Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hari needed a vacation. She watched the bath fill faster than any muggle tub and breathed in steam, the lavender scent and silk robe reminders of no longer being on the run. If she couldn’t take a vacation, she could at least take a bath. Each time she tried to take a bath in the last two weeks, something interrupted her. Not this time; tonight was the night. Hari turned off the tap, the promise of soothed muscles just seconds away. Naturally, that’s when a portal opened under her feet and sucked her in.

Hari landed, her bare feet sinking into the mud. She was surrounded by a wall of fire. Hari was about to apparate away on reflex when the fire abruptly vanished. As her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness, the first thing Hari saw was a figure rotating haphazardly in some sort of spherical shield. She looked closer and saw it was a child, naked and disoriented. An unwanted image of Charity Burbage hanging in the air before Nagini… Hari occluded the memory and put up a shield. She couldn’t leave that girl behind. She started to scan the area and saw a man shackled to a wall.

“Welcome home, my lady,” said a smooth baritone. Hari jerked her head to see a man outside the circle of burnt ground. “Your father will be so pleased.” He was impeccably dressed in a muggle suit, but there was something distinctly non-muggle about him.

Hari tried to view the rest of the area without turning her back on the man. Nothing good comes from a person who casually watches a child suffer. In her periphery she saw two young women. Snape would be proud - well, less caustic - if he could see the progress she’d made in occlumency when the sight of a Hagrid-sized, bear-like monster didn’t make her twitch or run screaming. Every being outside of the circle of burnt ground was staring at her.

“Who are you?” Hari asked, quietly.

“My name is Nicodemus.” The man’s shadow inched toward her, toward the light.

“Why did you bring me here without my consent?” Hari asked.

“Nicodemus!” yelled a man. Several people, including a very tall man - with a staff? - were coming toward the circle. From his horrid choice of coat, Hari thought he might be a wizard unused to muggle clothing, but no wizarding culture had used staff foci for centuries. Hari used the distraction to dart toward the captives.

“Sir,” Hari whispered. “I’m going to get us out of here. Do you know where we are?” Hari used silent charms to unbind his ropes and duplicate her robes. It wasn’t great, but it was better than being nude. She added a warming charm. I hope he doesn’t attack me; that would be just my luck.

Green Eyes studied her as he slipped on the robe. “I’m not leaving the child,” he said.

“Neither am I.” Green Eyes nodded, and moved smoothly toward the girl. Hari raised an eyebrow, impressed. She knew from experience it was difficult to respond like that after bad guys restrained you. This cool cucumber was definitely not a pygmy puff.

“There’s a dock and a boat in that direction, but there are –,” Mr. Green Eyes was drowned out by the argument of those outside the burned circle.

“This is end game, Dresden,” said Nicodemus. He looked smug, and Hari had an urge to punch his face. “The Antichrist walks the Earth.” Nicodemus pointed at Hari, and everyone turned to stare.

She froze. Scrutiny makes it rather difficult to rescue hostages. And then the words caught up to her. “Wait. My father? You think my father is…?” Her occlumency was slipping away.

“The Lord of Hell. The Prince of Darkness.”

Hari Potter, leader of the light, the spawn of Satan? A laugh escaped Hari and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “You think my father is the Devil? Literally? As in the Christian God vs. the Devil? The bible? ‘Suffer not a witch to live’ and all that?”

“Indeed. It is a long story, but you were kidnapped immediately after birth and sent to a new reality. Tonight we performed a ritual to bring you home at last.”

A sinking feeling was growing in Hari’s gut that she desperately wanted to ignore.

“And now you will fulfill the glorious purpose for which you were born.” Nicodemus continued.

“Purpose?” Hari whispered. She had a very bad feeling about this.

“Oh yes. The Antichrist brings the apocalypse.”

Chapter Text

Hari was surrounded by strangers staring at her, and none looked pleasant. Faces ranged from fear and disgust to greed. This could go downhill quickly. Hari knew she needed to grab the hostages and escape, but her feet were frozen. When Nicodemus mentioned a possible father, she had a flash of yearning for family that was immediately squashed with anger. How did he know? The first thing she could remember wanting was a parent.

There was a whimper from the shield bubble containing the child. Hari snapped her occlumency back in place and took a breath. Mr. Green Eyes never wavered his gaze, his face a blank mask that would make Snape proud.

“You summoned her from the Outside?” Dresden asked in horror. “John, you might want to…” Dresden made a shooing gesture to Mr. Green Eyes, John. Seriously? I’m the one who was kidnapped, and yet I’m Typhoid Mary? Hari was relieved that John didn’t back away.

“Why do you think I’m… Why do you think - he - is my father?” Hari asked.

“There’s no one the ritual would have summoned except for his child.”

“Well, have you ever done this ritual before? Maybe you did it wrong. You could have pulled the wrong person from the wrong reality. Maybe we should schedule a paternity test. Send me a letter and we’ll set something up. In the meantime, let’s all go home. Have a cup of tea. A nice bath. Because, really, there’s no point to all of this if it’s not–”

“It’s you. We can feel it,” said a tall man with awesome red hair.

“Crowley?” asked Nicodemus in surprise. “What brings you here? Did you come with Aziraphale?”

Hari used the distraction of Crowley's appearance to study the runic circle containing the child. It was unlike anything she had seen. Some runes she recognized, while others were unknown symbols. With a gasp, Hari realized there were no anti-apparition wards built into the runic array! Without waiting another second, Hari apparated into the bubble with the girl, grabbed her, and apparated out. Hari gently transferred the girl to John’s arms, adding a feather-light charm.

Nicodemus’s eyes were narrowed at her.

“Does this mean my grandfather is God?” Hari blurted. There was a pause.

“We are all children of God.” came the low, serious voice of one man. Was he carrying a freaking sword?

“So I have two dads? And one dad is also my grandfather? Because ‘product of incest’ is something I’d rather not know.”

Crowley snorted, and Nicodemus sighed.

“It will be my pleasure to answer your questions, my lady, and reacquaint you with this reality. But first we must deal with these interlopers. Would you care for the pleasure?” Nicodemus asked. It was like the upcoming deaths of several people was a small item on today’s to-do list, and he was already planning which brew to serve for tea.

“Errrr,” Hari said.

“Try it,” dared Dresden, scowling and defiant.

“You’re the Antichrist! Just kill them,” said a rather petulant looking woman with long blades for hair. I’ll never complain about my hair again, thought Hari.

“I will never be defined as the opposite of some man,” Hari said with narrowed eyes. “And I’m not some mindless weapon at your beck and call.” That hit close to home. How many had seen Hari as a tool to be used and discarded? Never again. “You have not convinced me of my parentage. What you have done is piss me off. I suggest you leave.”

“You will bring the apocalypse. It’s the Plan,” said Tessa.

“It’s the ineffable Plan,” corrected Aziraphale.

“It is written!” yelled Tessa.

“But it might be written differently somewhere else,” said Crowley.

“And nothing says it has to start tonight,” said Aziraphale.

“Divination is an imprecise branch of study,” added Hari, glad that at least two others weren’t cheerleaders for the end of the world.

“Rebellion is a fine trait, but some things are beyond rebellion,” said Nicodemus.

“It’s not rebellion. You want me to start a war against unfamiliar enemies, in unfamiliar territory, for a cause I know nothing about, for beings I’ve never met. That sounds like an excellent plan to lose a war,” Hari said.

A strange noise started to build.

“Does anyone else hear strings?” murmured John.

Nicodemus’s eyes widened as he looked behind Hari. He flew toward the treeline faster than Hari had seen anyone move.

Hari did not waste time looking back. She apparated to John, touched him and the child, and was about to apparate away when she was knocked down. She spat out large white feathers that were suddenly in her mouth, and saw Aziraphale with wings - wings! - outstretched and acting as a body shield over the three of them. Something jabbed into her ribs and she saw Crowley’s red hair. All of this help was going to get them killed. It was too risky to apparate all of them at once. Hari threw shield after shield above them.

And then a helicopter grazed the hillside, maybe twenty feet above the ground, blaring the Flight of the Valkyries. What in Merlin’s saggy y-fronts had she been pulled into? When unbelievably loud gunshots started coming from the helicopter, Hari conjured a dome of brick above her outer shields.

Hari remembered an 11-year old Draco Malfoy talking about dodging helicopters on his broom, and started to laugh. Crowley twitched.

After a few minutes, they could not hear anything outside of the brick dome. Crowley suddenly realized he was headbutting the Antichrist and scrambled to the far side of the dome.

“Thank you both for trying to shield us. It’s Aziraphale and Crowley, right?” asked Hari.

“I didn’t do anything. This one dragged me along for the ride. Do you know how much trouble I would get into for doing something nice? You can’t tell!” hissed Crowley.

Aziraphale patted Crowley’s hand.

“Not to worry, dear. Yes, my name is Aziraphale. I was just trying to help.”

“Well, thanks.” Hari leaned over to John and motioned to his ear. “I can fix that if you want.”

“Would there be any side effects, debts or favors owed, or anything similar?” John asked warily.

“Nope. Just passing the time,” shrugged Hari.

John nodded. Hari healed his ear, vanished the blood, transfigured his robe into jeans and a soft sweater, and then moved to the sleeping child, healing the superficial scrapes.

A knock sounded on the brick dome. “Boss?”

“We’re here, Mr. Hendricks. Status?” asked John.

“Clear for the moment. Dresden and some others are here,” replied Mr. Hendricks.

“If you would lift your protections, ma’am.” asked John.

Hari hesitated. It was a lot more pleasant here than it had been out there. She vanished the bricks but left the other shields. She didn’t see anyone who was enthusiastic about the apocalypse, but the man who looked at her like she was Typhoid Mary was coming up the hill.

“Safe enough, you think?” Hari asked John.

“You can stay under the shield if you prefer, but I plan to get on the helicopter with the child and find a more defensible location. You’re welcome to come.” said John.

After a heated exchange between John and Dresden, everyone piled into the helicopter. As they rose into the air, there was a buffer of empty space around Hari. A silver lining of people thinking you’re the Antichrist is leg and elbow room.

Chapter Text

The roaring of the helicopter was putting Hari on edge. The utter strangeness of the kidnapping and ‘child of the Devil’ thing was starting to hit. No way. Her parents were James and Lily. Right? Right. And maybe she had done a few things that were unexplained and thought impossible by the magical community. And an uncomfortable portion of the population had seen her as the messiah of the magical world since she was a baby. But no. That was just luck and weird circumstances.

Hari silenced all external noise from the helicopter’s cabin and felt her shoulders start to unclench. Then she saw everyone was staring at her again. Great. “So… Does anyone know where we are?”

“Chicago.”

“The states? I’ve never been. Chicago’s somewhere near the top, right?”

A petite woman gave a shrugging nod, and an awkward silence fell.

“By any chance, do any of the apocalypse lovers fly?” asked Hari.

“Yes.”

“Ah. Lovely.” A pause. “So… how long is this flight?” asked Hari, glancing out the window.

“Ms. Gard?” asked John.

“Approximately 34 minutes,” came the voice from the pilot’s seat.

“Thanks,” said Hari. John nodded.

“Does anyone know the child? Know how to get her back home?” Hari asked.

A few nods. Wow. Tough crowd.

“Who were those people? What are the chances they’ll follow us?”

“They are a sect of the Fallen,” said a large man with a Russian accent. Who was also carrying a sword. Crowley twitched. “I don’t think they’re interested in anyone but you,”

“Don’t talk to the Outsider!” hissed Dresden.

“An outsider? Oh. Is this a cult?” Hari asked. She looked at John, “I thought you were too rational and badass for that.” Sotto voce, she said, “I can get you out.”

John’s lip twitched.

“Outsiders are very dangerous beings who exist beyond the Outer Gates of reality,” said Dresden.

“I live in England,” said Hari.

“England?”

“Uh-huh. I was home, getting ready for a bath, and then - bam! - I was on that hillside. Whatever they did, they messed up,” Hari said. Dresden looked skeptical, but the others started to relax.

“So…introductions? Being against the apocalypse seems like a low bar for friendship, but I’ll take it,” said Hari.

“I’m Michael,” said a man with a sword.

“Hari,” she said.

“How do you know my first name? No one has used it,” growled Dresden.

“I don’t? My name is Hari. I’m guessing you’re Harry, too. Harry Dresden?” asked Hari. This guy was a porcupine. Why was he glaring toward her but not meeting her eyes? Was this bravado covering fear?

“Only my friends call me Harry,” Dresden drawled, and locked eyes on Hari’s.

Hari was sucked into Dresden’s mind, and felt him enter her thoughts. No! Never again. She hurled her occlumency barriers up and viciously kicked him from her mind. Hari petrified him and transfigured chains that wrapped around his body. Michael and a woman were going for weapons. Hari put shields around herself, John, the child, Aziraphale and Crowley.

“Stop,” commanded John. Everyone stopped moving.

“He attacked my mind.” Hari snarled. Only Hari’s heaving breaths were heard in the tense silence.

“Ma’am. Hari. We’re flying over water. This is not a good place for conflict,” said John, calmly.

“I won’t let us crash,” said Hari. The ‘obviously’ just barely bitten off.

“I appreciate that. Dresden lacks civility and tact, but attacking someone’s mind is against his morals. Let’s ask for an explanation,” continued John. Did nothing phase this guy? “I’d take it as a favor if you lifted the spell so he doesn’t suffocate.”

Hari blinked. “He won’t suffocate. It’s a basic petrification spell. It’s not hurting him and will wear off on its own, even if I don’t reverse it. I don’t just go around killing people,” muttered Hari.

“Good. That’s good,” said Aziraphale. “Isn’t that good, Crowley?”

“Leave me out of this, angel. I’d be skinned alive for eternity if I ever reported the words ‘good’ and ‘antichrist’ together,” muttered Crowley.

Hari ignored him and focused on breathing. Against her better judgement, she lifted the petrification on Dresden’s head, leaving his body immobile. “Explain,” she said.

“You have a soul,” said Dresden.

“Of course I bloody well have a soul!” said Hari, scowling.

“Outsiders don’t have souls,” explained Dresden.

“I’m not an Outsider. Or maybe your information on Outsiders is wrong,” said Hari. “Why did you attack my mind?”

Dresden grimaced. “I didn’t. It was a soul gaze.“

“What’s a soul gaze?” asked Hari.

“When a wizard looks into someone’s eyes for the first time, they see each others’ souls. It’s automatic; I didn’t have any control over it,” answered Dresden.

“I’ve never heard of anything like that, ever. Wait. You do uncontrolled mind magic?” asked Hari, aghast.

Dresden tilted his head. “The only being with a soul who has ever stopped a soul gaze in my experience was… was one of the Fallen. Not even wizards can do that.” Dresden looked pensive.

“I’m not the Antichrist,” sighed Hari.

“Yes you are,” said Crowley, and then tried to hide behind Aziraphale’s shoulder when Hari gazed his way.

“It’s ridiculous. I was born to a very nice, young couple. I share parts of their features,” explained Hari.

“Let’s see if we can approach this a different way. Have you shown any divine powers?” inquired Aziraphale.

“Divine?” asked Hari.

“Have you ever reacted differently to a universal human experience?” asked Aziraphale.

“Like death. Have you died?” Crowley said.

Hari fidgeted and Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “I got better!” Hari blurted.

Crowley snorted. It was Sanya’s booming guffaw that made the cabin break out in hysterical laughter.

“Alright. Ok. Thanks for telling me, dear. May I ask what you know about religion?” asked Aziraphale, soothingly.

“I don’t know much about religion besides the witch burnings, which were seriously messed up.” The nods encouraged Hari to continue. “Besides that, I just know God and the Devil are necromancers, right? The original necromancers.”

Michael and Murphy looked scandalized.

“Necromancers?” Dresden asked in a high voice.

“Obviously. God created Death,” said Hari. “If you believe the story, then he made a new species with a self-sustaining population with two absolutes: every human is born with a soul, and every human will die. When they die, he does things to their souls. So does the Devil. Like father, like son. God isn’t just a necromancer, he’s the necromancer.”

The last time Hari had seen faces with that expression, Fred and George had been testing new products.

“Do you know about…Jesus?” Aziraphale looked like he already regretted asking.

Hari relaxed. She knew this one, and the answer was less controversial. “He was the originator of trickle-down economics, right?”

Hari ignored a wheezing noise coming from the cockpit and continued. “Instead of the church tithing everyone, he said, ‘Why don’t we cut out the middle man?’ Jesus thought if people prayed directly to God and focused on being kind to each other, then they didn’t really need the middle-men priests to control them. And everyone would be happier keeping the money they’d normally give to the church, spending it on other things that would make other people happier and wealthier. Well, the church didn’t like the idea of lost revenue or power at all and killed him brutally. When he came back to life, people realized magic was real and thought a combination of, ‘run for your lives!’ and ‘do whatever the zombie man says’. They founded a new church that ended up tithing people and then burning suspected magical people at the stake, so his messages were lost in the confusion, but some politicians and economists in recent history have picked up on his economic message.”

Stunned silence.

Crowley, eyes wide, said, “Oh, I like you. Angel, can we keep her?”

“I’ve never heard that interpretation before,” said Michael, diplomatically.

“Perhaps we should make some time to discuss the differences between realities and go over a bit on religion,” said Aziraphale. “Over tea and crumpets, of course! I know a great place.”

“You really think this is a different reality? I’ve never heard of anything like that,” said Hari. “Isn’t it more likely they messed up the ritual?”

“You also hadn’t heard of soul gazes, and there’s not a wizard who doesn’t know of them,” said Dresden, sighing. “The Denarians may be pure evil, but they know magic.”

Dread was starting to fill Hari. An image of walking down the sidewalk of Grimmauld Place and not seeing her house flashed in Hari’s mind.

“But… If they brought me here, then there must be a way back, right? I can go home?” Hari’s voice was shaking.

No one answered.

Hari started her occlumency breathing exercises. As her shields soothed her fear, a calming thought popped in her mind.

“No, I think they messed up the ritual. If you had a daughter or granddaughter who was kidnapped, and she was finally brought home, wouldn’t you go see her immediately? They didn’t show up, so they either don’t care or they know I’m not their family.” said Hari in a stronger voice.

“We were there. Quite a few beings from both sides were there,” said Michael.

“Are you an angel, too, then?” asked Hari.

Michael smiled and said, “No. I’m a Knight.”

Dresden said, “He’s the Fist of God.”

Crowley was definitely using Aziraphale as a body shield.

“Errrr,” said Hari.

“Harry,” sighed Michael.

“Yes?” both Dresden and Hari answered.

“Ugh. That’s going to get confusing,” said Murphy.

“You can call me Black if you want. Hari Black.” An instinct warned her not to give her full name.

“Of course your last name is Black,” teased Dresden with an impish smile. He was starting to grow on Hari.

“ETA is 4 minutes,” said Ms. Gard.

“I have an apartment you’re welcome to use. It’s late. We can figure the rest out after some sleep,” said John.

Hari watched John for a minute. “Are you sure?”

John nodded. Hari said, “Alright. Thanks.”

“Um. Can you unbind me?” asked Dresden.

“How has no one killed you yet,” sighed Hari. She released Dresden and silently changed his hair color to a garish pattern of lime green with neon pink polkadots.

Chapter Text

Hari closed the door of the apartment, threw a locking charm behind her, and looked around. It was a nice place, if impersonal. She toured the apartment and started casting wards, alarms, and protection charms. Hopefully, she would have a few seconds of warning to disapparate if someone broke in.

Hari sat with her back to the wall, both the entryway and window in her field of view. Why was she in this apartment? All she had to do was make an illegal portkey and she’d be back home. Kingsley wouldn’t mind too much. She could sleep in her bed.

Avoidance. Hari knew she was postponing the revelation of whether or not this truly was a different reality. Time to be a Gryffindor. Concentrating on happy memories, a patronus erupted from her wand. “Bill, something strange happened. I’ll catch you up soon. Not to worry.” Instead of leaping through the walls, the patronus circled Hari, stopped moving, and then disappeared.

Dread building, Hari grabbed a mug, made a portkey, and cast an invisibility charm. With a jarring landing, she was in the park across from Grimmauld Place. In front of her eyes was a perfect replica of the vision she had earlier - her house was not there.

Hari apparated to Scotland, to find untamed countryside where Hogwarts and Hogsmeade should be. Another apparition took her to a bright, well-lit grocery instead of the Leaky Cauldron. Another apparition took her to a well-maintained pond surrounded by identical suburban houses rather than the Burrow. No Shell Cottage. Chest clenching, she apparated outside of Malfoy Manor and let out a hysterical laugh - it was a spa.

The portkey dropped Hari back at the apartment in Chicago. As the bathtub filled, she thought she might maim anyone or anything that interrupted this bath. Finally slipping into the hot water, Hari closed her eyes. The wizarding world did not exist here. She had no home, no friends, no history. She’d given everything in a war to save her people, and now they were out of reach. The only possessions she had were in a small bag with an Undetectable Extension charm that had been strapped to her ankle for the last year. Water repelling charms meant it didn’t come off, even in a bath.

After the water cooled, Hari slipped into bed. Emotionally she was numb. Physically, she was more exhausted than after she killed Voldemort.

Hari woke the next morning, more exhausted than when she went to sleep. Maybe if she stayed in bed long enough, her problems would go away and the world would change for the better. Yeah, right.

Hari pulled herself out of bed. Twenty minutes later she knocked on Aziraphale’s hotel room. He opened the door, looking a bit shifty.

“Oh, hello there, dearie. Won’t you come in? I was thinking of having a spot of breakfast. Would you like anything?” Aziraphale asked.

As Hari walked in the room, her eyes were drawn to an enormous snake by the window. “Oh, you’re so beautiful!” said Hari in Parseltongue. The snake hissed dismissively at her, but she recognized those eyes. “Crowley?”

Crowley transformed into human form and sighed. “Great idea, angel. That lasted for all of five seconds.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Hari.

“We don’t particularly want anyone to find out we’re socializing,” said Aziraphale.

“Why not?”

“A demon and an angel? We’re supposed to be eternal enemies, aren’t we?” said Crowley.

“Can’t you just say you’re trying to lure the other to switch sides?” asked Hari.

Aziraphale winced. “That comes with its own problems.”

Crowley moved to pull on his sunglasses. Hari said, “You don’t have to put those on for me. I like your eyes.”

Crowley gave a small smile and sat down. Aziraphale was puttering around the kitchenette, arranging food on plates.

“I went to England last night. It was England, but it wasn’t my England. It’s gone. My home. Everywhere else I’ve known. It’s all gone,” said Hari, clinging to her occlumency.

“I’m sorry, dear,” said Aziraphale, as he put an arm around her and pushed a plate of scones toward her.

“I need to learn about the history of this place. What’s different. If there’s a way back. And while I don’t believe this story about my heritage, other people do so I need information,” said Hari.

“That makes sense,” said Aziraphale.

“I was in desperate need of a vacation before this whole kidnapping business. So why don’t we go somewhere beautiful, get some rest, and then chat when we feel like it?

“We?” asked Crowley in a high-pitched voice.

“Sure. We’ll relax, eat good food, sleep, and enjoy the scenery,” said Hari.

Crowley spluttered and Aziraphale looked concerned.

“What’s the problem? Just say I’ve selected you as an advisor. I’d like multiple perspectives,” said Hari. This did not garner immediate approval. “Come on. Don’t you want to hang out with each other without getting in trouble? Couldn’t you use a vacation after all of this?”

Both looked like they would like to run far, far away.

Hari switched tactics. “How long has it been since you sunbathed and were properly warm? Think of the lovely food - vacation calories don’t count.”

Aziraphale perked up, and Crowley’s dread grew.

“Well…perhaps,” said Aziraphale.

“Excellent,” said Hari. “Do you know a good vacation spot?”

______________________________________

Hari decided to walk back to the apartment and stretch her legs while the guys packed. At the end of her stroll, Nicodemus was leaning against the apartment building’s entrance.

“Hello, my lady,” said Nicodemus.

“I want to know the details of that ritual,” Hari demanded with narrowed eyes.

“I’ll answer any questions you have. There’s a lot you need to learn. I can tell you about your father, about this reality. I can take you anywhere you want,” said Nicodemus. His voice was soft and soothing.

“Are you offering to show me the world?” asked Hari.

“If you’d like,” smiled Nicodemus.

“I’d like…Earth,” said Hari, stepping toe to toe with Nicodemus. “I don’t believe this story of my heritage. But since you’re sticking to it, how about this: God stays in heaven, the Devil stays in hell, and I’ll take Earth. I’m taking a vacation here. A long vacation.” Hari put her hands gently on the noose around Nicodemus’ neck and fiddled with it, as if adjusting a neck tie. He went rigid. “If anyone interrupts my holiday with an apocalypse or disaster or rain of toads, I’ll destroy you.”

Hari took a step back and said, “Do you know any good vacation spots?”

Nicodemus answered smoothly, “Cypress is nice this time of year.”

Hari nodded. “Goodbye, Nicodemus.”

Who said she couldn’t be diplomatic?

______________________________________

When Hari arrived in the apartment, she dialed a phone number.

“Hello. Mr. Hendricks?” she asked.

“Speaking.”

“I’d like to speak with John if he’s up to it and has a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

“Sooner is better than later. And Mr. Hendricks?”

“Yes?”

“If possible, can we keep this between us?”

There was a pause. “I’ll call you back, ma’am.” Click.

Hari hung up and sighed. “Americans.”

Half an hour later, Hari walked into a rather impersonal office, saw John in a chair, and smiled. “Hello, John. How are you today?”

With a polite smile, John said, “I'm well, thank you, Ms. Black. And you?” He gestured to the seat across from him.

“It’s Hari, if you’d like,” she replied and paused, watching him. He looked tired but functional. “Nicodemus came by the apartment building this morning,”

John’s mask looked more blank than polite. “Oh?”

“Yes. I’m not sure how he found me,” she said.

“I did not tell him,” said John.

“I know,”

John steepled his fingers and waited.

“I see three main possibilities,” Hari continued. “One has the potential to threaten your safety, so I wanted to mention it.”

“Indeed?”

“Perhaps he followed me one way or another. But he was waiting for me when I returned to the apartment. Not when I left the apartment. And he didn’t intercept me en route. It makes me think he knew the address. The most likely explanation is someone told him where I was staying. So how were you kidnapped, John? If there’s overlap…” Hari’s voice trailed off.

John had very little reaction. After a few seconds he nodded and said, “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry the accommodations were not secure.”

Hari chuckled. “It’s not the first time I’ve been used as bait.”

John looked up sharply.

Hari shrugged. “I put up protections against intruders. I hope you learned what you needed.”

John inclined his head.

“I wanted to ask something else, if you have a minute,” said Hari.

John said, “What would you like to know?”

“Do you know anyone ‘in the know’ about magic who would be interested in a portkey?” asked Hari.

“I’m afraid I am not familiar with portkeys,” responded John.

“Right. A portkey is a device that can transport anyone touching it to a different location. For example, you could have a necklace portkey that transports you between home and office whenever a passphrase is used. Or a one-way portkey that transports you to the hospital. Or a portkey that goes between two locations at set times. There are a few ways to set them up.”

“And you are interested in selling portkeys?” asked John.

“Well, I want to go on vacation. I verified this is a different reality. I need some time to figure out what that means and where to go from here. Crowley said he has money for a vacation, but I’d rather not rely solely on anyone,” Hari rambled. She didn’t say how she made her first portkey after being kidnapped by Crouch, and how much peace of mind it brought to have a voice-activated escape on her at all times. “I thought they’d be useful. But there are other options for quick funds, like transfiguration and healing.”

John asked a few questions about how portkeys worked and how long they lasted.

“I’d be willing to give you a cash advance if you create a portkey for me,” said John. “Half now, and half upon delivery. How does this amount sound?” John wrote down a number and slid it to Hari.

There were several zeros. “I don’t have any idea how muggle money works in this reality, so I’ll just say yes,” shrugged Hari.

“If you’d like, we can have a discussion on business at another time,” said John.

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you going on vacation?” asked John.

“Anywhere but Cypress. Do you have any recommendations? A secluded beach? Travel is less of an issue for me than most.”

John made a few recommendations and they said goodbye. Hari doubted he’d take a holiday in the near future.

In less than an hour, Hari was knocking on Aziraphale’s door. She put a ridiculously oversized straw hat on his head and grinned.

“We’re going to the beach!”

Crowley looked queasy and popped something in his mouth.

Aziraphale perked up. “Crowley, did you finally find something besides wine you want to eat?”

Crowley glared at Aziraphale and held up a bottle of antacids. “We’re going to need these by the handful,” mourned Crowley.

“Oh, come on. I already warned Nicodemus not to bother me on holiday,” said Hari.

Crowley spluttered. “When did you see him?”

“Not to worry,” said Hari, twirling a parasol. “We’re going on an adventure!”

Aziraphale reached for the antacids.

Chapter Text

The Caribbean has over 7,000 islands, and only approximately 100 are inhabited. With a little help from John, Hari chose an uninhabited, unclaimed island and declared it hers. There were no pictures of her island, so Hari portkeyed to a resort on a nearby island and then flew to her island. Once there, she made a portkey to Chicago to collect Aziraphale and Crowley.

Hari made herself busy setting up the site while Aziraphale and Crowley looked nervous. Apparently being taken to an uninhabited island with no communication equipment and no method of easy egress was nerve wracking.

Hari setup portkeys for the three of them to go between her island, the resort a few islands over, and Chicago.

Aziraphale looked much happier once she conjured some lounge chairs, umbrellas, and small tables. He looked thrilled when she brought back some drinks and snacks from the resort. Crowley looked less grumpy once he had tested out the portkey.

“Angel, this would have saved us so much bother over the last few thousand years.” Crowley looked at Hari. “Any chance you could teach us how to make these, or make some more for us?”

“Sure, we can try,” shrugged Hari. “It took a few years of basic study before I tried to make one. I’m not sure how compatible our abilities are, but we can try.”

“You do realize you’re a reality angel, right? You can just…will it into being,” said Crowley.

“You think I’m an angel?” asked Hari.

“Of course you are, dear,” said Aziraphale.

“I don’t have wings,” said Hari. “And you think I can just make things happen. Without a wand or specific spell or potion?”

“Well. Yes,” said Crowley. “Can’t you?”

“I can do a lot of things. But that hasn’t been my experience, no,” said Hari.

“Maybe it’s because you’re so young,” said Aziraphale. “Or it could be a difference between realities. Maybe the other one restricted your abilities somehow. We’ll work it out.”

Hari spent some time setting up the tent and stocking the kitchen. Finally, she sat on a lounge chair next to Aziraphale. After about ten seconds she started to fidget.

“Did you sit on an ant hill?” asked Crowley.

“I’ve never seen the ocean before. And I’ve never been on vacation, really. I’m not sure how this works,” said Hari.

“Hmm. Well, eat good food, sleep, and do fun things?” suggested Aziraphale.

“Is there anything you’ve wanted to do but haven’t been able to because of other duties or obligations?” asked Crowley.

“Well… I’ve always wanted to work on my animagus transformation, but I’ve never had time to do the necessary meditation.”

“Meditation on a beach. How thrilling,” drawled Crowley.

Hari summoned an animagus book from her bag, curled up on the lounge chair, and read. Sometimes she would find herself staring at the ocean. A constant breeze blew in from the water. It was peaceful. Beautiful. Calming. This was paradise. Why do people live in London or brave the Scotland winters when they could live on a beach?

Hari found herself scanning her surroundings. She felt naked without wards up. This was an amazing, picturesque setting. Why couldn’t she relax?

Crowley must have noticed her distraction. “What does that book tell you about changing forms?”

“It starts with a great deal of meditation. There are a few ways to determine your animal form before transforming, but they take a long time. One of them involves keeping a mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month. Ugh. Just…ugh. Besides, I don’t even know if mandrakes exist in this reality.”

“I think you’re making it too complicated,” said Crowley.

“Oh?”

“Did it not occur to you to ask me about changing forms? You’ve seen my snake form,” said Crowley.

“Well, you’re not a wizard. You’re an…angel,” Hari’s voice trailed off.

“Demon,” corrected Crowley.

“That’s a bit like nationality, isn’t it? If you had a passport, it would be stamped ‘hell’ instead of ‘heaven’, but that doesn’t change the fact that you were born of the angel species, right? It’s a political difference?”

Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth a few times, but gave up on speaking when Crowley tossed him the antacids.

“Let’s just focus on shifting to a different form,” redirected Crowley. “What animal do you want to be?”

“Well, it says I don’t get to choose. That it’s based on primary character traits.”

“Ignore that. I’m asking – if you could change your form into anything, what would it be?”

“Well. I like to fly. Having wings would be great. Animagi don’t take the form of magical animals, but I think it would be neat to be a phoenix or dragon,” said Hari.

“Dragon?” asked Aziraphale in a choked voice.

“Mmhmm. Not a Welsh Green. They look too nice. Hungarian Horntails have a lot of built-in armor and great maneuverability. Norwegian Ridgebacks are prettier. But a phoenix might make more sense in terms of size,” mused Hari.

“Dragon. Right. I want you to envision yourself as a dragon,” said Crowley. “Right here, as you sit, imagine that when you look down you see wings instead of arms.”

Crowley moved over to Hari’s lounge chair and spoke in an undertone, making odd gestures with his arms. Aziraphale smiled. A few days ago they’d been frantically worried about an imminent apocalypse, and now… Now he was on a beach with the serpent of Eden and the Antichrist. He shook his head like a dog shaking off water. No, he was here with his colleague and…friend?...from the last several thousand years and a delightful young woman with brilliant magic and a desire for peace. Maybe he could relax and imagine a new, happy future.

Aziraphale daydreamed while admiring the ocean. He was brought back into the present abruptly by a plume of flames.

Hari transformed and kept getting larger and larger. She had wings! She was towering over the trees. She let out a belly laugh and flames shot from her mouth. Hari jerked back in shock and then snorted in amusement, making more fire shoot into the sky.

She tried walking, only to fall face first in the shallow water. Hari laughed more, which created more flames. Steam rose from the shoreline. She gave two big flaps of her wings to try to fly, but water splashed over Crowley and the umbrellas fell in the wind from her wings, causing Aziraphale to squawk. After a few shaky steps, a few ridiculously failed hops, and a lot of giggle-induced flames, Hari made her way back to the shoreline.

She turned back to human form and laughed with pure joy until she fell to her knees. Hari Black was a dragon. She couldn’t wait to fly with her own wings!

Crowley looked like a proud papa who taught his kid how to ride a bike. Aziraphale grumbled until Hari put the umbrellas to rights and fetched him a fruit plate.

“Did you see that, Aziraphale!” exclaimed Hari.

“Yes, dear,” said the angel.

“Did you see that! I turned into a dragon. A dragon!”

The next day, Hari was sprawled on her lounge chair in the sun with a straw hat, sunglasses, and Crowley draped over her in snake form. Apparently being heated from the sun above and a person below was - ahem - a damned good experience for a fallen angel.

A man walked up to Hari. He seemed to be smoking a cigarette, but Hari looked closer and saw it wasn’t lit. He looked at Crowley, gave a small smile, and met Hari’s eyes.

“Hello, hatchling,” he said to Hari.

“Hello.” Hari conjured another lounge chair. She should be frantic about having a stranger appear on her island, but there was something about him…

“I felt a dragon walk the earth yesterday. It has been a long time.” He arranged himself on the chair.

Crowley very slowly moved to the ground and then slithered toward Aziraphale.

“There aren’t any other dragons in this reality?” asked Hari. She didn’t try to hide her disappointment.

“No dragons have been born for ages,” said the man.

“I saw a dragon hatch once!” said Hari with a wide smile.

“Oh?” he said.

The two chatted for a while until he gave her a business card and disappeared.

Aziraphale ate an antacid. Crowley took the bottle and threw back two antacids like they were shots. Aziraphale grabbed the bottle back and ate two more antacids. Hari was reminded of Neville and Luna sharing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans.

“Do you know who that was?” asked Crowley in a screechy voice.

“A dragon animagus of some sort, I suppose,” shrugged Hari.

“That was,” Crowley looked around and then whispered, “Ferrovax. He’s… He’s…” Crowley’s voice trailed off.

“Ineffable?” suggested Aziraphale.

“And large,” said Crowley. “And an actual…”

“Dragon,” finished Aziraphale.

“Right,” nodded Crowley.

“A dragon? He seemed a bit small for a dragon. Maybe dragons are different in this reality? I liked him,” said Hari.

“Please don’t ever repeat that about his size,” begged Crowley, eating another antacid.

“Is this a male inferiority thing?” asked Hari.

Crowley scoffed.

Hari continued, “It’s not the size, but how you use it. I had this professor once who–”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” Aziraphale cringed.

“--was a world-class dueling champion even though he was less than four feet tall,” finished Hari.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then Crowley returned to serpent form and curled around Aziraphale, head facing away from Hari. Apparently the conversation was over. Males, thought Hari.

A few days later, Hari put up a complex ward scheme on the island, based on the Black family wards. No one would be able to find this island in the future without her approval. Boats would sail around with their captains being none the wiser. It was nice to meet Mr. Ferro, but no one else was stepping onto her paradise uninvited. That night, she slept through the night for the first time in years.

Chapter Text

Hari stood outside of Dresden’s office, staring at the lettering on the door. Specifically, the word ‘Wizard’. Dresden was insane. He must be completely insane.

“Are you completely insane?” Hari asked after walking into the room.

Dresden blinked. “Do you hear those voices too?”

Hari huffed. “You advertise as a wizard on your office door. Muggles see that.”

“Muggles?”

“Non-magical humans,” answered Hari.

“I’m in the phonebook, too,” said Dresden. He grabbed a thick, yellow phonebook and proudly pointed to a specific page.

Hari looked at the advertisement and mouthed ‘paranormal investigations’, eyes getting wider. “How are you not in jail?”

“Jail?” Dresden raised an eyebrow.

“Muggles see this,” said Hari, as if that explained everything.

“Yes?”

“Doesn’t your local wizarding government stop people from exposing the magical world to muggles?” asked Hari.

“Local wizarding government?” Both of Dresden’s eyebrows were reaching for his hairline.

“You don’t have a wizarding government?” asked Hari, eyes wide.

“We do… The White Council is made up of human wizards. It’s a worldwide organization. It governs the Laws of Magic.”

Hari held up her hand to stop Dresden, grabbed one of his notepads and a pen, and spelled it to transcribe the conversation. “Laws of Magic?”

Dresden invited Hari to take a seat. After a dubious glance at the rather uncomfortable-looking chair, Hari transfigured it into a tufted chesterfield and sat down. Dresden watched the chair for a few seconds and dragged his attention back to the conversation.

“Ah. Right. Yes. There are seven laws. Breaking any one of them leads to an immediate death sentence by beheading.” Dresden’s eyes were locked on the pen, which was frantically writing by itself.

“Harsh,” said Hari.

“Yep,” said Dresden.

“Do any of the laws concern keeping the muggle and magical worlds separate?” asked Hari.

“Magical world? It’s just one world. Granted, most of the older wizards tend to be reclusive after their second century. And there aren’t too many beings that can sustain themselves on this side of the Nevernever for long, so it’s not a huge issue.”

Hari blinked. “Nevernever? Please tell me Peter Pan is fictional.”

Dresden smirked. “Ah. Perhaps a conversation for another day.”

Hari looked at Dresden skeptically. “Hmmm.” After a pause, she said, “You really don’t have any magical communities? Magical shopping areas? What about schools?”

Dresden frowned. “There just aren’t that many of us. And wizards don’t tend to associate too closely with non-humans.”

Hari didn’t make it too much longer into the conversation. She said her goodbyes to Dresden, mind whirling.

_________________________________________

“John?”

“Yes, Ms. Black?”

“It’s just Hari. Can I ask you a question about the other Harry? About Dresden?”

John nodded and took a sip of his tea. Hari fiddled with her tea cup.

“Is Dresden… Well, that is to say… Is Dresden – sane?”

John’s lip twitched. “Dresden may act in an unusual manner, but I have no reason to doubt he is of sound mind.”

Hari huffed.

“May I ask what he did to make you doubt his sanity?” asked John.

“I stopped by his office,” said Hari.

After a few seconds, John responded, “Oh?”

“He has ‘Wizard’ on his door. He advertises in the muggle phonebook for anyone to see,” answered Hari.

“It is certainly unusual,” said John.

Hari shook her head. “In my reality, the consequence of a wizard exposing the magical world to non-magical people is –,” Hari remembered the hollow sound of Sirius’s voice when recalling Azkaban, Hagrid’s fear, and Bellatrix’s cackling. “No sane person would risk it.”

Hari sighed. “Well, if Dresden’s not insane then this reality seems a bit mad.”

_________________________________________

Hari was curled up on her lounge chair, watching the sunset over the ocean.

“How’d it go today?” asked Aziraphale, holding out a fruit plate to Hari.

She grabbed a grape. “This reality is so different. I’m trying to wrap my head around it. Maybe the changes are for the better. But… I don’t know. Culture shock, I suppose. How was your day?”

“Oh, it was lovely! I had a lovely bit of sushi a few islands over.”

Hari smiled. She had a lovely tropical island, and an angel to feed her grapes. She definitely needed to relax more and not think about the differences in realities. Not think about the millions of lives lost between Grindelwald, Voldemort, and others in contention about the International Statute of Secrecy. Would those problems arise in this reality? Nope. Focus on the ocean and angel tonight.

_________________________________________

“You shouldn’t spend so much time with Marcone,” said Dresden during another session of being bashed over the head with this surreal reality.

“John? Why not?” asked Hari.

“He’s the head of the mob in Chicago,” said Dresden.

“The mob?”

“Yeah,” nodded Dresden, as if everything was clear.

“He… looked like one person to me,” said Hari.

Dresden blinked. “No. The mob.”

Hari tilted her head.

Dresden continued. “The mafia? Cosa nostra?”

Hari shook her head.

Dresden was getting agitated. “The head of organized crime!”

Hari started to look a little concerned at Dresden’s behavior and answered in a confused voice. “...as opposed to unorganized crime?”

Dresden looked stumped. “Drugs. Gambling. Prostitution. All manner of illegal activity.”

“Drugs? Are the states prohibitionist in this reality? That’s such a terrible idea.”

Dresden’s cheeks were turning red, and it looked like he was about to yell.

_________________________________________

“Dresden, do potions exist in this reality? Magical potions?” asked Hari.

“Oh yes. Of course,” said Dresden.

“Where do you get potion ingredients?”

“All over, really. You can use whatever is lying around as long as it has the right symbolism, of course.”

Hari tilted her head. “Symbolism?”

“Yep,” said Dresden.

“How do –,” Hari cleared her throat. “How do potions work in this reality?”

“You drink them,” said Dresden, looking at Hari like she was an imbecile.

Hari smiled. It felt familiar to have someone scoffing at her about potions. Maybe Snape found a way to haunt the subject. The thought was oddly comforting.

“Obviously. Do you switch out local ingredients for certain recipes or something?”

“Recipes?” asked Dresden.

“...Yes? Don’t you have standard recipes for things like headache cures, calming draughts, burn creams,” Hari’s voice started to get higher as Dresden’s blank look remained firmly in place. “dreamless sleep? dragon pox vaccines? Polyjuice? Wolfsbane?”

“Standard recipes?” Dresden asked.

“Yes. Yes. Recipes that everyone can follow. If you use the same ingredients, prepare everything the same way, follow all brewing instructions, everyone should get an effective result…” Hari trailed off.

Dresden raised an eyebrow. “Nope. Every potion has the same number of ingredients. Basically, one for each of the senses. The symbolism of what the ingredient means to the wizard matters. Potions don’t have standard recipes – it doesn’t work that way here.”

Hari blinked, opened her mouth, and closed it again. She thought Snape might hate this reality more than he hated Sirius Black.

_________________________________________

Hari and John were having tea again. She was feeling restless and agitated.

“I’m still getting used to the fact that there aren’t separate wizarding and muggle governments in this reality. It’s just all muggle,” said Hari. “I’m not really worried about things like identification. I want to get land to build a home to my specifications at some point, but I can easily choose places that are not inhabitable by others or choose a place and then make it inaccessible through various means. I’m not really sure if I need identification at all. I certainly won’t be subject to any government.” Hari was rambling. She took a sip of tea before continuing.

“As for employment - there’s plenty I can do to keep myself occupied. And I am still on a much-needed vacation. But I will have to find a way to make some money to trade for various supplies or needs. I still don’t have the best understanding of this reality, so I’m not sure how to interact with the muggle world using magic, if that makes sense.”

“What can I help you with, Lady Black?” asked John.

“It’s Hari, if you’d like. You said we could talk about business at some point. Perhaps you have an idea about identification and – well – making money,” said Hari.

John studied Hari, hands steepled in front of him. “What is your experience?”

“My experience?”

“How have you been employed in the last year or so?” asked John.

Hari thought for a moment. Saying the words ‘leader of the light’ or ‘undesirable number one’ seemed like a bad idea in this reality. “I suppose it would fall under the title of ‘war leader’.” John did not seem shocked at this, so Hari continued. “But that’s not something I’d do for money. I’m quite good at destroying things that people find difficult to annihilate.” Gard twitched. “There are all sorts of things I can make that aren’t available to the muggle public, like portkeys or alternate methods of communication, that I have no intention of making widely available.” Hari paused for a few seconds. “I’m very good at finding secrets. Noninvasive interrogation. Oooh - I’m good at getting into difficult places; I robbed a high-security bank a couple of months ago.”

Suddenly realizing how this sounded, Hari backtracked. “It wasn’t for theft. Well, it was. Sort of. It was part of the war. My enemy had something in a vault I had to destroy in order to win the war.” Hari’s shoulder’s slumped. “All of the things I’ve mentioned sound… aggressive.” Hari paused for a few seconds and then practically shouted, making Hendricks jolt. “Healing! I enjoy healing - that might be a very nice way of making money - but it couldn’t be in a muggle facility.”

John’s eyes glittered. “Healing. Yes, I can see that being very profitable. Let me think about this for a few days.”

Hari nodded.

“Now, may I ask how learning about this reality is going?” asked John.

Hari snorted. “The simplest explanation is that Dresden is completely barmy. So… I’m working on it.”

Chapter Text

Hari walked up to the Carpenter’s home. There was a gate at the edge of the lawn that seemed to glow with light. Hari looked closer and could see the shining outline of many ghost-like beings. But they didn’t seem to be happily floating around and gossiping. Oh, no. They were carrying weapons and looking at her suspiciously. Ghosts weren’t going to stop her. She walked through the gate and raised her hand to knock on the door when it opened. She came face to face with a startled Michael, holding a large bag over one shoulder.

“Hello, Ms. Black,” Michael said with a smile.

“Hello, It’s just Hari, if you’d like. I was going to invite your family to the beach–” Hari was cut off.

Michael ushered her in, turning them so she was inside and he was still by the door.

“I have to go right now. My wife, Charity, will be back in a bit and I can’t reach her at the moment. Would you mind watching the kids until she gets back? Thank you!”

Before Hari could open her mouth to respond, the door closed. Hari was inside the house. She slowly turned and saw children. Several children. Oh God. God. That absent supposed grandfather of hers might be meddling. Hari looked over and saw a teenage girl who looked about six times as bitchy as Lavender Brown on her worst day. Maybe God was trying to kill her.

Hari took a deep breath. She’d killed Voldemort. She could handle a group of kids. If not, she could transform into her shiny new dragon form and breathe fire as a warning to any who came too close.

“Who are you?” scowled the angsty teen.

“Black. Might I ask your name?”

“Molly.”

“Hello, Molly. May you please introduce me to the others?”

Molly scowled and quickly presented a small horde of children. The little kids were absolutely adorable. So many kids. What do kids do? What was Hari supposed to do? Panic was rising. Hari saw the kitchen through the next room and blurted, “Food!”

Molly did not look impressed, but one of the little ones giggled.

“Alright, horde of pixies. Let’s have some fun and do something nice for your mum at the same time,” said Hari, rifling through the kitchen cabinets.

“We don’t want to cook!” said Molly.

“Ah. That would be a terribly sad lack of imagination and creativity!” said Hari, making a tiny girl giggle. “This isn’t just a kitchen. It’s a chance to be a mad scientist and eat our experiments. Mwahahaha!”

Hari tickled one of the middle children. Molly rolled her eyes.

“Alright, chefs! I say we make stew, bread, and cupcakes for dessert. Who’s with me?”

The younger kids were all saying “me, me, me!” Molly huffed out a laugh.

A few minutes later, the miniature kitchen staff were hard at work. Hari showed Daniel how to knead bread. Molly cut vegetables for the stew. The little ones were working on cupcakes. And if she used magic to help things along, no one needed to know.

“Do you know how to make frosting?” asked Hari.

A little girl shook her head, eyes wide.

“Well, you start with butter. And then you add sugar. And you keep adding sugar until it doesn’t taste like butter anymore,” said Hari.

The little girl was giggling. Good, though Hari, laughter is better than tears or screaming.

It took a long time to decorate the cupcakes. But not long enough. Hari used a spell to duplicate the cupcakes so the kids could decorate even more. One of the boys was really creative and they worked together to make a cupcake with a roaring dinosaur on top. Hari approved.

Eventually, Mrs. Carpenter came home. She was surprised to find dinner waiting for her, a clean kitchen, and children not entirely covered in frosting. Charity invited Hari to stay for dinner, but Hari hightailed it out of the chaotic house after inviting the Carpenters to the beach. She didn’t escape before being invited to church.

_________________________________________

“Can you cure someone who has a common cold?” asked Marcone.

Hari set her teacup down and shrugged. “Sure. It’s a simple potion.”

“A CEO of my acquaintance is holding an important shareholder meeting today, but is suffering from a cold. He would pay handsomely for an immediate cure, if you’d oblige.”

“Errr. Does this person know about magic?” asked Hari.

“I don’t believe so.”

“Ah. Fine,” said Hari, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. “So…I can do this, but I’ll have to blur his memory for a few minutes after taking the potion. It has a…errrr…magical effect unlike muggle medicine in the short term.”

“Blur his memory,” repeated Marcone softly.

“Errrr. Quite. Not – you know – invasively. Just a little skimming over the details. For medical purposes. It would defeat the purpose of doing well in a big meeting if he’s freaking out over learning about magic.”

Ms. Gard was staring at her intently. Hari shrugged her shoulders.

“Magical effect?” Marcone moved on, but Hari had the impression he hadn’t forgotten about the memory bit.

“Errr. Yes. Steam – sort of – will come out of his ears for a minute?”

Marcone’s lip twitched. “I see.”

Hari sipped her tea.

“I have everything I need. Can someone take me there?” she asked.

“Don’t you want to know about payment?”

“Right. Yes. That. Sure. I’m guessing you have an acceptable suggestion?” Hari fidgeted.

Marcone’s eye twitched.

_________________________________________

Hari could get used to this. She rode an elevator up to a lovely flat in a building with a ton of windows. It seemed like tempting fate to not only build glass houses but glass skyscrapers.

The man’s silk green robe brought out the red in his face and nose. Hari would have felt bad for him but he had tissues everywhere. On every surface. Instead of a padded room, this was a goober-covered room. After a deep breath, Hari was terribly glad for the transparent mask she had spelled on her face to filter the air – a variation of the bubble-head charm was all that stood between her and running away screaming from the icky apartment.

Hari confounded the mucus-oozing man, spelled the pepper-up into his stomach, and waited for the steam to stop pouring out of his ears. Hari summoned all of the tissues in the room into a trashcan. It took great restraint not to light the trash on fire. She performed a light legilimens to make sure he remembered nothing magical or unusual, cast two very small oblivations for good measure, and walked out of the flat with a small bag of money.

Maybe she should work on her bedside manner. But she could get used to this.

_________________________________________

Hari wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but she was sitting with the Carpenter family in church. The architecture was pretty. The vaulted ceiling was lovely. The music made her sigh. And then horror took hold and she bolted.

She couldn’t talk to Aziraphale about this, because surely he knew.

She didn’t want to talk to Dresden about this, because he was most likely insane.

She had thought the Carpenters were sane, but obviously not.

Marcone. She’d ask Marcone.

John put aside a stack of papers as she entered the office.

“Hello, Lady Black.”

“This reality. Is. Insane,” said Hari.

She put up a few wards around the room, which made Ms. Gard twitch.

“Oh?”

“Cannibalism. Did you know? Ritual cannibalism and vampirism. Fake muggle vampirism. Seriously?” Hari slouched in a seat.

“I’m afraid I need more context,” said Marcone.

“So it’s not common? What in Merlin’s saggy y-fronts just happened then? Nobody seemed to think it was the least bit odd.”

Marcone slightly tilted his head but said nothing.

“At Aziraphale’s suggestion of getting to know some more details about – well – supposed family in this reality…and Crowley’s suggestion about seeing if my feet get burned on church ground, I ended up going with the Carpenter family to church. And–” Hari trailed off.

The silence stretched.

“Can I assume you partook of your first holy communion?”

“There was no partaking!” Hari’s voice was rather high. “Who eats their gods? Regularly. I would run in the opposite direction of any ‘followers’ who tried to eat me and drink my blood. Or, well, I’m more likely to burn them to ash than run away. Just. Seriously?”

Gard shifted in her seat.

Marcone was unruffled. “Communion is a fairly common ritual in Catholicism and other Christian sects. Very few people take it literally. It’s seen as symbolic. I’d say very few interpret it as cannibalism or vampirism.”

“How can the first bloody thing that enters your mind not be cannibalism after hearing ‘eat the body of Christ’? Drink the blood of Christ?”

“Symbolism,” repeated John. “Most see it as a way to be closer to their god.”

“By eating him and drinking his blood? Just. I feel bad for the guy. Christ, that is. Aziraphale and Crowley both say he was a nice guy. Kind of hippy-ish. And now he has all of these people who supposedly worship him, but actually try to cannibalize him every week. I mean… Really! I thought the only muggles who did that were creepy serial killers who wanted to possess their victims forever…”

Hari’s voice faded. The memory of the graveyard took over. She could hear Pettigrew chanting ‘blood of the enemy’, and see her blood dripping into the cauldron. She could still see the look of triumph in Voldemort’s eye when saying that her blood ran in his veins – like he possessed more of her. And then she thought of Greyback. Hari shivered.

“--Black? Hari?”

She looked up to find John trying to get her attention.

She shook her head. “Bad memories. I didn’t expect to find this here, among muggles. Especially those who claim to be the ‘good guys’.”

Hendricks put a cup of tea in front of Hari. She smiled. She subtly checked for poisons and other surprises before taking a few sips. Her shoulder muscles started to unclench.

“Do you have a way to feel peoples’ emotions? Check intentions? Access their thoughts?” asked John.

Hari shrugged. “There are a few ways.”

“Perhaps you will watch Communion in the future. If you do, consider observing peoples’ emotions and thoughts. I doubt the thought of cannibalism, vampirism, or anything slightly violent will be present.” John was calm and thoughtful, as always.

Hari nodded. After a few seconds, she muttered, “Thanks.”

John drank some tea, nodded, and said, “I heard that Mr. Cameron had a remarkable recovery, and made his meeting.”

Hari blinked. “Oh, right. The guy with a cold. It was easy. I need to think about acquiring more potion ingredients, though. Dresden said…”

They chatted for a while more, and Hari left feeling better than when she arrived.

_________________________________________

Hari decided to ask her resident angels about communion.

“So…errrr…what’s up with the ‘good guys’ performing ritualized cannibalism and vampirism, constantly trying to eat the guy who is supposedly my uncle?”

Crowley laughed long and hard. Aziraphale ate an antacid.