Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Mr Potter? The Representative for Cosmic Responsibility will see you now."

Harry got up from the bench, glad to leave the waiting room which had a massive throne made of swords of all things in the middle for some reason, and made towards the doors the bowing Unspeakable was gesturing towards. A vaguely familiar voice beckoned him inside and, eager to have the latest spot of unusualness in his life over and done with, he pushed open the doors and walked in.

He whistled appreciatively.

A dark, wooden floor stretched out in front of him (Hermione would know the type of wood, and probably also how old it is…) with pale stone walls rising on all sides of the roughly square-ish room. They were lined—

Click-click.

—with what seemed to be storage cabinets, the one in the far corner painted a rather horrible shade of blue. The lighting appeared to be based on the Great—

Click-click.

—Hall's floating lights, and what was that sound? He finally looked towards the centre of the room, eyes passing over the impressive mahogany desk to the red-haired witch sitting behind it, head lazily resting on a hand, holding a muggle click pen.

Click-click-click—

"Ah. I see you have finally decided to grace me with your gaze and hopefully, your attention," the witch muttered, placing the pen down, as Harry realised just who she was and why her voice had sounded familiar.

"Daphne? You're the…Representative for Cosmic Responsibility?"

"Correct, Mr Potter," said Daphne, the slightest hint of a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth. "Are you quite done admiring the room? I have been trying to get your attention for the last minute."

The room was rather tastefully decorated, even to his somewhat undiscerning eye. But well, for old times sake...

"Miss Greengrass, the sight of this room evokes a visceral feeling of disgust within me. I hope you weren't the one behind these...decorations."

The smirk disappeared off her face as if it had never been there.

"Anyway," Harry continued, ignoring the frost forming on the doors that had closed behind him. "Where's the Representative?" He frowned at her when she made no move to call anyone. "It...isn't you, right? You were having me on, yeah? I thought you were going to go to St—"

"...you sound incredulous."

"No, I mean—"

"What do you mean, Harry Potter?", Daphne said, steepling her fingers in a manner reminiscent of Dumbledore, which looked rather amusing juxtaposed against the black biker jacket she was wearing. "Is it because I'm a girl? Is it because I was a slimy Slytherin? Well, ha! because snakes aren't slimy in—"

"No! Honestly, Daphne, you of all people should know better than to expect I would think all that. I — I just expected someone with more...gravitas, considering how the letter to me was worded."

"Oh, so I lack—"

"You're my age, Daph. And more importantly, you have a family pack bucket of Ice Cream on your desk. And Baskin-Robbins? How do you even know what that is?"

She gasped and then narrowed her eyes, face colouring. "Don't you dare question my authority on Ice Cream!"

Harry held up his hands. "Oh, I know better than to do that. Well, it's just...I'm surprised to see you again after so long, you know? You just popped off the grid after the Battle and I haven't heard—"

A sudden loud ringing from the corner interrupted Daphne just as she pulled out a brick from somewhere behind her desk ("Does she just randomly keep a brick there? Was she planning on throwing it?" Harry thought bemusedly). The two looked over at the corner, and Harry started.

What he had assumed to be a tastelessly painted blue cupboard was, in fact, a blue phone box. Indoors. In a magical area. In the centre of the Department of Myst — actually no, that last one probably explained it, and more.

"Huh," reacted Harry, pushing up his glasses for a better look. The lettering on the box said 'POLICE BOX'.

"I...better get that," and with that, Daphne shot off and went into the blue box, grabbing the Ice Cream bucket — tub, more like — on her way.

"Luna would love all this," Harry mused as he looked around idly. Wait, did that beanbag in front of her desk have tentacles—?

"Right!"

Harry jumped where he was standing as Daphne burst out of the phone box. "It would seem we got started on the wrong foot. Shall we take this again from the beginning?" she asked, seating herself behind her desk once again.

"Who was that? Was that Cosmic Responsibility? Who even is Cosmic Responsibility? Because it's a really dumb name. And what is that...box?" Harry demanded. Daphne glanced at him in exasperation. "And...did you just leave your Ice Cream in...whatever that is?"

"...yes."

"..."

"...out of an abundance of caution."

"..."

"...you were eying it! I can't just let anyone raid my Ice Cream!"

Harry stared at her.

She stared back, expectantly.

And, after a measly one minute, Harry gave up. "Dang it. I swear I can stare for longer than that...damn sweat. Gets into the eyes. I hate sweat."

Daphne tried to hide her smile behind one of the loose sheets on her desk.

"Fine. Keep your precious Ice Cream. And I'm hardly just anyone..." he muttered, looking anywhere but the redhead who was now giggling at his expense. It was a fine giggle, as far as giggles went. Not that Harry cared about any of that. "Well, if you're quite done…"

Daphne rolled her eyes but stopped laughing. "Fine. I assume you've read through the letter I sent?"

"Yup," he said, popping the 'p'.

"And you did not discuss the contents of said letter with Granger or anyone else with more than two brain cells to rub together, just as instructed? It's common knowledge you go to her with anything involving words longer than five letters…"

"I kept everything to myself, and I do take offence at that, Greengrass."

"Yeah well, cry me a river, Potter."

Harry lifted an eyebrow disbelievingly, "Justin Timberlake?"

"...I swear if this gets to my sister and her boyfriend—"

"Relax," Harry laughed. "Why don't we get on with the important stuff?"

"Right," Daphne exhaled slowly, as she pressed her hands, palm down, against the desktop. "Right. I just have some...paperwork to do so just hold on for a few moments, yeah?"

And with that, she began rifling through the pile of binders on the table. Harry took the opportunity to take a closer look at the rather messy desktop and—

There was a ziplock with highly suspicious crushed green leafy material beside the lava lamp ("Why would a witch even have that?").

"Ah, Daphne…?"

Daphne looked up and tracked his gaze. "Oh. That. Tracey sent those in yesterday… you remember her, right? Short brunette with a mushroom cut, band T-shirts? Yup. Anyway. Some sort of joke relating to my name, I reckon." She shrugged.

"Do you know what…"

Daphne gave him an odd look. "Leaves, Potter. They're crushed leaves, maybe mint. Because. You know. They're green, and from the same Kingdom as grasses, and my name happens to—"

"Alright, alright," Harry cut her off, raising his hands and plopping down onto the tentacled beanbag as Daphne shrugged and went back to moving paper up and down the stack in what was some ritualised, predetermined manner.

"Who on earth thought having an octopus-shaped bean bag was a good idea?" he groused, resolving to talk to Tracey Davis about sending certain substances to unsuspecting purebloods.

After an agonising ten minutes which he spent looking at nothing in particular and listening to paper making paper sounds, Daphne exhaled loudly. She extracted a single sheet from the pile of paper and whisked the rest of the stacks of paper and files off her desk and into a drawer with a flick of a hand. Harry raised his eyebrows at the display of wandless non-verbal magic, but she continued as if nothing had happened, and took out a pair of gold-semi-rimmed glasses from inside her robes.

"Had to meet my paper-shuffling quota for the day, Potter," she said by way of explanation, putting on the glasses — Harry blanked out for a very short second — and reading from the sheet in front of her. "Anyhow, let's brief you. You are Harry James Potter, correct? ("That's what everyone says, so I gather there is some truth in that statement.") You destroyed the British Dark Lord Voldemort on the second of May, 1998, correct? ("Well, he hasn't popped up again yet so I'm optimistically inclined to say yes.") You are fond of the dessert dish called treacle tart, correct?"

"Ye — what?"

Daphne waved him off. "That one was for my purposes, don't worry about it."

"Right."

Daphne regarded him for a moment, pursing her lips ("Her eyes, Potter, look at her with the one eye of swirling cobalt and the other of gold-flecked green — argh."). "Which flavour of Ice Cream do you think will go with Treacle Tart?"

"I...can't say I've had the particular combination before, but I imagine something safe like vanilla, or butterscotch might work well."

Daphne lit up at that, though Harry couldn't possibly fathom why.

She cleared her throat lightly before starting up again. "Anyhow. You are familiar with the Chosen One Phenomenon, then? The cosmic trick of sorts due to which everything unusual that can happen to you, does happen to you? A large group of people, usually a city, country, or species, look to you to single-handedly solve the Big Bad Problem that is plaguing them? Fate constantly colludes against you, your luck works on an informal basis, and you. Just. Can't. Catch. A. Break?"

Harry took a moment to adjust one of the beanbag-tentacles that had somehow ended up over his leg as he processed Daphne's little speech.

"...Daphne, you do know me, right? Your occasional night time companion on the Astronomy Tower? Fellow Honeydukes raider? Not to mention the Saviour—

"Yes, yes," said Daphne, looking over the top of her glasses. "This is all just SOP. I need to regurgitate the whole definition spiel on every occasion. I've put you down as a "Yes" on the Chosen One criterion already. Now. Moving on. You want the quick version of what's going on, yes?"

"Hmm," hmmed Harry, leaning back into the beanbag, and stroking his chin. "Well, how—"

"You need a beard for that, Potter," she interrupted, blue-and-green eyes shining with mirth.

"—what."

"The chin stroke. Trying to channel your inner Dumbledore. You need a beard for that, savvy?"

"I—what, how—"

"You're transparent, Potter. So, the short version of what's what? With details once we get going? I'll take your stupefied silence to be assent, thank you very much, no time to waste."

She opened one of the many drawers set in her desk, and began to pull out what looked like...an easel? Lavender had had one set up in her studio during her house-warming party the month before which was the only reason Harry knew what it was.

Daphne appeared to be struggling to get the contraption out of the drawer opening which was about half the easel's width (magic makes some things ridiculously easy to explain away, thought Harry), so he reached over, trying to help her. Daphne batted his hand away as soon as it got close, glared at him momentarily before looking away, blushing.

"Er," Harry tried, drawing his hand back, "there should be a release trigger on the top so that it can auto-disassemble and you can take the thing out…"

"Right," said Daphne in a small voice, looking down at the easel and doing what he instructed. "Thanks. Needed that for the uh, presentation."

When it was set up and she had extracted a stack of presentation sheets from somewhere inside her desk, she turned to face Harry, whispering the newly-crafted laser-pointer charm.

"Let's begin with—"

"Do I need to take notes?" interrupted Harry, raising his hand.

"No need. Moving on—"

"Are you sure? I don't want to miss something…"

"Merlin, Potter," she snapped, placing her hands on her hips (Bad, Potter. Think good thoughts, Potter). "Fine, take notes if you must."

Harry looked at her expectantly. She bit her lip and looked away, and started rifling through the drawers. "Of course you wouldn't carry a notepad around…"

That had been an exhausting half-hour.

"So...this Mr Cosmic Responsibility, they're a bit like Thanos, yeah? Except, supposedly, a tad more benevolent and less prone to peddling mass extinction?"

Daphne paused. "For one, mass extinction hasn't made the top ten on their to-do list since the 60s, so we probably have nothing to fear on that front. Second…'thay-noss'?"

Deciding to bring up the worrying bit about extinction sometime later, Harry said, "Ah, one of the big-bads in Marvel…"

Daphne still looked blank.

"...purple grape?"

Daphne opened her mouth and then closed it, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"...right, you're a pureblood," said Harry, feeling the tiniest bit smug. "It does feel good to not be the confused one this time, I have to say."

Daphne growled, and if looks could kill…

Deciding it was in his best interests to move on, Harry said quickly, "And they send out...agents, such as yourself, to track down individuals through, as you put it, Time and Space; individuals who have the Eyes of Fate on them? And this...is a literal Eye...seeing me, and not just some sort of metaphor?"

Daphne nodded, poking around in the pen-stand on her desk. "The Eye is pretty cool, really, once you get to know it. Likes to be called Big Brother for some unfathomable reason though…"

"I — alright. Okay. Uncle Vernon did keep ranting about surveillance or something...anyway. Coming back to the topic. I am...an individual of interest to uh Mr Eye—"

"The Eye. Or Mx Eye, if you'd prefer. The Eye of Fate doesn't bother himself with human constructs such as gender," interrupted Daphne, who had now overturned the pen-stand in her hunt for whatever she was looking for.

"Right. Well, this is all rather fantastical...though I'm not sure why anything surprises me anymore," Harry laughed, leaning back to try and look into the interior of the blue box. "Anyhow, I gather that I'm supposed to help you fix tears — or in other words, people messing with history or the future, in this dimension or the next — caused in spacetime because only a Fate's Chosen One can do that or something? And we'll be travelling using that...police box in the corner, yes? Looking forward to that—"

A sudden crinkle distracted him. He looked back towards the redheaded girl with the angular face to see her… tearing the wrapper off a Mars bar?

"Mars bar," she said by way of explanation, eyes wide and looking straight at him as she unwrapped the chocolate.

"I can see that. I — I didn't know magicals had muggle candy. Well, magicals apart from Dumbledore — may the phoenix guard his soul — of course."

Daphne shrugged, taking a bit out of the bar, wiping away a string of caramel. "I was running low on sugar."

She continued chewing on the chocolate, eyes flitting all across the room — anywhere but him. It was awkward to be eating when someone else was just sitting there…

"You have any more of that?" Harry tried.

Daphne's eyes shot over to him and she paused. "No, I have to restock someday, but..."

She slid out the rest of the Mars Bar out of its black wrapper, and broke off about half of the bar from the bottom, and, after a moment's hesitation, held it out to him over her desk. Harry accepted it and popped the entire thing into his mouth at once, causing Daphne to crack a smile.

The two spent the next few moments staring at each other while letting the martian goodness claim their taste buds before abruptly looking away — the fact they were staring into the other's eyes implied that the other was doing the same, vice-versa…

"Right," said Harry, drumming upon his knee. "So the standard operating procedure (SOP) is that we go in, investigate whether the rip or tear in spacetime was caused by accident or due to malicious intent, ensure that whatever happened does not happen again — which I will aid in by doing 'my thing' — and then we get the hell out of there. We're basically time police."

Daphne nodded, though she seemed a little—

"Daphne? Is...there something on my face?"

Daphne shot up in her seat as if she'd been zapped. "I — ah yes um no. Right. The standard procedure. You got that. Yes."

Harry stared at her. She laughed nervously. Harry shrugged, he'd been with weirder people before.

"Well, what exactly is this 'thing' that I'm supposed to do to fix stuff?"

"Ah, that," Daphne replied, seemingly having regained her composure. "You'll know when you see it, really. that component of the SOP is always in flux, though stabbing stabbable things with stabby things is one of the more common methods…"

Well, that matched up with his experiences at least, he thought, thinking of giant snakes and evil diaries.

"We're winging it, then? That's fine by me; I've extensive experience at winging stuff," said Harry.

"And what does the DoM have to do with all this? I presume they know about this operation of yours considering your office is in their department..."

"They turn a blind eye to our comings and goings," said Daphne, taking off her glasses and wiping them with the edge of her robes. "They provide us with a cover, if needed, and in return we drop them research leads and materials from time to time."

"So the wider ministry does not know of any of this?"

Daphne shook her head, putting the glasses back on. "The Minister gets a highly redacted annual report of our larger operations originating from this outpost. Also, we're obligated to bring the Wizengamot's Eldritch Committee into talks if anything too serious threatens this particular dimension and time as per the Pandora Pact, but apart from that, no. We're largely clandestine."

"I see. I'm guessing I'll have to sign some sort of non-disclosure-agreement…?"

"Post-mission, yes."

"Fair enough. Though — if you don't mind me asking — how did you get involved in all this? Did you also have ah, Big Brother watching you, or…"

"Ah, no. They… they found me because I wanted them to, I suppose. They had something I needed..." said Daphne, a hint of sadness tainting her voice.

"You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to."

"It's not...yeah," Daphne said, shaking her head slightly. "It's not all bad, of course."

Harry exhaled slowly. "Yeah well. The work environment is nice, at least."

Daphne laughed and spun around in the obscenely sparkling chair. "Yeah, it really, right? You should see the look on Draco's face whenever Astoria drags him along to this office when she visits me during work hours — they just think I work for the surface Department of Mysteries, of course, not for an ancient eldritch being."

Harry laughed. "I'd love to see that. Talking of — how's your family doing these days?"

"Well, Tori has that apparel line she partnered with Cho Chang with for down in Falmouth — they got the Falcons' jersey contract last month, she was pretty ecstatic about that," said Daphne, smiling. "And Draco...well they're getting married in a matter of months, so he's practically family at this point, as horrible as that prospect sounds. Anyway, he's been pretty busy wrapping the Temporary Habilitation Programme since most of the locations involved in it are former Malfoy or Crabbe properties, so it's not like I have to see him every day."

Harry nodded — he was the one who had helped formulate the programme for sheltering those who had nowhere to go in the immediate aftermath of the war, using war reparations paid by Death Eater families.

"And dad's currently hanging out in a Russian portkey waiting room, appealing for asylum, though I imagine you'd know about that, and mum ran off to Greece soon after to be with the family or something," said Daphne, shrugging as Harry arched an eyebrow. "I don't care as much as you might think, really. They left Tori and me to our own devices for the most part and it's not like I can't visit them still."

She glanced at him as he sat up from the beanbag to stretch his legs. "I would ask about you, but considering every single tabloid has been on your arse for the past two years…"

Harry groaned. "Don't even get me started on those vultures."

"Yeah…but well, are you still with Gi — nah, it's nothing. Just lost my train of thought."

And she was staring at his face again.

"Daphne, why are you—"

The next thing he knew was that she was on her feet, and her right hand, with the index finger extended, reached out to his face and brushed along the edge of his lips.

Harry stood there numbly, with her not a foot away, bringing up his own index finger as he touched the spot she had just a second ago. Her face was red as she held her hand in between them.

"Chocolate," she whispered, before clearing her throat. "There was...a chocolate stain on your lip. From the Mars Bar."

Her beautiful, mismatched eyes were shining right in front of him as she wet her lips and—

There  had been something between Daphne and me back then in Hogwarts, hadn't there? If not for our houses...

"Daphne I...about all the—"

The box in the corner 'whooshed' suddenly and Daphne dropped her hand, looking towards the blue police box.

"I kind of forgot to perform a standard sweep and check of the area for any suspect residue signatures, magical or otherwise, so...I need to go do that."

"Right, of course," said Harry, running his hand through his hair and looking down at the floor. "And uh...yeah, no, you do that."

He felt Daphne's fingers on his chin, lifting his head upwards. "Later?"

"Yeah. Later." At that, Daphne smiled slightly, before morphing that into a mischievous smirk as she moved her hand to his shoulder and pushed him backwards onto the beanbag.

"Hey!" cried Harry in mock-indignation and Daphne laughed at his failed attempt to cover up the smile on his face.

"Now, don't squirm or shift around too much," she said as she strode across the room to the blue police box, unlocking a panel on its outside. "Handsy can sense nervousness."

"...Handsy?" he questioned, moving about on the bean bag trying to get comfortable.

"The beanbag, Potter. Do try to keep up."

"You named a beanbag."

Daphne paused, holding some sort of...weird pen that she had taken out from the compartment under the panel. "Well, yes. It's sentient, isn't it?"

Harry's left eye twitched.

"Or at least," she continued, now holding the pen-like metal detector lookalike and waving it around, "It likes to hug people and it… eat-sorbs — yes, I made that word up, you'll know what I'm talking about if you see it — Ice Cream whenever I leave some near it, so it fits the basic requirements for sentience as far as I'm concerned."

Harry's eye gave up on twitching as his morning caffeine kick ran out prematurely, and his brain belatedly realised just why Handsy the Octopus Bean Bag was named so. He had never before realised just how little he liked bean bag tentacles tickling his ear. He flicked it away with a grimace.

Apparently satisfied with whatever the pen-thing told her, she pocketed it, and then paused, looking between Harry and the Blue Box (it felt like it needed capitalisation).

Harry huffed in annoyance as he removed one of Handsy the Creepy Beanbag's creeping tentacles from around his midsection, and turned around while sitting, fixing it with one of his effective Blazing Avada Kedavra And Not Merely Emerald Green™ glares. The bean bag whimpered and beat a tactical retreat.

Daphne nodded, reached into the Box, and came out with two Baskin Robbins tub — how many did she have stashed in there? — and three ceramic cups. He of course knew she liked Ice Cream from all their time together in school, but...wow.

"Er, Daphne?" he questioned, and Daphne looked up from where she was scooping out some chocolatey-looking flavour using an Ice-Cream scooper she had procured from within her jacket.

"I thought you wanted the Ice Cream since you were staring at it earlier when it was on my desk," said Daphne, biting her lip. "Thought I might as well give you some as a sign of goodwill; never a good idea to go on an excursion with discord between the crew members and all that."

Harry looked at her. "No, alright, I'd love some Ice Cream if you can spare me some. I know you have good taste."

She prepared two cups of the Ice Cream, offering one to Harry after sticking a pink plastic spoon in it. Harry had a spoonful.

It. Was. Delicious.

"Mmmm," said Harry, voicing his approval.

"Mmmm?" said Daphne, smiling as she attacked her own bowl.

"Mmhmm," agreed Harry, shovelling the chocolatey goodness into his mouth.

"This was one of the flavours we made together, you know," said Daphne after a few moments when the two had finished their bowls and she was scooping out fresh servings. "Well, I made a few changes, such as the slight hint of caramel, but yes."

"I had a hand in this, of course it tastes absolutely heavenly," said Harry, leaning back into the bean bag, swatting away a stray tentacle.

Daphne mock-glared at him. "Anyway I'd made this for Tori's birthday yesterday, and there was some leftover so I thought I might as well bring some to work in one of the Baskin tubs I like to collect…"

"Good thing you did," said Harry, accepting his second serving. "And — hey, who's that third cup for? And which Ice Cream is that other tub?"

"Handsy, Harry. It likes Ice Cream, remember? Seemed a little rude to leave him out of the festivities. And it's Bubblegum flavoured, he usually likes a different flavour most days."

She looked up at him. "You might want to get up from Hadsy before I feed him, Harry."

He got up, groaning, Ice Cream in hand, as Daphne placed the third cup on the floor a little away from the beanbag, and then whistled.

Nothing happened for a few moments. Then one tentacle shot out, speared the cup through the middle, Ice-Cream and all, and pulled it straight through the air. The cup plopped against the purple fabric of the bean bag one moment, and the next — it got… sucked, no, deconstructed at the atomic level into the bean bag.

Daphne hummed in contentment. "Boy, that was fast. He must really like that flavour."

Harry put his cup of Ice Cream down on the desk and hopped three feet away from it.

"Daphne?"

She 'mm-ed' questioningly, still smiling at… it, which now seemed to be rumbling.

"I'm not entirely sure that's normal behaviour for either bean bags or octopi," Harry forced out, weakly.

"Oh, I agree. Imagine liking Bubblegum Ice Cream…"

Handsy belched and suddenly became inanimate. Daphne sighed.

"I keep trying to train him to discard the non-organic waste like that cup instead of digesting it...oh well," Daphne said, shaking her head. "Well, we better — oh! Did you not like your Superfudge Caramello Belgian Ice Cream?"

"Oh, uh, no haha. It was the, erm." Harry waved his hands in the vague direction of the beanbag.

Daphne laughed as she whirled about, red hair whipping into his chest — she had always been particularly short. "He wouldn't hurt you, silly. Because—" she stopped abruptly as her face turned pink.

"Um," Harry said intelligently as she grabbed the pen — no, it was definitely some sort of screwdriver, now that he could see it from a lesser distance — resolutely facing away from him, though he could still see the coloured tips of her ears.

"Hmm? Oh yes. The paradox. Should really get on that case, can't have your CS factor sliding down, haha, can we? I mean, last time that happened in my sector, the big guy put me on probation, and oh boy, I have to say that wreaked havoc on my filings—"

"Greengrass. Daphne. Relax. Take a chill pill. Anything else I should know about this thing I need to do?" Harry prompted.

"I...don't think so? We travel back in time—this time it's in the current dimension, which spares us a whole other headache of figuring out new laws of physics in a new dimension, and Merlin that stuff is an absolute bit—ahem. So we travel, we fix whatever screams 'Wrong!', and we clear out. Well, I'm sure I'll remember if there's anything else too important I've forgotten to tell you about," she said. Harry hid a smirk—it was good to see she could still be as spirited as he remembered her being.

"Oh and by the way, what is that thing you've been waving around? I thought it was a pen but it obviously isn't, and it's not wood so wands are out of the question…"

"Oh, this? Right. It's a thingy. Like, you know." Daphne said in a rush, giggling, oddly enough.

"A thingy."

"No! Not that kind of thingy!"

"... I should like to reiterate my general state of confusion at this juncture."

"Ugh. Boys. It's a… wand. No! Not a wand. Um. Screwdriver. Works like a wand though. The normal kind of wand, that is. Not any other euphemism. Not that you would be thinking of any such euphemism. Haha."

Daphne was now gripping the screwdriver/wand with whitening knuckles and looking at the blue box like how a dying man might look at salvation.

"A wand-driver, then." Harry supplied helpfully, reasoning that stopping her rambling would be everyone's interest.

"Yes!" Daphne shouted, and ran into the blue box before he could get another syllable out.

Harry felt like he was missing an important part of the puzzle. Is that some sort of James futuristic Bond-esque gadget? Gods, is she MI6 or something?

Harry scanned the room one last time, expecting Pierce Brosnan to jump out of the shadows shouting "Smile! You're on Candid Camera!"

Daphne poked the top of her head out of the box's doorway, blue eyes peering at him. "How's your Victorian knowledge, by the way? That's the era we're headed to soooo…."

Scratch that — he didn't know what the puzzle was.

"Are you going to finally tell me why a giant koala plushie jumped me the moment I entered the Police Box?"

"TARDIS, Harry—Time And Relative Dimension In Space—not 'Police Box', and I told you. I had propped it up against the entryway because that was the only free space on the whole main deck of the thing, and it must have slipped is all," huffed Daphne from where she was crouching beside him.

Harry prodded the slight bruise on his head where the monster had hit him as he looked towards his redheaded partner dubiously. "So...the koala wasn't sentient like...Handsy the octo-bag back in your office?"

"Of course not! They're two entirely different things, obviously," said Daphne, as she peeked over the low cobblestone wall they were hiding behind. "Alright, come on. The coast is clear."

Harry didn't think it was obvious at all but he ducked out from behind the wall where the TARDIS had landed and followed Daphne without saying anything. The two dashed across the courtyard and into one of the rooms lining the hallway around it before the wizard, the gamekeeper, by the look of his attire, could circle back to the courtyard and see them.

The room they had entered appeared to be an equipment storage chamber of some sort—cauldrons were stacked in a corner, with brass telescopes lying piled in a pyramid shape along the far wall. Obviously hasn't been used in a while, thought Harry as he brushed away webbing that had gotten caught in his hair.

Daphne shrieked, and Harry whirled about, drawing his wand even though she had warned him against using magic while travelling.

"There's webs in my hair! Spiders!" Daphne appeared to be on the verge of passing out, so Harry decided to help her out. He grabbed her shoulders and Daphne stilled, looking up at him. He carefully used one hand to thread out the bit of webbing that was entangled in her hair.

"There. All clear," he said, smirking as Daphne mumbled what could charitably be called a 'thank you.' "Are you really that scared of spiders?"

"If they're on me, then yes, like any sane person I should think," groused Daphne, straightening out her clothes.

Harry leaned against the wall beside the door, taking a slight breather. "So...here we are. Hogwarts, sometime during Easter break, circa 1892. Now what?"

Daphne looked up, adjusting her glasses. "All I know is that the disturbance is in Hogwarts, and around this time. We'll just have to proceed the old-fashioned way."

"...fine."

Daphne began dragging him to the doorway. "Wait," he said, digging into the floor with his heels, causing Daphne to turn around with her hands on her waist, "probably should have asked this back in the magic box—"

"TARDIS."

"—but won't our clothing be anachronistic? Considering this is over 100 years in the past…"

Daphne shrugged. "Wizarding fashion has remained largely static in the past few centuries, we'll be just fine; robes are robes, you know?"

The two walked out into the corridor and turned right.

"That's actually one of the reasons why," she continued, "Astoria and Chang are so excited about their clothes business. It's already been picked up by —"

"Why, hello there, Sir, Ma'am," said a voice from behind.

The two turned around, coming face to face with a smiling blonde girl in Hogwarts robes.

"I assume you are here for the party the headmaster is throwing?"

Harry looked at Daphne in panic. Oddly enough, she had schooled her face into what he liked to call the Narcissa Malfoy expression — eyes disdainful, and mouth turned ever so downwards at the corners.

"Indeed," she said, looking at the girl, who appeared to be a student in Hufflepuff going by the trim on her robes, though there was only the Hogwarts emblem in place of the house insignia, "we should like to be shown the way towards the ballroom or chamber where the fest is taking place." The girl bowed and turned around, gesturing for them to follow her.

Daphne grabbed his arm and pulled him close, whispering in his ear, "Did that sound sufficiently pureblood-ey to you?"

"I... yes? But what —"

"Play along. They likely think we're also guests heading to… whatever this is."

"I don't know how to act like a 19th century Pureblood!"

"Leave it to me."

Their student guide led them through the winding hallways of Hogwarts. It wasn't any section he could recognise, but then, the building shifted every now and then, until they finally stopped in a foyer on the second floor.

"Well," said the Hufflepuff, gesturing towards an archway covered in a purple curtain, "the venue of the ball is right through there. Now, if you'll excuse me…" She bowed and set off towards where they had come from.

Daphne took a deep breath. "Alright, Daphne. Time to act like mum's tea party companions. You can do this."

She looked up at Harry. "You let me do the introductions, alright? I have a plan."

Harry shrugged. "Sure. We should also try and find out if anything… odd, as you put it, has been happening here lately, right?"

Daphne nodded, looped his arm through hers, and walked through the curtain.

"Why does my fake name have to be Hadrian Radcliffe?" whispered Harry as Daphne fanned herself with an oversized fan, trying to be aloof in a corner while they scanned for likely people to probe for information.

"Not quite sure, really. The name just vibes with me, I suppose."

A young man in his twenties, dressed in a red coat-robe, approached the duo, Charles Montague, as per Lady Hemsworth's introductions.

"Lady Duncan!" he said, greeting Daphne as took her stiffly proffered hand and lightly brushed her knuckles with his lips. "Your beauty is truly out — er heh…"

His rehearsed pick up speech petered out as Daphne produced a handkerchief from her robes and wiped her knuckles with it, pointedly looking at Montague.

"Well, I, er... I shall leave you be, then!" he said, looking at the floor, glancing up at Harry for a moment, before moving to leave. "Sir."

"Now, Mister Radcliffe, hold out your daddles, won't you?"

"My what?"

"Your fists, my dear boy," said Lady Hemsworth, laughing as she turned to Daphne. "He really is quite a sweet thing isn't he?"

"He is. Very Sweet. Indeed," stammered Daphne, as she awkwardly reached out and patted his cheek.

What on earth?

"...anything new in Hogwarts this year, Professor Binns?"

"Eh?" said the evidently not-yet-dead Professor of Magical History, holding up his ear horn.

"I asked," said Harry, speaking into the hearing implement, "if there are any interesting developments here in the past month or so — I do try to keep with ongoing events at Hogwarts even if I was schooled at the Underloch Academy. The castle is the academic centre of Britain, after all, regardless of what the pretenders at Borkswig would have us believe."

The old wizard narrowed his eyes as he thought, — wait, was that weird Charles fellow trying to talk to Daphne again?

"Well, no," said Professor Binns as one of Montague's acquaintances grabbed him, leaving Daphne to stomp away in relief, "it's been a sleepy term this time round, with the exception of the older Dumbledore brat and his tomfoolery in the dungeons… the clocks and tempus charms have been all over the place lately. I tell you, the Department is going to get involved if he continues doing whatever he's doing, and that'll be good for no one. That Dumbledore! An absolute podsnapper. I keep telling Hoid to keep a leash on the boy, but who listens to Binns... on my deathbed, they say…"

Well, if  that isn't a sign of something that needs fixing, — wait, whose tomfoolery?

Harry lounged about near the door as he waited for Daphne to come back from the confectionery table.

So a teenage Albus Dumbledore has special permission to carry out certain experiments in the dungeons over the break, does he? Honestly, I should have thought of that earlier, Professor Dumbledore would be of Hogwarts age in 1892.

He watched in amusement as Daphne sneakily took a bite from every dessert dish on the table. She looked up and eyed him, shaking her head in displeasure; the foodstuff obviously did not receive the Daphne mark of approval. She paused, glaring at the crowd at the centre of the room before looking back at the table, picking up a pastry and starting to make her way back.

Even if Professor Dumbledore's experiments aren't behind the disturbance, I'm sure he'll be able to help us find the true source—

Daphne smushed the pastry into the back of the redcoat who had tried to talk to her earlier and skipped into the crowd as Montague turned around and started hyperventilating about his expensive coat. Harry watched, amused, as Daphne appeared on the other side of the crowd, nobody the wiser as to what had happened, and made her way to him, a distinctly evil grin on her face.

"You still haven't grown out of that, huh?" Harry said, remembering a particular incident involving Seamus Finnegan, Mrs Norris and cat food.

Daphne hummed happily as she swiped up a stack of macarons from a passing tray. "He was very annoying."

"Ah! Lady Duncan! And your rather dashing looking companion, Mr Radcliffe," said the jovial man with a walrus moustache, sipping from a glass of a vividly green drink. "Our surprise guests for the evening. Well, as I always say, it's always good to see new people joining the Society..."

The gathering was evidently organised by some sort of Society with a capital 's'...

Daphne smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Bones. And well, do excuse Hadrian's lack of manners—he's a bit of a country bumpkin, you know," she said in a conspiratorial whisper. Bones laughed as Harry's eye twitched (whichever muscle was behind eye twitches must be getting a boatload of exercise that day).

"Ah! A sense of humour; you could make a stuffed bird laugh, or rather you have already, if one recollects how the good Madam Capenoir was doubling up over there. Anyhow, jolly good of Ol' Headmaster Hoid to let us use Hogwarts for our Society's monthly get together, eh? Jolly good fellow he is, pity he couldn' make it to the party."

"Very true, good sir," said Daphne. "I greatly admire Headmaster Hoid's writings on the possibilities of interplanetary travel."

"Indeed, indeed," said Bones, turning to Harry. "And as for you young man! Now, do tell,what is the situation like in the hinterlands? I have been trying to get this bill passed in the Gamot for months now, so it would be right dandy to get the rural borough representatives onboard."

"It was an absolute pleasure having you with us today, Lady Duncan, Mister Radcliffe!" gushed Lady Hemsworth. "You must attend the gathering at our usual location in Cardiff next month — we'll get you properly initiated into the Society there since we didn't have the proper tools here."

With that, she ushered them towards the exit leading towards the Portkey point.

The dungeons were in the opposite direction.

Bloody hell.

"I'm so sorry! That must have been awkward for you," Daphne said, looking up at him with wide eyes, "Me clinging on to you, while you and Ginny—"

Harry squeezed her shoulder. "Oh that's… okay. We aren't…"

"Oh," said Daphne, stilling. "You and Ginny aren't… together?"

"Nope. Been a few months."

"Oh," whispered Daphne, refusing to meet his eyes.

"But, still, introducing me as your — merlin — childhood friend from the impoverished countryside with whom you've fallen hopelessly in love with?" asked Harry, trying to hold back his laughter, as he leaned back against the cool stone of the tunnel.

"I — yes, well, you don't know Pureblood Etiquette, much less Victorian Pureblood etiquette, obviously, so you needed some sort of reason for being here and behaving like you were, didn't you?" Daphne hissed, glaring up at him as she brought up her hands to play with his collar.

"Alright, alright, fair enough. Though, gotta say that was some highly impressive acting out there."

Daphne giggled. "Yeah. Tracey and I used to act out our own self written tragic romances — oddly enough, playing the icy privileged pureblood princess was what I most excelled at…"

"Ah yes," said Harry in an imperious voice. "The Ice Queen of Slytherin, eh? You have to admit, the Badgers are great at making monikers—"

"Shut up, you. I swear if I ever get my hands on Ernie Macmillan… anyway. It was pretty fun, playing Lords and Ladies in a mock-Wizengamot with an overly simplified faction system, I suppose…"

"Oh, I've heard about that game from Millicent Bulstrode — she's my liaison with the Aurors whenever the DMLE calls me in for consulting on a case. 'The Light, The Dark and The Grey' is the name of that game, right?"

"Mmhmm. A ridiculous number of people thought that was how actual Wizarding politics worked…" she mumbled, glancing down the tunnel towards the ballroom

Harry snorted as a strand of Daphne's hair tickled his nose.

"Are we waiting for some—"

Her eyes widened as she muffled his mouth with her hand, pressing up against him as a group of very inebriated-sounding wizards walked by the alcove they were hiding in.

"—fngh?"

"Well, looks like that's the last of the party-goers leaving the room…" she whispered, her breath warm on his neck as she lowered her hand from his mouth. "We should double-back through there towards the dungeons now, before the elves come by to clean the place."

She made no effort to actually move.

"Daphne?"

"Mhm?"

"I'm not complaining, but," said Harry, laughing nervously as he felt the blood creep to his face. "I — oh, wow, um it's really… compact in here, eh?"

"What?" Daphne asked, swinging her head up to look at him, knocking into his chin in the process.

"Ow!" said the two, Daphne jumping back into the hallway, nursing her head.

She looked sheepishly up at Harry, a tentative smile forming on her face. "Heh, sorry about that. You were saying…?"

"Nothing!" blurted Harry, taking a moment to dab at the perspiration on his throat. "Um, the dungeons, yes?"

"Yep! Follow me!" she chirped as she ran down the hall, shoes tapping against the stone. Harry adjusted his robes and followed.

"So, you have a sword or something? A hammer of doom? A charm-breaking lock-pick?"

"No?"

Daphne sighed as they looked at the solid stone wall separating them from their quarry. A sign above read: Albus Dumbledore's Private Lair. Beware ye!

"Don't you have that all-purpose screwdriver or whatever of yours?" asked Harry.

Daphne shrugged. "Doesn't work on wood or stone."

They spent a few moments observing the wall.

"Well, there's always fiendfyre..."

"Whoa! Merlin, Harry. Easy there," said Daphne, grabbing his hand and glaring up at him.

"Fine… perhaps there's just a password?"

Daphne looked at him. "Well, I — yes, there could be a simple password mechanism…"

"... acidnut icepops?"

The wall rumbled and slid to the side. Harry shrugged.

"Binns told me Professor Dumbledore raided the kitchens for this particular sweet…"

"Like me!" said Daphne, grinning up at him.

"... exactly like you."

They walked through the opening, wands drawn, and stopped short as light from a slit in the wall revealed a study desk in the centre of the room.

There was an Apple Macintosh on the table.

In 1892.

"Harry, what exactly is a muggle computer from the 1980s doing in 1892?"

"Er, Daphne? How do you know what a computer is? I mean, I don't want to assume anything, but you're a pureblood..."

"Indeed, Harry. I'm also a time traveller and dimension jumper, hmm?"

"... right, that makes sense. I should have known that."

Daphne laughed as she walked around the table. "It's alright. Anyway, I know what these are because Justin had one at his place in 5th year, not because of time travel—so far I've only been allotted excursions taking place in the past." She shrugged, poking the flickering screen of the Macintosh with her odd screwdriver. "And none of them were set in the muggle world or dealt with muggle artefacts."

Harry hummed as he scanned the chamber—hadn't this been the potions store in his time?—looking for clues, one hand clutching his wand inside his robes. How was the thing even working inside Hogwarts, and where was it drawing power from?

"Your parents let you go to your muggleborn boyfriend's house?" he asked.

"They didn't know; Millie covered for me by saying I was at her house for bird-flute lessons, but well… for all their faults, you know my parents weren't blood purists. So it wouldn't have been too bad either way," she said, now pointing her weird screwdriver at the computer. "Say, any news from Justin in recent days? Haven't really talked much with him in a while."

Harry shrugged. "Not really. Last I heard he was playing football for some club in Germany."

"Mm. Well," she sighed, from where she was crouching behind the computer, "shutting down the beacon shouldn't be too hard, and then… then I suppose you do something to make sure that this doesn't happen again."

Harry chuckled as waited for *something* to come along and make life difficult for them. It couldn't be this easy, could it?

"Oh, also, remember how I said I could only travel into the past?" continued Daphne, perking up, "Well, after this mission I'll be eligible for trips to the future! Provided we don't mess this up, that is."

"Well, let's not mess it up then. I wonder if all the science fiction predictions about space colonies come true, would love to see all that… "

Daphne didn't say anything so he looked towards her. She was looking at him over the back of the computer, mouth slightly ajar, eyes seeming impossibly large in the particular angle through the lens of her glasses.

"Daphne?"

"You would want to continue travelling with me?" she said in a small voice.

"Well, it seems much more interesting than holding seminars and consulting around the world, and well, the company doesn't hurt either."

Daphne squatted down behind the computer table.

"Unless, of course, your… organisation has restrictions on repeat travellers like me," he said, carefully.

"No!" said Daphne, peeking around the side of the table. "Not at all, it actually makes life easier for me since I don't have to go searching for a new 'Touched by Fate' person every time. It's just … all my previous companions thought I had an unhealthy obsession with Ice Cream. And koalas. And I was too chirpy. And —"

"Daphne," said Harry as he walked behind the computer table, and offered his hand to the blushing girl. She pulled herself up and latched onto Harry, arms circling around his back, and Harry, after a moment's hesitation, rested his chin on her head and reciprocated with his arms.

"I love those things about you. Okay? And I'd absolutely love travelling with you whenever you need to go somewhere."

Daphne hummed affirmatively against his chest.

This is nice.

"Once we're back in our time," she mumbled, her voice muffled by Harry's shirt, "do you want to go to the Mont St Michel Ice Cream fair sometime? It's the largest in the world."

Harry laughed. "I'd love to!"

They stood like that for a few moments.

"Daphne? This feels great," he whispered, and Daphne hummed in agreement, "but the frame of your glasses are really digging into my sternum."

"Yes, true," Daphne said, jumping back from him and clearing her throat.

"So... the computer."

"Ah, yes," said Daphne, staring at the beige coloured box intently. "I… am not sure, exactly, how this ended up in this time. It was definitely not Headmaster Dumbledore's work — a wizard can't have done this. This seems like something I'll need to pass on to the higher ups at CR…"

"Okay… so is the computer causing the rip in space-time or—"

"Oh that's simple enough to solve, the rip that is. It's the fact that a working muggle device from the next century has been kept working using bastardised magic that is causing the rip and disturbance. That is probably the future Headmaster's work — pretty impressive for a 13 year old, really. We should be able to solve this if we just break the comp —"

Something thumped to the ground behind them, and they swivelled about to come face-to-face with a grinning, pimpled teenage boy who was wearing mink earmuffs for some reason.

"Hello there!" he shouted, waving his arms.

"Ouch!" cried Daphne, clutching at her ears, and Harry winced.

"Sorry, sorry," mumbled the newcomer as he took off his earmuffs. "I was sleeping up there" — he pointed upwards to a dark shaft cut into the ceiling that Harry hadn't noticed in the shadows — "with these newfangled things on, so I didn't hear you come in…"

Harry quirked an eyebrow. Was this secretly one of Snape's ancestors? Hiding in a dark shaft and jumping down to surprise decent people seemed like something he would do. But no, the hair wouldn't fit.

"Who are you anyway?" the boy asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes," said Daphne, still frowning and tapping her ear — the boy had been rather loud.

"We were, er… we were sent by Headmaster… Hoid. To check up on" — Harry waved at the computer — "the experiments being carried out by one Albus Dumbledore."

"Oh? Well… aha! Appreciate my genius!" said the auburn-haired boy, holding his arms out and looking upwards like that statue in Rio de Janeiro.

"You're… Prof—Albus Dumbledore?" asked Harry dubiously.

"The one and only…" whispered the boy, conjuring a top hat and placing it on his head, "Albus! Brian! Percival! Wulfric! Dumble—whoa!"

He accentuated every name with what appeared to be some sort of breakdance pose, losing his balance on the 5th one and tumbling to the floor.

"Wow," remarked Daphne. Harry concurred.

"Wait!" exclaimed Dumbledore from the floor, holding up a finger while the other hand removed the hat from his face. "I got the order wrong, again. It's Wulfric before Percival, and Brian after… oh buggering hippogriffs."

"Wow," repeated Daphne as she gazed upon the teenaged Fury of Nurmengard and the One Voldemort Feared.

Deciding not to comment on his future headmaster's vocabulary, Harry soldiered on. "How did you manage to forget... the order of your name?"

"Oh," Dumbledore grunted, getting to his feet, "my name's just Albus Dumbledore. My… sister suggested that I should have a more awe-inspiring name, so I added stuff… Albus! Wulfri—"

"Stop! Please," groaned Harry, holding up his hand. Dumbledore shrugged.

"Never meet your heroes, they said..." mumbled Daphne.

"Nobody appreciates my moves or attire right now, but I tell you! Give it a few decades and Dumblestyle will be all anyone, noble or commoner, will be harking on about!"

"Dumblestyle. Yes," said Harry, trying to keep a poker face. Daphne moved around Dumbledore lightly, heading towards the computer.

"Also," exclaimed Dumbledore, pointing a finger at Harry while rooting around in the back pocket of his trousers, "let's not forget Dumbletaste!"

He held up a yellow orb as Daphne started clattering on the Mac's keyboard behind Dumbledore's back. Harry peered at the orb; was that a —

"Candy Balls with the Essence of Lemon!"

"That's… quite a mouthful, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's not that big," said Dumbledore, popping the candy into his mouth. "Shee?"

"No, the name, not the sweet… I…" said Harry, as Dumbledore leapt for a box on a side table, opened it and stuffed his mouth with a handful of the same candy. He looked at Harry as if just remembering he had company.

"Duh hame?"

Harry laughed awkwardly as Daphne held up a finger from where she was working on the computer. "Er, yeah? Perhaps something like Lemon Drops would work better… are you okay?"

"Yesh! Yesh! Hemon Hops!"

Daphne got up from the computer, taking care to not look at Dumbledore — was he having some sort of magically enhanced fit?

"The computer's sorted, it shouldn't give us any more trouble. As for the esteemed Headmaster, however…"

"Wait!" — he had evidently finished his mouthful of candy in record time — "I have more moves!"

He bounced to the centre of the room and Harry and Daphne backed to the door leading out.

"Every day I'm dumblin'," shouted Dumbledore, moving his appendages in a haphazard manner. Their job done, Harry and Daphne made a hasty retreat, leaving teenage Dumbledore to figure his life out.

The sky was a kaleidoscope of colours, ever-shifting, as the sun sank down over the Black Lake. The view from the Astronomy Tower had always been grand — remarkably little had changed in Hogwarts during the 100 years between then and the present — and Daphne had brought him up here, calling the Tardis up using that awfully suspicious magic-but-not-exactly screwdriver of hers.

Daphne sighed softly as she thumped her head sideways, resting it on his arm, her hands folded in her lap. Harry stiffened for the briefest moment, and then relaxed, looking down at the top of her head. Snaking an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her closer to him as night fell on the Scottish highlands.

"Been a while, hasn't it?" he murmured.

"Yeah."

Daphne swung her legs out in front of her, over the sheer drop from the Tower. Barefoot, sandals lost while fleeing Dumbledore. A herd of thestrals flew in the distance, towards the disappearing glow on the western horizon. Harry wondered if Daphne could see the skeletal horses.

"You never really told me why you pulled the disappearing act after Hogwarts. And well, Astoria and Tracey never seemed to know where you were when I asked about you, and I didn't know anybody else I could ask—"

Daphne took a hold of his hand, gently squeezing it.

"That's, well, I suppose I asked them to play dumb…" she whispered, as a playful fairy flitted past on the wind, blue-white ribbons of light floating behind her (odd, Harry had never seen one up this high on a Hogwarts tower).

"Why'd you do that?" asked Harry.

"I didn't want to distract you!" she said in a rush, hiding her face in his arm as Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Daphne—"

"Shut up. Wait. Listen. I wanted to approach you, talk to you but… you just had so much going on! Not to say it wasn't so in Hogwarts but… here you had a reason. You were relaxing, I was getting away from Slytherin stuff and out there… well, you were off travelling and giving speeches and consulting with law enforcement and rounding up the remaining idiots and of course Ginny…" she said, rubbing her eyes. "And no! I think she's a great person, they all are, your friends, but… and of course I had my travelling, though that was largely an excuse for myself considering it's literal time travel, just… I didn't think you'd want to hang out with me," she finished in a small voice.

"That's not — wha…"

"I know. I know. I was dense. And I'm not making much sense right now, but I will. At some point. Probably."

"Daphne. I loved spending time with you here on this very tower, and sneaking out to Honeydukes. Talking about anything and everything, however inane. Why'd I want to stop that just because school got over and everyone and their mother started badgering me to grant their newborn my blessing? Seriously, some people..."

Daphne sniffed.

"Yes. Enough with all… this, for now, topic change," — Harry stifled a smile, vowing to bring this up some time when she was less volatile since he couldn't very well let it fester; Daphne had never been good with serious and sad atmospheres — "You remember when we burst in upon Terry making out with Susan here that time in 6th year?" Daphne questioned.

"Don't remind me," Harry half-groaned, half-laughed. "I was so embarrassed I ended up instinctively handing them the Ice Cream you had painstakingly liberated from the kitchens."

Harry could feel her smile as she burrowed her face into his arm.

"Oh, and that time Luna tailed you to the Shrieking Shack, and you were mortified that she was going to tattle-tale? But she only wanted to exchange some of her strawberry pudding for the gelato Theo's mum had sent to you."

"It was a fair trade, to be honest. That was some very good pudding," Daphne said, giggling as she peered up at him with those beautiful eyes of hers.

Behind the two, the TARDIS chimed in an approximation of a giggle.

The two started, and Daphne sat up straight.

"We should really head back, less time we spend out of sync the—"

She glanced at him and turned red as a hair. The next thing he knew, she had got up from their perch and dashed inside the TARDIS.

Harry smiled.

Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair as he regarded the contraption — those two odd visitors had called it a 'computer' — on his desk dejectedly.

"All this does is show a black screen with a crudely drawn frowning face. Interesting but…" he sighed as he got up and started pacing. His eye fell on a letter that had arrived the week before.

Well, it's not like I have anything else to do,  he thought as he picked up his travelling cloak and waved to his sister who was sitting blank-eyed in the corner of the room. Might as well go and see what that odd German fellow wanted to talk about.