When TJ had eventually calmed down the night he'd had his vision and explained to the four what he'd seen, Jorge had been hesitant to assist him because, in his words, "I've seen Space Odyssey and I don't need to do that with my brain or soul, dude." But when TJ persisted, even eventually sussing out a faded but still present thread of connection between him and his father, Jorge had decided that if TJ was going to go ahead and try and traverse the planes of the unknown universe, then he'd at least assist by acting as an anchor.

The last week of camping had them cutting short from the hike every day an extra hour or two early so Jorge could try and guide TJ better with his astral projection, travelling farther and farther, and holding his concentration for longer. Jorge's two friends, Presley and Titus, both seemed aware there was no point in trying to change their minds, but Presley sat nearby, tuning her guitar or strumming quietly while she kept an eye on them, and Lucien grumbled loudly to Titus about TJ and Jorge.

But they didn't argue further- not that TJ or Lucien had the energy to. No one could have prepared either of them for just how hot and humid the Appalachians were, and by the time they began to hit mid-afternoon, both were struggling to keep pace with the three Americans. It wasn't a heat they had in the UK, the kind that sapped the strength from your bones and felt like they were breathing through warm, thick clouds instead of fresh mountain air. As soon as the tent was set up and the air circulating within, they would both strip their shirts off and collapse, gulping in breaths of cool, dry air. They felt only marginally better that Jorge and Presley were also usually equally soaked in sweat, only Titus, who was apparently from "the South", seemed to still be going strong. That week brought a new pattern, taking a half hour or so to cool off in the tent before finding kindling and chopping wood for the evening's fire while Titus put something together for dinner.

Given he was pushing himself, Jorge accompanied TJ each time he practised, helping to keep him anchored and drawing them back safely when TJ pushed too far, but he was already able to travel significantly farther and for longer than he'd been able to a week prior. He'd finally hit the point two nights prior where he could essentially apparate within the projection, giving him the ability to cover large distances significantly faster.

They drew a grounding circle in the dirt, circling it with salt and runes to assist in anchoring them and also keeping anyone or anything from trying to take over their bodies while they were adrift. Titus ignored them while he tended the fire and cooked, but Presely and Lucien sat just outside the circle, watching closely, wands at the ready. Just in case.

TJ and Jorge sat on the ground in the circle, cross-legged, grasping each other's forearms as they cleared their minds. No matter what he was wearing, Jorge was almost always in faded jeans and a white shirt, his long black hair braided back and out of his face when they projected, while TJ's appearance still tended to reflect his actual attire, his short black hair combed back out of his face. Once they were adrift, outside of their bodies, TJ would feel for the thread of magic that slowly extended off of him. Most of them all went in the same direction, home to England- his mother, his sister, his niece, even his grandmother. His uncles were squibs, and therefore their cords were harder to hold and pull along, but they were still there.

The cord that had seemingly cut free, that had belonged to his father, was still there, but like a snapped rope on a ship in a storm, it was flailing free from the rest, whipping back and forth and difficult to hold onto. So far, every time they had tried, neither could grasp on and cling to it with enough surety to get anywhere.

That Monday proved to be the first day they were able to get anywhere. This time TJ struggled less to locate it and pull it to heel. Either his magic had grown familiar with the action or his father's magic recognised him, which he wasn't certain, maybe a bit of column A and a bit of column B. Jorge's arm became a death grip on his as TJ began wrapping the cord of his father magic around his other free arm, trying to use is as another anchor to pull them wherever the elder man was. It was technically impossible to apparate without a location in mind, but before this, TJ would also have argued that one couldn't travel to alternate universes with the means they currently had, so working with other things that existed in the realm of impossibility felt like a step in the right direction. At the very least he didn't have a goose-pimple reaction of his mind screamed off a warning sound of "YEAH DON'T FUCKING DO THAT, BUD."

He'd only had that happen twice before, and neither time he'd enjoyed the feeling.

He pictured his father in his mind as he called on the same feeling of apparition that they used to teleport while astral projecting, but instead of keeping a specific location in his mind's eye, he focused on his father, the memory of his voice and his touch, the way he ran his hand through TJ's hair when it was tousled, trying to smooth it back into place, the way he laughed when Sofie clung to him and tried to crawl up his back- the tears in his eyes when he'd walked Morgan down the aisle.

Magic whipped around them and Tom was so focused on trying to remember every inch of his father he barely felt Jorge's nails digging into his skin and blinked as the man began smacking his shoulder and both tumbled off their feet almost as if they were spat out, but both kept their grip on each other, even with Jorge kneeling and TJ on his back, blinking up at the ceiling above him.

"So, does any of this look familiar to you?" Jorge asked, looking around the room. He stood first, pulling the teen to his feet, and TJ readjusted his grip on Jorge and paused as he looked around, getting his bearings.

"I- I don't think…?" He paused as he looked around the space. It felt kind of familiar, like maybe he'd seen it before in a picture, but he couldn't place it immediately. It wasn't until he spotted the piano in the corner that he blinked, looking back to the furniture, "Wait- is this…?"

He tugged them along to the stairs and looked down them. Nothing looked like he remembered it, but the layout was still right-

"Dude this place is fucking ritzy-" Jorge said and TJ had to raise an eyebrow because it objectively looked a wreck compared to what it normally looked like if it was Grimmauld Place.

"Come on-" TJ said, pulling Jorge down along the staircase, the pair not taking the steps so much as vaguely sauntering downward as though on a slope. It didn't look like Grimmauld Place in any way that he remembered it, but the layout was correct. It was only as they reached the ground floor that TJ realised the cord of his father's magic that was guiding him which had felt so wild and chaotic before had become strung taut, grounding him, and he followed it up the hall to the closed doors that he knew led to the library.

They stepped through them, and TJ blinked as he was met with, well, more people than he'd been expecting all at once.

The Black library looked about the same as he remembered it, but more outdated. The furniture's fabric was worn and needed patching in some spots- shelves were being cleaned and had piles sitting in front of them, and papers and all assortment of things were piled on every surface. His dad was standing beside a man with long red hair tied up in a messy bun and a dragon fang earring in one ear. He looked vaguely familiar, probably someone who'd been a few years older than him at Hogwarts, but TJ didn't know his name.

On the other side was the Headmaster, but not. Not the Professor Dumbleore he'd just seen when he graduated, this one looked older, all the colour gone from his hair and beard, past silver to a stark white, and for whatever reason, he was holding-

"Is that a fucking sword?" Jorge asked, and TJ nodded his head as they focused on what the Headmaster was saying.

"I spent some time studying it, given its origins, and found that the sword is enchanted in such a way that it imbibes what it defeats." The Headmaster explained, withdrawing the sword from the scabbard a few inches so that they could all see it.

"What is that supposed to even mean?' Jorge asked and TJ shrugged, looking around at the rest of the group before he froze. "Mom!?" He gasped, looking at the woman sitting in one of the winged back chairs, but this woman, like the headmaster, was off, her hair more grey and pulled up in a tight bun like she wore when she taught, more lines on her face than he remembered.

"Are you fucking telling me that the sword has basilik venom in it?" Someone said and TJ turned, recognising Sirius, Regulus's older brother. Again, not right though- wait, TJ's head whipped back to look at the sword in Dumbledore's hands- why did the sword have basilisk venom in it?

"Language," Professor Dumbledore admonished slightly, without any real anger, "The sword will likely do more damage than a fang alone, since we don't know what else it has imbued within it."

His father leaned his hip against the desk that he stood next to and ran his hands over his face, making a stressed noise before taking a deep breath. TJ stepped forward, pushing his energy out like Jorge had shown him to make himself corporeal, "Dad!"

But his father didn't look at him or Jorge, looking at the desk instead, "So… Take the time to cursebreak so we don't experience any blowback from whatever curses are on the ring and then deal with the horcrux, or hope for the best and thwack it with the sword first?"

TJ stepped in front of the man, frowning as he dragged Jorge with him, "Dad!"

His dad continued talking to the rest of the room as Jorge stepped closer and waved a hand in front of his face. "We're not corporeal."

"Why though? I've never had a problem with it before?" TJ asked, reaching out to touch his father, but his hand passed through, and he shivered slightly.

"I mean, we're in totally uncharted territory here, my little dude," Jorge said, leaning back as he looked around the room in thought, "It could be we're using so much magic in getting to an entirely different reality that we don't have enough left to become corporeal, which sucks, but still pretty miraculous we werre able to make it in the first place."

Someone else was talking, and TJ turned to spy Severus. He was saying something about a Dark Lord, implied capitalisation and all.

"So, if we can't get corporeal, then how am I supposed to talk to him? Find out how to bring him back?" TJ voiced out loud, less a direct question for Jorge and more trying to figure out a workaround.

"Hmmm," The other man frowned and scratched his neck in thought. "Are you any good with any of the mind magic spells?"

TJ blinked, feeling stupid, "I- not great, I'm good at occlumency, but I've never really practised legilimency before."

"Well, now's a good time as any, right?" Jorge asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I've never had to cast actual spells while projecting," TJ said, looking at him like he was insane, and let's face it, they were both a little insane.

"There's a first for everything, teleporting while projecting is like apparating, yeah?" Jorge said.

TJ pressed his lips into a thin line. He'd never really put much time and effort into wandless magic, nor was it as natural to him as it was for his father and sister. He could certainly sense the magic and touch it, but had trouble manipulating it to do what he wanted. It also didn't help that he wasn't great at legilimency either, he had to focus on his occulumency shields to even feel that part at all and then slowly reach out like he was trying to touch his father-

His dad's shoulders tightened, raising up closer to his ears as he visibly tensed, and TJ breathed a sigh of relief, trying to gently knock on the walls of his father's stone brick mental shields. "C'mon, Dad."

Then his dad whipped around, making both TJ and Jorge jump and there was a pause as his dad looked around, searching for them, but failing to see what was hovering right in front of his face. TJ tried one more time, but Tom had pulled his shield too tightly around himself and then lashed out, magic and leglimency striking back, sending both Jorge and TJ flying backwards-

TJ took a deep breath, like breaching water and threw his head back as he gulped air in, Jorge sputtering in front of him, still clutching both of their forearms together tightly, no longer adrift, but in their bodies, back in their universe, sitting cross-legged in a circle in the dirt in the mountains.

"Yo, you good?" Presley demanded, moving closer to the circle but not breaking it.

As TJ caught his breath, he felt a laugh bubble up out of his chest. "We did it!" He gasped.

"Wait, you found him?" Lucien demanded, also scooting closer.

"That was- absolutely fucking bonkers," Jorge gasped, his nails digging into TJ's arms, his head also thrown back as he began to laugh hysterically, "We just astral projected to another universe! What the actual fuck!?" He crowed. They finally released their grasp on each other, and TJ pulled him in for a tight hug, unable to stop the hysterical laughter, tears in his eyes.


A/N: Titus and Presley are original characters from another book series I'm writing, but since this will be the only time we see these crazy Americans for the rest of this fic, I figured I'd drop them in for myself.