Chapter 7

I skulked awkwardly through Knockturn Alley, my cloak pulled low against the wind. It was worse than I remembered. I mean, it was always bad when Voldemort revealed himself again, but the streets were mostly barren with death eaters actually openly patrolling. As if they owned the place.

Things were different. I didn't know what to make of it.

I stood in front of the Emporium. The eight eyes of the wolf were closed; the wolf sleeping. A cigarette sat in an ashtray next to the wolf. Things had gotten hard before, but Jerry had never fully closed up shop. He always had one foot at the door, but in his line of work, I wouldn't think he ever didn't.

"Psst. Let me see. I can't see."

I held up a hand mirror to the wall. "I thought you were inside my head," I said.

"I was, and I am, but now it's like I have a whole lot of windows. Except there are no windows here. Hence, the mirror," Peabody says.

"Jerry," I called. There was no answer. The wolf didn't stir from its sleep. I looked around finding a few other dark cloaked figures walked down the deserted street. Knockturn seemed to have more traffic than the main alley.

"Aww, puny little mud-blood is gone. Maybe the Dark Lord killed him," Peabody said from the mirror.

I looked at the mirror where he seemed to peer out with a single eye. "I didn't take you for a supporter," I said.

"Not really a supporter. But I can't argue with the results," he said.

I called a few more times with no answer. I tried tapping the thin sliver of cigarette smoke, the only portion of the picture still active. Just barely perceptible, the smoke spread revealing a phone number. The pure-bloods wouldn't know, but the ones who should, did. Just like Jerry.

One of the cloaked in figures in the street seemed to stop, their gazing lingering in my direction. Jerry might have left when the winds changed, or he might have been forced to move. I decided to get off the streets. With a call, I had Hoopy elf-apparate me back to an alley in muggle London. I fished for change to go make the call.

"Unholy contraption," Peabody said. "Not nearly as convenient as the floo. You can't even see who you're talking to."

If I could, I'd just stuff his face in my back pocket. Unfortunately, he appeared in the reflection of the glass of the phonebooth. There were really a lot of reflective surfaces in the world. I was going to end up a crazy man living in a house with all the curtains drawn at this rate.

"Hello," Jerry answered. I recognized the voice, but the easy smoothness seemed to have gone jagged.

"Sleeping on the job, Jerry?" I said. On the other end, there was only a pause.

"Who is this?"

"Don't recognize your shortest, and probably only friend? I'll give you a hint. I'm not a goblin. That'd be your last ex."

"Will? You - that's impossible. What was the last thing you said to me?"

"The last order I made was a triple rune-set. Avis, flash-bang, and self-destruct. I told you I was just going to see a quidditch game."

There was another long pause and a sigh. "You little shit, it is you. I thought you were dead. Wha-what the hell were you thinking?"

The vehemence in his voice took me back for a second. "No, nevermind. You're alive somehow. Listen, you weren't a bad kid. I'm sure you had your reasons, and I even understand. But things are different now. I'm leaving England. You should too," he said.

"I know," I said. "I just wanted one last favor. I needed help finding someone. I thought you might be the one to ask."

"There's a lot of people needing finding these days. Some because they've disappeared. Or been disappeared. Do you have a name?"

"Olivia Stone," I said.

"I've heard that name, yeah. I've done business with her. I just sent her an order. My very last. Normally, I wouldn't tell anyone, but I know you must have a reason, " he said supplying me with an address. "You won't be the only one looking for her though."

"What do you mean?"

"They put out a collection order on her. Look, Will, take care. I've gotta go. Get out of the country," he said and hung up.

I hung up the phone and looked at the address written on my hand. It wasn't far and in muggle London. I was already in street clothes. I could just take a taxi.

"If that's the way your friends speak to you, no wonder you go around hugging house-elves. Such a lonely little Puff."

"Shut up, Peabody," I said with a sigh, but I actually did feel a little hurt. I don't know what I was expecting. When I shifted, the timeline must have shifted somehow too. He was just a criminal, but still, in a way, he was a friend. Still, he'd never spoken to me that way. He'd also never seemed to have been pushed that far.

Forty minutes later, I stood outside a traditional apartment building in central London.

"Ah, entertainment," Peabody said from the hood of a car.

"What's your range?" I said.

"Excuse me? Is that some kind of muggle slang?"

I smiled at a passing pedestrian. Not a crazy person talking to myself here. Who was I kidding? Smiling just made me look creepier.

"How far can you see. How many surfaces out?"

"I'm not sure really. I can't believe you've actually done something useful for once. You should get attacked by dementors more often," he said.

I coughed awkwardly at the man getting in his car. He looked at me suspiciously. I stepped away from the curb pulling out the hand mirror.

"Well, Peabody?"

"Shh. Don't talk. Busy now."

"What do you see?"

"The question, Puff, is what don't I see. I'm not even alive, and I'll be a man before you are," he said.

I shake my head at the man's ramblings. Hoopy and now Peabody's ghost. I really surrounded myself with the right sorts of pseudo-people.

"Who are you talking to?" the pleasant voice of a woman asked.

As I began to turn, I felt a jab of wood in my back. "Don't move," she said all pleasantness gone. "Give me the mirror. And your wand."

I should have realized a magical might misinterpret the mirror as a magical communication device. I handed over the items slowly. "Oh, my. Is that a threat, or are you just happy to see me?" I said.

"A cheeky one are you? We'll see if that lasts after the first crucio. Now move along, slowly."

She directed me into the apartment building and toward an apartment door. I chose to follow her for now. She directed me to a door forcing me to stand against the wall while she unlocked it with her palm held against the wood. Impressive ward-work. She proceeded to shove me inside.

"Olivia Stone, I presume," I said facing her. She didn't say another word but with a wave of her wand me into the living room and onto a sofa. Another wave of her wand summoned a potion vial to her hand.

I noticed a travel bag packed on the floor. "My name is William Peabody, and I'm not a death eater if that's what you think."

She threw the potion to me. "Drink," she said.

"And why should I?" I asked.

"I'd rather not kill you in the form of a child. So drink the potion now, or I'll just have to slit your throat," she said.

I took a sniff of the potion and then downed it without further complaint. "I'm not polyjuiced. I'm not transfigured. This is my real form."

She hesitated a moment. With a silent spell, my body went rigid. She reached into her pocket and set a sunken trunk on the floor. With a tap she enlarged it, twisting one of many knobs to reveal a compartment of potions.

This woman was not what I expected. I didn't really know what I expected it, but it wasn't this. Finally getting a look at her I saw she was in her mid to late twenties. She had blonde hair and must have only been five foot two, or barely that.

She approached me with a vial of a clear liquid and forced my mouth open. Veritaserum, obviously, which told me she either dealt in well-connected circles or was a potion master herself since it was extremely hard to make and a substance controlled by the Ministry of Magic.

I had no other choice as she dabbled a drop of the potion onto my tongue. I wasn't worried. Not yet. I had to answer truthfully but only what she asked. I doubt she'd ask something along the lines of, so are you really a transmigrated man from another world masquerading as a child in a world you thought was fictional?

She unfroze my head. "What is your name?"

"William Peabody," I said.

"Are you or your family affiliated with the death eaters?"

"Not to my knowledge," I answered.

"Why are you looking for me?"

"Because you're my only clue as to the strange creature that attacked me," I said.

She scrunched up her eyebrows. "You'll have to explain that one."

"It'll be easier to show you. The mokeskin pouch under my hoody," I say. "You'll find a manuscript there."

She reached for the manuscript and seeing the title her face turned curious. Flipping through the pages at a rapid pace, she quickly turned deadly serious.

"Where did you get this?"

"I found it in the Room of Requirement".

"And what were the creatures you spoke of?" she asked.

I shrugged, or tried to, but my shoulders were still petrified. "I call them time wraiths."

With a wave of her wand she finally unpetrified my body. I wasn't sure whether to be pissed or admire that kind of paranoia.

"And finally you seem to trust me. After everything I said, that's the thing that changes your mind," I said genuinely curious.

"Believe it or not, this isn't the strangest thing I've experienced." She reached under her shirt to reveal a chain connected to an hourglass. "Do you know what this is?"

I nodded my head. "A time turner. Based on the story I figured you have one. And?"

She pulled up a chair of her own. "Do you know the limit?"

I shrugged. "Typically a few hours at most," I said. "They're only used for the most trivial of tasks. Kind of enforced safety through mundaneness."

"A manufactured limitation. I had a colleague once who experimented with the use of traveling farther back in time under controlled conditions. However, he got addicted to the power, and decided to bend the rules. He told me interesting stories. While he was alive, that is."

"A colleague?"

"At the D.O.M.", she said.

The Department of Mysteries. I should have known. No wonder the woman was so secretive. She looked at me intently. "How old are you?"

"Thirteen," I said easily.

"How old other than physically?" she asked.

She caught onto the distinction quickly. "I'm not sure," I said. "At least eighteen, but maybe as high as fifty."

She sucked in a breath of air. "Okay," she said. "Tell me everything. Start from the beginning."

My tongue twisted in my mouth slightly. "Exactly how far back?"

She squinted her eyes at me. "Birth?" I asked in a grunt.

"Sorry, I almost forgot about the veritaserum. From when it's relevant."

I nodded. Okay. I could work with that.