(A/N: Many thanks to all who reviewed the first chapter! I realize that you were, in effect, taking up the story on faith, and I am honored by it. I'll try to live up to it.
There are a couple of clues in this chapter that this story diverges from Canon from the moment Neville lops off Nagini's head. It will be become inescapable, of course, as the story progresses.
Thanks again to my beta, MirielleGrey, who keeps me correct. Any mistakes still left are, of course, my own fault.)
(Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own these characters. But that doesn't mean I can't make them do what's right, instead of what's easy.)
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"Coming Back Late"
by Paracelsus
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II: How It Started Again
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"Lupin," said Ted Lupin, hearing the nervousness in his voice, and hating it, "reservation for two."
He kept his eyes fixed on the maître d' of the Idée Fixe, as the man impassively scanned his reservation list. Ted wished now that he'd dared to alter his appearance to something more, well, mature. Not that there was anything immature about being fifteen, but maybe a squarer jaw or a steelier eye would convince the maître d' that Ted knew what he was doing.
On this, his first solo foray into Muggle London. At a very posh restaurant. With a very beautiful girl.
He snuck a sidelong glance at his date, and was reassured. So many other girls wanted Ted to morph into the boy of their dreams… only Tori had insisted (i.e., demanded) that he never morph his features, even a little bit, but that he always be himself. Ted was determined to be the best "himself" he could be, for her.
"Ah yes, M. Lupin," replied the maître d' with a hint of Parisian accent. "Your table is ready. This way, please?"
They followed the maître d' into the dining room, and Ted began to relax. That wasn't so bad after all. He ought to have known his guardian angel would be watching after him. Ted hadn't been able to contact him, but he must have seen the reservation list - and besides, he knew everything. He'd certainly know that Ted and Tori would be dining here tonight. All would be well.
And the food would be outstanding.
Ted knew they were collecting glances (and a few stares) as they made their way to their table, but it was understandable. Even with her Veela charms muted, as they must be in a Muggle setting, Victoire Weasley was stunningly attractive… somehow, tonight, looking much older than her fourteen years. Ted was more than content to let his date be the center of attention; instead, he fell back slightly and eavesdropped on snippets of conversation from other tables. Maybe he'd hear something he could use during his own dinner talk with Tori.
One snippet caught his ear: "… you hear about those lost children? Thank goodness they were rescued in time, their families had just about given up hope… no, the rangers said it was just good luck…" That was a snippet Ted didn't dare mention to Tori, alas, but he couldn't help smiling anyway. Guardian angels everywhere, seemed like.
He made a show of holding Tori's chair for her, and was rewarded with her dimpled smile. "I hope you're not too disappointed," he said as he took his own seat. "It's supposed to be really good French cuisine…"
"… for the English, you mean?" she smirked.
"All right, it probably doesn't compare with your grandmother's cooking, but give it a chance." Privately, Ted was willing to match the fare at the Idée Fixe with the best France could offer, but try telling that to a Frenchwoman. Even a half-Frenchwoman.
They placed their orders - Tori asked for lapin aux pommes, while he chose the filet de boeuf Wellington, which he considered a thoroughly British dish despite its French name - and chatted about inconsequentials as their glasses were filled with sparkling perry. Ted wished he could try to order wine, he'd been curious to see what it was like… but he knew better than to try. Sometimes, being underage sucked.
Their salads arrived, crisp and fresh, and Tori switched topics in a lower voice. "So do you know who the new Gryffindor prefects will be?" she asked.
Ted shook his head. "Not me, that's all I know. I don't seem to be the role model McGonagall's looking for." He lowered his voice further. "I am hoping to make Quidditch captain this year, but we won't find out about that until tomorrow at the Sorting Feast."
"Yes. Back to school tomorrow." She sighed, then smiled radiantly. "I am glad you asked me out tonight, Teddy. One last night of freedom - and in, er, regular London! How did you find this place?"
"Oh," Ted waived his hand airily, "you know I like spending time on this side of the wall. It's right amazing what you can find on the Internet… I still wish your father would let me show you what it can do."
"I don't think it's the Internet that bothers Dad so much, as it is the small, isolated, private little workshop where you use it." Tori's eyes danced with mirth as she added, "Besides, I've heard of some of the things you can, er, download. Music? And the pictures? Scandalous, I mean really."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, m'dear," Ted replied with a smirk. "And hey, are you saying your father doubts my intentions towards you?"
"Oh no, I think he has no doubt at all."
"Ho ho." Ted left it at that. If he felt he was too young for a seduction, he was sure Tori was. They'd made it clear that, when they were old enough, and if they were still dating… then they'd see what happened. For now, though, flirtation was fun. "Tell him I'm not nearly as afraid of him as I am of your Mum," he added, just to be provocative.
Tori gave a mock shiver. "Don't blame you a bit, cheri. Just be warned, Mum's seeing me to the Express tomorrow."
"I shall be the perfect gentleman, then," Ted replied in an upper-crust accent. "If only not to alarm Rosie. She's a firstie this year, remember. Don't want to scare her off before she's Sorted."
"No fear, Teddy. She idolizes you, you know." Her smile turned warm and she laid her hand atop his. "Perfectly natural, really," she added softly.
Ted couldn't help blushing… and she made no move to remove her hand from his, which caused his blush to deepen… He was rescued from his embarrassment by the arrival of the soup course. He'd ordered French onion, of course, and was pleased to see its cheese crust had been baked on. Tori, just to test the kitchen's mettle, had ordered bouillabaisse… she regarded it skeptically, fully expecting it to be merely fish stew, and filled her spoon.
And that was when disaster reared its ugly head, sniffed the air hopefully, and prepared to pounce.
"Now you see, if this were real bouillabaisse, the fish would be served separate from the stock," Tori lectured, as the first spoon of soup came to her mouth. She sipped, swallowed, and nodded. "Not bad," she allowed. Another spoonful, and she declared, "Why, that's quite good." A third sip, and she set down her spoon and stared incredulously at Ted.
"What?" he asked nervously.
"Have you tasted this?!" Without waiting for him to answer, Tori raised her hand frantically. Their waiter arrived with astonishing promptness. "Pardonnez-moi," she said, deliberately reverting to a strong French accent, "but I just wished to say 'ow delicious zis is! I 'ave not tasted anything like zis since I was last in Marseilles!"
"Thank you, mademoiselle," beamed the waiter. Ted was shocked to see that Tori was actually using her Veela power on the poor man - in public! In front of Muggles! Merlin's beard, what was she thinking?!
"Would you do a small favor for me?" She opened her handbag and rummaged for a moment, bringing out a folded slip of paper. "Would you please deliver zis to your chef and tell him 'ow marvelous an artist he is?"
"But of course, mademoiselle," the waiter replied, taking the paper. "At once. I may say we at the Idée Fixe are quite pleased with our sous-chef… versatile at many tasks, but a particularly deft hand with soups and sauces." With a slight bow, he left them, heading for the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.
"Tori, what do you think you're doing?" hissed Ted.
"Taste the bouillabaisse," Tori answered obliquely. She was watching the waiter intently.
Helplessly, Ted slurped a spoonful of the soup. "Okay, so?"
Tori spared him a glance. "Sorry, I forgot. You don't drink a lot of wine at your house, do you?"
"Huh?" Ted tried to regain some control of the situation. "What was on that paper you gave him?"
"Nothing, it's blank. I just needed a reason for him to… there!" The waiter had opened the swinging door and was offering the paper to someone in the kitchen. With a bound, Tori was on her feet and darting for the kitchen, ignoring the astonished looks from the other patrons.
Oh God, NO! In a panic, Ted pursued his date, grabbing her by the arm just as she reached the kitchen door. The amiable waiter was still standing there, blocking her view. He turned as Tori all but collided with his back. "Mademoiselle?"
"Forgive me, but I simply had to offer my personal compliments to your…" She paused and looked around the waiter's torso. "Where is he?"
The waiter looked over his shoulder, puzzled. "I don't know… he was here but a moment ago. I can assure you, though, M. Clayman was very pleased to receive your praise…"
"And he deserves it," Ted put in hastily, pulling Tori out of the kitchen. "Thanks so much… I know the rest of the dinner will be just as good, so we should be getting back to it…" He returned to their table, his hand still wrapped around Tori's upper arm. Literally wrapped around: he'd unintentionally morphed his hand, elongating his fingers to guarantee she couldn't break loose. She had no choice but to follow him.
"What are you doing?" she demanded in a whisper. "Magic in front of Muggles?!"
"My thoughts exactly, Little Miss Veela," he whispered back. "Why did you…?"
She broke in to what he was about to say. "This Mr. Clayman - he must be a wizard, Teddy! He must have Apparated out when he heard me coming!"
Ted kept his face neutral while he tried to salvage what he could from this fiasco. "All right… one, a wizard wouldn't be working as a cook in a Muggle restaurant - I mean, think about it, he'd be working in a wizarding restaurant. Two, even if he was a wizard, so what? It's not like he's done anything magical in front of Muggles - unlike you. You Veela'd that guy, and then made a scene so everyone'd be sure to notice! We'll be lucky if the Obliviators aren't here any moment. People have had their wands snapped for less."
She gulped, only now realizing the enormity of what she'd done.
He released his hold on her arm, surreptitiously returning his fingers to normal, and adopted a more conciliatory tone. "I'm sorry, Tori. I guess I saw you doing magic, and I overreacted… but you have to admit, so did you." He took his seat; by reflex, she promptly did the same.
"I did, I know I did! Oh, Teddy, I'm sorry…"
"'Sokay, I understand. You want to be a detective when you grow up." He gave her a slightly mocking smile, as though to say he was joking but also serious. He knew perfectly well who Tori wanted to be like when she grew up. Ted grew somber as he realized she was still upset.
"Tori, let's just… all right, if you're really worried, I can send an owl to the Ministry tomorrow from Hogwarts, and ask them to check and see if everything's on the level here." Ted caught her eye and tried to reassure her. "And in the meantime, let's see if we can enjoy ourselves for the rest of the evening, 'kay?"
"You're right. Okay, I'll try. Thank you…" Tori gave him the apologetic smile that (though he'd never admit it) always softened his heart, and settled down to her dinner. After a minute or two, they began to make small talk about their upcoming Hogwarts classes, and Ted congratulated himself on having averted a major incident.
He thus failed to notice that the cause of the incident, the small bowl of bouillabaisse, had disappeared from the table.
*
Harry Potter, known to the staff at the Idée Fixe as Jacob Clayman, sous-chef de cuisine, let himself into his flat well after eleven that night - which was still earlier than he normally did - and leaned back against the closed door. He took a moment to try to calm his nerves. That had been far too close a call, that evening. What in Merlin's name had Teddy been thinking…?!
And at that moment, as if in response, the phone rang. The restaurant again? He checked the Caller ID, and didn't recognize the number; cautiously, he picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Um, hi, Harry." It was Teddy. He sounded worried. And well he should, thought Harry.
"Teddy?! Where are you? How in Merlin's name can you be calling me…?" In the ten years since Harry had first sent a birthday gift (anonymously) to Teddy, never had Teddy ever contacted him. Harry had always been the one to initiate their contacts. He couldn't imagine how Teddy had even got his phone number!
"Er, online phone directory," Teddy said, as though it were obvious. Well, to someone of his generation, thought Harry ruefully, it probably was. "I mean, the waiter tonight said your name was Clayman, and I just reckoned your phone 'ud be in the same name." There was a short pause, in which Teddy was plainly gathering courage. The next words came out in a rush. "Harry, I'm sorry, about tonight I mean. I just wanted to show Tori a good time on our last night before school, and you always talk about how good the Fixe's food is… I didn't think there'd be any problem, and anyway, I thought for sure you'd've seen my name on the list…"
Harry sighed. "Slow down, Teddy, slow down. Relax a mo. Yes, I might've seen your name if I'd looked, but I've been running around quite a bit today. I never got the chance." He sighed again, too exhausted to maintain anger. There was obviously no point in berating the boy for not giving him any warning that he was coming - bringing any witch, much less Victoire Weasley! - when he'd never been given Harry's number. Although a note sent back to the kitchen might've been nice.
"Anyway…" Teddy's voice turned formal. "I won't do it again, godfather."
"A-hem. I thought I told you to call me Harry." Harry had always called his own godfather by his first name, and he insisted that Teddy do the same for him.
"Um, right, sorry." Then, with a meekness both knew was assumed, "And I thought you were going to start calling me Ted."
They managed to share a laugh at that. "Well, anyway, Ted, we got lucky tonight. Nobody from the Ministry saw fit to investigate. I'm guessing that none of the diners thought it was anything more than a beautiful young girl being headstrong. No harm done," he finished, lying smoothly. In point of fact, he'd already had to do some damage control with his employers, and he could look forward to a lot more work tonight.
"Yeah, but now she's thinking there might be an unregistered wizard… you know, a late-bloomer that never got registered with the Ministry? And I had to tell her I'd owl the Ministry, just to calm her down…"
"Then do that. Only send the owl to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. They'll check, confirm that no Muggle artifacts were misused, and that'll be that. Case closed." Harry took a deep breath, preparing for his next deception. "Actually, this'll be a good time for them to investigate. You see, the reason I was running around so much today is that I'm getting ready to go on holiday."
"Oh, Merlin, I didn't know! Um, it's not…"
"No, no, nothing to do with what happened this evening," Harry hastened to assure him, sounding very sincere. "I'd been planning this for about a month, now."
"Oh! Well, that's great news, Harry, you deserve a break. Where do you think you'll go?"
"Switzerland," said Harry, choosing a country at random, and some inner imp prompted him to add, "Reichenbach Falls. I've always wanted to see the place, it's supposed to be stunning. Anyway, though, I'll be incommunicado until I get home, and you'll be back at Hogwarts by then… so I'll get in touch with you around Christmas. Try to stay out of mischief until then, if you can."
"If you wanted me to stay out of mischief, why'd you give me the Map? No, but seriously, Harry, what if something important comes up? What if… what if there is still a problem because of tonight?"
Ted had a point there. Harry was quite certain that the incident at the Idée Fixe hadn't yet run its course. "Um, all right. Let me give you my mobile number - for emergencies only," he emphasized.
"You have a mobile…?" Ted began, then fell silent. He was once more confronting the fact that his godfather lived in a very different world: a world where secrecy was, for some reason, absolutely essential. No one at all, for any reason, ever, could know about Harry Potter - even Ted was told only what he had a need to know. Harry had repeatedly drilled Ted on this point, since he'd first made his identity known, and Ted knew better than to question it.
Harry recited the number, then continued, "Memorize it. Do not write it down. Do not program it into your own mobile - I assume you're calling on a mobile? From your workshop?"
"Yeah! I got it this summer so I could keep in touch with some friends - and this way, their parents don't see owls or anything. As long as I'm far enough away from magic, it works fine. Won't work at Hogwarts, of course." Ted gave Harry his own mobile number.
"All right, then," said Harry. "Go back to Hogwarts, and don't worry about anything except Quidditch, you hear? Tonight was an accident, and accidents happen. Nothing to worry about." He laughed. "I'll send you a postcard. Unsigned, of course. Have fun this year, Ted. Oh, don't forget that special package… and listen, you be careful with Tori Weasley. Don't do anything compromising, if you know what mean."
"Oh, I won't, Harry," Ted promised. "Like I told her tonight, her Mum is downright scary. Oh, and Harry? Good work with those lost kids." The relief was evident in his voice. His guardian angel was on the job again, and all would be well.
Harry smiled. "Thanks. Be well, Ted."
"'Bye."
Harry hung up the phone and immediately lost his smile.
He rolled up his left sleeve to reveal the Elder Wand, strapped to his forearm. He wore it there at all times, just as he always wore the Resurrection Stone, just as the Stealth Cloak was always tucked around his waist under his clothes. He unbuttoned his shirt now, unstrapping the Wand and taking out the Cloak. With a flourish, he swirled the Cloak around his shoulders. The Cloak settled and fit itself snugly around his body.
When Harry had first learned that his father's Invisibility Cloak was a Deathly Hallow, he had a hard time believing it. After all, for something that was supposed to hide its wearer from Death, it did a poor job: Dementors weren't fooled by it, heck, even Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye could see through it. Once Harry had the other two Hallows in hand, however, the Cloak changed dramatically. Its color became pearly-grey; it fitted itself to the shape of its wearer; and it became, not merely an Invisibility Cloak, but a Stealth Cloak. When he wore it, Harry was invisible, inaudible, scentless; he left no footprints in snow, made no swath in fog; neither mail owls, nor the goblins of Gringotts, nor the magic detectors of the Ministry, could find him. For all intents and purposes, when he wore the Cloak, Harry didn't exist.
Which was why he'd worn it continuously for the first year after Voldemort's death. Never removing it, not for sleeping, not for eating, not even for bathing (Scourgify and Tergeo inside the Cloak worked well enough). He still slept in the Cloak, for safety's sake.
And now, he would again wear it continuously, until he was sure that any Ministry investigators were stymied.
I ought to've known Teddy'd be the weak chink in my armor, Harry thought, striding to the center of the flat. If I hadn't promised Remus… but I did. And Remus and Tonks died fighting at Hogwarts, to buy me time. Wizarding debts don't take my convenience into account, now do they?
He cleared his mind as he readied the Wand for use. 'Course, I gave the restaurant staff a different story than the one I told Teddy, he recalled. I explained my sudden disappearance from the kitchen tonight as just stepping outside to take a phone call - from my brother-in-law, who was telling me about my sister's sudden illness. I told them I had to leave for a week or two, family emergency and all that. Have to admit, they were pretty understanding about it.
A week or two should do it, one way or another. By then, I'll know how closely the Ministry's watching… and whether Jacob Clayman has to disappear for good. Probably, yes. Luckily, Howard Seaker is up-to-date.
A wave of the Elder Wand, and Harry's possessions began to shrink. He shifted his focus slightly, and his clothing marched out from the bedroom and began to fold itself neatly. He went everywhere in the flat, removing all trace of the individual who lived here.
With a thought, he conjured a trunk and watched as all the items in the flat packed themselves into it neatly. The contents of his larder went, sagaciously, into a separate box. Harry might have been able to do the same spells with his holly wand, but the Elder Wand would leave no magical traces. And the spells were easy as pie with the Elder Wand, much faster - and time was most definitely of the essence.
The first time I met Arthur Weasley, he'd just come home from a set of nighttime raids, looking for Misused Muggle Artifacts. So I have to assume that someone from the Ministry is on the night shift - and could be at the restaurant right now. If not now, then certainly by this time tomorrow. I have to be long gone by then.
After all, it's not Tori's mum I'm worried about. It's Tori's aunt.