruffier clothes mindfully taking themselves off his path. Mothers occasionally glance at him, sometimes at the same time that they are scolding their unruly offspring – he supposed it was either because they were running around like hellions or they had atrocious posture, because his was always perfect. Tom never really noticed the confidence that existed in his walk, but it had never mattered much when he was wearing second-hand clothes.

Now, with the velvet of his robe, his fine clothes and shiny shoes, he suddenly ceased to be invisible.

Hmm. Isn't that interesting? He mused.

There is an opportunity now to fulfil one of the childish wishes he still remembered when he was but an orphan, ignored and unwanted. Even when he had gone to Hogwarts he had not the name of some great house to back him, nor any relation he can mention. Doors were closed to him, paths unavailable until he forged his own with power and blood (let's see them try to ignore this) and forced them to pay attention.

Now, he could go someplace fancy, like Le Magicien Royal, for one, and have the maître d' receive the two of them and seat them in the private and discreet restaurant as was their due. He could even watch as entertainment the occasional desperate and pathetic wizards (and witches) trying to beg, con or finagle their way in. He could watch them get turned away, or worse, kicked out. Even the discreet blood-and-magic test at the door would have allowed him in – Slytherin's line will out, after all, even if the testers will never have any idea which family line had allowed him entrance. He could even avail himself to Donne's legendary library on the upper floors, which was not surprising considering the club/ establishment used to be his house. Checking out that library was something he hadn't thought about even in his previous life. Hmm, more things to do this time, then.

Now, Tom can easily slip among the select few and no one will realise that a mere boy or two from a muggle orphanage had found their way there.

The child that he was, young Tom Riddle, would have thought it was the greatest lark he could pull.

But he was Thomas Gaunt Riddle (Slytherin) and on his second trip through life. The complicated social dance of privilege and domination was one he'd gone through once and can easily go through again while daydreaming through two transfiguration problems.

Thus, the oddest feeling had just crossed his mind.

He wasn't interested at all in visiting the better eating places in the wizarding world, or even the best eating place. He had been in many of them as a young man, in his other life. He could close his eyes right now and predict what he would see there. Wizards and witches, how outdated their clothes are compared to the muggle world subtly marked their age more than their physical appearance would. Most would be eating with their friends and families. More than half would be complaining about the Minister of Magic—but then, there would always be someone complaining about the Minister of Magic, whoever he or she was. There will certainly be conversation from members of the greater families of the Sacred 28 about where they'd spend their summer holidays at. The Blacks have their holiday home on the shore of the Caspian Sea, considering that they are always tightly-knit with the Russian Blacks (Чёрныйёв/Чёрныйёва) while the Malfoys will always have their Normandy estate from the time before they crossed over beside William the Conqueror. Many members of the smaller families, on the other hand, are often desperately going to the trendiest places, the cutting edge of holiday travel to beat each other out even as they realise that they can never be at the top.

For some reason seeing all of it play out again on the same stage was no longer so compelling. He was a disappointed theatre-goer whose feet was itching to run. He'd rather lose his money for the ticket than waste one more second seeing the clichés roll.

To just cut himself out from the old song-and-dance.

He was…bored.

The realisation was so strange that he turned it in his mind several times, slightly worried. He still wanted to be in the wizarding world, right? And be at the very top? Right. That settled his worries completely. Yet the feeling of listlessness at going to any of his old haunts remained still. He tried to see it from different angles, tried to find the root cause and he was so intent on backtracking through his own thoughts that he had unconsciously started slipping into a half-meditative state. Slowly, he lost track of time.

"Thomas,"

Thomas pulled himself out of his own mind and turned around. His twin had popped up out of nowhere.

"Ah, Anthony. Back so soon?"

"I got bored waiting for you." Anthony replied, unknowingly mirroring his brother's thoughts right then. "I followed a few people to some fireplaces and see them disappear. Then, I get to see more people coming from the fires, as crazy as that sounds. It just keeps happening everywhere, every fireplace I saw. People go into the green fires. People go out. So yeah. I think I got the hang of this. I've gone to even the farther, the ones with the larger chimneys and even ones where I swear you can spit roast a whole bantha in. It's still more or less the same."

He shrugged. "That's how the Floo Network works."

"And you never came around so I just got back and saw you…staring at nothing."

His twin was giving him a concerned look. He shook his head. "I was just…thinking. Memories, as usual."

"Oh."

His brother was looking too sympathetic that he had the strong urge to correct whatever misapprehension he was labouring under. "No, no. It wasn't that sort of past. It's nothing that interesting, actually. It's only about where I should take you for lunch. I was thinking of all the places I'd have gladly given my left arm to be able to enter when I was a kid, places that had seemed so impressive then that I could scarce imagine any place better."

The blond nodded in understanding. "Right. Found a place, then?"

"That's the thing. They all bore me."

"…huh. Right then, just find someplace else. Maybe try a new place?"

For some reason, Anakin wasn't at all surprised. As if everything was truly that simple—oh, you don't like those places? Let's just not go there. And just like that a different idea spread like wildfire in his mind.

It was inconceivable for Voldemort. But what was he doing now if not trying out new methods and ways?

"Tell you what, let's eat at some muggle place." Tom suggested.

"Non-magical, Thomas." Anakin didn't lose a beat.

"Alright, non-magical. Let's find a non-magical place," Tom said, as careless as before, but Anakin was watching him intently this time. "People have known that Grindelwald has a muggle cat's paw, but they've never really seen him before. They've always considered him as unimportant and skimped on the details in most of his biographies, but why, really? Might they have missed something?"

"So, we're walking on the non-magical side?"

"Which shouldn't be that hard. We do that all the time, don't we?" Tom said. "The robes have got to go, though."

"Yessss!"

"But don't touch the cravat."

"Dammit!"

Neither of them even turned at the middle-aged lady who gasped at Anakin's curse, but they did leg it out of there faster than usual. No need for the witch to try remembering their faces, after all.

'-

"Do you know where you're going?"

"I do. It's just that I need to match the landmarks now and the one in 1970s." Tom insisted. Anakin didn't look like he believed him. "I visited it in the 1970s. Maybe we can sit down on that bench and I'll show you the path I took."

"Right; 'cause two heads are better than one."

They sat cross-legged on the bench facing each other, even if it was a mite awkward done while wearing shoes. He placed his right hand over Anakin's left palm and Anakin did the same. They closed their eyes at almost the same time, with Anakin audibly counting to synchronise their breathing.

He tried imagining the street.

Do you see that?

Hmm. It's pretty dark, but I can see the buildings and the places under the streetlights. It's not so bad.

Alright. Here goes.

The first thing he remembered was the vague pangs of imminent hunger and the occasional scent of roast chestnut in the air. The cold air was…ah, the cold bothered him not at all. He had become far more cold-blooded, literally, after several stages of his transformation.

It was one autumn night right before he was off on one of his excursions, one of his more secretive ones that he scarcely broadcast to his underlings. He only had Wormtail (useless) and Regulus by his side, and the more Wormtail whined about the good food of Malfoy Manor, the less eager Tom became to fulfil his wishes. Regulus had recognised the area and said that there was a good restaurant that he'd been in. It was muggle, he explained quickly, and the only reason that he knew about it was because he'd followed Sirius there once, but what else were their purpose except to serve wizardkind, right? Regulus explained about how the food was delicious and they can easily cast Imperius on everyone in the place and eat their fill.

Wormtail looked revolted and talked against Regulus' position. The younger Black son slowly sweat as Voldemort said nothing, only giving him a look with his cold baleful eyes. Right when Wormtail was at his most triumphant (Merlin's underpants, he was strutting like a peacock), the Dark Lord shot him down with one line.

"Let us see how your suggestion fares, Regulus."

Regulus smoothly bowed. Gone was the doubting youth – before him was a young man, one of the best borne by his society. "Of course, my Lord. Allow me."

"Innovations have their own value." Voldemort said. At which Regulus stood taller and Wormtail cringed as if his tail had been stepped on. He kept his face impassive and his grin unseen from his underlings but his steps was lighter as the three of them continued on their way. He didn't particularly remember why he hadn't impatiently asked Regulus to simply apparate him over (and pick up Wormtail after that), but it had its benefits now.

Tom opened his eyes, pulling both of them out of the memory. Anakin was slightly more dazed than he was, which wasn't a surprise since he hadn't exited on his own.

"It's not that far from The Leaky Cauldron, as you can see, and we've already gone partway there." He said this while standing up. Anakin followed suit a few seconds later.

"Yeah, I think I can recognise this…street."

Tom held back his snort. "Sure? Right, go ahead. Your turn to navigate us, then."

Three wrong turns for four correct ones later, Tom lost ran out of patience and meddled. There was a lot more pulling and arguing after that, but considering that they had gone three streets with only one wrong turn and one wrong almost-turn, that was an improvement. (It wasn't completely their fault—the number of alleys they were counting before taking a turn was once wrong, because one of the alleys no longer existed in 1970 and they had turned an alley too early because of it).

When they found the restaurant, it was almost a shock for the senses – like a knight errant expecting a wizened crone for a witch and found an enthralling young woman instead. Its window-boxes were still freshly painted and red flowers overflowed. The chairs were still smart instead of the sun-faded ones in his memory, the checks of the table cloth still bright red and white. A hint of pie teased the air and the scent of gravy from the meal of a nearby patron was mouth-watering. It was nearing the end of the lunch hour and seats had started emptying again, just their luck.

"Smells good," Anakin noted.

"Of course." Tom nodded regally, a king graciously accepting that praise must naturally fall on his beautiful and well-managed realm. Anakin only gave him a weird look before he took another deep breath, savouring the scent of food.

For all its down-to-earth charm of the place, its sign was decidedly odd. A black bird perched proudly over a wall with a crown on its head.

"The Raven King," Anakin read out loud. "Wow, that's weird. Was there ever a raven that was a king?"

Tom raised one eyebrow. "You're not seriously asking that question, are you?"

"Look, you told me about that horse that became a senator, why not a raven for a king?"

"Incitatus was rumoured to almost become a consul. And that was because the emperor was probably crazy." Tom said. He had to admit that Anakin made a pretty good argument, though, and the way his brother was looking at him meant he knew Tom had just thought in that direction. He sighed. "Yes, yes, it's not completely impossible, but I've never heard of any. Satisfied?"

"Very. Oooh, those people are leaving. Look, look at that table to the right that's almost a corner table and by the windows. Perfect for observation. Let's take that one."

Without waiting for Tom's answer, Anakin walked straight in.

Well, it wasn't as if he had any particular plans either, anyway. He hung around for a few more moments, observing the other shop fronts around the restaurant and trying to fix its current appearance in his mind. There was a millinery named unimaginatively as "Hatter's Hat Shop". On the other side of the restaurant was something that seemed like a solicitor's practise and several other completely mundane office and businesses.

With a slowness borne out of feeling lazy than tired, he followed his twin, taking his time to avoid the chairs of eating businessman and solicitors. The first table he passed seemed to be two cousins who seemed to be working in their family's company. Whatever they were talking about, though, he was sure it wasn't business—at least, he didn't think there were many business-related affairs that should make anyone be that frantic. Or speak of helping their cousins move to England.

There was the rarer woman or three. It wasn't hard to surmise that the first was a writer of sorts, perhaps a journalist, based on the way she hurriedly scribbled in shorthand across her legal pad, almost forgetting her lunch quickly. Probably chasing a deadline, he mused. The other tables weren't as interesting and he paid them less attention. A quick glance at the clock showed that they were five minutes or so shy of two o'clock. Tom breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down.

"We're lucky we're still in time."

"In time for what?"

"For lunch. The lunch menu would have changed to the tea menu at two thirty."

Anakin's eyebrows rose. "What? Why?"

"Obviously because there's not enough crowd to justify keeping the kitchen fully manned and prepared." Tom replied, slightly surprised by the question. He was more curious of the cause, though, and decided to shift the conversation into a mental one, in case any of the answers are not of this dimension. Why are you even surprised? Surely it's understandable?

Restaurants don't really change their menus by the hour in Coruscant, Anakin replied, not bothering to use English. Tom mulled over his answer. Three seconds later, it was his turn to raise his eyebrows.

Because Coruscant the grande dame of all metropoleis, isn't it? A city planet! With so many people living in one place, in such a hive of activity—

—there is always enough customers at all times of the day and night, if they so choose, Anakin finished. It was only a trivial puzzle, but it bought matching grins to their faces as they solved it.

I assure you, it wasn't the case in the 1970s—London kept getting bigger, I suppose. I was too focused on taking over the wizarding world to pay attention to when it changed. Tom noted.

"You're school leavers, aren't you, boys?"

They turned at almost the same time to the waitress as she handed them the menu.

"Yes Miss. Lent Term is over," Tom answered with ease. Anakin was mostly content to let Tom handle the interaction (and excuses). The waitress coloured.

"Oh, I'm not a Miss anything. Just Olive, please."

"Why not? Someone as beautiful as you is certainly a young miss if she is anything."

"Now, none of that Young Master," she said, trying for stern and not quite succeeding, if the barely-suppressed smile on her face was any sign. "Heavens! You'd be a right lady-killer once you start growing. Now, what would you and your friend like?" She paused for a moment, observing Anakin properly for the first time. "Oh, you're brothers!"

"Well, me and my brother would like to take a look for now, if you don't mind?"

"Of course not. Call me when you're done, alright?"

With those words, she walked away, identifying customers who were done or tables that needed cleaning.

"What was that for?" The blond asked. Tom seemed to be engrossed with the menu already.

"Hmm?"

"You know what, charming Olive?"

"To give a good impression and unsettle her, of course." Tom replied easily. "Because I can't actually remember when the Lent term ends this year. I have a feeling it hasn't ended yet. Now, she wouldn't even think in that direction. Now, let's lift the seat of our chairs with a bit of magic, shall we? We won't ever reach the table otherwise"

With that, he slid his wand out of its holster and started to surreptitiously transfigure the chairs larger. He only needed them taller, but it really was easier to make it larger in general than just in one aspect.

Anakin went with braised steak and carrots while Tom chose lamb with butter beans. For dessert they respectively chose red currant tart with custard and plum tart with custard. When their food came, it wasn't just Tom who thanked her politely with a grave nod, Anakin gave her his full smile and called her Miss too until she corrected him.

This was when they figured out that sitting face-to-face was alright for talking, but when you were a child and you were trying to pick food from the plate across you, it was hard. They were of the habit of trying out each other's food that it was something they did without thinking even now.

"This is awkward." Anakin protested.

"Just move, then." Without prompting, Tom had gone down from his seat and moved his brother's plate to right next to his. Anakin changed seats without further thought.

In the middle of this move they were doing, the conversation in the table next to them turned interesting.

"The debate was an embarrassment, don't you think so, Marsden? Never fighting for King and Country? What on earth possessed them say that?"

"It's just the debating society, Collin," The man called Marsden seemed to be more laidback than his two companions, his suit very well cut. Tom surmised that he was probably the more senior in rank among them. "University boys will be boys."

"Well I say it's all fun and games until they turn out to be supporting the reds all along." The third man chimed in. His accent was less polished than Marsden's, or even Collin's.

"Where did you hear that?" This was Collin, being concerned once more.

"It was all in the papers, didn't you know?"

Marsden snorted. "What paper, Walker? The Times? No. It's probably only the Telegraph. They're making mountains out of molehills."

"Well, did you know that Oxford's mayor is ashamed of the communistic sentiments the university espoused."

"Well of course he is. Is he an Oxford graduate himself?" Marsden cut in. "He has no idea what he's blathering about and he's pandering to the masses based on rumours."

Tom placed his finger in front of his lips once the conversation begun to eavesdrop, and now his lips quirked up at the left corner as he shook his head.

Hmm, that's a right nasty put down there. Look at how pale the other two is. Tom sounded more amazed than reproachful. Not enough finesse, though. That short guy is going to remember it for a long while.

What on earth are they talking about?

I vaguely remembered it at all, but I think I knew the source, Tom said. As they said, the Oxford University Debating Society passed the motion that 'this house' will not fight for King and Country. I don't think it's that significant because they probably passed all sorts of motions before and no one ever bothers with them either. Of course the conservatives got all prissy about possible communist associations and started yelling about red-sympathies.

Communist…?

That brought Tom to a pause.

Oh dear. We're going to take ages if we have to go through that too. Just consider it an unsuccessful social experiment on a grand, country-wide scale. This is something I can say with the hindsight of half a century later. But until it falls, it's pretty useful to use scare tactics.

Anakin didn't hide his snort, but neither did he stop eating. And here I thought you don't care for non-magicals.

Oh, no, I didn't. I merely noticed that it was what the Ministry of Magic covered Voldemort's activities as—either possibly-Russian infiltrators sowing terror or some Irish terrorists doing the same. Otherwise, I wouldn't know.

No need for us to bother about the stupid debate, then? Anakin asked.

Tom picked some of the pieces his brother had cut up and set to the side of his plate for him to pick. Anakin did the same.

I feel like I'm forgetting something. It was quite a big deal for a while, as the muggleborns of Hogwarts all knew about it if you happen to ask them about it.

Uh, that's not good, Anakin pointed out.

He sighed. I know.

Their dessert came. Anakin had cut his tart in half and swapped that with half of Tom's while his brother stayed deep in thought, eyes half-closed. Not even during the first or second spoon of Anakin's consumption of his dessert, when he was intentionally making 'this food is awesome' sounds, were Tom affected. It was easy not to; for his attention was not on his table. He had concentrated the way Anakin taught him, of trying to deepen his connection to magic and allow it to access his sense, enhancing them.

He moved from one conversation to another around his table, from the tense trio of Marsden-Collin-Walker nearby, the mutterings of the woman writer who was on a deadline to other chitchats of less interest. Then, it circled back to the front, to the cousins urging their relatives to move.

Bingo.

In the end, Anakin placed his spoon down and just waved his hand in front of Tom's face and Tom let his connection go. He'd heard enough, anyway. He let out a harsh breath.

"Dammit," Tom murmured.

"What?"

"This is 1933, isn't it? Did you notice the two men on the table out front that were having a rather intense discussion?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me, what are they talking about?"

From his tone, his brother knew that Tom probably already knew the answer to the question. Anakin closed his eyes instead. Tom knew he was currently sharpening his senses using magic, the same way he had before. Anakin did it at a faster speed he certainly envied, though.

"They were trying to get their…cousins? Cousins twice removed? Well, basically there's this family they're urging to move here. The Levy."

"From?"

Anakin's eyes opened slowly, understanding shone in their bright blue depths. "…Germany. People have already started moving? Thomas, what's happening?"

Thomas shook his head as he began to neatly slice the halves of the fruit tarts on his plate. "No, they haven't, not unless they were savvy enough to do so. Considering that the British Levy have very bad feelings from the recent Reichstag Fire Decree, they are perceptive enough. It must be said that they're ahead of their time, though."

"What is that?"

"I have no idea," He shrugged, ignoring Anakin's stink eye. "Like you say, I've never cared much for the world of the mundanes before. What snippets I heard from them sound like they're bad news, though. The enactment of anything resembling martial law is never good news."

"But we can find out further, can't we?" There was a determined glint in his twin's eyes that told him enough. Anthony was definitely going to go off on his own if Tom wouldn't. He sighed.

"Of course, Anthony. I'm sure the library keeps all its older papers. The Fire Decree is only what, from last month? It should be there."

Their tarts were excellent, really, but neither Thomas nor Anthony was paying much attention to their food now, their thoughts taken over by the unavoidable war that loomed ever closer.

'-

"We could do something about it, couldn't we?" Anthony asked on their way back.

This time, Thomas didn't stop him from loosening his cravat and dropping it into his mokeskin bag. Knowing his brother, he'd probably forget it or lose it somewhere else if he didn't allow it. Tom knew how to pick his battles too.

"Do something about what?"

"Grindelwald."

He snorted. "As powerful as we could be later, I doubt that two children could have gone toe-to-toe against him and won. I have the suspicion that the only reason Dumbledore could've gotten close enough to fight against him was because they knew each other for a while."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why else would he allow him to get so close? If I was a dark lord, I'd either stay in my fortress or always ensure I have all my men around me. But Dumbledore managed to ask for a proper duel."

Anakin stopped. "Wait, did you say he asked for a duel?"

"Yes. It's in the official testimony that he gave about it. He asked Grindelwald for a duel. He duelled Grindelwald. I mean, why on earth would anyone accept a duel from someone trying to kill them? I won't."

"Didn't you?" Anakin's tone was sly.

"We agreed not to touch our final years. Conclusion: Insanity through dark arts. Motion carried?"

"Ah, fine. Motion carried." Anakin grudgingly agreed. Otherwise, they were going to start nit-picking each other's stupidity again, and they knew how well that went in Terminus.

Tom had set up a minor location-confounding charm on both their wands. Anyone trying to locate their wand will get a location anywhere within a twenty-mile wide circle from where they actually are. Given that they were in the middle of London, most people would've just given up and called it a day. It still wouldn't be a good idea to use their wand in the orphanage, though, where there are scarcely any wizard or witches around.

This was why they casually entered the Leaky Cauldron and simply tapped the brick that would lead them to Diagon Alley. The brick wall dilated in front of them and Tom could see that Anakin still enjoyed watching.

"So, sentiment." Tom concluded as they stepped in. "There is history between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, probably friends. It's not that hard to believe considering that there had never been a comprehensive biography of the early years of Albus Dumbledore either. Perfectly possible."

"Well, I wasn't thinking of going against Grindelwald himself. I just don't like to sit still, not crazy." Anakin pointed.

"I wouldn't be too concerned right now if I were you. There's still a few more years to come up with something."

"Really? When is it, anyway?"

"1939"

"Ah, still six more years, then?"

"Yes. We might as well prepare for Hogwarts first. So, our next stop: Books."

'-

.

.

.


Author's Note:

Malfoy has always struck me as a rather French or Norman name, so it couldn't be something dating back to the Angles and whatnot, all those speakers of Old English which is still mutually intelligible with the German of that era, so it makes more sense for the family to have come over with the Norman conquest. The Blacks...well, considering their lack of concern in dabbling with the darker side of magic and considering they're an old family, they probably have relatives in Transylvania or Russia. This time, I choose Russia.

Man, never thought I'd start up here what has become my habit in A Few Screws Loose..., leaving long end notes:

The Totally Extraneous Glossary: (yes, you can skip this. No story to see here)

John Donne: An English poet and a cleric of the church of England, lived sometime in the late 1500s to the early 1600s. He was pretty inventive for his time, like the phrase For Whom the Bell Tolls? That was him. Hemmingway did mean to allude to his work (and quoted him too). Ironically, I first knew his work from reading Howl's Moving Castle and Lord Peter Wimsey. I mean, look at this: (never mind the weird formatting. I used - because it seems like I can't add tabs or indentations in the text in FFNet)

Go and catch a falling star,
- Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
- Or who cleft the devil's foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy's stinging,
- - And find
- - What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.

If thou be'st born to strange sights,
- Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
- Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
- - And swear,
- - No where
Lives a woman true, and fair.
...

The man's a magician with words, I tell you.

Incitatus is truly the horse of the emperor Caligula, and was said to be given collars with jewels, etc, etc. No idea whether his elevation to consul is merely a distortion by future historians who didn't like him/his dynasty, or just plain inaccurate story that gets transmitted word-of-mouth and then text-to-text until it was considered the truth, or if Caligula was just trolling everyone. His habit of provoking the Senate was well documented, though.

The King and Country Debate really turned into a national controversy at the time. Who knows why...

The Reichstag Fire Decree - Reichstagsbrandverordnung: To save you guys some time and effort from looking it up just to get the broad-brush picture, I'm putting this here. The Decree is issued by President Hindenburg on the Advice of Chancellor Hitler, in response to the Reichstag fire on the 27th of February 1933. The preamble and the first article is what we're looking for (verbatim text courtesy of Wikipedia, of course):

.

Order of the Reich President for the Protection of People and State

On the basis of Article 48 paragraph 2 of the Constitution of the German Reich, the following is ordered in defense against Communist state-endangering acts of violence:

§ 1. Articles 114, 115, 117, 118, 123, 124 and 153 of the Constitution of the German Reich are suspended until further notice. It is therefore permissible to restrict the rights of personal freedom [habeas corpus], freedom of (opinion) expression, including the freedom of the press, the freedom to organize and assemble, the privacy of postal, telegraphic and telephonic communications. Warrants for House searches, orders for confiscations as well as restrictions on property, are also permissible beyond the legal limits otherwise prescribed.

.

You guys got all that, right? Habeas corpus is a mere suggestion that people like Göring can ignore. Yeah, creepy. The press begins to feel the heat too. Privacy goes down the drain and...hmm, that's giving me a strong sense of deja vu. I think I should stop here before I accidentally Godwinned the thread.