Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He should have known it wasn't just England that caused him trouble. Nope, it was his damned Potter luck. He'd hoped before coming over to America that maybe, just maybe, this once he wouldn't be embroiled in a world-changing, life-changing event that required his entire concentration, self, and possibly his life, but no, him being Harry James Potter apparently demanded all the bad luck of the world go flying to him at any given moment should anything remotely weird happen. 

He stared blankly at Carter, the American Auror he'd been getting his liaison duties from and blinked very obviously. "I'm afraid you'll have to repeat that again," He drawled, calling on his inner Draco to pull out the most hideous don't-you-dare he could manage.

Unfortunately, Carter Hagensaber seemed to be immune. Probably one of the perks of leading the American Auror industry through decades of civil rights movements and union marches. Apparently, American muggles affected American wizards way more than British ones did. 

"Alright," He said easily, gesturing to the file he'd pushed in front of Harry, sitting unopened and untouched on the table in front of him. "You see, thirty- uh, give or take a year, you can find the exact details in the file. Anyway, a few decades ago, this weird town appeared out of nowhere."

Harry's eyebrows inched to the top of his forehead.

Carter continued. "But you Brits had that whole Dark Lord thing going on, and the mess was spilling over into our country-"

Harry snatched the file, checked the date, and scowled. "1983. That was two years after Voldemort was defeated the first time around."

The Auror shrugged. "Celebrations then. Whatever. The point is, we weren't able to deal with the mess until a few months later, ’specially since it wasn't like they were hurting anyone anyway."

"So it was pushed to the bottom of the priority list."

"Exactly."

Harry tilted his head. "And those few months later?"

"One of the Aurors went to check," Carter said carefully. "There was nothing."

Harry stilled. What was that supposed to mean? There one day and gone the next? "I'm assuming that’s not the end of the story.”

Carter smiled wryly. “You’re catching on,” He said approvingly, though it was weird hearing that when Harry himself was a Head Auror, too. Then again, Carter had had the job for two decades already, so maybe he got to say that. “No, that’s not it. We tried out a lot of detection charms and spells, but nothing worked, so we figured the first detection had been a glitch. Then, ten years ago, something else happened - a kid from Phoenix was adopted and shuffled to this place. The papers say it’s a town called Storybrooke, but…” He pursed his lips. “None of the social workers on the case remember the kid, and no one has gone to check on him, either. It’s like he never existed.”

Harry’s forehead wrinkled and he shifted his gaze back to the file he had on him, trying to understand the dilemma. The only picture he could see was an empty road… but only from one angle. “You can’t pass through,” He realized, and Carter shrugged.

“Seems like it,” He said. “Though congratulations, you figured it out before many of my Aurors ever noticed.”

Harry huffed. “Might have something to do with being a Head Auror, maybe.”

“You wanna throw that one to Rickson? He’s got ten years on you, easy. And he isn’t even the most experienced of my lot.”

Harry cleared his throat. “You were saying something about a kid?”

Carter chuckled. “Yeah, I was. That was ten years ago, but we only found out in the past few months, ever since there was a change in the monitoring spells we set up around there. It was like there’s some sort of barrier, and it recently weakened somehow.”

Harry closed the file and leaned back, feeling dread pool in his stomach. “You want me to check it out,” He said.

Carter nodded. “Yeah.”

Harry stilled. “I am not an American Auror, Mr. Hagensaber,” He said coldly, formally. He’d been pretty cut and loose with them since he’d landed here, all in the spirit of cooperation and learning opportunities - ever since America had reached out a hand to help Britain with the revival process after Voldemort messed things up, they tended to do things like this ‘exchange’ program. Harry had only managed to find the time to settle down and go himself this year, once he’d delegated his work and the last of Voldemort’s straggling devotees - even those who popped up yearly in memory of the psychopath - had been dealt with. Ron had gone a few years ago, and Hermione a little after that. Even Ginny, Neville, and Luna had gone, even though they had nothing to do with the Ministry. Apparently, seeing the ‘saviors of the wizarding world’ represent Magical Britain was a good thing. Or something.

Point was, he’d been okay with doing what the Americans asked of him, mostly because he was only supposed to be here a few months, so what was the harm? 

But this? This was asking too much. 

“You cannot order me around as you please. I have listened to you till now out of respect for your position and experience, but I hold the same authority as you. In fact,” Merlin, how he hated to play this card. But sometimes, it was better he did. “As Lord Potter and Black, I hold higher authority in the international wizarding courts.” He pressed his lips in a straight, thin line. “Do not ridicule me, Mr. Hagensaber.”

To his utter bafflement, Carter began to laugh. So much so that it took him a minute to calm down, all the while leaving Harry to stare at him in speechless confusion. “I was wondering when you’d show me that spine you’re so famous for,” The older man said easily. “But no, Mr. Potter, this was not an order.”

Harry shifted in his seat, the fight draining out. “Er, then what was it?”

“A request,” He explained. “Simply a desire to solve this madness as it has gone on for far too long. The Aurors, the Unspeakables- hell, even Charm- and Curse-specialists have taken a shot at the damn thing, and it’s been impenetrable the whole while.”

“But-” Harry hesitated. “I’m just an Auror,” He pointed out. “What am I supposed to do that you can’t?”

Carter raised his eyebrows. “‘Just an Auror’,” He repeated. “Right. And I’m sure you didn’t defeat a Dark Wizard when you were seventeen or that vampire clan insurgency when you were twenty-three.” His voice was blatantly mocking. 

Harry could feel blood and embarrassment rush to his face. It was strange, but somehow, being known for stuff he did do was far more embarrassing than the stuff he hadn’t done (that had just made him angry then upon a time, he realized now). “I- that was all done with the help of other people,” He protested.

“Regardless,” Carter said and then smirked. “Where’s all that righteous fury and indignation from a few seconds ago?”

Harry knew he was reddening even more, but this time, he refused to rise to the bait. He cleared his throat instead. “Anyway, the point still stands. I don’t have any special powers.”

“You do have a rare instinct, though,” Carter said. “I’d just like for you to take a look. See what your instinct tells you.”

It was simple enough, he could admit. Still, there was something telling him to back off. That ‘rare instinct’. “A curse breaker might be better,” He stated weakly, but working with that rare instinct was a more common instinct that refused to leave anyone without help, and Carter just had to mention that ten-year-old boy, didn’t he? “My brother-in-law is one.”

Carter nodded. “I’m sure we can send in a request for his assistance, too,” He agreed. “But right now, I’m asking for yours.”

Harry sighed. “Fine,” He said. “I’ll take a look.” 

Carter smiled.

“But I’m not going near it,” He warned. “And this is my last job before I’m back in Britain.”

The other Head Auror confirmed with a hum. “Agreed,” He said. “I’ll finish the paperwork for your release, and we can head to Maine tomorrow morning.” 

Harry got up, file clutched in his hand again, and walked out, a “Can’t wait,” whispered under his breath.

The Maine office was surprisingly full, considering Floo made it so easy to travel between states. Then again, maybe the population size and the ease of communication and response timing made having an actual branch less of a nightmare. It was the reason Harry was supporting Foeberry’s bill for a few more Ministry branches throughout England back home.

It was slow going, but he was totally going to use America’s example as evidence now.

Still, faster than he would have expected considering the chain of bureaucracy, he was shuffled into a car and driven to the edge of a hill of some kind… and then it hit him. The place was practically brimming with magic. It flowed out of the middle like a never-ending well.

“How in Merlin did you miss this for thirty years?!” He asked incredulously.

Brock, the Auror Carter had assigned to Harry, grunted. Well, at least it wasn’t Rickson… “We didn’t,” The man said after a little bit. “The magic only started blooming in the past few months. We’ve set up a sentry around here, but there’s no explanation as to why that is, yet.”

Harry closed his eyes and tried to feel. “... It’s like it’s been amalgamating the energy for years,” He admitted. “Like something’s been feeding the place pure magic for decades.” He huffed. “I’m guessing almost twenty-nine years.”

Brock didn’t laugh.

“It feels like a less dense version of Hogwarts,” He continued. “Though, the castle’s energy fuels the lands around it, too, so it’s not as concentrated in one center.”

Brock nodded. “One of our specialists noted that,” He agreed. “Which is why we have called for Professor Tressler from Ilvermony. He is researching the phenomena even now but has yet remained fruitless in his search.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You could also call someone from Hogwarts,” He pointed out.

Brock grunted again. “Not up to me,” He said, his voice coated in disinterest.

Harry sighed. “Lead the way, please. Might as well get it over with.”

They walked the rest of the way to the edge of this so-called ‘town’ in silence, only the rustle of trees to distract them. Harry kept his eye peeled for any disturbance, especially since with every step he took, he could feel a heaviness settle on his shoulders and an uncomfortable feeling bloom in the pit of his stomach. 

It was almost too much to bear, and he started turning to Brock to return-

And he realized, quite faintly, his vision blurring and his chest thumping weakly as something shimmered through his body and beyond, that Brock was standing much too far away, his face so panicked and unseeing that it was just plain weird. 

Huh, Harry thought. I can’t hear him.

The world went black.

Chapter Text

Harry Potter woke up with a heavy feeling on his chest and his head throbbing painfully with both memory and confusion. For a moment, he saw the white of the hospital walls and wondered if Brock had taken him back. After all, he had fainted, and no matter how embarrassing that was, that also meant that the magic he’d been exposed to had had an effect on-

“How do you feel?” A voice asked, and Harry blinked to focus on a man whose hair was so frighteningly reminiscent of the Malfoys that it took a few seconds for him to meet his eyes.

He blinked. “Er, I’m okay,” He said automatically, then shook his head, wincing. “Sorry, habit. I have a bit of a headache, I guess, and my chest feels tight.”

The doctor - because it was obviously a doctor and not a mediwizard and either Brock was making fun of him, dropping him off at a muggle hospital, or something was desperately wrong -  frowned. “I see,” He said, peering down at a clipboard. “Your name, sir?”

“Harry,” He introduced. “Harry Potter.”

There was no reaction, so yeah, definitely muggles. “Very well. There’s no head injury, Mr. Potter, and nor is there anything physically wrong with you. I do recommend bedrest-”

“May I talk to him, Dr. Whale?” A woman asked, her voice smooth and disturbingly pinched. Harry turned to realize there were two other people in the room; one woman with dark hair and dark eyes - the one who had just spoken - and the other a blonde. Her face was open in its distrust, and that Harry appreciated way more.

Dr. Whale seemed to hesitate, then sighed and step back. “Yes, Madam Mayor,” He acquiesced.

“Regina,” The other woman hissed, but Harry heard perfectly. He was sure to pretend otherwise, though.

Regina, apparently, didn’t seem to care because she moved forward, arms at her side as she leaned over the foot of the bed and stared piercingly at Harry, lips curled in an unwelcoming smile. “Mr. Potter,” She greeted. “I am Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybrooke. May I ask your purpose for visit to this town? You appeared quite out of nowhere, I’m afraid.”

Harry felt his pulse quicken. Storybrooke. Shit. “I…” He swallowed. “What in- what happened? He asked. “I don’t remember past falling unconscious.”

The other woman huffed lightly at the very obvious remark. “And I’m Emma Swan,” She greeted as Harry’s eyes fell on her. “Town Sheriff.”

Regina’s grip on the bed railing tightened. Bad blood, then.

“But I have to ask the same question. We don’t get a lot of visitors around here. What brings you?” Emma continued. 

Harry hesitated. He couldn’t very well say I’m a wizard, and your town is oozing magic after running dry for the past thirty years, now, could he? These were muggles! They had to be. He exhaled sharply. “I don’t know,” He lied, then tried for a little truth to pepper in. “I honestly didn’t expect to come to this place. I didn’t even know it existed before today.” He swallowed, his mouth dry. “In fact, I’d love to leave as soon as I cab. I actually have a job to get back to.”

Emma stilled and Regina narrowed her eyes.

Harry managed to hold back a wince. Way to go, Potter, his inner Draco Malfoy voice snarled. Make them more suspicious, why don’t you?

“And what exactly is your job?” Regina demanded.

Harry opened his mouth, then stopped. Wait… what was up with these guys, anyway? How come they were so hostile? He didn’t know much about little towns or America, but this was just plain weird.

Then again, maybe the years of lack of visitors had made them wary…

“A policeman,” He said after a while, then shook his head. “I’m one back in England. Only here for an international program.”

“That’s a little fancy for a cop,” Emma asked curiously.

“Department head,” Harry corrected. “Er… Commissioner of police over here?”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Woah,” She exclaimed. “You barely look thirty! Is becoming commissioner that fast even possible?”

Regina glared, first at Emma, then at Harry, though she hid it quickly enough.

Harry shrugged. “Extenuating circumstances,” He said easily, stuck his hand in his pocket to look for the muggle business card and police badge Carter had made for him when he’d come to America, then frowned because the pocket wasn’t exactly his.

“Oh, your belongings are in the bag next to your bed,” Dr. Whale said as he realized what Harry was looking for.

Harry nodded his thanks, then fished out the piece of paper he was looking for and handed it over. “As you can imagine, I’m pretty busy.”

“Then how did you make your way here?” Regina asked, her - again - disturbingly scathing voice scratching at Harry. 

Emma didn’t interfere, probably just as curious.

Harry cleared his throat and called upon the many, many times he’d had to convince the muggle Prime Minister and the actual commissioner of police that they were fine, and everything was okay, and they didn’t need to start another witch hunt - once Kingsley had realized Harry had taken the job as an Auror, he’d dumped the responsibility on him with the excuse that he already had a lot of fo stuff to do and Harry knew everything about the war, anyway. And then it had just become one of the things he did, even if other people knew more than him at any given moment. “A boy,” He explained, and the two women went still. Okay, so there was something there, definitely. Maybe that would explain everything, and on the way, he could leave town, too. “He was adopted ten years ago.” Good thing he’d actually thought to read everything in the file the night before. “Unfortunately, his case was buried under a lot of problematic paperwork before, so it wasn't brought to attention earlier. I only noticed while going through cold case files as part of the program I came here for.”

“A… boy?” Emma asked, throat sounding very dry.

“If he was adopted,” Regina said coldly. “Then the case belongs to social services.”

“That’s where we get precedence,” Harry corrected. “Social services haven’t checked in in over ten years, which means this is legally our jurisdiction.”

“You aren’t even from this continent!” Regina snapped. “Do not interfere in a land you don’t belong to!”

Harry’s eyes raised to the top of his head, and he straightened as much as he could, considering he was still in a hospital bed. “You’re the Mum,” He figured out.

Emma flinched. Interesting. So she had something to do with it, too…

“Yes,” Regina said. “I am. And I can assure you, Mr. Potter, I have taken the best care possible of my son. You have no right to come here and interfere-”

Emma cleared her throat. “Why- why don’t we talk when you’re discharged?” She offered, cutting off the mayor. “Regina, a word.”

“Ms. Swan-”

“Now,” She snapped, and the two left.

Dr. Whale stepped forward again, and though he was still peering at his clipboard, his expression was tight, and his eyes weren’t reading. “I suggest you do as Madam Mayor asks,” He said under his breath. “She always wins.” And with that, he, too, headed out, leaving Harry alone in a hospital room, wondering what the hell was going on.

And then he realized that he was done. He wasn’t returning until he got to the bottom of all of this, was he? Not since the kid was involved. He really, really hoped Regina hadn’t been lying because if she was…

He fumbled through his bag, and his hand curled around the cool wood of his wand. At least he could send a message to Carter with the news. He scowled at the thought of the American. No doubt he’d already predicted Harry’d be caught up in this mess. No wonder he’d focused the file so heavily on the undocumented child.

“Expecto Patronum,” He whispered and watched the stag vanish out the window. 

Chapter Text

Carter Hagensaber was in something of a jam. When he’d sent the illustrious Harry Potter off to that strange town in the middle of nowhere, he’d been expecting- he’d been hoping for something akin to one of his instincts flaring up, maybe something along the times of them getting a few clues to what was going on. It was a twenty-eight-year-old mystery that had colored his life well into his career, considering he was the one who’d first surveyed the situation all those years ago.

Point was there had been absolutely no chance that anything different would happen. Why should it? Experts in all kinds of fields - and yes, experts from all over the world - had come to check out the boundaries of this area, and none had prevailed in passing through. None had managed to even graze the edges, and it was like some kind of repelling charm powered up to supernova levels, to be perfectly blunt about it.

But it seems he, of all people, had underestimated the ‘savior’ of the wizarding world. Maybe it’d been the savior part. He never trusted trussed-up titles, anyway. His family had made sure enough of that. But he’d been testing the man consistently since he’d been there, and if Potter had been any less tenacious or any more suspicious, he’d have found out that this much was definitely not supposed to be regular work. It was part of the reason that his demand for an early release had been decidedly easy to accept - he’d covered all official duties and then some, and Carter could honestly say that Britain was in good hands with the man. 

Except now… well, now he had a fucking international incident on his hand because he managed to lose himself Britain’s national icon.

Goddammit.

At least he had a month to deal with it before the actual deadline for the exchange ended, and it became an official international incident?

His eyes flickered to his window, where he could see his Aurors whispering amongst themselves, Brock standing at the side, and almost groaned because that was never going to happen. For all Aurors were good at ambushes and surprise attacks, they were never going to keep this one under wraps. Carter bet half the Ministry already knew it by now. After all, this was Harry-Damned-Potter they were talking about, and though he wasn’t America’s savior, he was most definitely still famous, and he’d saved those Aurors out there more times than they could count on actual missions these last few months anyway.

He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Harry Potter wasn’t supposed to get into that place. No one was. No one could get into that place - that was the point. No muggle, no wizard, not even a magical creature. Hell, they’d even tried non-magical creatures, and they’d failed!

So what was so special about Harry-Damned-Potter?

His eyes widened. Oh. 

He leaped up and stalked out of the room, cutting through the suddenly silent bunch of Aurors without a word, heading straight to the office of the Unspeakable who was heading the operation for the impenetrable town.

“What do you want?” The woman demanded as he entered, barely looking up from the pile of paperwork on her desk. “I’m already swamped with reports since after you got a wizard poofed inside ground zero.”

Carter winced. “I didn’t know that would happen.”

“He’s Harry Potter!” The woman exclaimed incredulously. “I’d have thought a few months with him would’ve told you exactly not to assume that.”

He straightened his clothes. 

Unspeakable Fonterra sighed. “What?” She asked, putting down her work. “And make this about how you can fix the problems you just created, Hagensaber.”

“I may not exactly be able to fix it,” He said quickly. “But I did want to point something out.”

She raised an eyebrow. 

“No one else could get through the line except Harry Potter.”

“Obviously.”

“So what’s so different about him?”

Fonterra opened her mouth, then narrowed her eyes. “Can’t be the dark lord - you’ve defeated one, too.”

He shrugged. “Lesser known, but yeah,” He agreed. “But there’s one thing Potter had on me.”

Her eyes flared. “The prophecy,” She breathed. 

“Exactly.”

She shook her head. “Even if that is true, we can’t proceed with the research unless we know exactly what the prophecy was about. What about it made him so special? A lot of people have prophecies about them; that’s the reason there are countless ones in the halls of prophecies scattered across the lands. And we might be able to request Mr. Potter’s-”

“No,” Carter corrected. “The only physical copy was lost. That’s what Potter told me when we were discussing his past.”

Fonterra pursed her lips, leaned back, and crossed her arms across her chest. “So,” She said, and her voice was long-suffering, which Carter personally thought was pretty unfair. “What do you have in mind?”

Eh, good enough. “Well, Potter also mentioned that he told his closest friends his secret. That means the Weasleys know. And since we happen to be in need of a curse breaker to help us have a new look at this curse, I figured we might as well call the eldest.”

“William Weasley,” Fonterra said. “Daring.”

“He’s said to be vicious to his enemies, not his friends.”

“And you just lost his brother-in-law.”

Carter winced. “It was the man’s own choice,” He reasoned. “I can’t be held accountable for a grown man’s decision.” He sighed. “Alright, whatever. I know I was his liaison. I can deal with the British inquisition when it comes. What I want to know is, will this help?”

After a pause that seemed more like hours than a second, Fonterra quirked her lips. “Yes,” She said. “It’ll help. If we can figure out the relation of the prophecy to why he was able to pass when no one else could, we may also be able to discover either how to go through the boundary or get Mr. Potter out. And even if none of that is relevant, a curse breaker will still be helpful in case this has anything to do with the more obscure magics. And I’ve heard William Weasley is particularly proficient in dealing with the more ancient and obscure renditions anyway.”

“So…” Carter said slowly as he began to back out of the room. “You’ll deal with the top brass?”

She laughed dryly. “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole, Hagensaber. You deal with it. And get Alex to call me when it’s done. Rather not see your mug more times than absolutely necessary.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “Fine,” He muttered and left, the door shutting softly behind him. “Let’s go break the British government.”

The news did not break the British government, fortunately, but it did get him a severe punishment, pending after he got Harry Potter out of this mess. I told you to be careful! The President had said when Carter had been called into his office moments before the British delegation was supposed to show up. This was Harry Potter, not some random British citizen you can deal with discreetly.

Which, one, was terribly uncouth, but the guy wasn’t exactly wrong. The day before Potter had arrived, Carter had been brought into this very office and warned multiple times to keep everything perfectly acceptable and safe. Maybe that had been the reason he’d pulled all the stops trying to make everything difficult for the guy. That, and the fact that it had looked like he’d gotten his position through fame and undeserved connections. Because thirty? Way too young to be Head Auror.

Still, served him right. The one thing he hadn’t made intentionally difficult out of malicious intent, and it had been the one thing that got Potter trapped. Fun.

Point was, though, the Brits hadn’t taken it badly.

Hell, the portkey had arrived with the actual British Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt - again in office, which was a great accomplishment, especially since Carter knew how strict they’d made the polling system since after the war - alongside Hermione Granger, who was allegedly being groomed to be the next Minister, as well as the interim Head Auror, Ron Weasley.

They’d looked… resigned. 

“Harry?” Weasley had asked.

Granger had sighed. “Seems like it. What did he do now?”

For the first time in his life, Carter had seen the President look speechless. It was exhilarating, especially since Shacklebolt seemed to know exactly what the other man was going through.

“He went through a magical boundary no one else can cross,” Carter said easily and far more bluntly than had been his original plan. President Walter was still too dumbfounded to say a thing.

“Without us?” Weasley sounded affronted. “He knows he doesn’t get to do that.”

Granger huffed. “Pretty sure Ginny’s going to be worse than that, but he’d deserve it, the idiot.” She frowned. “He hasn’t come out, though, has he? Or you wouldn’t be here without him.”

The mood sobered. “No,” Walter said grimly. “He hasn’t. None of our people are able to follow him in, either, so we weren’t able to mount a rescue op either.” He inclined his head. “America truly apologizes for this situation.”

Granger and Weasley exchanged a look, but neither of them replied, instead nodding at Shacklebolt. So they weren’t as easy-going as they were portraying before this. Interesting. No wonder Potter hadn’t crumpled under the mess that was the American Auror department. 

Carter cleared his throat. “I can take you to Unspeakable Fonterra. She has the most information on what we’re dealing with, and we can bring you up to date there.” He nodded at Walter. “President.”

The man waved him away, just as Shacklebolt did the same for Weasley and Granger.

“What’s the short story?” Weasley asked as soon as they were out. “Hermione’ll be happy discussing the specifics with that Unspeakable you’re taking us to, but I’d like the easier version.”

Carter didn’t smile. “It isn’t a short story,” He admitted. “Not shorter than what you were told in here. Harry Potter disappeared behind a line no one else can breach.” They didn’t interrupt, but he could feel their gazes stabbing the back of his head, so he sighed. “The Unspeakables are attempting to discover the reason behind the barrier, and now, the reason Potter was able to pass through. That’s another reason we needed to talk to you guys, actually.”

Without further ado, he pulled open a door and ushered them inside, where Fonterra was already waiting. “Mister Weasley,” She greeted. “Ms. Granger.”

They nodded. “Unspeakable Fonterra,” Granger replied graciously. “Mr. Hagensaber was just telling us you wished to talk to us specifically.”

“Yes,” She said. “About Harry Potter and why he could get through a barrier no one else can pass. We have a lot to talk about.”

Chapter Text

“Wait, another person came to Storybrooke?” Henry demanded. “That’s impossible!”

“You’ve said that before,” Emma muttered, but she couldn’t help but frown at the thought. Because, to an extent, Henry was correct - No one other than her and Henry, and now August and this Harry Potter guy had come here, not even for the restocking of any grocery stores or for deliveries. Absolutely nothing. And as for the two who had come in, August was obviously suspicious, and this Harry guy was shaping up to be the same.

“That’s because no one comes in,” Henry stressed. 

Emma sighed. “Still, he’s here, isn’t he?”

Henry frowned. “D’you think he has anything to do with Operation Cobra? Is he like someone from the book?”

“Maybe,” Emma winced. “What I know for sure, though, is that he’s here to look into your adoption.”

Henry stilled. “Wait, what?”

“When Regina and I went to talk to him about it, he said he came here because he’s with the cops and since child services haven’t kept tabs on your adoption to see how you’ve been doing, it was now his job to see what happened.” She shook her head. “His badge was real, though, and the Boston office verified his credentials when I called, so he is legit.”

Henry slumped back. “I didn’t know child services had to check in on adoptions,” He mumbled.

Emma reached out to squeeze his arm. “Probably something to do with it being a closed adoption,” She tried to comfort, despite having absolutely no idea herself. “But for now, want to see if he comes up in the book? Maybe it’ll help us see what he’s really here for.”

“Wait, he wasn’t really here for me?” Henry asked. “You checked with your superpower?”

Emma’s mind flashed back to when she’d heard only truth and shook her head. “He was telling the truth,” She admitted, but she also needed to distract Henry from the worry that would no doubt follow. No matter how much she was warring with Regina right now, Henry didn’t need to be taken away. And he didn’t need to worry about being taken away, either. “But you said no one here remembers their life anyway, right? Maybe he just… forgot.”

The wide smile Henry gave her at that was absolutely blinding. And it made her feel all the more guilty. Luckily, though, it did distract him, which had to be enough. 

“Now get outta here, kid,” She said good-naturedly. “Regina’s probably waiting for you at home. And I want a full report on the possible identities tomorrow, got it?”

“Got it!” Henry said cheerfully, slurping the rest of his drink and hopping up; one strap of his bag looped across his shoulder. “See you later, Emma!”

And he was gone.

Emma’s shoulders slumped, and she leaned back, eyes closed. What a mess. 

“You okay?”

Emma blinked, watched the world come into focus, and met Ruby’s eyes. She was staring at her with pursed lips and a heavy glance, and Emma had to at least try and put on a smile in return, no matter how weak it was, in thanks for all the help the woman had given her. “Yeah, yeah… just stressed.”

“I heard about the stranger,” Ruby said sympathetically. “It’s been a difficult week, hasn’t it?”

“You have no idea,” Emma murmured. “Mary Margaret’s depending on me, Kathryn’s body remains unfound, and now there’s someone new in town, and they might just want to take Henry away.”

“Wow,” Ruby said. “ Definitely a lot.” She sighed. “I’m sorry you have to face this mess alone, Emma. I…” She hesitated. 

Emma’s smile this time was real. “Don’t worry, Ruby,” She comforted. “You did what was best for you, and I can’t fault you for that. You do you, and I’ll muddle through. One thing at a time, right?”

“Mhmm,” Ruby agreed.

Emma stood. “Time to go back to the station, then. I’ve got a friend I need to talk to.”

Mary Margaret was sitting in her cell, leafing through the pages of a book Emma had brought for her from their shared apartment (not that it was being shared any these last few days) when Emma came in.

Mary Margaret stilled. “What’s going on?” She asked. 

Emma scratched the back of her neck. “There’s a new person in town,” She said. “I think this might be a way to push back the hearing. Give us more time to figure out the truth and get you free.”

“... Really? Who is it?”

“A policeman,” Emma admitted. “He’s not here to interfere in this case, though, don’t worry.”

Mary Margaret still looked worried. “Then why is he here?”

“For Henry and his adoption.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Oh. Regina must be mad.”

Emma cracked a smile. “Spitting. Maybe even more than she is about you.”

Mary Margaret couldn’t hide her laugh. “Not helping, Emma.”

Emma grimaced and slid down on the seat, staring at Mary through the bars between them. “I’m sorry,” She said again, as she’d been saying every time she saw Mary Margaret. 

Mary Margaret didn’t smile. “I know,” She said, but she didn’t say that it was okay. “Have you found Kathryn?”

Emma didn’t reply. 

Mary Margaret’s expression became even more closed off. “Then perhaps we do need that policeman’s help,” She said coldly and turned back to the book, leaving Emma to stare after her, wondering at the emptiness clawing at her heart.

Yeah, Emma thought. Maybe an outside perspective wouldn’t hurt. And if nothing else, it would at least enrage Regina more, and right now, that was the closest Emma could get to handling that woman.

Chapter Text

Something was very wrong. It had been almost a day, and there was still no reply to his Patronus. Either the American Ministry hadn’t seen fit to respond to his message (which he found highly dubious considering how everyone except Carter and the more senior Aurors had been falling over themselves to make sure ‘Harry Potter’ didn’t feel underwhelmed. Maybe that was why he’d been fine with Carter’s opposite reaction - it balanced out, plus was most definitely the reaction he preferred more, even if the more positive reaction was easier to handle), or they hadn’t received it, which made sense considering that Carter had said no one could cross the town line.

And since Harry had crossed the town line…

He slid his feet off the hospital bed.

“You’re not supposed to be up yet,” The doctor warned from the door. “You’re still hurt.”

Harry wondered how he could heal himself without it being suspicious but then decided he’d have to leave it to when he got out of there. After he dealt with the kid thing, of course. “Don’t worry,” He said easily. “I’ve dealt with worse. But you should be flattered - you’re the first me- er, doctor in years to keep me in the hospital through the day without life-threatening injuries.”

Dr. Whale’s eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. “Excuse me?”

Harry shrugged, rolled his shoulders, winced at the throbbing pain in his head, and then focused on the man again. “Now, could you please inform me where the mayor’s office is? I have a feeling we might want to talk.”

The Doctor opened his mouth, but before he could say much of anything, there was a knock, and the Sheriff, Emma, poked her head in, apparently having heard the entirety of his question. “No need,” She said. “I’m happy to take you there.”

While a tiny bit suspicious, it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. Plus, he had his wand. “Lead the way, Sheriff,” He said, pulling on his coat, then he grabbed his things and followed.

“So,” He said as soon as they were out of the building and walking through the brisk, cold air of the town. “What’s your involvement in all this?” 

“Excuse me?” She asked, and it was a touch too defensive for someone who wanted to pretend innocence.

“You have something to do with this,” He repeated. “You didn’t explode like the Mayor did, but you reacted just as strongly when I mentioned the boy who was adopted here. So, what’s your involvement in this?”

She grimaced. “It’s none of your business.”

Harry couldn’t hide the wry smile. “Technically, it’s the only business I have over here.”

The woman, who, now that Harry actually paid attention, looked almost his age, grit her teeth and clenched her fists, but contrary to the signs, didn’t blow up. “... It’s a long story,” She said. “If you’ve seen the files on- on the child-”

“I haven’t,” He said, and before she could be even more openly suspicious, continued. “The paper trail was entirely redacted, and the computer files were corrupted. Any and all involved personnel could not be reached on short notice.” 

Plausible reasoning, but maybe not in this case, Harry mused, because the Sheriff’s eyes were narrowed, and her eyes were past suspicious and into the realm of entirely unconvinced. “I see,” She said. “So you have no information whatsoever.”

“No,” Harry confirmed, figuring he’d play the rest by ear now that he was already pretty off-track anyway. 

“Why were you assigned this case, Mr. Potter?” She asked. “You’re British. You have no connection whatsoever to this continent, as you mentioned before. As Regina pointed out as well. So how did you come to take this case when no British citizen is involved?”

Well, let it not be said the Sheriff wasn’t perceptive. But it was also true that Harry Potter had a pretty strong bullshit index from the countless years slipping past Hogwarts professors and getting into Situations™ with his friends. “My expertise,” He said smoothly, and considering how Carter phrased it, it wasn’t even a lie. “My American equivalent in the police force asked for my aid in helping get to the bottom of this as they were… stretched thin. I had a little while left before I had to go back to England, and I wasn’t about to leave a child in a potentially problematic situation, so I agreed.”

The woman’s pace quickened.

There was definitely a relationship between this woman and the boy, Harry realized. He’d have guessed birth mother; except he was pretty sure the file Carter had given him had mentioned she lived in Boston and had no idea about the boy at all because of the closed adoption. Maybe an old flame of the mayor? 

He discarded the thought at the memory of the very loathing look the mayor had sent her way. Either it had gone very, very wrong at some point, or that wasn’t the case at all, and Harry was betting on the latter.

“There was nothing problematic about the adoption,” Emma said suddenly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. “Regina adopted Henry when he was a baby and has… has cared for him to the best of her ability for as long as he has been under her care.” She sounded choked, as if even saying that had been difficult for her to fathom.

Harry was suddenly even more interested in finding out what was happening here. 

… Maybe Ginny’s morbid interest in the lives of others really had rubbed off now that he wasn’t fighting for his life every single day. Huh. Something to consider once he was back home in his wife’s arms, looking out at his kids and missing the good old days he would rather not go back to anyway.

“I see,” He said, just to continue the conversation. "Unfortunately, I still have to confirm. For the investigation."

Her mouth hardened, and Harry was half sure she was going to say something along the lines of I'm not so sure there is an investigation, which would be partly correct. But she didn't, which was surprising, even if he didn't know the woman at all. 

They walked for a little bit in silence, then Emma abruptly spoke up again. "You came without a car," She noted. "And not in a bus, either."

"I like to walk," He replied blithely. "A coworker dropped me off a little way away from the town line. Where I assume I collapsed." He hesitated, turning their last interaction over in his mind. "Er, thank you for that, by the way. I realize I haven't actually shown you any gratitude."

Emma nodded once. "It's my job," She said gruffly. "Sometimes, it pays to patrol the edges of town." 

Harry frowned. "Has something happened on the edge of town before?"

A muscle twitched in her jaw. "Small-town stuff," She said. "I'm sure you wouldn't be interested."

Harry just hummed noncommittally, mostly because he was sure if she did make him interested in what was happening, he might just have to extend his stay again, and, quite frankly, he didn't want to. 

They walked the rest of the way to the mayor's office in silence, and rather, Harry appreciated the town. There were a lot of shops and a lot of people, and most of them seemed to know each other. One shop at the edge of the street looked particularly haughty, and so did that clock tower in the middle of the town, but Harry forced his eyes away.

Instead, he wondered what the child was like - the boy he was looking for. Would he be more like Teddy (calm and adaptable, but with the spine needed to thrive alongside the Weasley family) or James (mischievous and street-smart with a sprinkle of pride) or Al (kind but snarky and ultimately very intelligent)? Or would he be entirely different?

He hid a laugh. He was so used to his boys that he ended up comparing everyone to them. At least this child wasn't a girl, or his comparison would've fallen even shorter, though he'd never say that in front of his kids. Lily would lord it over Al and James for the rest of their lives, and she already had enough ammo of their own making to do that a few times over.

"We're here," Emma said, clearing her throat and walking inside the building.

Harry nodded and waited as she knocked on the office door. It pulled open to Regina, looking much more composed than she had the last time around and far more prepared than then, too.

"Mr. Potter," She greeted. "Please, come in."

Harry did, and so did Emma, who was faced with a flash of distaste by the mayor but otherwise ignored. Putting that aside for now, Harry went to settle into one of the couches, waiting until everyone else was seated too. "Thank you," He said politely. 

Regina seemed to appreciate that because the hardness at the edges of her smile softened. "Of course," She said. "I hope you are recovering well?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Dr. Whale was very helpful. No lasting damage, as you can see."

"Any idea what caused your… sudden bout of unconsciousness?"

There was something in her eyes that Harry couldn't quite place, but he shook his head anyway. "None," He said quietly. "I guess that's another mystery I'll have to solve." 

Regina pursed her lips.

Emma cleared her throat. "Mr. Pot- can I call you Harry?" She winced. "Sorry, it's just… weird."

Harry shrugged. "I don't have a problem with that."

She relaxed minutely. "Thanks. You can call me Emma." He nodded. "Anyway, I was saying we should get to the crux of the matter since you mentioned you have things to do back in England, and you probably need to be on your way."

Harry didn't lose his smile, even though Regina lost hers. "No," He corrected. "I do have things to do, but considering this is part of my job, I'll be fine for as long as it takes."

Regina's sharp inhale was quite telling. "Yes," She said sharply. "Turning to the pertinent matter. My son."

"Your son," Harry agreed.

Emma bristled. 

"Henry is perfectly adjusted living here," Regina said. "He is also given the best material support, ample resources, and high-quality education. If I am capable of providing all those things, I do not see why you have to interfere in matters beyond your purview." She narrowed her eyes. "Are you even licensed to deal with children?"

If Harry hadn't spent his formative years - and beyond - battling Draco Malfoy (especially after his wit had gained the subtlety it lacked during their early Hogwarts years), he might have felt a little aggravated. Unfortunately for Regina, whose aim seemed to be exactly that, he was not. "Considering I have four children of my own, I would hope so," He said.

They were obviously not expecting that because they startled quite visibly before composing themselves. 

"Then you must see what I mean," Regina said quickly, capitalizing on the information. "How would you react to a stranger coming to you and questioning your parenting?" 

Harry frowned. "Ms. Mills," He said carefully, using the tone he used when he wanted to show he was not to be messed with, as Ron had very aptly dubbed it. "I am here in a professional capacity, not as a fellow parent." Her glare darkened. "I understand you do not appreciate the interference, but there must be accountability. Already the lack of data on this adoption is problematic for social services. If you refuse to comply-" He could feel her righteous fury simmering on the other end of the room. He sighed. "I am not here to take your son away," He said finally. “If you have given him all that you say you have and all that you can, you have no reason to worry. This has nothing to do with that. This is only to fill in the blanks that are otherwise impossible to explain.”

For a moment, Regina stared at him, and he could also feel Emma staring at him from the side. Perhaps they were evaluating his sincerity.

It didn’t seem to work, though. At least not for Regina. “I will not allow you to upend the lives of myself or my son,” She insisted. “There is no hold you have over my decisions, and I forbid-”

Ah, what the hell. She wanted an enemy? He’d take that challenge. “I did not say this was a choice,” He said coldly, shutting her up. “I have a warrant for this investigation,” Or I will, as soon as I magic it up. “And an entire police system backing my position. You forget, Madam Mayor, but I am the Commissioner of Police.” Head Auror, but it checks. “Your position can never outrank mine.” And even if it did, so what? It wasn’t like she was checking anything. 

The mayor seethed, her gaze dripping with malice. 

Harry didn’t care. 

“And where is this warrant?” She demanded.

Harry didn’t smile. “Right here,” He said and stood up, walking over to the bag he’d deposited on the other side of the door. Using non-verbal magic, he spelled up an envelope and conjured a mimicry of the warrant he had memorized for exactly these occasions. He was only glad Carter had given him time to familiarize himself with the legal jargon, signatures, and the rest of the important information that was specific to America. Of course, he’d have to tell Carter to have a real court order commissioned for the sake of an honest paper trail and actual procedures, but desperate times and all that.

He pulled out the envelope and handed it over to Regina, whose expression hardened even further as she read.

“I see,” She said through gritted teeth. “You may stay.”

Like she could force him away! Still, a win was a win, and warm smiles always irked the loser, so he did exactly that and beamed widely. “Thank you, Mayor Mills,” He said. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” He turned to Emma. “As the sheriff, would you be amenable to guiding me to the nearest place I can stay? I’m guessing I’ll be here for a few days.”

Emma just nodded, her eyes wide with what Harry could only see as respect. 

Well, that was nice. At least there was one person on his side, then.

Chapter Text

There was a small bed and breakfast or inn-type place (he honestly had no idea what to call it) where Harry decided to stay. It was next to one of the diners in town, a diner Emma mentioned she tended to frequent.

However, before she left, she did mention that she wanted to talk to him in the morning - before he started his investigations, in fact, which for him basically meant talking to everyone around him.

He’d agreed, left for his room, warded it to hell and back out of habit, then slumped into bed for a long, dreamless sleep that lasted until the very early hours of the morning, which was longer than he’d slept in a long, long time. The mysterious fainting was probably behind it, he mused silently, mentally tallied the timing, then pulled out the magic mirror from the bag holding his belongings - charmed, this time, not to break, of course - and rang up his wife. He was sure she’d be worried by now, though it was weird she hadn’t tried calling him first, considering he’d been MIA for the past two days. 

Then again, maybe Carter had reached out and informed the British of what was going on, and that would’ve made its way to Ginny via Hermione or Ron anyway.

Except… except he had no idea what was going on, especially with no reply on the patronus. Maybe Ginny would give him the answers? Maybe she had been in contact with the American Ministry. Or with Ron and Hermione, who most likely had been.

He frowned as the mirror remained, well, a mirror. There was no shimmer of obvious magic, no appearance of the person on the other side. In fact, Harry realized with faint horror, it was reflecting him.

Shit.

There was something very, very wrong about this town, and it wasn’t just about the kid. The town lines had obviously been impenetrable to literally everyone other than him - for Merlin knew what reason, Harry certainly didn’t. The patronus hadn’t gotten an answer - it probably hadn’t even left the town lines the way this was progressing. The mirror wasn’t connecting either. He didn’t want to try apparition in this building, not with countless others within hearing, but he had a sinking feeling he’d face the same issue.

He’d thought, yesterday, that he was trapped by the force of his desire to help someone. 

It was turning out that might just be a part of it.

But what was even going on? From what he’d seen, no one here had magic anyway, so where did the warding on the town lines come from? Who had spelled it? Who had brought this town into creation those twenty-eight years ago? Hell, why was he the exception? There was no prophecy about this- about him, here, was there? Merlin, he hoped not.

He was just about done with the messes life kept throwing at him.

Shaking his head to calm down, he decided that he had to take this one step at a time. He was the goddamned Head Auror for the British Ministry of Magic! He could deal with a few mysteries. 

His first order of business was going to be to maintain his cover as the officer investigating the adoption by the Mayor. And while he did so, he was going to have to sneak in a few questions about the town as well and maybe ask the Sheriff to take him to the town edge to see what the real problem was and if he really could pass through the warding again. And if he couldn’t, he’d have to figure out how to get out news to the American Ministry or otherwise find an answer to all the questions that just kept building up.

Taking a deep breath, he got his clothes out of the bag, then thought about it and transfigured it into a suitcase to pretend a certain level of preparation he hadn’t had because of his lack of intention to actually be here.

And then, feeling like he couldn’t sit still, he decided that maybe, before his meeting with the Sheriff, he could try finding the town line himself. He left the building with a vague goodbye-I’m-going-on-a-walk to the proprietor, who was also somehow awake, then began walking through the cold morning air, hands in his pocket and taking the time to appreciate the scenery. 

The clock tower still caught his sight, especially the board under it, which claimed it to be a library - perhaps that might be a good avenue for research?

Then there was the antiquities shop which had resonated so suspiciously yesterday and still exuded that feeling that Harry once got from-

His eyes widened. Borgin and Burkes. He hadn’t remembered it yesterday, with so much else fogging up his mind, but the feeling was almost exactly that. Dark magic that itched to be released mixed with struggling light magic that tried to survive but fought a failing battle. They weren’t his words, of course, but Luna’s description had fit this indescribable feeling perfectly, and now… 

He had to check out the shop, he realized. Maybe not now - he couldn’t calm his beating heart enough to do so - but he had to eventually because right now, that was the only source of magic he could see in this town, and that meant there was something there that might connect with whatever weird situation this town was embroiled in. 

For now, though, he kept walking and walking and walking until he was so far past the shop that he could see the road drift off into the distance and-

And he stopped because he could feel that hideous pressure and the beating in his head that wouldn’t silence itself. The very pain and dullness that had pushed him unconscious the first time around. He gritted his teeth, saw the Leaving Storybrooke sign, and took another step forward, only to falter when the ache increased exponentially. He pulled up a protego in an effort to stem the force, but to no avail, and though the town line was steps away, he knew that if he took even one more, he’d be back where he’d started - unconscious in that hospital bed.

He pulled back and relished in the relief that came with stopping the struggle against a higher force. Because that was exactly what it was, he was guessing - a stronger, more powerful magic than he had ever seen before, bar perhaps the near-indestructible horcrux (though this particular bit of magic didn’t have the same connotations of disgust… yet). 

So. More questions.

Groaning, he turned back towards the town.

Emma was waiting for Harry when he returned. Apparently, his trek had been longer than he’d realized because she was nursing a half-empty mug of coffee and reading something on her phone with complete concentration when he came to stand at the side of the table.

He cleared his throat, and she startled. “Oh- Oh, hey, Harry,” She greeted. “You… look like you’ve been awake for a while.” Her eyes flickered to his boots, which weren’t exactly mud-crusted but certainly dusty enough.

He shrugged and sat down. “I went for a walk,” He said smoothly. “My apologies for not gauging the time correctly, Emma.”

“No problem,” She said easily. “We didn’t actually set a time other than ‘morning’.”

Harry huffed. “True.” His eyes lowered to the menu, and he wondered how he hadn’t realized how famished he was. He hadn’t, after all, eaten for nearly an entire day. 

“The pancakes are good,” Emma suggested. “And the hot chocolate.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not the coffee?”

She smiled wryly. “You don’t look like a coffee person.”

Harry didn’t know one was supposed to look like a coffee person. “Fair enough.” But she was right. “I much rather prefer tea.”

“Haven’t tried the tea here,” Emma said.

Harry hummed, looked through the menu again, then ordered himself exactly what Emma had recommended. 

She laughed. “Argument for argument’s sake?”

Harry smiled in response. “Habit,” He corrected, then tilted his head in askance. “Though I’m curious, Emma. Why did you want to talk to me this morning?”

Emma’s amusement fled, and for a moment, she was silent. “Henry,” She said finally, which was pretty obvious since that was Harry’s entire point for being here, for all she knew. But he didn’t reply with anything more than a curious, raised eyebrow, and perhaps that was all the encouragement she needed because she continued. “It was a closed adoption, and I swear I didn’t interfere, but…” She inhaled deeply. “I’m Henry’s birth mother.”

So he was right the first time around! Maybe instinct really was better than logic... yeah, Hermione would have his head for that. “I see,” He said without much surprise. “You moved here recently?” Now that was a question worth asking. 

She looked startled at the easy acceptance but swallowed and nodded. “Yes, just a few months ago.”

“How did you…?” 

She took a deep breath, and her hands curled even tighter around the cup. “Henry- he came to find me in October. He found out I was his birth mother and, well,” She flushed. “He wanted me to come back with him.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised. Okay, that definitely complicated things, mostly starting with the fact that the kid left this place, and none of the Aurors had noticed! And they even returned through the same line Carter had declared impassable, and they still didn't notice anything. “He did?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Regina has provided him with all the material support required,” She confirmed, though her voice was still strained. “He just… wanted to know his birth mother as well, and his belief in the-” She cut herself off.

Harry frowned. “Belief in the what?” He asked.

Emma shook her head. “It’s nothing important,” She said. “Just kid stuff. Fairy tales.”

Harry pursed his lips.

“Look,” She continued. “I just wanted you to know this before you started interrogating the town. Some of them might think that I want to take Henry away from Regina.” She hesitated. “While I may not see eye to eye with her, I don’t want to take him away from his home.”

Harry mulled it over for a second, then nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind,” He agreed. “Thanks for giving me a heads up.”

Emma sighed in relief, murmured a ‘Yeah’, then got up. “I’ll see you around, then, Harry. Got Sheriff business to get back to.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed and let her walk away.

He did, after all, have a lot to think about now. Regina was obviously the biggest factor, but Emma had shown her cards, too, and seeing where Henry stood was going to be the most important factor in this. But Harry also had a feeling the Mayor was going to block him from meeting Henry for as long as humanly possible, so he was going to have to interview everyone else first. 

And then there was the part about fairy tales.

Sure, every kid believed in fairy tales, but there was something niggling at the back of Harry’s mind - something he couldn’t quite catch or formulate. 

But he did know one thing, and that was that this town had way too many mysteries than it should. And he had a feeling none of them were as simple as usual small-town gossip tended to be. 

Chapter Text

It was Hermione Granger, predictably, who noticed the glitch. The two British agents had refused to leave without Potter once it had become apparent to them that he was not going to come out of that specific magicked area for a while now, and it wasn’t like Carter could refuse them, could he? Thin ice and all.

Plus, he was aware that Granger was a genius if all the information about her was correct, and it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else with them. So he’d assigned her to Fonterra with rough excuses about only taking Weasley since he was already an auror and all, and vanished back into his side of the building, hoping the Unspeakable would cool off by the time he had to return, which would most likely be once Bill Weasley was able to make the journey. 

They’d apparently caught the man during one of his infrequent trips to Egypt, where an archaeologist had called him in as a specialist, so he couldn’t extricate himself before settling that job just yet, and according to Weasley the Auror (goddammit, Carter would have to call him Ron, wouldn’t he?) Weasley, the curse breaker, or Bill, as it was, would only arrive after a few weeks.

In any case, the point was, a week and a half after the Weasley-Granger pair had decided (demanded) to stay, he was forcibly yanked into Fonterra’s office with Granger, Weasley the Auror, and Fonterra herself. 

He wanted to growl in distaste but stopped at Fonterra’s warning look and sighed. “What?” He asked. “Bill Weasley isn’t here yet.”

Fonterra rolled her eyes. “Obviously,” She said without blunting her tone for him. 

Granger cleared her throat. “Mr. Hagensaber,” She said graciously. “My apologies for dragging you from your work.”

Fonterra crossed her arms with an expression that very openly showed how little she cared about that particular apology.

Carter rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as the earnest diplomat stared at him with piercingly apologetic eyes that he just knew had something hidden. “No need, Ms. Granger,” He managed. “You were saying?”

There was a small smile that played at the corner of her lips that looked surprisingly manipulative. Suddenly, hidden depths in piercing gazes weren’t too big of a stretch. “Well, Unspeakable Fonterra and I were discussing the implications of Harry passing through the barrier when no one else could-”

Carter grit his teeth, forcing himself not to speak. He and Fonterra had decided to let her do the talking when it came to getting information about the prophecy since it was obviously sensitive information, for all the British had refused to share it with their own people. 

Or maybe they just wanted to put the war behind them.

… Anyway.

“Unspeakable Fonterra suggested looking through the archives for this since the research did begin 28 years ago,” Granger continued, and Carter frowned further, shooting a confused look at the Unspeakable, who looked remarkably a mix between frustration and sheepishness, and oh. She hadn’t brought it up. Carter wanted to groan. “And we discovered an alarming trend of blurred memories alongside the inability to go in, though these are affecting muggles- no majs, rather than wizards.” She inhaled sharply. “We linked that trend to a series of blurred memories ending at an adoption agency, and considering that was very focused and happened when none of the people involved left Boston at all, that means there was something that left the boundary.”

“Or someone,” Weasley said. “Huh, could the curse be tied to a person instead of the town itself?”

Carter had to hand it to the Brits. They might not have budged up on the prophecy (probably because Fonterra hadn’t asked them), but they were certainly pointing out an interesting perspective. And if it was true…

“No,” Fonterra said, dashing his hopes. “The impact is too complex not to be tethered to the town lines. And the town lines don’t change despite the potential source, if indeed it’s a person, moving around inside it.”

“Well, yes,” Granger cut in. “But that doesn’t preclude the fact that it may be tied into both aspects. There may be more dimensions to this than we assumed. But the fact that this person can freely enter and leave either means they have a method to pass the barrier-”

“Which means we can find a way,” Weasley the- oh, fine, Ron added.

“Yes, but also that if we manage to get a message to Harry, he can figure out who it is and potentially sequester them. If one part of the curse is minimized, then the overall curse should be weakened as well, making our drill through the town line easier.”

Carter mulled over the thought in his mind. “Not a bad idea,” He admitted. “Still don’t have a way in or a way to get a message in, but the hypothesis seems sound. Probably easier to get in something non-sentient than a whole human being, too,” He added.

“Exactly,” Granger agreed. 

Ron sighed. “I still don’t get why Harry passed through the barrier. I know he’s got one hell of a trouble magnet, but this has got to top the charts, don’t you think?” He looked part annoyed, part worried, which seemed to be his perpetual expression whenever Potter was brought up.

Granger- Hermione’s shoulders tensed. “Yeah,” She agreed. “I tried checking out anything that might explain it in the archives, but…” She sighed. “I guess that’s just another thing–”

Fonterra cleared her throat. “About that,” She began.

Hermione and Ron turned to her expectantly. She shot a look at Carter, but he narrowed his eyes and nudged her on. She made the bed, and now she ought to lie in it.

Fonterra inhaled sharply. “What of the prophecy? We aren’t aware of what it pertains to, but we’ve all heard how Potter was ‘The Chosen One’. Couldn’t that have anything to do with it?”

“Yeah,” Carter added, just to be clear. “What did the prophecy contain?”

Ron and Hermione exchanged doubtful looks. “No, I don’t think so,” Hermione said finally, slowly. “I don’t… Divination isn’t exactly my strong suit, but since the prophecy has come true already, it should have long lost its power over the world. And if a prophecy was really the thing that was letting someone enter, well.” Her glare sharpened. “There are countless people with prophecies about them. I don’t doubt you’d have found one to attempt the crossing.”

She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t telling him anything, either. And Carter was never one to back down. “Yeah, but we don’t know what Potter’s prophecy was about,” He pointed out. “All I’ve heard of it is that it predicted Potter had a special power that helped him defeat the Dark Lord. That power could’ve had something to do with the barrier.” And if not that, at least it would help America plan for possible backstabbing, though he didn’t mention that last part.

Ron rolled his eyes before Hermione could so much as begin speaking, which was probably a good thing because, from the look on her face, Carter had a feeling she was not thinking about telling them the prophecy. “Yeah, right,” He said. “Harry’s power was ‘love’. How would that ever play a role?”

Wait, what? Love? What in Dante’s Inferno was that supposed to mean?

Fonterra’s eyebrows shot to the top of her head.

Hermione grimaced. “May I talk to you, Ron?” She asked archly. “In private?” And without waiting, she dragged him away.

“You don’t think…?” Carter asked Fonterra, voice low.

Fonterra blinked, then shook her head. “His response was too automatic, and Granger’s reaction was telling,” She said, repeating exactly what Carter was thinking. “But… well, I highly doubt Potter kept the secret from them, too.”

“But love?”

Fonterra snorted. “Honestly, at this point, I’d take that over not knowing what the hell is going on.”

Carter shook his head, letting her turn back to the stack of papers on her desk, wondering how in the goddamn world people were scared of a seventy-year-old old guy defeated by a child with the power of ‘love’.

In the next two weeks, Carter tried, yet again, to get other curse breakers on call, but ancient magic specialists were surprisingly in huge demand, and most of them had years of work lined up in Egyptian tombs and Grecian catacombs (of course, the bigger point to note was the fact not a lot of curse breakers went into that specialization anyway, but that wasn’t what Carter was concerned with).

So that left Bill Weasley, who, while having a few jobs listed as pending, had free time because he had a family to go back to in his free time and also because it was that very family who was calling him in to help. Yay for a bastardization of nepotism or whatever.

So two weeks later, there they were, standing on guard as the Weasley Cursebreaker finished examining the barrier. Beside Carter stood the other British Liaisons as well as Fonterra, and then, behind him, stood two Aurors, equally alert.

“This is pretty interesting,” Bill admitted. “It has similarities to Ancient European curses - not what I’m as well-versed in, practically, but then, no one is, these days.” 

Carter scowled. Of course, no one was - most European curses and gravesites had been cleansed purely because of the explosion of population and the negativity surrounding both curses and gravesites. Grecian catacombs and Egyptian tombs, on the other hand, were far more sacred throughout history, both for Muggles and Wizards. 

“I do have the basic knowledge, though,” Bill continued. “And there’s a lot of information on it already.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, there is a point where similarities end. The framework for the curse is really unlike anything I’ve seen before. Have you–”

“We called in some scholars,” Fonterra preempted his question. “While they were able to inform us of what you mentioned right now, the nature of the curse and the exact way to surpass it, not to mention its origins, remains unknown.”

“Hmm,” Bill waved his wand, muttering something under his breath. The patch of air right in front of him, marked a foot away by Carter’s Aurors the moment they realized there was a town line, shimmered bright orange. “Well, it’s not intentionally fatal,” He said. “But definitely dangerous. Not as much for the outsiders as for the insiders.” He waved his wand in another complex motion, and the same patch of air shimmered. “And you mentioned something about blurred memories?”

Carter gave a short nod. “Yeah. Anyone who goes too close - well, mostly muggles - tend to lose their memories of the location or any understanding of what’s over here. It doesn’t affect us like that, so I’m figuring it has something to do with a muggle-repelling charm.”

Bill frowned. “There’s nothing pertaining to non-magicals written in the wards…” He muttered. “Could it be layered?” He shook his head. “Definitely a memory element woven in,” He confirmed. “Though, weirdly, it’s also affecting the inside of the curse.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “Wait, do you think—?” He swallowed. “D’you think Harry forgot, too? Is that why he hasn’t found a way out yet?”

Bill grimaced. “Not sure,” He said apologetically. “It’s not exactly the same magic we know. I can try to decode it, but there are quite a few layers that won’t make a lot of sense.”

Hermione scoffed. “And your scholars refused to go over this?” She mumbled to Fonterra. “If I wasn’t so worried about Harry, I’d be all over the chance to learn about new magic.”

Fonterra’s lips twitched in a way Carter recognized immediately as humor, but she didn’t reply. 

Carter rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry,” He drawled. “They certainly tried to get exclusive rights. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to get them, and they refused to work with the other professors bidding for the same rights. Then your friend got sucked in, and this is now a site of an international incident. Getting a monopoly on this research would be impossible.”

Bill chuckled. “Good thing I’m working on the curse, then,” He said. “Because I don’t think I could leave well enough alone after seeing this magic, either.”

Carter had half a mind to ban him just for that… then he remembered no other relevant curse breaker was going to be able to come on short notice. And it wasn’t like Bill Weasley wasn’t smart; according to the reports his subordinates had gathered and the ones the goblins had sent over after much growling and snarling, the guy was a pretty solid worker, good on his feet and quick in wit and mind. He had an almost instinctive feel for curses, so it could only be a good thing that he was working with them. 

“Can you get through?” He asked roughly, trying not to show his irritation (at everyone, including himself).

Bill pursed his lips and stepped back. “Eventually,” He said. “Probably any good curse breaker can get through. But we’d have to be careful since we don’t know what other elements are tied into the cursewards.”

“So… yes?”

“With a little bit of time,” He confirmed.

We don’t have time! Carter wanted to shout. 

“What if Harry’s hurt or affected by the curse?!” Ron burst. “We don’t have time!”

Hermione bit her lip. “But we can’t be careless,” She said. “If something goes wrong…” She shuddered. “I’ve heard of wards collapsing in on themselves–”

Bill cleared his throat. “That won’t happen,” He said forcefully, eyes narrowed. “Yes, we’ll need to be careful, but a total collapse won’t happen as long as we don’t force it.” He jerked his head at Ron. “Don’t worry about Harry. You know how he gets, don’t you? If there’s anyone who’ll survive, it’s him.”

Carter snorted involuntarily.

Ron sagged. “Yeah,” He agreed, then straightened almost immediately, eyes flickering to Carter’s team in a manner that was entirely self-conscious. 

“Good,” Bill said. “Shall we get started?”

Chapter Text

Since the Mayor was a no-go and the Sheriff had chosen to disappear, Harry decided to start with the easiest method - the diner. Emma had seemed to be a regular there, which meant they’d know something about her. Considering she was also Henry’s biological mother, that meant an avenue of gossip. Diners and small stops loved gossip. Small towns? Even more so.

However, since everyone knew he was a policeman now (small town, gossip, see the connection?), trying to ask without incurring suspicion would be a bit difficult.

Though he thought it would be suspicious either way, considering the reality of no new visitors in this town, excluding the wonderful new Sheriff, pardon his sarcasm. 

So he went to the diner and asked about Henry.

“You’re the policeman who’s been hanging around Emma,” The redheaded waitress said, eyebrows raised and hands perched on her hips. It wasn’t as intimidating as she probably intended it to be, but then again, Harry had far more intimidating redheaded women in his life.

“Yes,” He agreed. “As I’m sure you’re well aware, I’m in Storybrooke searching for the truth behind Henry Mills. Do you have any knowledge of the situation?”

“Ruby!” The old woman at the counter hollered, shooting Harry a suspicious yet annoyed glare. “Table 3!”

The waitress rolled her eyes. “Coming!” She shouted back, then pursed her lips at Harry. “Emma approved?”

Harry leaned back in his seat. “Would I be here otherwise?” The answer was, of course, that he would, but she didn’t need to be privy to that. 

“Point,” The woman muttered, then sighed. “My break’s in an hour and a half,” She said. “I can meet you out front.”

“Deal.”

“Ruby!”

Ruby rolled her eyes and left.

Harry let himself smile slightly and stood, ignoring the old woman’s continuous glare (yet again) and left the diner. 

Since he had an hour to waste, he decided to visit that small shop, which had been giving him weird vibes ever since he’d first seen it. 

He hummed as he walked, watching as the townspeople turned to look as he passed by. It was annoying being the center of attention again, he mused, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it. 

He came to a stop in front of the small structure with a signboard hanging out front. It read ‘Mr. Gold, Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer’.

Ah, the one shop that had reeked of suspicious magic, and it looked suspicious, too. Why was it always pawnshops?

He shook his head, inhaled sharply, and straightened his back, then stepped in.

The bell rang, indicating his entrance, and the man at the counter looked up, piercing eyes staring into Harry’s own, far too perceptive to be innocent - in anything, really, though at this point, Harry had no idea what to ask. 

“Ah,” The man said. “Mr. Potter, was it?”

Harry inclined his head. “We haven’t been introduced,” He murmured in a mockery of reproach. 

The man’s empty smile didn’t waver. “Small towns,” He explained, waving his hand. “You know how they are.”

It was honestly creepy how that mimicked his own thoughts from a few minutes ago. “And you are?”

“I own this shop,” The man said amiably. “Please, call me Gold.”

What, no first name? Harry didn’t ask. “Pleasure,” He said instead. “I assume my reason for being here has traveled across town, too?”

Gold hummed. “You’re here to see whether or not Henry has had a good life.” His expression was bland even as his eyes glittered with intelligence and interest. “Though I do wonder how you’ve been saddled with the job, Mr. Potter. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of any officials in the many years we’ve been here.”

Harry tried to make his response just as casual, but he had a feeling he was slightly off the mark. “Understaffed,” He said. “You know how it is.” 

This time, Gold laughed, and it wasn’t empty. “Yes, I do know, in fact,” He agreed. 

Harry shifted on his feet. “Do you know the Mills family?” He asked carefully because he might as well. 

Gold put down the pool he’d been holding in his hand, though his hand still hovered next to the watch he’d been fiddling with. It gleamed under the direct light of a lamp on the counter, and for a second, Harry’s eyes caught on what might as well have been glowing gems encrusted on the edges. But then he blinked, and it was plain silver, nothing special about it at all. Gold, though, he was staring at Harry more curiously than he had been five minutes ago. “Regina Mills is our lovely mayor,” He said. “I highly doubt there is anyone in our little town who does not know her. And her son,” He added, seemingly as an afterthought. 

Harry didn’t buy it. “But you don’t know her personally.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” He smiled. “I do have some dealings with Mayor Mills. I do happen to have a little bit of real estate around this area, after all.” 

Harry would bet his wand arm that this guy had more than a ‘little bit’. “Not with Henry?”

“Unfortunately, no. Mayor Mills keeps her personal and business lives… well,” He shrugged, but the unfinished sentence almost seemed intentional. 

Harry broke their pseudo-staring contest to glance summarily around the shop again, this time noting with growing confusion and irritation that the magic he’d seen pulsating around this place was not sourced from any of the items displayed. Of course, that would probably have been too easy for his life, and when was his life easy? Still, for once, Harry wished he’d get a straight answer out of something. He sighed, pushed his hand through his hair to drag it away from where it was trailing into his eyes, and inclined his head at the Pawnbroker, who was most certainly hiding something Harry had no idea how to get out of him. “Thank you for your time.”

Gold’s smile was vapid again. “My pleasure, Mr. Potter.” Still, right before Harry exited, the man cleared his throat. “... You may want to consider visiting the boy’s therapist. I hear that profession has made their business out of analyzing people.”

The door swung shut behind Harry. 

Henry had a therapist? That certainly added to Regina providing him with all that she could. It would definitely make Harry’s life easier if that was what it was, in fact.

But Gold’s last comment…

Harry grimaced and began to walk, hoping at least some of his confusion might clear up soon. 

An hour later, he remained hopelessly wrong. He had come to the conclusion that Henry’s therapist might not be completely good for him if he was being influenced by Regina, who was certainly paying her kid’s bills. That was the only idea he could imagine Gold had been positing, but he couldn’t confirm anything until he met the man and conversed with him, as well as figured out where his loyalties lay - with Regina or with Henry. 

Regina’s web of power, though, seemed vexingly spread out. He didn’t know how much power a small-town mayor was supposed to have in that very town, but Regina’s topped the charts. He’d talked to a total of five people on his way back to the diner, and after the first flash of fear or suppression, there was staunch support and a Regina-is-perfect and Henry-is-so-lucky-to-have-her-as-his-mother that made Harry want to silencio everyone it was so rehearsed. 

Regina had definitely spread the word. Or, if not that, her political clout had managed to turn the small-town gossip mill in her favor.

He shook his head as he finally reached the diner again, nearing the time he’d confirmed with Ruby, and wondered whether the redhead would be the same, then decided probably not, if her willingness to speak to him was any indication. The undertones of his contested stay here had produced Emma as a foil to Regina - and wow, she’d certainly managed to rise in office fast as a sheriff, hadn’t she? Harry hadn’t thought about it before, but she had only been in town for a few months - and Ruby had looked to be in Emma’s field earlier. 

And Emma had been helpful, so Harry had hopes. 

It took no more than two minutes for Ruby to come rushing out, quickly shrugging out of her apron, a harried look on her face. “Come on,” She hissed. “Before Granny takes my break time, too.”

Eyebrows raised but stride steady, Harry followed, and soon they were on another street. Ruby slowed down. “So,” She said. “Henry.”

Harry gave a short nod. “Henry.”

Ruby played with the edges of her hair as her eyes flickered from person to shop and beyond as they walked. “He’s been with Regina since he was a baby,” She said. “And Regina has given him everything he’s asked for or needed.”

Literally everyone kept telling him. “I heard he goes to a therapist?”

“Yeah,” She said. “Archie– er, Dr. Archibald Hopper. He’s had a practice for…” Her eyes clouded. “Well, a long time, honestly. Everyone who needs help goes to him.” She shrugged. “Kind of have to - he’s literally the only psychiatrist we have.” She pointed down the street. “His office is way down there. It’s pretty obvious, so you should find it easily.” She pointed to the other end. “The school Henry goes to isn’t close by, but you can check out his records there, too.”

Harry smiled slightly, pleasantly surprised. “That is useful. Thanks.”

Ruby stilled in her steps and looked him in the eyes, and his smile slipped. Of course, it wasn’t out of the goodness of her heart. “Henry’s teacher used to be Mary Margaret Blanchard,” She said.

Harry frowned. “‘Used to be’?” He asked with a sinking heart.

Ruby nodded. “She’s no longer a teacher because she was arrested for the suspected murder of Kathryn Nolan.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?” And, inside, he screamed no because oh. He was totally getting stuck in something new here, wasn’t he?

Ruby’s grimace was loud. “Emma’s been trying to get her acquitted, but Regina–” She scowled. “Mary Margaret wouldn’t murder anyone. She was framed because–” She broke off, a hint of red on the edges of her cheeks. “Because she was in a relationship with David, and Kathryn was David’s wife.” 

Harry’s inner auror perked up at the mystery, but Ruby wasn’t done.

“Look,” She said more quietly, taking a few seconds to glance around and deeming it safe. “I’m sorry about this, but you’re an outsider, and you’re with law enforcement. You’ve got, I don’t know, an unbiased perspective. I know Mary Margaret didn’t do this, and so does Emma. But most of the town believes she did because– because of–” The cheating. Ruby inhaled sharply. “Because of David,” She managed. “Emma’s stretched way too thin trying to get to the bottom of this, serving as the only officer in town, and trying to build a relationship with Henry since she’s already lost the first ten years–” Her eyes widened. “Wait, do you…?”

Harry nodded encouragingly. “I know Emma’s the birth mother,” He agreed. “It’s not a problem.”

Ruby’s shoulders untensed. “Good. She doesn’t need me to mess up something else.” She rubbed at her cheek. “I know I’m asking a lot, but could you… I don’t know, take a look at her case?”

Harry blinked, musing over his options. On the one hand, from how the girl had slipped up with Regina’s name, the Mayor was most certainly involved in this case. She was obviously against the woman who was being charged with murder, and if Harry tried to interfere in a case that was so obviously out of his jurisdiction, it wasn’t even funny; he didn’t even know the trouble he’d be inviting! Similarly, he didn’t know this woman - what if she was wrong or lying or under a misconception and this Mary Margaret really was guilty? Harry didn’t need an extra problem anyway.

… On the other hand. 

Well, it was obvious - he couldn’t help himself. Not only had he managed to not find a way out, but he was getting a little too curious about the mysteries this town seemed to hold so dear. He still didn’t know anything about the Pawnbroker’s shop, either, nor about Henry, who he had come for in the first place. 

And, if he was being honest, most importantly? He just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

“I can’t offer any help,” He said simply, and Ruby’s face began to fall. “Officially,” He hastened to add. “But I can consult for a case in my free time since no one controls that.”

Ruby broke out into a smile. “Oh my god, that’s perfect! I’ll tell Emma!”

Harry tilted his head. “Better let me,” He told her. “Can’t have anything insinuated in ways where the Mayor might expel me from your town for something or the other.”

Ruby snorted. “No kidding. Yeah, sure. You know the way to the Sheriff’s office?”

Harry nodded. “I’ll go there immediately after I visit the therapist’s office,” He said, not considering visiting the school because he’d have wanted to talk to the teacher first anyway, and she was the one stuck in jail.

Ruby waved a quick goodbye and stalked off exactly the way they’d come, leaving Harry alone to make the short trip to Dr. Hopper’s practice.

It turned out, though, that the good doctor was already in a session, and, as the receptionist said, he was going to be in for a few sessions yet. 

Deciding to push this part of the investigation off again because of the literal improbability of being able to meet Hopper today (or, well, at least immediately), Harry decided maybe the world really was pushing him to stick his nose in places where he didn’t belong (like always) and headed over to the Sheriff’s station.

It was… empty. 

Harry frowned, stressed a little over the actual stupidity of having literally no one on site when there was a prisoner being held there, and then shook his head, resolved to ward the area later (because, again, he couldn’t help but stick his nose where he didn’t belong) and went inside, stepping into a room with a woman sitting in one of the cells in the far corner. 

She looked up immediately upon his arrival, and her eyes widened as she saw him, presumably because small town gossip apparently traveled inside jail, too. Even when there was no one else inside. 

Man, Harry really needed to find out how small towns operated. 

“Hello,” He greeted, hand raised in a wave. “I’m Harry.”

“The cop, right?” She asked, slightly off-put. “Emma’s not here.”

Harry shifted from one foot to the other. “That’s okay,” He said. “I’m not here–” He hesitated. Wasn’t he, though? Ruby had mentioned Mary Margaret was Henry’s teacher, and that made her a witness despite her current status as a prisoner purely because he was on an information-gathering journey, not one to remove Henry from his current environment. “I came here to talk to you, in fact,” He said. 

Mary Margaret’s breath caught, and her fists clenched. “About- about the- the murder?” She stammered, looking absolutely terrified. 

Harry wondered how anyone could imagine she’d done it. “No,” He said. She did not relax. “I am not able to officially say anything about that particular case as it is not within my jurisdiction,” He added.

She still didn’t relax, a conflicted look coming over her face. 

Huh. So she half wanted him to rip apart the case and was half terrified he would. Strange. “I’m here about Henry.”

Mary Margaret very obviously snapped out of her musings. “Oh,” She said. “Emma said you were here about him. Is everything okay?”

The fact that she seemed genuinely concerned only made him support her more, albeit silently. “Yes, nothing is wrong for now. I’m just conducting an investigation into Henry’s life due to severe mismanagement of his case as a baby from a closed adoption.”

Mary Margaret nodded and slipped back into a sitting position, prompting Harry to come closer, standing in front of the cell as he leaned back against the table. “Well, I’m not sure what you want me to say,” She admitted morosely. “As much as I wish I could say Regina isn’t a good mother–” She sighed, squeezing one hand with the other. “Regina does give Henry everything he needs. He was well-read in school, always did his homework, and didn’t have problems understanding the work. Regina came to every parent-teacher meeting, too, and even after the few detentions that Henry did get to talk to the principal about them.” She huffed. “She has her flaws as a mother, yes. She’s controlling, according to Henry, and more than a bit strict, especially about freedom and imagination, of which the first I can understand, considering he’s a ten-year-old boy, but the second does, in fact, concern me–”

“Mary Margaret?” Emma’s voice came from the door, slightly panicked, mostly angry. “Harry? What the hell are you doing?”

Mary Margaret stilled. “Emma–” She started, but Harry interrupted her.

“Emma,” He repeated. “I came here to interview Ms. Blanchard about Henry, considering she used to be her teacher.” He raised his eyebrows as he spoke, making his tone more than a little pointed. 

Emma didn’t blush so much as grimace, but she did bristle in reaction. “That does not excuse coming into my station to talk to a prisoner–”

“A prisoner?” He asked, only to pull the wind out of her sails. “I was told she was wrongfully accused.”

Emma flinched, and Harry could hear Mary Margaret gas in surprise. That statement did, however, succeed in stopping the Sheriff from continuing her blaming, which Harry was in no mood to listen to, anyway. “Ruby,” Emma concluded. “Isn’t it?”

Harry nodded once. “I can’t officially do anything,” He said before any conversation could be had. “... but I was interested in the case itself. Perhaps you could explain it to me over a cup of tea?”

Emma stared at him with narrowed eyes as if looking for any sign of a lie. Then her eyes flickered back to Mary Margaret, who - and Harry had to quickly turn to see - looked pleading, quite unlike she had when Harry first entered. “Sure,” Emma muttered. “Why not? It’s not like it isn’t public knowledge anyway.”

Harry smiled, then turned back to the teacher. “Pardon the interruption,” He told her. “You were saying?”

Mary Margaret blinked a few times, obviously disoriented, then bit her lower lip, her hands now clenched around the bars. During the conversation with Emma, she had obviously come to the front of the cell. “Oh, I was just talking about how Henry’s imagination is truly miraculous,” She continued. “As a ten-year-old’s should be, of course. But the problem is Regina doesn’t exactly understand that.”

Emma made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat. 

Harry turned to her. 

This time, she did redden a little. “Sorry,” She said. “But–” Her tone grew frustrated. “And, again, I still think Regina did a… good job, but Henry’s belief in fairy tales isn’t exactly standard.” She looked at Mary Margaret, then pursed her lips and turned back to Harry. “Look, have you talked to Dr. Hopper yet?”

“No,” Harry admitted. “He was with a patient when I went there just now.”

Emma nodded. “Right. Well, I’d say you should go to him first. I don’t want to…” She trailed off. 

Harry frowned. Okay, seriously, though - why was the idea of belief in fairy tales so strange to these guys? Kids believed in silly stuff all the time! So why were Henry’s beliefs, specifically, strange enough to warrant this? (To warrant a psychiatrist, in fact, because that was looking to be the trend here?)

“That’s a good idea,” Mary Margaret said. “Archie would know a lot more about Henry, actually.” 

Harry sighed but inclined his head. “Alright,” He agreed. “I’ll come back to this topic after talking with him.” He walked to a chair and sat. “You want to discuss that case now? Because the doctor isn’t going to be free for a few hours, but I am.”

Emma huffed a laugh. “You aren’t a regular cop, are you?” She asked. 

Harry quirked a smile. “I’m British,” He said, trying to sound as posh as he possibly could. “We’re all odd like that.”

It was worth saying something that made him cringe because both women burst into laughter. From the looks of them, they’d needed it.

It was only after they’d calmed down that Harry leaned back. “What’s the story?” He asked. 

Emma inhaled deeply and settled down on the other side of the desk, and they both angled their chairs so that they were in view of the cell where Mary Margaret was sitting as well. 

It was Mary Margaret who began. “It started with Henry,” She admitted. “Well, technically, it started because I helped Henry find Emma, and Regina didn’t like that.”

Emma’s lips twisted in a mockery of a smile. “She didn’t want me in Henry’s life, and I get that since I–” she looked down for a second. “Since I gave him up for adoption. But he found me, and, well…”

“You couldn’t leave him alone anymore,” Harry concluded. 

Emma nodded.

Mary Margaret took a deep breath. “Regina blamed me for that, so that built a bit of bad blood between us.” She chewed on her lip. “So- so when Kathryn disappeared and her- her heart was found–” She broke off, hands trembling. 

Emma took over. “Kathryn’s heart was found in Mary Margaret’s jewelry box under a bridge on the outskirts, and Mary Margaret’s fingerprints were found there as well. A hunting knife matching the crime was also found in Mary Margaret’s apartment. Since she had also–” Her eyes flickered to Mary Margaret in apology. “Been having an affair with Kathryn’s husband, Regina demanded she be incarcerated pending trial because of overwhelming evidence.”

Harry frowned. ‘Overwhelming’? “What about the body?” He asked. 

Emma shook her head. “We didn’t find it.”

Harry leaned back. “That’s odd,” He murmured. “Regardless of whoever committed the crime and the symbolism of cutting out the heart, it’s far easier to hide a single organ than it is to hide an entire body.”

“Exactly!” Emma exclaimed. “That’s what I keep coming back to. If–” She swallowed. “Since Kathryn is dead, where did they bury or hide her body? And why? Finding the body could be much more conclusive than just an organ.”

Maybe the body told a different story, Harry thought. Or, as Emma obviously seemed to think but was unable to voice, it wasn’t Kathryn’s heart. So was it? “Did it get tested for DNA?” He asked, recalling the importance of such evidence for muggle authorities. 

“It’s currently being tested,” Emma said. “But Regina insists it is Kathryn’s heart, and she’s got a really strong hold over the town narrative.”

“Politics,” Harry muttered.

“Tell me about it.”

“In any case,” Harry said. “The best bet would obviously be finding the body.” He looked around in part amusement, part pity. “Which I’m guessing you don’t have the personnel to do.”

“Nope,” Emma agreed. 

“What if it is Kathryn’s heart?” Mary Margaret asked in a small voice. 

Harry turned to her, and he could practically feel his instincts screaming at him. He met her eyes. “Then we look for other evidence.” And I do some truth-seeking. “The true story will come out, but only if you keep looking. The fact is that if someone has murdered Kathryn, that means someone here is guilty. And that, in turn, means there will be clues leading to them instead. That’s also probably why they’ve hidden the body if indeed it has happened - because it could identify the person who killed her.”

“But Storybrooke is incredibly huge,” Emma said, grimacing. “The forest itself spans a larger area than the town. I don’t even have a deputy - how am I supposed to find a body?”

“I can help,” Harry offered. “It will probably need to be categorized as a civilian resource, but I know a few tracking techniques from my time as a– cop. Street level, I mean. Plus, I was at a boarding school for seven years, and that place had a great forest next to it. I’ve got a fair bit of experience navigating places like that.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie, just… exclusion. 

“You would?” Mary Margaret asked, heavy lines of hope in her voice.

Harry smiled sadly and nodded yes.

“I’d appreciate that, but…” Emma frowned. “If Regina finds out–”

“She can’t do anything,” He said. “I’m not a citizen of her town, nor am I an official under her station. The fact of the matter is, I outrank her, and I’m not afraid to use that should she demand it.” He shook his head. “She won’t, though,” He added because he knew a lot of annoying people like that from the British Ministry. “Not if she isn’t able to figure it out before everything is placed in front of her.”

“So we just have to be quick,” Emma concluded hopelessly.

Harry was about to speak again when the station’s phone rang. 

Emma frowned and picked it up, only to pale at what she heard from the other end.

She put down the phone and looked at the other two with hard eyes. “It’s Kathryn’s,” She said simply. It was enough.

Mary Margaret made a small noise of regret and pulled back to the edge of the cell.

Harry’s worry doubled. “Walk me through your entire investigation,” He said. “In detail. I’ll need to know what, exactly, I’ll have to keep an eye out for.”

Chapter Text

Harry did not, in fact, find the body that very same day, probably because his spells were more generic than he would have liked. Unfortunately, he didn't know the woman he was searching for, and he had nothing of hers, either, because Emma had been unable to provide it on short notice. She promised to ask David, the woman's husband, but until then, Harry was entirely on his own. 

His spells did, however, lead him to the bridge Emma had explained the heart had been found under, though they kept fritzing at various moments, which was pretty weird, but Harry couldn't exactly say what was wrong - he was no specialist, and nor was he an academic. Hermione would probably have been able to tell, but Harry? Harry worked mostly on instinct, though he'd been supplementing his style with actual knowledge the last few years. 

He looked at the idyllic location, frowning as he found absolutely nothing that screamed murder. There was no sign of blood, no hints of fading violence, no absolutely negative emotions… it was possible that the killer used this place just as a disposal location for the heart, but why? It definitely had to do with this being Mary Margaret and David Nolan's rendezvous site, obviously, but that wasn't an explanation for why they hadn't dumped the entire body here. 

Too obvious?

It was possible, and perhaps they'd assumed it would be considered the symbolic representation of the broken love affair between Mary Margaret and David Nolan to place only the heart in that very location. 

Still, it confirmed Harry's belief that Mary Margaret did not commit  the murder, if only because of that single emotional residue spell. If a scorned lover had killed and placed Kathryn's heart in this place, there would be strong emotions floating alongside the action, and strong emotions lingered. 

He frowned and moved closer to be underside of the bridge, peering into the location marked off by fluttering police tape. Alright, so a narrowed area. He could work with that. 

He glanced around, then took out and swished his wand and cast a nonverbal spell to sound out the foreign matter in the section of the land. Light flew from the wand to encompass the area, and then faded. Slowly, ever so slowly, a few pieces rose from the ground. Harry quickly placed the threads and the small metal piece in a conjured plastic bag made for evidence collection, then looked at it, frowning. That small piece of metal looked jagged and crooked at the corner, as if it was… broken off?

Ah. A shovel. 

It was weird that it took him that long to think of it, honestly, though others would argue on his behalf that the reason was linked to the last time he'd used a shovel - when he'd buried the house elf who saved his life.

Harry disagreed, so it was lucky no one else was there to be a part of that argument. He stuffed the bag into his pocket, deciding that once he figured out which shovel the piece belonged to, he'd inform the sheriff and her prisoner. 

He glanced up at the sky, grimaced at the setting sun, and sighed, realizing that it was probably better he returned to town. He quickly magicked away any dirt and grime, then began walking back, wondering if Dr. Hopper would be free enough to warrant an after-hours conversation. 

His feet led him straight to Dr. Hopper's office, and that was an unfortunate mistake because standing in front of the building, looking absolutely thunderous, was the Mayor of Storybrooke, and her target seemed to be - who else? - Harry James Potter.

"You," She snarled, coming to face him. "You come into my town without my permission, seek to interfere with my family, and now butt your head into an investigation that has nothing to do with you?! You don't even belong on this continent!"

Harry couldn't hold back the surprise. How in Merlin had she found out? He didn't think Emma or Mary Margaret would have mentioned it - not with how they had been reacting. And there had been literally no one else in the room–

His eyes narrowed, and his mind flashed back to Fred and George's expendable ears. 

A listening device.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," He said coldly. "I have only been doing what I came to this town to do - discover Henry's living situation."

"Henry's living situation is perfectly fine!" She snapped.

"That's for me to decide," Harry said. "And unless you'd like to take it up with your own courts and thereby invite even more social workers here to Storybrooke - which I have no problem with you doing, of course, because Boston Social Services would be delighted to know what I've found out till now - you will let me do my job."

Regina's eyes twitched, and her fists clenched. "You dare threaten me?" She asked quietly.

He didn't smile. "It's not a threat."

She grit her teeth. "Regardless, officer, this is my town, and you involving yourself in a local investigation–"

"It's commissioner," Harry cut in because that had been her intention, anyway. "And as I said, I am only conducting the investigation I came here for. I have no idea why you would think otherwise." He raised his eyebrow in challenge.

Regina glared viciously. "This conversation is not over," She hissed. "I will be getting an official notice for the dissolution of your duty."

"Feel free to try," Harry replied. 

Regina spun on her feet and stalked away, heels clicking as she went towards her car, where a wide-eyed curious boy was peering out, looking awed. 

Harry's expression immediately softened to a smile, and he waved, eliciting one in response, as well as yet another glare from Regina right before she got into the car and drove away. 

Harry hesitated, glanced at his watch, then at the doctor's office, and then he swore.

Emma would probably still be at the sheriff's station, he realized. And since that wasn't a place where they could talk freely anymore, especially not since he was still hiding his magic, he couldn't go there. He needed Emma to come to him, which meant his best bet was the diner in the morning. 

And until then…

He sighed and soldiered himself, then went into the building. 

"Dr. Hopper is not seeing anyone right now," The receptionist said, obviously packing up. "We're closed for today."

Harry looked at her. "I'm with the police," He said simply and strode past her without another word, all the way up to the office he'd been shown that morning, where he could hear clacking and shuffling coming from, as the doctor was obviously packing up as well. He knocked once, then, at the 'Come in!' , entered.

"Oh!" The doctor said, surprised. "I wasn't expecting a patient. We're closed for today, sir, but you can book a session for–"

"I'm a cop," Harry said again, tired of explaining, then realized - huh. That was probably what those police badges were for. Maybe he'd use it the next time. 

Dr. Hopper's eyes widened in recognition. "Oh," He repeated. "Mr. Potter, right?"

He nodded. 

"You're here about Henry." The doctor rubbed the bridge of his eyes, then adjusted his glasses and gestured to the couch. "Please, take a seat."

Harry did, only feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable as he realized this was probably where his patients sat. But then, he wasn't here in the capacity of a patient and therefore wasn't liable to be treated as one. He settled in. "About Henry," He began. "You're his therapist, correct?*

Hopper nodded. "I have worked with Henry for quite a while, yes. You're here about… his adoption?" There was a hitch in his voice that Harry definitely noticed but couldn't exactly recognize. 

Still, he nodded. "I am. I've been told you're likely one of the people who'd know Henry best."

The man smiled tightly, his hands clenching in his hands. "Well, I can't say I know him as well as his mother, but I have spent a fair bit of time with him." His eyes flickered to the door. 

Harry's brow furrowed, and he considered the second reason Regina had been standing in front of the therapist's office. "And I suppose that sentence has nothing to do with Madam Mayor at all, does it?"

Hopper's smile slipped. "... I really cannot say anything about Henry," He said instead, and this time, his regret was genuine. "Doctor-patient confidentiality. And without a warrant and due cause…"

Harry nodded. "I get it," He said. "Nothing specific, then. But what about Henry generally? How is the kid?" He wondered if he ought to take anything the man said with a grain of salt. 

Hopper sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose again, displacing his glasses for a few seconds. "Henry… Henry is a ten-year-old boy with a great imagination," He said. "He's a good kid, Mr. Potter, and that's really all I can say about it."

Harry took a few seconds to attempt to figure out a way past the literal roadblock, then nodded and stood up. "Very well," He agreed. "Thank you for your help."

Hopper's eyes were still flickering to the sides, but his shoulders untensed. "I really do wish I could help more," He murmured.

Harry inclined his head. "Goodbye."

He walked out of the office with an even greater surety that Regina Mills had her finger in every pie this town made and it was not settling well with Harry. Especially not when it seemed to, of all things, revolve around a little boy. Henry was what, three years younger than Teddy? Harry couldn't even imagine being involved in such politics even in his home, and he'd lived through the Dursleys and Hogwarts. 

He wondered what he was supposed to do now. He didn't really have a case, to be frankly honest. He had a hodgepodge of gut feelings, insidious implications, and a squeaky clean if a bit sharp, image of the town mayor. And at this point, all he did have was Regina not keeping in touch with social services for the first few years, as well as Henry running away a few months ago. The former could be easily excused by blaming the agency instead since it was technically their responsibility, and the latter broke down in the face of Henry returning home, albeit with his biological mother in tow. He could have stayed gone, and sure, that would be difficult for a ten-year-old, but…

Oh, Harry definitely needed to talk to Henry. 

Tomorrow, he decided, he would go to Emma, tell her about his suspicions regarding the mayor, especially the listening device he didn't have proof of and the shovel piece whose ownership he needed to confirm, and then ask her to take him to meet Henry, because he'd already talked to everyone else who was relevant. 

And maybe a night's sleep would help him get comfortable again and remind him he was not to stay involved, Potter. You've got a family to go back to!

… Yeah, it wasn't going to work. 

Chapter Text

Emma and Mary Margaret were not in the station, and that rang warning bells inside Harry’s mind because the cell door to Mary Margaret’s temporary jail was standing wide open, and there was no indication of anyone in the entire building. 

He swore loudly, purely to make sure the mayor would hear it and cringe - though he doubted it - and then took only a few seconds to cast a non-verbal time-restricted repelling charm to make sure Emma and Mary Margaret wouldn’t be in trouble when the mayor undoubtedly came to demand why the prisoner was out of her prison. Still, he couldn’t keep it up for long, or suspicion would rise, which necessitated the time restriction and a deadline. 

And then he stalked out, eyes narrowed and body bristling with energy.

The place around the station wasn’t exactly deserted, but it wasn’t empty, either, considering it was in the middle of the town, so Harry stayed quiet until he managed to make his way to the forest. He was pretty sure the only reason no one had stopped him was because of the glare on his face because a lot of them had certainly stopped to stare.

Regardless, he made it to the trees in record time and ducked behind one, first casting a soundless’  homenum revelio’,  then breathing a little calmer and focusing on a locator spell to find where Emma and Mary Margaret were… and his suspicions rang true. Both of them were deeper in the forest, and with everything that was going on, Harry had a feeling that it was not of their own volition.

He began to trek, moving through the foliage with the ease of a person used to spending time in the wild because if his seventh year had taught him  anything,  it was that it paid to have certain survival skills. 

And then, as he was moving, something subtle but terrifying disorienting washed over him, and he frowned because it kind of felt as if he’d been spun around, but… he blinked a few times, stilled, noted that the direction was still the same, and kept moving.

And yet, there remained something at the edge of his subconscious, whispering  something–

He came out on the edge of the forest, quite near one end of the town lines, and realized that something had interfered with his tracking spell. Because he was sure Mary Margaret and Emma were all the way inside the forest, so what was he doing outside it?

He surveyed his surroundings for a second, still feeling that edge of disorienting confusion, and realized he was staring at an old, abandoned house.

Well, he told himself, he was probably here for a reason.

And then he walked towards it. 

The house felt odd, in a way, not because of the abandoned thing but rather because there was something unreal about it that none of his spells were catching but which struck his instincts harder than even the spell interference back in the forest. 

It was empty, obviously, and all the remnants of furniture had years of dust on the sheets covering it. 

Harry wouldn’t have sat on them even if that hadn’t been the case. 

He walked through the hall and the lounge and kitchen, and his feet automatically led him to a door in the side. It opened to reveal a line of stairs going down–

The Hermione voice in his mind told him to stop and think for a second, but, well, there was also a Ron voice and together, he and Ron overpowered Hermione. 

Harry went down. 

Nothing happened. 

“A bit of a disappointment…” He murmured, just to hear something in the unnatural silence because, seriously, there wasn’t even the sound of any critters. 

Something moved. 

Breathing that Harry could suddenly hear quickened, and the person moved back.

“Who’s there?” Harry asked, but not harshly, and slightly raised his wand. “I’m with the police.”

The person stilled and then, suddenly, began moving forward, and within moments, Harry was at the base of the stairs, having to deal with a trembling woman collapsing in his arms, a husky, rasping “Help me,” the only thing she had to say before she fainted dead away. 

Harry stared, sighed, used Lumos, and then inhaled sharply in confused suspicion because here in his arms was the missing woman.

And she was most assuredly not dead. 

The rush back to town and the hospital was nearly crazy enough to make Harry forget he was supposed to be hiding his magic, but not quite, and the image that seared itself into the minds of any residents who saw him was of a dashing man gallantly carrying an injured, starved, and dehydrated woman back to safety. That or Ginny had been lying to him all these years, and he just looked like a fool. He wouldn’t put the possible prank above her, really. 

Still, even thinking stupid thoughts wasn’t enough to vanish his worry, both for the woman being tended to by the hospital staff and for the two he’d abandoned in favour of her because he’d gone into the forest looking for Emma and Mary Margaret, and come out without them. He winced, but he had to hope they’d be fine. Emma was Sheriff for a reason, right? She had to fix this up soon. Kathryn Nolan had needed his help far more. 

“Mr. Potter,” came Gold’s dulcet tones, snapping Harry out of his thoughts and making him snap upright, one hand immediately finding his wand, even if he didn’t withdraw it. “You… found Mrs. Nolan.”

There was something off about his tone, something almost completely, utterly surprised. Harry couldn’t help but narrow his eyes, his hackles raising. “I did say I was a fairly good policeman,” He said. “It just so happened that things seemed off enough that my instincts told me to look and, well,” He shrugged intentionally off-handedly, eyes trained on the man.

Gold’s hand curled around his staff, his lips curling down. It seemed as if he was itching to say something, but he only inhaled deeply before turning to the door to the room where Dr. Whale was tending to Kathryn. “I came as soon as I heard,” He murmured. “Such a fortuitous discovery, Mr. Potter. Storeybrooke is surely in your debt.”

Harry twitched. “Just doing my job.”

“Ah, but this was not your job, was it?” He asked. “Your job was Henry. This was Good Samaritanism, if anything.”

Harry’s mouth twisted. “Then I was just doing what any ‘Good Samaritan’ would,” He said, just a tad bit harshly. 

Gold allowed the corner of his mouth to lift up and shot him a sideways glance. “We have those in short supply,” He said. “You and Ms. Swan. Such an interesting combination.”

Harry had no idea how to respond to that, so he just stayed quiet.

And then, before the silence grew too oppressive, there was a shuffle of feet, and the door swung open, the doctor coming out with a mild smile. “She’ll fine,” He said immediately. “A little weak, and she has some bruising, but ultimately fine.” He stuck his hands in his pocket and inclined his head at Harry. “She wants to talk to you.”

Harry nodded, then spared a glance for Gold, who only smiled back, completely without emotion. “Don’t worry,” He said. “I shall take my time talking to Mrs. Nolan. We have all the time in the world.”

And yet, somehow, that sounded like a threat.  

Harry shook his head and slid into the room, letting the door close behind him, leaving only him and Kathryn in the room. “Mrs. Nolan,” He greeted. “I’m glad you’re doing better. I’m Harry Potter, and I’m affiliated with the police. I found you and brought you to this hospital.”

Kathryn nodded once and then gestured for him to come closer. “I’m sorry,” She began. “That I cannot afford you much courtesy, but thank you for– for all your help.” A shudder wracked through her body. “I don’t even know how long…” She trailed off, swallowing. “I was locked there, you know?” She continued, looking off into the distance. “Whoever put me there gave me food and water, but–” She wet her lips and blinked, turning back to Harry. “I– I’m sure the Sheriff can take my statement. I just wanted to say thank you, Mr. Potter. You saved my life and my freedom. What can I do to make up for this?”

Harry shook his head, and it was easier than it was for Mr. Gold. “No thanks needed,” He said, and he was genuine. “I was just doing my job.”

Kathryn bit her lip, and her eyes gleamed, but she held back her tears. “Oh,” was the only thing she said, and Harry didn’t have the heart to tell her her absence had caused another woman to end up behind bars. Like Gold and the Mayor had said, this was not his case. Emma would be able to do this a touch more delicately. 

Speaking of whom, the door to the room burst open, a wild-looking pair of the Sheriff and a man whom Harry hadn’t really met but could clearly infer was David Nolan. Happy to leave the woman to these two, Harry silently made his exit, noting as he sunk into a seat outside that Gold had left. 

It was ten minutes later that Emma followed him out, leaving husband and wife to air out their grievances and inclined her head at him. “Thank you,” She said, her words heartfelt. “Thank you so much.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Mary Margaret won’t have to be jailed anymore?” 

Emma shook her head. “No charges,” She said. “Kathryn is also willing to give a statement concerning that.” Her lips pursed, but she didn’t continue that strand of thought. 

Harry hummed, allowed one look around and lowered his voice. “About this morning–”

Emma mouthed a ‘No’. “We can talk about that later,” She said instead. “It’s… delicate.” She grimaced. “You came into the station?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “It’s why I went out looking. Just so happened that I stumbled upon the trail for Kathryn instead.”

“Thank god for that,” Emma muttered.

Harry cleared his throat. “Have you…” He trailed off. “I had a conversation with the Mayor yesterday,” He said instead. “After leaving your office, and… it was illuminating.” His eyes narrowed. “There were certain things discussed which I didn’t think had even left the station.”

Emma’s eyes flared. “Are you saying…?”

Harry hoped his grimace was answer enough.

Emma’s expression hardened. “Thanks, Harry,” She said. “I’ll take a look.”

He nodded. “Let me know how it goes with Mary Margaret.”

The Sheriff smiled. “I will,” She said. “But I’m pretty sure she’ll want to do it herself, too.”

And with that conversation over, Harry left the hospital and the woman he’d found in better hands and went to the diner, enduring the stares he was so used to and ordered himself a decadent slice of cake because, as he told himself, he deserved it.

After a moment of thinking, he also ordered a shake, though it was weird because he usually didn’t even care for milkshakes. That was Ginny and his kids’ choice most of the time. 

A small, sad smile surfaced. Merlin, he missed his family. 

“You found her,” A small voice said excitedly, and Harry blinked rapidly to see that a boy - the boy - was standing next to his corner table, looking decidedly excited. “That was so cool!”

Harry huffed, the sad smile turning into a fond one. “Henry Mills,” He said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Henry stuck out his hand and shook Harry’s just as happily. “Same,” He said. “Though I kinda snuck out. Mom would kill me if she knew.” He shrugged and squeezed into the opposite seat. “Well, she’s busy with Mrs. Nolan anyway. She won’t be home till late.”

“She might look for me earlier than that, though,” Harry pointed out. 

Henry shook his head. “No, she’s more angry at Mr. Gold for something, I think. I heard her calling him a dirty rotten something before she left.” 

Harry’s eyes sharpened. Interesting. Was that why Gold had visited? Did he have something to do with the whole ordeal? This was getting more insidious by the second. “I see.” 

“I hear you’ve been looking for me,” Henry continued, peering up at him curiously. “Mom told me not to even look at you, and Emma was shifty when I asked about you, too.”

“So you eavesdropped?” Harry asked.

Henry bit his lip and squeezed his fists. “I did,” He admitted. 

“Fair enough,” Harry said, knowing it wasn’t exactly his place to scold the kid. After all, he’d probably have done far worse around that age, and, more importantly, the kid looked like he needed a friend more than another parental figure. 

Henry started to smile. “So!” He said. “How did you come here?” 

Harry blinked, feeling mental whiplash at the question. “Pardon?”

“You know,” Henry said. “The town. You can’t really come in. Well, I mean, no one was able to until Emma or August.” He frowned. “No one else should be able to, anyway.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You know about the boundary?” 

Henry nodded. “... You believe me?” He asked quietly.

Honestly, he was the only one making sense here. “Well, I felt it,” Harry said. “I’d be hard-pressed not to believe you.”

Henry’s smile was almost blinding. “Really?!” He asked. “You tried to leave, didn’t you?”

“And failed,” Harry said easily. And, on second thought, he also threw up a quick non-verbal silencing spell with a partially hidden wand.

Henry shivered, frowning. “Wait,” He said. “What was that?”

Harry raised his eyebrows. He felt that? Interesting. “What was what?” He asked.

Henry frowned more, staring at Harry, then shook his head. “Guess it was just goosebumps,” He muttered. 

Harry hummed. “You were saying about the barrier?” He asked. 

Henry brightened again. “Yeah!” He said. “It’s been there for twenty-eight years.”

Harry stilled. This kid was ten… right? No, he had to be; there were records, even if only to the extent of his adoption ten years ago. “Yes,” He said. “Twenty-eight long years.” He crossed his arms, his appetite lost, and his half-eaten slice of cake sitting in front of him forgotten. “How do you know?”

Looking around, Henry leaned closer, his tone going down to a whisper. “Because this is all from a curse.”

That was not good. Curse meant curse breaker, and he was not one. And while he hoped Carter and the other Aurors had called them in, he couldn’t be sure of anything. By the time he’d been dragged inside, it hadn’t even been confirmed whether it was a curse or not. “Bloo–” Harry stopped midway. “Right,” He said instead. “Know what kind, by any chance?” He knew he sounded defeated, even to his own ears.

Henry leaned back, looking angry. “Well, you don’t have to be patronizing,” He said with a hint of anger. “I know the adults don’t believe me.”

“What?” Harry shook his head and then sighed. “No— Henry, I do believe you.” He grimaced. “I’m just worried about how to break the curse.”

“Sure,” Henry mumbled. “That’s what Emma said, too.” His eyes were dull. 

So Emma had happened to betray his trust, too. Harry could understand why, considering Emma hadn’t grown up in or been exposed to a magical society. But Harry had, and it seemed as if Henry believed, too. Usually, something like this would require protocol to make the kid believe it wasn’t real (which was seriously bad, but who was he to question how the Statue of Secrecy’s commandments worked?), but this town was off, and it began with the curse that made it inaccessible from everywhere else, and if the kid knew even an iota of what was going on– “I do,” He insisted. “I do believe you, Henry, and I want to help you figure everything out.” He made a last-minute decision that would have Hermione yelling at him, but, well, there was nothing she could do until he was out of here anyway. “Look, I can prove it.”

Henry looked a little interested. “... How?” He asked. “No one else remembers. And you’re not even part of the curse.” He scrunched up his face in confusion. “I think.”

Well, that was weird but interesting. Harry just smiled at the boy and slid out his wand. “What do you think?” 

Henry’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously?” He squeaked.

“Try screaming,” Harry suggested. 

Henry frowned, looked confused for a second, then shrugged and yelled. 

No one reacted. 

Henry’s mouth turned into a small, over-excited ‘O’. “You can use magic!” He exclaimed. “Who are you?”

Harry slid the wand out of sight. “Someone who wouldn’t want to be known,” He said. 

The boy nodded and leaned back, practically vibrating. “Yeah, of course,” He said. “If Mom was to learn about this–” He shuddered. 

Harry tilted his head. “About that. What will she do? And what did you mean when you spoke about the curse? I want to help you unravel it, but unfortunately, I’m operating on limited information.”

“I can help,” Henry agreed. “I have a book, too. I gotta show it to you; it has all these–” His eyes widened. “Oh,” He said. “Uh, we should meet up later.” His eyes looked around rapidly. “Do you know the castle by the beach? Please come there tomorrow! Like, uh, three!”

Harry didn’t even have to ask why because the mayor’s screech came through at that moment, and Harry immediately nullified the silencing charm. 

“Henry Mills!” The woman exclaimed. Henry had, apparently, been wrong about her not looking for Harry.

Henry pulled out of the booth and dragged his feet to the woman, speaking to her in hushed tones, sending a final wave at Harry and scampering back outside. Regina, however, marched straight at him, her eyes glittering with fury.  “You!”  She hissed. “How dare you try to approach my son without my permission?!”

Harry didn’t twitch, his face hardening into a glare. “I didn’t,” He said. “He approached me.”

Regina opened her mouth to spew what was probably going to be more vitriol, but Harry pushed up and stepped toward the door, cutting her off. “And as I am tired of informing you every single time we meet, Regina, I am entirely within my rights and my role in referring to Henry about his living situation. If you’d rather he has no say at all in how his life goes, well,” His eyes narrowed. “I’d say that would be the final nail in your coffin.” He stalked out, nerves frayed, unwilling to hear even one more word about the situation, and, strangely enough, found himself walking all the way to the Sheriff’s station.

The walk forced him to calm down a bit, and as he entered, he couldn’t help but smile as he saw Mary Margaret putting on her coat. 

The woman practically beamed as she caught sight of him, her joy quite contagious. “Mr. Potter!” She said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m– I’m so in your debt, I can’t even imagine what I’ll do to return the favour. You’ve done  more–” 

“Mary Margaret,” Harry said quietly, sternly. “Please. It was my pleasure.”

Unlike the others, the returning smile was not pressuring at all. “Of course,” She said warmly. “But if there’s anything you need–”

“You’ll be the first person I ask.” Harry agreed, then hesitated, turning to Emma. “The…?”

Emma tilted her head at her table, which was now empty of the vase that had stood on it. “It was stuffed inside,” She said coldly. “I think I’ll have to have an overdue conversation with Sidney.”

Harry relaxed. “Right.” He shook his head, then remembered what he could ask for help with. “Either of you know where there’s a castle by the beach?” He asked.

Mary Margaret frowned. “Henry’s?” She asked. 

Harry nodded. 

Emma’s eyes widened. “Regina allowed you to meet him?”

“No,” Harry said. “He met me.”

Emma snorted. “That’s fair–” She stilled and exchanged a look with the other woman, then turned back to Harry. “I told you about…?” She trailed off.

“We talked about that,” Harry agreed. 

Emma bristled, her body language shifting to hostility. “You didn’t–”

Harry glared, his frayed nerves rising to the forefront again. “Seriously?” He asked. “I did mention I had experience with kids, didn’t I?” He winced at Emma’s guarded expression. “Sorry,” He recanted. “I’m on edge.” He sighed. “Your lovely mayor confronted me after meeting Henry, and it seems every other person doubts my capabilities in dealing with children.” He smiled, however chilly it was. 

Mary Margaret, though, was nodding. “I’m sure,” She said. “You seem perfectly capable. And Henry is a mature child - I’m sure he’d be easy to talk to, especially if you’re subtle about the fairy tales.” There was a slight waver in her voice, but Harry had no time to analyze that.

“Exactly,” He said. “Which is why he asked to talk more tomorrow in that castle. Which I still need directions to.”

Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose and nodded. “I’ll take you there,” She said. “You can tell me more on the way.”

Chapter Text

Regina seethed. That absolute nerve of a pathetic mortal man who tried to step into her town, her world, and her life and tried to take her son away? Who did he think he was? He was from a world of men who had never even had magic, let alone understood the power it wielded! Who didn’t know the siren song of true power, who didn’t know the fury of a mother scorned - a mother who was a Queen. She narrowed her eyes. He would. He would know. And there was nothing the fool would be able to do about it then. 

She pursed her lips and spared a look for the clock, noted the time, and stood. Henry would be asleep now, so she could begin to do what she must. She picked up her phone and dialed a number. “Hello, Jefferson?” She said as soon as the man picked up. “I think we can help each other out. Don’t you?”

The morning, for Harry, dawned bright and early, and after he was done getting the rest of his work in order - including a particularly strained visit to the Sheriff’s station, he headed toward the kid’s makeshift castle an hour earlier than they’d decided on. But then he was also thinking of taking the chance to try out a few basic curse-nullifying spells that he did know. Which weren’t many, but better than nothing. 

Surprisingly enough, though, Henry was sitting on-site, scribbling something in a notebook. For a moment, as the light shone on his hair and made every colour fade, as Harry couldn’t see the kid’s face, only his hair, as he mumbled under his breath and the wind breezed through the clearing, Harry felt the sharpest pang through his chest; a hollow but piercing feeling that crashed through him with incredible intensity, and for that single moment, all he could see was Teddy. 

And then that moment was over, and Henry looked up, saw Harry, and burst into a wide grin. He jumped from his seat and to the ground and waved at him energetically. “Harry!” He shouted. “I’m here!”

Harry inhaled, his breath shuddering slightly, and then he started to walk again, a slightly forced smile on his face that shifted into something more natural as he got closer. “Henry,” He greeted. “Bit early, aren't we?”

Henry laughed. “I was excited,” He admitted. “And Mom was out of the house today, so I got free reign.”

Harry tucked that away for later analysis because he certainly didn't see Regina anywhere in the town. “Yeah?” He said. “That's good to know.”

Henry nodded. “Mom is terrifying,” He agreed. “Guess there's a reason she's the Evil Queen.”

“Right,” Harry said, capitalising on the inroad. “About that. You said you were going to explain to me what the curse was all about?”

Henry nodded, turned back, and zipped open his backpack from which he got out that big book of fairy tales Emma had warned him about. 

Having seen a share of cursed and charmed books in his lifetime, Harry wasn't about to underestimate this one. He did step closer, though, figuring that the fact that Henry was handling it so freely meant it was, to an extent, safe. 

“So, I know this looks like a book of fairy tales,” Henry began. “And, well, it is, but it’s also all true. It’s just happened in a world beyond this one.”

“Like multiple dimensions,” Harry said. “Makes sense.”

Henry grinned. “Right? Emma didn’t understand that!” He shook his head. “I mean, it really is unbelievable–” He sighed. “Well, anyway, less so for me. Live in a town for ten years and have it keep repeating would probably do that to anyone.”

Harry blinked. “You didn’t say anything about time loops.” He stopped. “I haven’t seen anything about time loops,” He added. 

Henry shrugged. “Time started moving again after Emma came here,” He said. “Since she’s supposed to be the saviour.”

To be fair, Harry really did try to wrap his head around the confusing collection of information. “... You better start from the beginning,” He said, finally. 

“In-story or my story?” Henry asked. 

“Do they intersect?”

Henry thought about it. “In-story, then,” He said. “I’ll keep it short.” He took a deep breath, shuffled back and sat on the wooden structure, gesturing for Harry and waiting until, curious, Harry did as was asked of him and sat down next to him. Then he opened the book to the first page, and there–

Harry frowned. “Wait, is that…?”

Henry bobbed his head. “Shh, listen,” He said and then began to speak, weaving a tale of magic and monsters, of Rumpelstiltskin - who Harry was fairly sure wasn’t supposed to be so powerful according to typical muggle fairy tales - and the Evil Queen, of Snow White and Prince Charming, of an Enchanted Forest that could put the Forbidden Forest to shame were it in this world. 

Harry stared for a while, digesting the truth. “So,” He said, and Henry looked at him expectantly, far too patient for a boy his age. “You’re saying that the Evil Queen - Regina, that is - cast a curse–”

“The Dark Curse,” Henry said helpfully.

“Right,” Harry said. “Which brought people from the Enchanted Forest into a world without magic. They lost their memories and were stuck on repeat until the Saviour could save them.”

“Yeah,” Henry said. 

“And the Saviour is Emma?”

“She is. Snow White and Prince Charming - that’s Ms. Blanchard, by the way, and Mr. Nolan - sent their baby away with a magic cupboard before the curse hit so she got to our world outside Mom– the Evil Queen’s influence. So she grew up here and didn’t know she was the Saviour, but I got her to come back, and that’s when time started moving and things started changing–”

“And the case pinged on our radar,” Harry breathed. 

“It is weird, though,” Henry continued, not hearing. “Because I haven’t really seen you in the book. Did you see someone who you think you could be?”

Harry leaned back. “I’m not from the book,” He said. “I’m from this world.”

Something pitying flashed across Henry’s eyes. 

Harry laughed. “I know, strange to think of. But there are a few reasons why that’s so.”

“Why?”

Harry wondered if there really was a point keeping it a secret, anyway, considering that the kid knew about magic - albeit a different form and a different world - and the fact that they were trapped within a curse. “Because there’s a whole secret society out there just like me,” He said. “And we’ve been here for centuries. Far longer than this curse has been.”

“Woah!” Henry exclaimed. “You’ve been alive for centuries?”

Harry burst out laughing. “It was kind of a collective ‘we’,” He managed. “But I did know someone who got to 115. And his friend was, what, 600 years old?” He shook his head. “Wizards are weird.”

“So cool!” Henry said. 

Harry huffed. “Guess so,” He agreed. “But the point is that that secret magical society out there is probably also attempting to help break the curse, so I don’t think it should be a huge problem. Don’t worry too much about it, okay?”

Henry closed the book and stared at it. “The book said only the Saviour could do it, though,” He mumbled. “And Emma…” He rubbed the back of his head. “Don’t curses only have one fix?”

“Technically,” Harry said. “You could say that’s accurate. But there’s a reason curse-breaking is a profession, you know?” He smirked. “And hey, my brother-in-law is one, and I was thinking of trying out a few basic anti-curse spells I learned from him. Want to help me cast them?”

Henry’s eyes widened, and he almost stumbled off his seat in shock and excitement. “Would I ever!” He shouted, and it rang through the clearing, loud and clear. 

Harry decided, after spending the afternoon with Henry, that he was going to help the kid do what he wanted to do - convince Emma that magic was real. He was definitely going to be checked for it, but he could coast by on technicalities, and maybe this way, they wouldn’t subject him to any more torturous hours of PR Nightmares, dignitary welcomes, and whatever the hell Kingsley came up with after that. 

But before he told Emma, he was going to have to have a conversation with Regina. 

He dropped Henry off at the Sheriff's station, promising him they'd tell Emma the truth at dinner and to get her and Mary Margaret so they’d eat, too, which really got him moving. 

And then he was at the mayor’s house, and just as he raised his hand to knock on the door, it pulled inside, revealing the too-sharp smile and the laser-thin glare of Regina Mills, AKA the Evil Queen, AKA why the heck was she being so not-openly-hostile?

Harry frowned and immediately scrapped all thoughts of confronting her directly. It had already not been his best plan, but now she was a little too suspicious for it to have even a little chance of working, so maybe that was going on the back burner until he figured out what was wrong. 

 “Come in,” She said brightly.

“Right,” Harry replied, hovering on the doorstep, eyes narrowed. 

She laughed. It was pretty fake. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, haven’t we, Mr. Potter? It was just… difficult for me to deal with a stranger coming in trying to take away my son. Two, in fact.” She led him to the kitchen, and he only followed because she refused to stop. “By which I mean Ms. Swan, of course.” She shook her head and came to a stop next to what looked to be a freshly baked pastry. “Pie? I grow my own apples outside.”

Harry’s mind flashed back to the very bright red apple the Evil Queen had offered to Snow White in the book. “No, no,” He said. “Thanks. I just came from dinner. Lunch.”

The mayor’s mouth tightened. “Of course,” She said. “I can pack some up for you,” She continued. “It’s a family recipe.”

Harry wondered if the typical poison-testing spells could work on this. “Sure,” He agreed because it would be suspicious if he didn’t. “You were saying?”

“Yes, of course,” She agreed. “Getting off on the wrong foot and all. I just meant that having taken some time to think about it, I’ve come to understand that you really are here for the good of my son. And surely you must have realised everything is fairly good in this part of our world?”

Harry shifted on his feet. “I haven’t found anything out of place,” He agreed for the sake of agreeing. 

Regina’s eyes gleamed. “Exactly. And if you do, of course, need any help anymore, I’ll be happy to do so.”

“Quite a change of heart,” He commented, unable to stop himself. 

She smiled, and Harry was pretty sure it was sharper than a cutting spell. “Certainly,” She said, laughing. “New information coming to light, you could say. Your saving a citizen of our town, perhaps.” She hummed. “Kathryn was a close friend of mine, you see.”

Harry tactfully did not wonder loudly how she even had friends, partly because he remembered that even the asshole!Draco version had some. “I was just doing my– civic duty,” He said. “As a Good Samaritan.”

“Yes, well,” She said and held out the box. It was a clear dismissal. 

Harry decided to get dismissed, grabbed the box, and left. 

In town, he headed over to the Sheriff’s station, the pie held securely in his hands, and he stalked into the place, jerking Emma, Henry, and Mary Margaret out of conversation. 

“Harry?” Henry asked. “I thought you were going to be a while.”

“Where were you?” Emma asked as well, clearly noting his harried state. 

“Hi, Harry,” Mary Margaret waved, smiling just a mite awkwardly. “I came here to keep Henry company when Emma couldn’t.”

“Right,” Harry said, made another one of his split-second decisions, and placed the box of apple pie on the table in front of Emma, staring at her with a serious expression. “I was going to have this conversation tonight, but I think we need to speed up the timeline.”

Henry inhaled sharply. “Really?” He asked excitedly. 

“Yes,” Harry said. 

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Are you seriously telling me you want to do this here?” She hissed, eyes flickering from Henry to Harry. “This is not–”

“I went to the mayor’s house today,” Harry said, cutting her off. “And she gave me an apple pie.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “You can’t eat that!” He said. 

Harry waved him off, albeit not unkindly. 

Emma rolled her eyes. “It’s an apple pie. Do you seriously believe the whole magic apple thing?” 

“Yes,” Harry said. “And I’m here to prove it to you, so if you would please listen–”

“Look,” Emma said, and she was unkind. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here–”

“He’s telling the truth!” Henry shouted. 

Mary Margaret shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll just…” She trailed off and lay one hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Can we go outside for a bit? You can tell Emma your side of the story after Harry’s done.”

Henry scowled, shrugged off her hand, and began walking away. 

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Emma said loudly. “I’ll prove it to you.” And she grabbed the box Regina had given Harry and flipped open the lid, taking out the pastry with one single, fluid move. 

Henry spun around, eyes widened in horror, shouting, “NO!”

Harry himself immediately slid out his wand, desperately shouting a stupefy, but the red light raced toward the hand which was putting the pie in her mouth, and it fizzled out, ineffective, and Harry paled. 

For a second, after she swallowed, Emma blinked, a question of ‘What the hell was that?’ so obviously in her expression, and then it was gone, her eyes rolling back so starkly he saw the white, her body crumpling under unconsciousness. 

Harry’s wand automatically shifted to a levitating spell so she wouldn't hit the floor, but beyond that, all he could do, all he wanted to do, was swear. 

“NO!” Henry shouted again, stumbling over to where Harry was slowly lowering Emma’s body to the ground, eyes filling with tears. “I told you it was bad!”

Harry flinched. 

“Oh my,” Mary Margaret said. “I think– I think I believe in Henry’s stories now.”

Chapter Text

“It’s one of the binding factors,” Bill said grimly, and Carter grit had to grit his teeth to keep from swearing. 

“Love,” Fonterra repeated, half incredulous, half resigned. “Seriously?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be an unspeakable?” Ron asked curiously. “Shouldn’t weird magics be right up your alley?”

Forterra just scowled. “There’s a limit to weird, Mr. Weasley,” She said. “And ‘Love’ is such an ambiguous concept that it truly cannot hold the power it claims to. In fact, I still doubt that the prophecy about Potter was predicated on that notion–” She inhaled sharply. “My apologies,” She said crisply. “Having had time to think on the topic, I’ve encountered many loopholes.”

“Trust me,” Hermione said drily, crossing her arms. “I know.”

Ron cracked a smile. “She certainly tried to rationalise that bit for a while.”

“If a while means years, sure,” She shot back, then shook her head. “Does that mean Harry got sucked in because he perhaps resonated with the bindings?”

Bill stared into the distance with a contemplative look. “It’s possible,” He admitted. “But it’s still strange. The curse seems to have been formed out of a rejection and destruction of love and can only end out of a consolidation of it. But it’s also tied into strong elements, which I’m assuming are people, but I haven’t met them to be able to configure their magic traces and compare them to the curse bindings.” He sighed. “We can’t break it from the outside.”

Carter’s snarl was prominent even as he tried to keep it away. “You said we could,” He snapped.

Bill’s smile was just as tight. “I did,” He said. “I was wrong.”

Well, there was that, not that it helped. 

“There is, however,” The man continued without letting Carter storm away as he wanted to. “A possible way of reverse-engineering it to trap it in something else.”

“Wait,” Fonterra said, brows furrowed. “That sounds odd to me. Since when is spell creation easier than breaking them down?”

Bill shrugged one shoulder. “Since it wasn’t magic I’ve ever seen. Curse-breaking needs you to have an intimate knowledge of the basics of the specific brand of magic, okay? You need to know the ins, the outs, the shortcuts, and everything else. Our magic- Hell! Even old Egyptian tomb magic has similar frameworks. If not similar, then at least I know the baselines that centuries of curse-breakers have accumulated. This? This is something far different from anything I’ve seen before, and it’s honestly surprising to me that I’ve managed to come this far.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Look, I say reverse-engineer, but what I really mean is taking down every element of the curse and attempting to reconfigure it so it flips around on itself. Since the spatial dimensions inside the curse are far smaller than those outside, I’m hoping that the curse will fizzle out and die on its own since curses in and of themselves have certain limitations that can’t be overcome.”

“But won’t that be risky? If what you claim is true, then there’s a high chance it’ll blow up in our faces.”

“... Yeah,” Bill said. “It might.”

“Fuck,” Carter said, closing his eyes. 

“So we need Harry to break the curse from the inside,” Ron said slowly. “Or blow it up from the outside?”

“Yeah,” Bill said. “Curse-breaking, am I right?”

Fonterra just groaned. 

“Hagensaber, sir!” A younger recruit called, jogging up to the group of five with a slightly baffled look on his face. “There’s a no-maj requesting a meeting, sir.”

Carter’s eyebrows raised. “Seriously?” He asked. “Who?” He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Have Alex deal with it. There’s a reason she’s there, isn’t it? I’m too busy dealing with this situation.”

The younger man only shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, sir, that’s what they said, though?”

“What?”

“They mentioned something about Harry Potter, and since he’s the one–”

Carter stomped off. “Fucking finally,” He muttered. “I was hoping he’d find a better way to reach out, but something is better than nothing.”

Behind them, Hermione blinked, turned to Ron, and then sighed in exasperation. “Of course Harry found a way to reach out,” She said.

“He’s Harry,” Ron said, though he didn’t look particularly hopeful about that. 

Hermione smiled sadly as she saw his fists clench.

“Do it,” Fonterra said suddenly, and they all turned to realise she was looking at Bill. “Let’s try to reverse-engineer it. I have a background in spell crafting, so I may be able to speed it forward as well, and there are other employees of MACUSA who I think may be relevant.”

“You sure?” Bill asked. “It’s potentially dangerous.”

“Better than doing nothing,” Fonterra grunted. “And maybe we’ll find something else as we start unlayering the whole thing. Especially since Potter himself would have no idea he’ll have to break it from the inside.”

“Eh,” Ron said, waving his hand. “I wouldn’t worry about him. He has a tendency to stick his nose where it ain’t wanted.”

Hermione chuckled. “That’s true,” She agreed. “If there’s anyone who’s going to find out and break the curse from inside without knowing it must be broken from the inside, it’s Harry.”

Fonterra pursed her lips, even if the small twitch tried to give her away. “Well, excuse me if I don’t have as much trust in your operative as you obviously do.”

“He’s fine,” Carter said gruffly, interrupting their conversation and walking back up. “It wasn’t him on the phone, though.”

Ron and Hermione didn’t look surprised. 

“And?” Fonterra asked. 

“Apparently, he’s using the credentials I had made for him when he first came here.” He huffed a laugh. “Finally, too. But the Mayor placed a call to Boston to get him off whatever case he's saying he's on to justify his presence, and they forwarded the request to me. I’ve confirmed his position and rejected the request to remove him for now, so hopefully, it’ll make whatever he’s doing there easier, but other than that, we have no idea what’s going on.”

“The mayor didn’t say why they were suspicious of the credentials?” Hermione asked. 

“No,” Carter said. “Apparently, she just sounded annoyed, though I’m sure that was more because of Potter’s effect on people.”

The three foreigners laughed. “Probably,” Ron agreed. “Definitely had that effect on most our enemies, for sure.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “Of course he did.” He turned to Fonterra. “You gave the go ahead?”

“Of course,” She said.

“Good,” Carter said. “What are we waiting for? There’s a time limit, folks! Get to it.”

Chapter Text

They took Emma to the hospital. Harry had half a mind to hide the truth, but the reality was that it just wasn’t possible. Emma was the Sheriff, and her disappearing without reason would not only validate the Mayor’s claims, but it would also pull the town into potential anarchy, so to speak. At least this way, Harry could exercise a little bit of his authority as an agent of Law Enforcement before the Mayor managed to put someone from her own camp into the position. 

Hopefully, they’d have fixed everything by then. Until then, though…

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back against the chair even as Dr. Whale pronounced Emma - in a confused mass of medical interest - in a coma for unknown reasons and then left Harry, Mary Margaret, and Henry to worry over the woman alone. 

“I just…” Mary Margaret swallowed. “What broke this sleeping  curse the first time around?”

“True love’s kiss!” Henry said promptly, though it sounded more panicked than excited. “Prince Charming– that’s Mr. Nolan, by the way - kissed you, and you woke up.” He pushed forward the book. “It’s all in here.”

Harry frowned, trying to consider what to do. “Ennervate isn’t working,” He muttered. “Nor are any of the more heavy-duty spells. A basic curse-breaking charm isn’t even registering–” He shook his head, spared a look to see if they were alone, and then tried the diagnosis spell again. Again, it gave him the same results; there was nothing physically or magically wrong with her. At least not in a way the spell could detect. “I could try…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Never mind, that won’t work.”

“What won’t work?”  Henry asked, inching closer, looking even more worried. 

“A potion,” Harry explained. “I was thinking the Wiggenweld potion since it’s a common antidote to the draught of the living dead, which leaves people in a mostly similar state, but not only do I not have it or its ingredients - and no, we can’t get them here - but I also have no idea the effect it'll have on her. I’m not a licensed medi-wizard.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “We really need to get out of this place,” He said. 

“But we can’t break the curse,” Henry said. “Mom doesn’t have anyone she loves here. My dad’s dead, and Graham’s also dead.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “And Mom’s supposed to be the one to break the original curse, too, which we know nothing about anyway, so we can’t leave the town, either.”

Harry grimaced. 

Mary Margaret shifted. “Henry…” She said slowly, guiltily.

Henry turned to her. 

She pursed her lips. “Emma– Emma told me that your father… your father’s alive, Henry.”

Henry inhaled sharply. “Wh– what?”

“Can we get him here?” Harry asked instantly.

“I don’t know where he’s supposed to be,” Mary Margaret said, shaking her head. “He’s not from the town.”

“But…” Henry swallowed, glancing from his mom to his teacher and back again. His eyes shone. “But Mom said–”

“She said she wanted you to remember him as a hero,” Mary Margaret said softly. “He wasn’t.”

Henry swallowed. “What… what did he do?”

“He left her when she was pregnant with you and had her take the fall for something wrong that he did.” She shook her head. “We shouldn’t talk about that, Henry, not while…” 

Henry’s lips trembled, but he shook his head. “Then– then it doesn’t matter, anyway, because it won’t be a true love’s kiss. If he betrayed Mom, then I don’t care.” He huffed. “We need to find another way.” He turned back to Harry. “I haven’t read much about potions in the storybook. Why can’t we at least try making this– this Wiggenveal potion?”

“Wiggenweld,” Harry corrected. “And like I said, no ingredients.” He racked his brain. “At the very least, we’d need flobberworm mucus, salamander blood, lionfish spines, Billywig sting slime, Dittany… There are a few common ingredients we’d probably find, but not all of them.” He shook his head. “And, like I said, I don’t want to risk it.”

“Wait,” Mary Margaret asked and pointed at the book. “Have you read all of it?”

“... No,” Henry said slowly. “Do you think we might find someone who knows potions here?”

“Possibly,” She agreed. “We’d have to find their equivalent here, of course, since we can’t know who they turned out to be, but–”

“Let’s do it!” Henry said, relief curling through him. 

“And don’t worry about finding the person,” Harry said. “I’ll help with that part. We'll find a way.”

“Well, either way,” Mary Margaret said, peering out her window and then turning to Emma’s prone body. “We’ll have to hurry because, in a few hours, people are going to notice, if they haven’t already, that Emma’s not waking up and Regina will capitalise on it.” She frowned. “It makes so much more sense now that I know she’s the Evil Queen,” She admitted. “Though why she hates me still remains a mystery.”

Harry nodded. “We can try finding out once we have a way to break these curses.”

Mary Margaret stepped toward the book.

Before any of them could continue, though, the door slid open, and in the frame stood Gold, and he looked, oddly enough, worried. “I’m here to help,” He said. 

“Great,” Harry said. “I thought no one was supposed to remember?” 

Henry, eyes wide, shook his head. “No one is,” He echoed. “I don’t… I never figured out who he was, either.”

Mary Margaret, eyes narrowed, flipped open the book and started speeding through the pages. 

Gold smiled grimly. “I have my ways,” He said. “Just as I have my ways of knowing this entire ordeal has gone horribly wrong. And it all began with you, Mr. Potter.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry said. “I didn’t see anyone else lending a hand.”

“No one else was supposed to be able to enter,” He hissed. 

“Guess I’m just special,” Harry shot right back. 

Gold huffed. “It doesn’t matter. What does is that we must save Ms. Swan, and I have a way to do so.” His eyes narrowed. “And, right now, I have a two-fold desire to screw over a certain monarch.”

“Language!” Harry snapped. 

“I’ve heard worse,” Henry told him. 

“It's the principle of the matter,” Harry replied, then turned to Gold again. “Who are you?” He asked. 

“Rumplestiltskin,” Mary Margaret said, her voice almost breathless. “You’re the one who sold Regina the curse.”

Gold’s smile did not waver. 

“What?” Henry whispered in horror.

“It does not matter,” He said. “What matters is I am here to help you wake up Ms. Swan.”

“That’s why you remember,” Harry said. “Isn’t it?”

“I suppose it may be attributed to that,” Gold inclined his head. 

“He also knows potions,” Mary Margaret said. 

“I do,” Gold said, then narrowed his eyes. “Where do potions come into the equation?”

Harry wondered whether it was in his best interest to spill the truth. 

“Because Harry makes potions,” Henry said, and, well, Harry didn’t need to. “And he doesn’t have the ingredients.”

Gold’s nose flared. “Interesting,” He murmured. “You can wake up Ms. Swan?” He sounded fascinated. It creeped Harry out. 

“Not necessarily,” Harry said. “What method do you have?”

Gold hummed, his cane tilting forward. “There is a potion that was brought over from the Enchanted Forest,” He explained. “It holds the liquefied essence of true love.”

“True love’s kiss!” Henry exclaimed. 

“Yes,” Gold said. “It holds the potential to solve the problem.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “But?”

Gold smiled wider. “You are quite perceptive, aren’t you, Mr. Potter?” He asked rhetorically. “Unfortunately, this, too, has been sealed off by our esteemed Mayor.”

“... Where?”

Gold grimaced. “That is the question, is it not?”

“Of course it is,” Harry muttered. “Alright,” He said finally. “Get me the location, and I’ll help you get the potion from whichever life-threatening place you think it’s in.”

“What?” Henry squeaked. 

Gold just leaned against his stick. “Perceptive,” He said. 

“Years of practice,” Harry shot back. 

Mary Margaret cleared her throat, standing protectively over Emma, shielding her. 

“I hold no ill will, Ms. Blanchard,” Gold said with mild amusement. 

She didn’t waver. “You made this curse happen,” She said. “That’s the definition of ill will.”

“Ah,” He said. “So you truly believe, now.”

“Hard not to when my daughter was sent into an endless sleep by a magical apple,” She hissed. 

Gold hummed, the amusement fleeing. “There are circumstances beyond your understanding, Ms. Blanchard,” He said coldly. “Or should I call you Ms. White?”

She didn’t reply. 

“I shall inform you as soon as I have acquired information pertaining to the location of the potion.” The man said and then walked out of the room, leaving the three of them in a hospital room with beeping machines and an unconscious Sheriff.

“Oh, wow,” Henry said. “I didn’t even think about it before, but it makes so much sense that he’s Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, noticing his still shaking hands and the grimace in his expression, not to mention how his eyes flickered to Emma every few seconds. “You want to tell me about it while we go get something to drink?”

Mary Margaret shot him a thankful look.

Henry seemed reluctant to leave Emma but nodded. “I think I want apple juice,” He said simply as they walked out. 

Harry let him speak, only barely listening, except for when Henry came to a sudden stop, peering in through a half-open door. “August?” He exclaimed. 

Harry frowned, remembering the name from the list of people Henry had mentioned who’d entered through the barrier and followed the kid in.

Only to practically still because the man was made almost entirely of wood, lying immobile on the hospital bed. 

Henry inhaled sharply. “Pinocchio,” He said. 

August didn’t bother smiling. “Henry?” He asked. “What’s going on? Why’re you here?” He flinched. “Why did you–”

“You’re Pinocchio, aren’t you?” Henry repeated.

August pursed his lips, his eyes flickering to Harry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He said. 

“I know about the curse,” Harry said simply. “But if you’re from the book, why do you remember?”

“Rumplestiltskin, I get,” Henry agreed. “He was, like, a big bad. But…” He trailed off. 

August sighed. “I came without the town,” He explained. “I landed here first.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “With Emma. And I grew up here because–” He shook his head. “Why am I even…?” He glared. “Look, if you two know what’s up, convince Emma to break the curse. It’s the only way all of this gets fixed.” He laughed, and it had no amusement to it. “Hell, it’s the only way I get fixed.”

Harry frowned, stepped forward, and cast a diagnostic spell because he was obviously intent on telling everyone about his magic now, screw the Statue of Secrecy. 

“What the–” August said. 

Harry frowned even more because the spell said there was nothing bloody wrong with the man. “Damn it,” He muttered. “Another magical difference.”

“Who even are you?” August demanded. “And why the heck is Emma letting you hang out with her kid?”

“Hey!” Henry protested. 

Harry hesitated. “Emma…” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Better to rip the band-aid off. “Emma was poisoned,” He said. “She’s in a… coma.”

Henry had no such compunctions about sensitivity. “The Evil Queen’s apple,” He explained without hesitation. 

Harry saw the exact moment hope faded from August’s eyes. It wasn’t because, in less than a second, it was more than hopelessness. It was lifelessness. 

“Merlin’s–” Harry said, barely able to stop himself from stumbling because, right in front of their eyes, the man had transformed into a wooden puppet. 

Henry hiccuped, and Harry realised exactly how horrifying that might have been. 

“Henry,” He said tightly. “Come on.”

Henry kept staring, even as Harry pulled him out and shut the door. “He just– He just–” He stuttered. 

Harry couldn’t smile. “I know, kid,” He murmured, wrapping a hand around Henry’s, trembling as it was. 

“I’ve never–” Henry said, then hiccuped again, his voice wavering. 

“Henry–” Harry started. 

“I didn’t expect to see you so… lively, Mr. Potter,” Regina’s voice said, and Harry snapped his head up to see the mayor standing at the other end of the hall, a few feet away from Emma’s hospital room. She looked faintly satisfied, as if Harry not eating the apple pie was fine because at least she got rid of another person she hated.

Harry felt a sudden flare of anger burst through him, and his hand clenched tighter around Henry’s. “How dare you?” He snapped. 

She smirked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She said coldly. “Now, were you not planning to leave town soon? You said everything was in place.”

He bared his teeth. “That was before you poisoned the sheriff,” He said. 

“I have no clue why you might think I’d do that,” The woman offered. “I haven’t even met Ms. Swan today. You, on the other hand…”

“It was your pie!”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” She said. “Now, please, let my son go. Your ‘investigation’ does not mean you get to kidnap my son. That, in fact, is a criminal offence, as I’m sure you know.”

Harry exhaled sharply. 

“Henry,” The mayor said. “Come.” 

“No,” Henry said. 

There was silence. 

“Excuse me?” Regina said. 

“I– I won’t,” Henry said. “You poisoned her, Mom. I– I won’t let you get away with that!”

Regina’s furious eyes snapped to meet Harry’s. “You utter–”

“It’s not because of him!” Henry shouted, and it rang through the hospital hallway. “It’s because of you!” Tears bubbled from his eyes. “You could have killed her,” He said.

“Henry,” Regina said through gritted teeth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I know how best to deal with things like these. Come with me, and we can talk this out–”

“NO!” Henry spat. 

“Henry!” Regina snapped. “I am your mother, and you will listen–”

“You’re not my mother!” He said, hate and anger and such incredible hurt flowing through his words that Harry could tell how much it pained Henry to say even as it came from his heart. “I hate you!”

Regina, eyes wide, stared as Henry made a dash for Emma’s hospital room, pushed inside, and slammed the door shut. And then she turned to Harry, and this time, her rage was even worse. “You,” She said. “You’ve ruined everything!”

“No,” Harry told her. “You did.”

“He is my son!”

“And he just said he didn’t want to be,” Harry reminded her. “If you would remember, that is exactly what I came here to ascertain, and, quite frankly, Ms. Mills, there’s nothing you can do until Sheriff Swan wakes up.”

“You’ll pay for this,” Regina hissed. 

Harry didn’t waver. “We’ll see.”

The mayor just glared hatefully at him, then spun on her feet and left. 

Chapter Text

Harry still had no idea how Gold - Rumpelstiltskin, really, but it was far simpler to think of him as Gold - figured it out, but he managed to relay to them that the essence of love was stuck under the most conspicuous place in town. 

Of course it was, because the Evil Queen was nothing if not dramatic. 

“Huh,” Henry said as they stared up at the clock tower. “I've always thought about the clock not working and never what’s in the building.”

“Hiding in plain sight,” Harry agreed. 

“You won't survive,” Warned the voice of the one person neither of them wanted to listen to. 

Henry flinched, and Harry held out his hand in support. Henry grabbed it. 

Regina looked almost irritated as her eyes flickered to her son. “... The scaffolding hasn't been maintained. It's dangerous.”

Harry scoffed. 

Henry bristled. “What's really under there?” He demanded. “What's protecting the potion?” His hold tightened, and Harry could see his eyes glistening with tears. “It's the only thing that can save Emma! Please, Mom–”

Regina either didn't see the tears or didn't care, and wow, was she really trying to stake a claim on perfect motherhood with this? Because she scoffed, and Harry knew how it struck Henry for he hiccuped in surprise and fear. And if there was one thing Harry knew, it was that no child should ever have to fear the person who was supposed to protect them. “I don't care about Emma,” She said coldly. “She is getting what she has reaped. But I am giving you a chance, Mr. Potter. You do not have to do this. You can still peacefully leave town–”

“I really can’t,” Harry replied just as coldly. “Your curse seems to want to keep me here, you see. But even if I could?” He added for Henry's benefit and, of course, for the way Regina's face twisted up in fury. “I wouldn't. I came here for Henry, and I will not be leaving until I know he's alright.”

“He is my–”

“If he was, you would treat him better!” Harry roared. “Children are supposed to be loved. They're supposed to be able to turn to their parent and know they'll protect them forever, not be the reason someone they love is in a Merlin-damned coma!” He inhaled sharply, drawing in his rage. “Henry is not the object you've been treating him as, Mayor. He is not an accessory to the perfect image of the perfect leader of a perfect little town. He is his own person, and he is a person who deserves to have his thoughts heard, his opinions listened to, his likes and dislikes and everything taken into account before you make a decision that benefits only you. Because when you have a child, Madam Mayor,” Harry added, almost spitting with derision but not quite. “You have a responsibility.” He glared and turned, his wand ready to protect, but his steps taking him away. He had to get Henry to Mary Margaret before he returned, he realised, because he really couldn't leave him alone outside. Who knew what Regina would do?

Behind him, Henry followed, eyes wide and trained entirely on the man who had defended him, not noticing the way Regina's mouth fell slightly open, her eyes flared, and her first clenched. (Not noticing the way that she, just before Henry was taken out of sight, gasped the slightest bit, her hand rising in his direction, her breath catching and her eyes glistening. But then again, she didn't, either.)

“Are you really going to go down there?” Mary Margaret asked worriedly. “Without backup?”

Harry held out his wand silently, and she blushed, even though he knew she had very little idea of what he could really do. 

“Alright, fine,” She grumbled. “But that's really not how wands work in there “ She gestured vaguely to the story book on the seat next to her. 

“Have you read it all?” Henry asked eagerly. 

“No,* Mary Margaret said. “But of what I have read, fairies’ wands work in a different way.”

“Like I said before,” Harry repeated. “I'm not from the storybook.”

“Which is so cool,” Henry added, his eyes gleaming. 

Harry huffed, recognizing a similarity to the way some of the Hogwarts students had looked at him the last time he'd gone to give them a guest lecture on DADA. “In any case, there are only a few possibilities for what might be below. A curse, traps, maybe monster plants–”

“There are monster plants?” Mary Margaret asked weakly.

“Does the magic beanstalk count as a monster plant?” Henry asked. 

Harry, who had never actually heard of a magic beanstalk (and that was saying something for someone who regularly hung out with Neville, whose favourite topic of conversation happened to be herbology), shrugged. “Absolutely no idea,” He said. “But I've dealt with a human-strangling Devil's Snare before if that counts.” He decided to keep the more recent and more dangerous plant encounters to himself. No need to worry them too much. 

Mary Margaret still didn't look reassured. “Are you sure?”

Harry smiled softly. “Yeah,” He said. “Police, remember?”

“Of the Magic people,” Henry breathed, as if just realising. 

Harry inclined his head. “We kinda prefer Witches and Wizards back in England, but yeah, magic people.” 

Henry beamed. 

Harry winked playfully, then pointed at one of the tables. “Pretend you dropped something,” He told them and apparated away. 

Merlin, he'd missed apparition. Especially because it hadn't even activated when he tried it to get out of the town (stupid curse).

He appeared inside the clock tower, right next to what was a gaping hole to the underground, obviously the place where he was to go.

He wondered whether Regina had paid a visit or if it was always this way. 

If it was, that was really poor cursing, honestly. Who knew who'd stumble upon it and maybe remember they were from fairy tale world? 

Or not, and he was just being paranoid. 

He walked to the gaping hole, took a deep breath, and jumped inside. 

There was a fucking dragon there. 

Merlin, he'd had enough of dragons all the way back in fourth year, but who was he kidding? He was never getting rid of danger or dragons. 

Especially not when the latter came attached to one of his brothers-in-law.

Okay, so maybe he didn't exactly hate dragons, only when they attacked him. And boy, had this one certainly attacked him. 

He closed his eyes, dusted off his clothes, checked again on the vial tucked safely in his pocket, and cracked his knuckles. 

This time, he took the long way back to the hospital, wanting the whispers and looks to get back to Regina, wanting to rub it in her face that he'd survived, that a dragon was no match for him.

That she ought to stop and think about who exactly it was she was opposing. 

But Regina didn't show up, and no one interrupted him, and he walked to the hospital room where he'd left Henry and Mary Margaret in silence–

And then he realized why he hadn't come across Regina – because she was already there. 

“—he’s never coming back!”

“Yes, he is!” Henry shouted. 

“And even if he wasn't,” Mary Margaret said. “Henry would be coming with me.”

“How dare you–” Regina snarled. “He is my son!”

Harry decided that was a good time as any and pushed the room open. “You’ve said that so much, I'm now even doubting whether you believe it, Madam Mayor.*

Regina’s mouth fell open.

Harry smirked. 

“Harry!” Henry exclaimed in the opposite tone to how he'd been speaking to Regina. “You’re okay!”

“You're… not dead,” Regina said, sounding confused. 

“No,” Harry said, forcefully cheerful as he walked past the woman to Henry. And then, raising his eyebrows, he pulled out the vial. “I didn't fail, either, if that's what you're thinking.”

She bristled. “How?!” She demanded. “There is–”

“A dragon?” Harry offered.

Henry and Mary Margaret gasped, though one was a tad more excited than the other.

“Oh, I learned a few moves here and there,” Harry continued. “Faced a dragon. Or two.” He smiled wryly. Well, if the second one even counted. 

Regina kept gaping. “But– who are you?!” She asked wildly, her chest heaving with probably deserved shock. 

Harry wondered if he could get away with calling himself her worst nightmare, then decided to be a little more professional than that. Just a little, though. “Who do you think?” He asked, and she flinched, her eyes flaring with a fear that made it so obvious that she was imagining so much worse than the reality. 

Harry didn't feel the need to disabuse her of that notion, so he just continued to stare until she spun on her heel and left with nary a word more to say. 

Before Henry could explode in excitement and Mary Margaret in horror, the door flung open again, this time letting in Gold. 

“How fascinating,” He said, staring at Harry with a considering expression. “From how Madam Mayor was leaving in a huff, I imagine you were successful, were you not?”

Harry inclined his head. “Yes,” He said. “I was. What do we do now?” 

“You don't know how to use the potion?” Gold asked. He didn't look surprised. 

“I'm not exactly the best potioneer,” Harry admitted grudgingly. “Got into it too late. Besides, every potion has a different effect, so I'd rather not mess this up.”

Gold smiled slowly. It was not the least bit relaxed. “Indeed,” He said and held out his palm. 

Harry hesitated, wondering whether he really was doing the right thing. This person whom he did not know– this person, who Mary Margaret had identified as Rumpelstiltskin, who had sold Regina the curse that did this all in the first place–

But what other choice did he have? True love's kiss. True love's essence. 

He grimaced and gave Gold the bottle. 

Gold's hand slowly closed around it, holding it like it was something precious, something incredible. 

“Well?” Henry asked impatiently. “Save her!”

Gold hummed. “Patience, child,” He said but walked to Emma and uncorked the bottle. And then– and then, he let one single drop fall atop her forehead, the magic form that single drop saturating the air, pulsing and expanding and covering Emma in a haze of brilliant pink dust. 

And then that dust faded, and Emma didn't so much as twitch. 

“What?” Gold said, sounding shocked. 

“What?” Mary Margaret asked, looking confused. 

Harry pursed his lips and sighed. “It didn't work, did it?” He asked. It wasn't really a question. 

“What?!” Henry echoed. “No! No way!” He pushed forward to Emma’s side, and as he looked back at Harry oh-so-desperately, Harry could see the sheen of fear and tears in his eyes. 

Harry turned to Gold. “Why didn't it work?”

“It–” Gold stopped, and for some reason, Harry just knew it was because he was about to sound dumbfounded and apparently Rumpelstiltskin didn't do that. He inhaled shortly and straightened, slipping the vial of concentrated love (or was it when it hadn't worked?) into his pocket. Harry let him. For now, there were a few more important things to do. “It should have,” He said simply. “That was the essence of the love of Snow White and Prince Charming, and suffice to say, their love– your love,” He specified, gesturing at Mary Margaret. “Was one of the purest in all the land.”

She looked almost desperate. “Then why not?!” She demanded.

Gold stared at Emma's prone body for a few moments, then at Henry crying beside her, and, finally, at the book placed on the hospital bed next to Emma. His mouth curled down. 

“What?” Harry asked. It might have come out a tad impatient. 

Gold didn't seem to mind. “Magic,” he said simply. “Is belief. And love most of all. But Ms. Swan…” 

Harry really, desperately wanted to rage that that was not how magic was supposed to work, but hey! He was in a freaking fairy tale town, so what did he know?

“She– she didn't,” Henry agreed, sniffling. “That's why she ate the pie.”

Gold inclined his head. 

“It doesn't work because she doesn't believe in magic?” Mary Margaret asked. “... Or because she doesn't believe in me?”

Gold's smile was cold. “I'm sure she believes in you, Ms. Blanchard.”

Mary Margaret glared. 

“She just does not believe in your love for Prince Charming.”

“And that I'm her mother,” Mary Margaret concluded, then grimaced. “Why would she? I barely believe it myself.”

Gold stared at her for a few seconds. “It seems,” He said. “There is no other option.” He turned to the door and then, just an inch from it, hesitated. “Mr. Potter?” He asked.

“Yes?” Harry asked. 

Gold didn't look at him, but his voice was hard. “If this situation does find an unlikely solution, I do hope you can give me a few minutes of your time before you leave.”

Harry stilled, something uncomfortable crawling up his spine. But by the time he thought to ask, the door had closed, and Gold was gone. 

Henry sniffled. “... What's going to happen now?” He asked softly, agonizingly. 

Harry exhaled sharply as Mary Margaret shuffled closer to squeeze the little boy's shoulder in comfort. 

“We'll be fine,” She murmured. “Emma’ll wake up. I know it.” For someone who ‘knew’, she sounded pretty shaken. 

… Harry got that part, though. “She's right,” He agreed. “We'll find a way out of this. And once my friends figure out how to break the curse that's blocking this town…” He trailed off, hoping that would spark some hope. “And until then, what we have to do is make sure we all stay safe.”

Henry swallowed, turning up to look at him. The question was clear. 

Harry nodded. “I can ask for another room at the inn,” He offered.

Mary Margaret perked up. “Henry could come with me,” She offered. “If you want,” She added immediately, gesturing to Henry. 

Henry nodded slowly. “I wish–” He broke off, voice catching. 

All three of them turned to look at Emma's body, at the shallow breaths and the constantly beeping heart monitor. 

She was alive, at least, they told themselves. They'd just have to make sure she stayed this way until they could wake her up. 

Gold smoothed away the hair sticking to Bella's forehead again, his lips pressed into a thin line. It had taken less than an hour for Regina to show up at his doorstep after he'd left the hospital. 

She still didn't understand. 

She never would. 

“Rumple…?” Bella whispered in her sleep, twisting and jerking in a nightmare Gold couldn't drive away, not anymore.

Not ever again, not where this world–

He frowned, his mind flickering back to Harry, wondering where it had all gone wrong. Wondering where, in fact, this man had come from. Which story – for if he was a story and the Enchanted Forest was a story, surely this sorcerer was as well? This (limited) potioneer? This strange hybrid of witch and fairy?

The intellectual part of Gold's mind demanded he continue trying to solve this mystery. 

The emotional part of his mind, the part desperately in love with a woman who had been imprisoned, who remembered, who suffered even now, demanded he fix everything for her first. 

Yes, he told himself, not caring whether it was truth or fiction or just plain desperation. He needed to fix the magic problem first and foremost. It would be after that that he might be able to help Belle. That he might be able to fix the curse – though he sincerely doubted the last part. There was a reason why this curse was the darkest of all magics, and that was because only the purest could break its bounds. If there was one truth to this all, it was that Rumpelstiltskin, for all he was attempting to help Emma Swan, was not pure.

He had never been pure, and becoming the Dark One had only added to that. 

But with tensions rising and the situation going from bad to worse, he needed to do something. And he couldn't do anything without access to magic. 

He brought the vial from his pocket, staring at the shine and the glimmer and the hope all wrapped into a concentration that even he was surprised he had been able to consolidate. It was perhaps the greatest potion he had ever made. 

The saner part of his mind preened in pride and then cautioned his use, for this would mean that it would be not only him who would get back his magic but every single person who had lost it coming here with the curse. (Cautioned that perhaps Potter might gain even more, and since he already had access to some–)

The emotional part, which had spurred this whole decision in the first place, forced him to move, and he left Belle's side with one last caress.

It was time to bring magic back to Storeybrooke.

Chapter Text

Because Harry was stupid and had an incurable illness that wouldn’t let him leave well enough alone–

Actually, no. He was not going to take the entire blame on himself this time. Because when the town had found out that their Sherriff was out of commission (to say the least), Ruby – after much dithering and panicking on the town’s part – brought everyone’s attention to the fact that there was, in fact, a law enforcement professional around here who could fill in until Sheriff Swan was up and about again. 

Not everyone was ready to accept it – at least not until someone told them Harry was actively keeping Henry away from Regina because of her ‘unfit’ behavior (honestly, Harry was really, really mad that had gotten out because Henry didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t really do anything because Ruby swore it hadn’t been her and he had no idea who else it could have been), which meant that he was standing up to her, just as Emma had done.

That was apparently the way these guys accepted their Sheriff. Who knew?

And it wasn’t like Harry could leave them alone, now could he?

And that was why he ended up in front of a loud crowd in the town hall, nursing a headache and trying to figure out how he was supposed to be a Sheriff in a town full of cursed amnesiacs when he wasn’t a Sheriff in the first place (and didn’t even want to be). 

He closed his eyes for a second and breathed deeply, trying to convince himself this was nothing like when he’d been punted at the forefront of the Auror program, much to the laughter of his best friend (the betrayal), who had finally started to understand the downsides of being famous. He cleared his throat. “The point is, until Sheriff Swan wakes up, it’s been brought to my attention that you lack a law enforcement official. While I will not impose my services upon you, mostly as I am not here in that capacity, officially, I am offering to stay in this place until Sheriff Swan can resume her duties.” He pursed his lips. “If you have an alternative, please feel free to let me know.” He wondered if he sounded just a little desperate right there at the end. 

At the back of the room, he could see Mary Margaret stifle a smile, and he realized that, yes, he did, in fact, sound completely desperate. 

“I’m for it!” Ruby said loudly, standing up. “Mr. Potter’s been here for a while, and he’s already helped find Kathryn Nolan and free Mary Margaret.” She shot a glare all around. “For something she was wrongfully accused of!”

Part of the crowd grumbled but didn’t speak up. Still, Harry could see Mary Margaret look down, her ears turning red with embarrassment. He grimaced. The things bad rumours and libel could do… He knew it personally, if mostly through Skeeter’s representations of him and Hermione since the Ministry tended to double down on press like that before it ever got further than the last page these days. “Is anyone against it?” He asked again. 

“I am!” A short, angry-looking man exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. “We don’t even know who the hell you are! Why should we trust you?”

“Leroy!” Another short man hissed.

Harry wondered, in the back of his mind, whether they were goblins but then decided they really didn’t seem like it, even if the Leroy chap had the grumpiness down pat. 

“Would you like to take my place, then?” He asked eyebrow arched. 

Leroy scowled. “It’d be better than an outsider.”

“Better an outsider who knows how to hold up the law than a townsperson bound to the mayor,” Ruby grumbled, but in the silence following Leroy’s declaration, everyone heard. 

The townspeople burst into whispers and accusations, and Leroy into angry defense. 

Harry was actually tempted to give the badge to the chap and be done with it, considering it really did look like he wasn’t a huge fan of Regina. Unfortunately, he just had a smidge more responsibility and the aforementioned saving-people instincts, and could he really leave these people to suffer the wrath of the Evil Queen masquerading as their mayor? Especially when he had a small (read; actually big) part in aggravating her?

He winced, sighed, and then banged his fist on the podium in front of him. 

The room fell silent, all eyes on him. 

“If there’s no agreement, then yes, I’m fine with subbing for Ms. Swan.” He stared down at them all, daring them to interrupt in his best Draco Malfoy expression (because Snape would be a little much). “I understand the hesitance, but with what is happening, we have to be vigilant. The town cannot be unprotected, nor can I be a party to letting Storebrooke worry itself to death over what’s happened to Emma–”

“Who said we’re worried?” Leroy grumbled, but his tone was defensive, and his expression was worried. 

Harry just ignored him. “So I’ll be here for now. You can come to me with any problems or concerns you might have, even if it is about me being SSheriff. I’ll be happy to talk to you in detail. Or, if you prefer, Ms. Blanchard or Ms. Slippers. In the meantime, I would prefer that you maintain vigilance and limit going outside too much because what happened to Ms. Swan may be dangerous enough to spread.” He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping he’d sold the ‘disease’ theory because that was the only one they’d had. 

When he opened his eyes again, the whole room was looking at him. 

He forced a smile, and his eyes immediately left their gazes, seeking solace in the sky from the window. “Now, if all of you–” He stopped. “What the…?” He frowned. 

The townspeople started to bristle and turn around, and Mary Margaret, Ruby, and Henry did, too. 

“Is that a…?” One of the women whispered. 

“That’s a purple cloud– ” One of the men yelled in surprise. 

“Merlin,” Harry muttered under his breath, and his instincts exploded… along with the cloud in the sky. He swore out loud this time. “Get away from the windows!” He shouted, bringing out his wand – damn the consequences because what was another damn town? – and marching down the stage and toward the door. 

Panicked, pushing, and screeching, the crowd pulled back. 

Harry made a detour around the edges, even as he saw Mary Margaret and Henry come closer, standing behind him but still not huddling with the crowd. He didn’t bother telling them to, either, partly because he knew they wouldn’t listen (had he ever?) and partly because at the very moment the thought occurred to him, the doors to the entrance exploded in, and a woman stalked in, her hands splayed at her sides, decorated with dark jewels. She was dressed in a flowing black dress, which was practically more cliche than the robes witches and wizards always wore, a crown atop her head, and a necklace around her throat. 

And she looked triumphant. 

Harry raised his wand, silently casting a deflection charm around everyone behind him, the only spell he knew would not register as openly as the others. “Regina,” He said quietly, and, just like the purple clouds that stormed in behind Regina, faint enough that they could see but covering everyone and everything, it rang throughout the room. “You looked better as the Mayor.”

Regina’s expression soured. “I am a Queen,” She said. 

“I thought you were keeping that a secret,” Harry said. 

She smiled wickedly. “What need do I have for a secret when I have my magic back?” She asked. “Because if you’ve read my story, you know that with this power, I can just make everyone forget. ” She then, before Harry could complete his own casting, flicked her hand, and a force flew at Harry, pushing him through the air and to the side. It was only constant practice that he didn’t let go of his wand, even as he crashed into the wall, pain exploding through him. 

“HARRY!” Henry shouted, sounding horrified. 

“Now, Henry,” Regina said, and she sounded almost deranged even through her complete and utter desperation. “You don’t have to worry about that person. He’s going away, and you won’t ever know–” She stepped forward, her hands rising and gesturing for Henry to come or for the magic to make him come because as soon as Henry jerked, he stopped, the barrier dissipating her magic in some way, thankfully working to some degree. 

Harry pointed his wand, cast a stunner and a sound spell, and then apparated just in time to see Regina’s face snap toward him. He re-appeared behind her a fraction of a second after the sound spell and cast another stunner. 

It hit her, but she only grunted, some talisman obviously taking root and minimizing the damage. 

Harry leaped out of the way as the woman flicked another hand in his direction, and this time, he cast a summoning charm, following it with a barrage of stunners, for though they weren’t working, he couldn’t use lethal force (not in front of her son). 

Each of the spells hit Regina one by one, leaving her looking stunned but not much else, and Haryr took a chance to shoot a far-flung diffindo. It grazed her cheek, as he’d intended, and shock rippled through her. 

She pulled back, the cloud fading and her magic receding. “What in the world…?” She whispered. “Who are you?”

This time, Harry glared. “Someone who wants you out,” He growled. 

“Impossible,” She said. “It’s– it’s impossible. There was no one as powerful– but who?”

Harry kept his wand raised, his next spell ready. This time, with time to prep, he’d at least prepared a more powerful barrier to protect the people depending on him. “Get out,” He said again. “And don’t you dare come back. Because, Regina, I am not afraid to use my own magic to fight yours. And unlike you, I know who I’m up against.”

Regina kept staring, open-mouthed, even as fear flickered through her eyes. 

“You hold no more sway here,” Harry continued. “And you will not be obliviating these people and forcing them to relive the sham of a town you control! You will leave.”

Regina stepped back. “I’m– I’m not done,” She managed, finally. “I don’t care who you are, but my power is strong enough to destroy you, you fool!”

“Is it strong enough to destroy me?” Another voice asked, dark and unafraid and so utterly black that even Harry felt a shiver. There was magic in his voice, just as there was magic in the way he appeared — magic that, for the life of him, Harry could not understand because of even the feeling of it… Merlin, it was almost as bad as the Horcruxes. And yet, it was a plural, not a fracture, and Harry was never going to understand anything because that made no sense. 

Regina flinched, her eyes meeting Rumplestiltskin, true fear flashing through them. “You,” She said in realization. “You brought back the magic.”

“I brought back the magic,” Gold agreed. “And, dearie,” He added mockingly. “I’m going to do so much worse.”

There was a flash, another flinch, and then shadows swallowed Regina, stealing her away in a much better facsimile of apparition. If Regina hadn’t been so evil, Harry might even have asked her how to do that. 

And then, finally, Harry remembered there were townspeople here, too, and they had no idea what was going on. 

“Was that– was that magic?” Ruby asked faintly, looking ready to throw up. 

“Holy shit,” Leroy muttered. 

“Well, Mary Margaret said. “That is certainly one way to find out the truth.”

Harry rubbed the back of his head. “Why is it that I always get to lead people in crises?” He asked himself, then shook his head and straightened. “Henry,” He called more loudly, sounding over the din of panicking people. “Can you get going some sort of station to explain to people what’s going on? And Mary Margaret, you’ve read the book — please help him.” His eyes, going over the people, landed on some sparks in the middle. “And, uh, see if you can calm down anyone who found themselves magical suddenly. I have a bad feeling that Cloud wasn’t limited to Regina or Gold.”

“What?!” Ruby squeaked, the only one close enough to hear. 

“Yes!” Henry said excitedly, grabbing Mary Margaret’s hand. “Come on, Ms. Blanchard!”

Harry cast a silent sonorous and let his voice drown out everyone else. “Please calm down!” He said, and all eyes were on him again. “Henry and Mary Margaret are going to help explain things to you. Don’t panic, don’t worry, and please be patient.”

“What about the mayor?” One of the men yelled out, sounding terrified. “My kids are out there, Mr. Potter! I need to get them safe!”

The clamor increased. 

Harry grimaced even more. “Please don’t worry,” He continued, voice still echoing. “I do not believe Regina wants anything to do with any of the townspeople other than Henry, myself, or–” He swore, suddenly, remembering Emma. Then he spun around, spotting Gold, still leaning against the open door, and marched over to him, the sonorous no longer active. “I need to get Emma,” He barked. “Stay here until I come back.”

Gold stared back without fear. “And what’s in it for me?” He asked without care. 

There was something different about him now; something fundamentally changed. The magic coming back had done something so much worse than Harry could even reckon to guess — he figured it was the not-horcrux feeling. But he had no time to dwell on it. He narrowed his eyes. “What do you want?” He asked, hesitant but without choice. 

Gold continued to smile. “A favor.”

“What favor?”

“Well, that, Mr. Potter, is something I have yet to consider.”

Bloody hell, that was such an obvious trap that Harry really was going to hell, and Hermione and Ron would be the first ones throwing him there. And yet, had he another choice? “Fine,” He said. “Protect them.”

And then he apparated away.

Chapter Text

The shockwave that rippled across the impenetrable barrier almost threw them down on their asses, just as jarring as the purple cloud that they saw only for a second. 

Hermione stared at the sky beyond in shock, watching as the magic latched back on and made it normal again. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, right at her side and staring with just as much horror. “What did Harry do?”

Honestly, Hermione had had the same thought, so she couldn't even reproach him. 

“That… isn't normal,” Bill muttered, springing back up and rushing forward. “Something's wrong.”

“With the barrier?” Auror Carter asked swiftly. “Can we make our way through?”

He sounded frustrated, and Hermione winced because, to be fair, they'd all been frustrated. The strange magic – and Merlin, only if she had the time to appreciate it instead of slashing through! – had been stumping them more often than not, adapting to their efforts to drain it. Even Bill had agreed it was some of the most complex dark magics he'd had the pleasure of seeing, doubly stated. 

“No,” Bill said. “But…” He frowned. “There's something off.” He pulled ever further forward, grabbed his wand, and began running through a series of wand motions and non-verbal flicks that Hermione was half sure were curse and ward diagnostics, but not completely. 

She watched in fascination as, this time, the magic from his wand, absorbed in the barrier, glowed, but, for the slightest second–

“Does that mean…?” Ron asked. 

“Yeah,” Bill agreed. “It's not as magic-repellant anymore.”

“Then we can–” Carter tried. 

“It still won't be possible, correct?” Fonterra chipped in. “It changed nothing about its structure, only its malleability.”

Bill nodded slowly, still looking at the invisible barrier. “Impossible to enter…” He murmured. “Unless…”

Hermione's eyes flared, and her breath caught. “You can change something?” She asked. 

“Would that mean we could get in?” Ron added, just as desperately, both of them worrying about their stupid best friend. So long without them – who knew what trouble he'd have gotten into?

Fonterra seemed to come to the same realisation as Bill. “Then we may change the specifications so we could enter.”

Bill inclined his head. “It's a long shot, but since magic isn't repellent as before, it's more likely than our last try.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, the adaptive properties still exist, so we may only have one chance. Hell, only one person.”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek but spoke through the fear. “Perhaps the one who goes inside shall be able to help Harry break the curse from inside, especially since we have some of the knowledge he lacks.”

Ron sighed. “I guess you're the best person to go, then,” He said. “You or Fonterra.”

“Excuse me?” The Unspeakable asked though it was obvious she understood what she was even asking. 

“If you need to break the curse, you'll need the knowledge and the ability to apply it,” Ron said. “Bill can't do it because he'll be monitoring form the outside and setting up the entry in the first place. I'd love to go, but I'm the first to admit I'm not great at theory. I could memorize whatever you need me to, but…” He shrugged. “That leaves Fonterra, who's been helping Bill and would be able to work her way through, or Hermione, who can do the same.”

Hermione almost beamed. That was her husband!

But Fonterra nodded, bringing the silence back to solemn. “I agree,” She told a pensive-looking Carter. “Unfortunately, my other obligations are too time-constrictive to leave my office too long, so Mrs. Weasley should be fine.”

Carter didn't look pleased. 

Ron opened his mouth, no doubt to ruin his speech and say something stupid like she hyphenates, which would be adorable in any other situation, but Hermione tamped a hand on his arm and cleared her throat. “I understand,” She said. “If one of your team members would be willing to help me, I'll also stock a bag with the necessary items if it is able to make it past the barrier.”

“We can discuss that later,” Carter said, obviously not satisfied. 

“Very well,” Hermione said. 

Later, while Carter and his government argued about what to do, Hermione and Ron opened a channel for Ginny to update her. 

Ginny's face rippled out in the mirror, worry lines around her forehead. Around her were the kids, distracted as they played with Luna and Rolf. 

“Everyone's at work,” Ginny said distractedly. “Did you…?” She trailed off, her eyes pained and angry all at once, rimmed with red. But as per usual, there was no crack in her voice and no fear in her visage. 

Hermione took a deep breath and told her the plan. 

There was a silence, for a moment, tense. Then Ginny gave a short nod, a fierce look in her eyes. “Kick Harry's ass when you find him,” She said. 

Hermione chuckled, and Ron burst out laughing. 

The sounds obviously carried because before they could say another thing, all the kids were gathered, even a curious-looking Lorcan and Lysander. 

Ron waved. 

Hermione took a deep breath. “Hugo, Rose,” She said carefully, looking at her babies first, pressed close to the glass while the others lagged behind. “Mommy needs to go help Uncle Harry, okay? I might not be able to talk to you for a few days.”

Hugo frowned, but Rose just looked scared. 

“Don't worry about it!” Ron said boisterously before his kids could say anything. “I'm here, aren't I?”

“Aunt Hermione?” James interrupted. “Dad isn't back?”

Hermione grimaced and exchanged a look with Ginny over their heads. “He’s– not yet, sweetheart. But I'm going to go get him, so don't you worry, alright?”

James scowled. “But I wanna see Dad now!”

“James!” Ginny said, but she didn't sound harsh. 

James burst out crying, and, taking his lead, Albus did, too, both of them running out of the room, Ginny massaging her forehead and following, leaving the room to Luna and Rolf. 

“Well, that was a dumpster fire,” Ron muttered under his breath, then turned back to the mirror with a smile as their kids began demanding more conversation and Luna stared at them curiously, as usual. 

Chapter Text

They couldn’t move Emma from the hospital just in case the situation worsened, so Harry had to cast a barrier around the area and hope it worked. At the very least, Regina hadn’t seemed to realise Emma was in a vulnerable enough position—either that, or she’d assumed Harry had that figured out. 

(Part of Harry wondered if it was because Emma was Henry’s mom and that maybe a part of Regina didn’t want to hurt Henry any more than she already had. But he wouldn’t raise Henry’s hopes without proof.)

Still, the next few days were tense precisely because of that. No one remembered anything about the life before, well, before , obviously, and it was hard for them to accept who they apparently used to be, but Regina and Harry’s magic show had apparently gone a long way to opening their minds. At the very least, they’d become very cautious in regards to the mayor and willing to listen to who Henry thought they were, even if they didn’t believe. The ones who had family who hadn’t been at the meeting had been the first to leave immediately after Harry had returned and pronounced everything relatively safe, but some of the people had lingered. 

Gold, too, had disappeared once Harry returned with a single nod and a mutual understanding of the need to protect Emma, though Harry wasn’t putting all his bets on that horse. 

All in all, that left Mary Margaret with Henry trying to explain everything to an angry Leroy, a pensive Archie, a confused Ruby, and a protesting Ruby’s Grandmother… whose name Harry apparently did not know. 

Bloody hell. 

He groaned under his breath and headed in their direction, hoping they had something positive to share. 

As he came closer, Henry turned in his direction and brightened. “Harry!” He said. “You’re not going to believe it!”

Harry raised an eyebrow but asked, “Believe what?”

Henry simply pointed at Archie, who seemed to be concerned and tired all at once. “Must I?” He asked. 

“You must,” Henry said loftily, and Harry could see the small grin that Archie showed at the realization that Henry really was treating him like a friend and not an obligation. 

Archie closed his eyes for a second and—

“Huh,” Harry said, seeing him transform into a cricket and then flicker for a second before turning back. “An animagus.”

“A what?” Mary Margaret asked. 

“Wait, there are more people who can turn into crickets?” Henry added with wide eyes.

“Not exactly— never mind,” Harry waved a hand. “It’s not important right now. We need to figure out how to fix all of this. It’s…” His eyes flickered to their entourage. 

“Well?” Leroy demanded. “This is our town, too!”

“They’re friends,” Mary Margaret agreed, smiling at them all.

Ruby’s Grandmother snorted. “Fat good we’ve done,” She muttered. “But call it what you will.”

There was an awkward silence. 

Harry cleared his throat. “Right, well, we really need to break the curse. Now that Emma’s out of the game, we have to find another way. Especially since Regina’s magic is back.” He frowned. “She blamed Gold.”

“I can imagine him as the villain,” Leroy said.

“He helped us, didn’t he?” Harry asked though he didn’t quite disagree with the fact that Gold was more villainous than heroic. “I’ll ask him about what he did, don’t worry,” He added to ease their disconcerted expressions. “But Emma’s—” He pursed his lips. “We need to look through the book,” He concluded. “See if there are absolutely any other instances where the spell was broken by something other than true love’s kiss.” He grimaced. “If Emma’s the one who’s supposed to break the curse on this town…”

Mary Margaret looked just as afraid. “Don’t worry,” She told him. “Henry and I’ll go through this book with a fine-toothed comb. You can go to Gold for information.”

“And what are we supposed to do?” Ruby asked. 

Leroy looked like he wished Ruby hadn’t. 

Harry wracked his brain. “I’ll need two groups,” He told them. “One to keep an eye on Emma, see that everything’s good, and the other to watch out for Regina.” He looked at them hesitantly. “You can say no, of course—”

“Of course I’ll do it!” Leroy snapped. “I ain’t no coward.”

Harry just sighed. “Right,” He said. “You can also get anyone else who wants to help on the job,” He added. “We can’t stop life from going on, so it’s not going to be easy, but if you have more people, you can also split up the times. I don’t know who else might help, but—”

“Oh, how about Prince Charming?” Henry asked. 

“Huh?” Ruby said. 

Mary Margaret stuck her face in her hands, but her muffled words could still be heard. “David,” She said. “David Nolan.”

Ruby winced. “Ah,” She said, and that was that. 

“Right,” Harry said, feeling even more awkward than before. “Off to Mr. Gold for me, then. Anyone want to come?” 

It was almost comical how everyone ran off to do what he’d assigned them. 

Gold was in his shop, but, surprisingly, he wasn’t alone. The shop was actually closed, but Harry went in anyway, and a tight, worried voice (that was almost impossible to place upon the suave and sure man that was Mr. Gold) came from the back area, knowing who had entered and inviting him to the back. 

As Harry stepped through, drawing back the curtains, he realized that a woman was lying on the chaise, asleep and exhausted, and Gold was standing next to her, a hovering guard dog. 

“What do you want, Mr. Potter?” Gold asked, more composed than he had been back at the hall. 

Harry’s eyes kept flickering to the woman. “Is she okay?”

Gold grimaced even more. “She’s… resting,” He said. “It’s been a long few years for her.” His expression twisted, and anger flared through him. 

Suddenly, Harry knew. “She has something to do with Regina, doesn’t she.”

Gold glared. “She ought not to have,” He said icily, which was as close to Regina messed up as possible without actually saying it. 

“Right,” Harry hesitated. “Is this why you brought back magic?” He asked. 

Gold’s eyes narrowed in on him. “Did I, though?” He asked. “Because as far as I can tell, this land never forsook magic in the first place. How would I have brought back something that was never gone?”

Harry wasn’t deterred. “Are you going to give me a clear answer today or not?” He asked. 

Gold’s gaze returned to his companion. 

Harry pursed his lips. “Do you want me to run a scan on her?” He asked. 

“In return for answers, I presume.”

“No, actually. I don’t help people just for what they can give me.”

Gold scoffed. “Then you should,” He snapped. “Because someone has to pay magic’s price, Mr. Potter, and if the people you help do not, then who else?”

Harry frowned. Magic’s price…? What was that supposed to mean?

“And there is no need,” The shopkeeper continued. “Belle is physically fine. She is simply exhausted.” He bared his teeth. “Someone simply dared to keep her locked up for decades, assumed dead.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Why would Regina do that?”

“I don’t know,” He said dramatically. “Power? Revenge? Morbid amusement?” He laughed, but it was bitter. “The Evil Queen works in mysterious ways, don’t you think?”

Harry did actually know that. “Right,” He said. “Okay.”

Gold raised an eyebrow. 

Harry shifted gears. “What about breaking the curse?” He asked. “Any update on that?” 

“I would,” Gold said, and he sounded every bit as frustrated as Harry was. “But nothing I have considered has worked since you entered the scene, Mr. Potter. Either your magic has contested our magic, or something far, far worse is brewing.” He pursed his lips. “Either way, dark times are coming.”

“Aren’t they always?” Harry muttered under his breath. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Nothing,” Harry said. “Anyone else who might be able to help?” He asked desperately. “Becuase, by Merlin, no one else remembers the curse, and I doubt Henry, for all his skill, will be able to convince them for long. And though Regina proved to them magic exists…” He trailed off. 

“Sheep,” Gold said. 

“Sheep,” Harry agreed. “Especially since I doubt the mayor’s going to attack so publicly anymore any time soon. And she’ll interfere even less when she realizes how a little bit of time only gives people space to build their own stories to cover up what really happened.”

Gold raised his eyebrows. “I see you have a little experience with that,” He said, a little amusement creeping back into his voice. 

Harry was glad – he liked the dark, desperate Gold far less than the one he’d gotten used to. “You have no idea,” He agreed. 

“Hmm,” Gold said. “You might consider talking to the Hatter.”

Harry was taken aback. “The… Hatter?” He asked.

Gold inclined his head. “Here, you might know him as Jefferson,” He said. “He was the one who informed me of Belle’s survival, actually,” He said, gesturing to the woman. “And he seems to have complete memory of the past.”

“Of the Enchanted Forest?” Harry asked, eyes wide. “Then why didn’t he say anything?” He winced. “Wait, never mind. Of course he didn’t.” He sighed. “And where can I find this Jefferson?”

Gold smiled. “Why, I’m sure you’ll have to ask Ms. Blanchard. I hear they made an acquaintance.”

Chapter Text

“You want to talk to him?” Mary Margaret asked, face pale. “But—” She swallowed, biting her lower lip. “Harry, you don’t know–”

“Gold said he has memories of the Enchanted Forest,” Harry explained. “If he remembers, there has to be a reason. There has to be some sort of secret he knows that could help us figure out a way forward with Emma or breaking the curse of—” He closed his eyes for a second. “If nothing else, it’s more than we knew before.”

Henry frowned. “The Mad Hatter?” He asked. “There aren’t a ton of stories about him in the book, but, well… isn’t he mad?”

Harry huffed. “Still more than we had before,” He said.

Mary Margaret still looked troubled. “You don’t understand. He kidnapped me and Emma, and—” She shuddered. “I don’t know what’s going on with him, but Henry’s right. He’s not entirely sane, and– and he’s dangerous about it.”

“Well,” Harry said modestly. “I like to think I have some level of defensive capabilities myself.”

Henry snorted. 

“And what if he has magic too?” Mary Margaret asked. “I haven’t read about him yet, but he might.”

“Then I’ll handle it when I must,” Harry said sharply. “Mary Margaret, please. Just tell me what you know. I’d rather not have to make yet another deal with Gold just to get this information.”

For a few seconds, she stared at him, pleading. And then he won out and she sighed. “There’s a mansion in the forest. I don’t know exactly where — it was dark and we were running, but… He lives there,” She said, and another shiver visibly went through her. “And he has this– this collection of hats. He wanted Emma to do something about it, and, considering what we know now about the curse, I suppose he wanted her help as the savior, but…” She shrugged, trailing off. 

Harry nodded grimly. “Thank you,” He said. 

She nodded shortly. 

“Anyway!” Henry said loudly, because he was a smart kid. “We’ve got updates, too!” He made a face. “Though Ms. Blanchard is still making me go to school,” He added, grumbling.

Harry laughed. “Well, that’s what kids do,” He pointed out.

Henry pouted, his face falling just a tad. 

“I read about Snow White again,” Mary Margaret admitted. “And Prince Charming.”

Henry perked up again. “Yeah, and then she went to Mr. Nolan because they’re meant to be.”

Mary Margaret flushed a little. “Henry!” She protested, but she didn’t say much more, likely because the kid had actually turned out to be right about everything else. 

“What?” Henry asked. “You are! You read it yourself — Snow White and Prince Charming go through so many trials, and they still come out stronger and together. That’s a happy ending to me.”

“He’s not wrong,” Harry agreed, though it felt weird saying that about a guy who was ostensibly married to another person, albeit only under this curse. Was it only under this curse? Harry didn’t know. He hadn’t actually asked. 

Mary Margaret batted at them both, but she was smiling as she did it. “Oh, you two–” She shook her head. “Well, we did talk,” She admitted. “I told him I wanted to get to know him first, that it was in the book, but, well…” She chewed on her lip again. “Then we both went to Abigail, because I didn’t want to make the same mistake as before.” He eyes flickered to Henry at that and she didn’t expand upon the mistake. “We talked, and it turns out that Abigail was actually, before the whole—” She waved her hands around. “Happened, I mean. She was going to Boston. She wanted to get a fresh start there, and she’d even written a note to David explaining that she wanted him to…” She trailed off, her face reddening even more. 

Harry could basically guess what happened next. 

“Anyway!” Mary Margaret said, and the way she said it was suddenly so similar to how Henry had said it just minutes before that Harry could finally see the resemblance. “We’ve talked a lot, and we’re going to keep talking before we decide anything.” She nodded. “But David’s agreed to help us whenever we need it, and so has Abigail.” She frowned. “Apparently, though she’d befriended Regina before, they fell out right before the whole… thing happened.” She waved her hands again, looking awkward. 

“I see,” Harry said. “Maybe we can ask them to help us with keeping an eye on Emma and Regina.” 

Mary Margarest nodded. 

“And the book…?” Harry asked. 

The atmosphere soured. 

“Nothing,” Henry said glumly. “It’s only ever been true love’s kiss. For Cinderella, it had been her Prince, for Snow White, it was Prince Charming.” He sighed. “Rumplestiltskin created a potion from True Love – from Snow White and Prince Charming, in fact — but we all saw how that worked out.”

Mary Margaret reached over to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. “We’ll find something,” She promised. “We’re going to wake Emma.”

And there was something so haunted in her eyes, something that made Harry think, H uh. She’d actually accepted who she was. Because that look was so reminiscent of Molly whenever she thought of Fred that it hurt Harry more than he could bear, even so many years later. Because it may have become something they lived with now, but that didn’t mean it didn’t stab everyone every time it came up.

“We will,” He agreed. “We will.”

There was a moment of silence. 

Then Mary Margaret sighed. “I suppose I should catch up with the rest,” She said. “I haven’t checked in today, what with school and all.”

“School.” Henry grumbled. 

Mary Margaret quirked a smile. “Do you want to come with me, Henry?” She asked. “Or would you rather stay with Harry for now?”

“Harry,” Henry said. “No offense, I just don’t want to think about school.”

Harry began to laugh. “I’ll bring him to Emma’s when I’m done,” He promised. “And feed him.”

“Trust him,” Henry said cheekily. “He has three kids.”

“Four,” Harry corrected in amusement. “Teddy’d mutiny if I didn’t count him.”

“Your godson, right?” Henry asked, looking brighter. “What’s he like?”

Mary Margaret smiled fondly. “Okay,” She agreed. “Call me if you need me, but I’ll probably be with Leroy and the others for now. Bye, Henry,”

“Bye, Ms. Blanchard!”

Harry nodded at her and watched her walk away before turning to Henry. “What say you and I get some ice cream?”

Henry grinned. “I thought you were supposed to not spoil kids,” He said, laughing.

“Eh, what’s a little spoiling now and then?” Harry asked good-naturedly. “Besides, it’s the one sure way to keep my kids from ratting to Ginny that I’ve gotten myself into another mess,” He added. 

Henry laughed. “I’d love to meet her.”

Harry huffed. “Yeah,” He agreed. “She’d love to meet you. Trust me, she’d spoil you more.”

Getting ice cream wasn’t the hard part. Sitting in silence at Henry’s castle? That was. 

Harry sighed. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long,” He said. 

“It’s not your fault,” Henry mumbled around his treat. “Mom— Mom’s the one—” He swallowed. “I just… I’ve tried, but even though she’s evil—” His breath hitched. 

“You still love her,” Harry concluded. 

Once upon a time, he might have considered that impossible. But that upon a time, his world had been black and white; the villains had been evil and the good guys hadn’t. 

And then Narcissa Malfoy had helped him, and Slytherins had shown up at the Battle of Hogwarts and the whole mess with Peter Pettigrew— And being an adult? Merlin. 

“It’s normal,” He continued. “She’s your mum, and you’re not wrong for loving her. No one will ever say that. And if they do, I’ll stun them for you and you won’t have to hear them talk until I wake them up.”

Henry sputtered, half laughing, half crying. “Stun?” He asked. 

“Ah, I haven’t shown you much of my magic yet, have I?” Harry asked.

“Can you?” Henry asked excitedly. “Magic’s so cool!”

Harry smiled, swallowed the last of his own ice cream, and jumped up. “Alrighty,” He said brightly. “What do you want to see?”

“What can you do?”

“Almost anything,” Harry admitted. “Though there are a few limitations. Hmm… why don’t I show you some transfiguration?”

“Oh!” Henry said, pointing at a stick on the ground. “Can you turn that into a– a–” He twisted his face. “I was going to say snake, but then I remembered I don’t love them.”

Harry started laughing. “Butterfly?” He suggested.

Henry nodded eagerly. 

Harry waved his wand, and in front of them, the branch twisted and curled, morphing into a creature with wings bright, buttery yellow. 

“Woah!” Henry said, inching closer, his own ice cream finished now. 

The butterfly flapped its wings a few times, seemingly confused before fluttering around the place, puttering to Henry’s head, lazily floating around him, and then to Harry, sitting for a second on his outstretched finger before flapping its wings again, flying away. 

“Woah,” Henry said again. “That was so cool!” His eyes flickered to Harry’s wand. “You’re like a fairy, then,” He concluded. “Because the Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin don’t use wands.”

Harry winced. “Uh, yeah, I wish,” He said. “It’s actually really advanced in our world to be able to use wandless magic, so wands it is. They apparently help us channel our magic, though young wizards and witches often show accidental magic without wands.”

“Accidental magic?” 

“It happens when we’re not able to control our magic,” Harry explained. “It bursts out of us when we’re too emotional and don’t know how to control amgic at all. It gets better after we get our wands and start practicing with them, since the magic then has a better way of leaving our bodies.” He huffed a laugh. “I think, at least. Hermione — she’s my friend,” He added to Henry’s confused look. “She would be able to explain better.”

“Oh,” Henry said, biting his lip. “Does that mean the wand itself doesn’t have any magic?” He looked wistful.

Harry smiled sadly. “Yeah,” He said. “It just brings out magic from within someone. And every wizard or witch has their own, because not everything works for everyone.” 

“Oh,” Henry said again. “... Can I try?”

And Harry, who never could say no to kids like this, sighed and offered his wand, wondering whether another ice cream might—

As soon as Henry’s hand touched the wand, the tip sparked bright blue. It was only once, and it was nothing compared to how the Holly wand had reacted to him, at first, but it sparked. 

Harry eyes widened. 

Henry, shocked, dropped the wand, then turned to Harry with apologetic eyes. “Sorry!” He exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” Harry said immediately. “It’s– it’s fine.”

Henry swallowed, grabbed the wand again, and hurriedly pushed it at Harry. “Sorry,” He said again, glumly. “You said it wouldn’t work, and I should have listened.”

Harry blinked again, trying to reconcile himself to the notion. But how could he? Despite this child literally having been adopted by the Evil Queen — by a witch or magic user or whatever they called themselves — he hadn’t actually expected Henry to have magic. Emma obviously hadn’t… except Henry had said she was meant to break the curse, and so did Rumplestiltskin. Surely curse-breaking meant having some iota of magic?

And if that had reached Henry…

Harry started to smile. “You know,” He said, giving up on his own questions to reassure Henry first. “Magic school starts at eleven.”

Henry blinked. “I– I thought you said only magical children could attend?” He asked. 

“They can,” He agreed, then offered his wand again. “Do you know how they tell if you match with a wand?”

Henry stared at him, eyes round and almost unblinking. 

“You pick up a wand and it sparks. The more powerful they are, the most your magic works with that wand.” Of course, there was way more to wandlore than that, and Hermione would probably kill him for explaining it that way, but what the hell? He didn’t know what wandlore and wand choosing was about other than those sparks, so that’s what it was going to be. 

Besides, Ron would probably agree. 

“Wait,” Henry sputtered. “But– there was a spark when I—” He gasped. “I have magic?”

It was a good thing they were in the middle of the forest because they’d otherwise have advertised to the whole town. 

Harry nodded. 

“But–” Henry protested. “I’ve never done this accidental magic! You said it happened to kids, right?”

“I suppose you only got your magic back when Gold gave it back to the whole town?” Harry suggested, because he didn’t know how their magic worked. “Or maybe you did, and you never noticed. Didn’t you say the town was already weird?”

“Oh, yeah…” Henry trailed off, then brightened. “Does that mean I can go to school with your godson? You said he was in magic school, right?”

“Teddy? Yes, he’s studying in Hogwarts,” Harry said. “But, well, that’s all the way in Scotland. I mean, I totally agree that Hogwarts is the best–” He joked. “But there are other schools available. Ilvermony’s in America, for example.”

Henry twisted his lips, and then his eyes went to Harry wand again. 

Harry started to chuckle. “You want to try out a few spells?”

Henry nodded eagerly. 

Over the next hour, Harry tried to coach Henry, his mind always and forever going back to “Levi-O-sa, not Levio–SA!” which, admittedly, had been a pretty instrumental moment leading up to their friendship, but regardless. 

Though the sparks had happened again (with the secondary wand that Harry carried as backup, standard issue for DMLE personnel), weaker this time, but more in number, Henry couldn’t manage the spell. Harry had to reassure him that it would be easier with a more suitable wand, that it took a lot of practice, too, and—

And BOOM!  

The ground shook, the land trembled. Henry stumbled to the ground, a ripple of pure force extending through the air, hitting Harry and slamming him back into the tree, dissipating as it got further toward the town. 

Merlin. 

Harry scrambled up, rushing to Henry, who was a little scraped but okay. “What happened?” He asked, sounding afraid but brave. 

“It came form the town border,” Harry said grimly. “I have to go check it out. I’ll drop you—”

“No!” Henry protested. “That’ll take longer. It’s closer from here.” He glared stubbornly. “I’m coming.”

Harry groaned, but, without further argument, let him follow. Better this than sneaking up behind him, after all, which, considering he remembered his own childhood very well, was frankly all too possible. Which, if he considered his children, was all too likely. 

They rushed to the edge of town in the sheriff’s car, borrowed upon Harry’s temporary assignment as such, and Harry stilled, because there was a body crumpled at the edge of the border, face down. A woman. 

He swore under his breath, prompting a shocked look from Henry, and then they both rushed out towards the body. 

“Stay back,” Harry told Henry, though he didn’t expect him to listen, and then, wand pointed, he stepped closer—

Only to spot the shock of curly brown hair and a familiar ring on the hand sprawled out next to the face-down body. 

“... Hermione?”