London: 1613

      The streets of London bustled with noise, as they always did. The smell of waste water from buckets overhead made Evelyn want to gag, especially with the heat of summer pressing down on the streets. She felt out of place, here in the city. It scared her to be so far from her home village in Scotland, even though she knew home was now a dangerous place, for the town was still full of Blaine McTavish's supporters, who were ready to accuse people of witchcraft at any moment. Besides, she had nobody to return to. Every person that had been important to her had left, having had to flee from the witch hunters as well. Her mother had been one of them. Evelyn closed her eyes tightly, trying to forget the words that swam before her vision, so neatly written but so quick to bring Evelyn's world down around her. Her mother had been fleeing with her friend, and along the way she fell ill. The letter announcing her death arrived weeks ago, but the sting remained. Evelyn wished she had been given a chance for a proper goodbye. The familiar tightness swelled in her chest, and feeling as though she was going to burst, Evelyn let out a deep breath, which caught in her throat ever so slightly. But the noise was lost within the hubbub of the cobbled streets, so teeming with grubby people. The nine months she had been gone felt like nine years.

"And look where you are now," she muttered to herself, wondering rather half-heartedly why she had come to London of all places. But she could not fool herself into believing that she had any choice in the matter. She was here, and there was no sense in wishing herself away, even with the threat of McTavish's well to do brother, whom she knew very well lived here in London.

"Where is that bastard, anyway?" she whispered under her breath as she emerged from a more dingy street and onto one slightly less disgusting.

Cursing, she leaped out of the way as a coach sped past, the rattling wheels and clattering of hooves ringing in her ears.

"You have a rather foul mouth, for a lady," said a smooth voice nearby.

Evelyn whirled around, gritting her teeth. She took a sudden step back, as she was met with the sight of ice blue eyes. She knew those eyes. They were the eyes of a dead man. The eyes of Blaine McTavish, whom she had killed with a knife only nine months previous. He had been trying to murder almost the entire wizarding population of her home town with his witch hunting madness, despite the fact that he too was a wizard. She regretted the fact that she never got a chance to spit on his grave.

"Ah yes, I know you have been following me. Now what was your name? I recall seeing you quite a few years ago, when I visited my dear brother."

"I am sorry sir, but you must be mistaken. We have never met," Evelyn bluffed convincingly. But apparently it was not well enough.

"And yet you have followed me here to White Cross Street three times in the last two weeks." Those cold, dead eyes bored into Evelyn. She hoped dearly that he did not remember her, for she had encountered him in passing a few months back. "I know you know who I am."

Her hopes sunk like a ship in a perilous sea.

"Really ... and who are you, exactly?" Evelyn asked innocently, figuring she might as well milk this thing for all it was worth.

Greying eyebrows raised, and McTavish surveyed her steadily. Evelyn felt a sick kind of chill wash over her. It was then that she knew she had little hope of bluffing her way out of this one.

"I, my dear, am James McTavish."

"Pleased to meet you," Evelyn lied through her teeth, curtsying. "I think I have heard of you, come to think of it. Aren't you the owner of that large patch of land just north of here?"

"I am."

"Well, it was nice meeting you sir, but I really must be going," said Evelyn as she tried to make her escape.

James McTavish hooked his arm through hers.

"Oh, we aren't done talking yet," he said, his tone far too light for the strength in his arm. "Why don't we walk a little bit? I need to find out how much you know."

"Know what?" she inquired as they began to walk calmly and collectedly down the street, in a way that would make nobody guess what was really going on.

"The snitch is caught, my dear, now you might as well tell me your name," he said to her.

"It's Beth," she said, angry and disgruntled. "Short for Elizabeth."

"I don't ask questions I don't already know the answer to, Evelyn," he said to her.

Evelyn felt her heart skip a beat. How much did he know?

"If you're going to play that way, then fine. All I'm here for is Ellery," spat Evelyn, feeling her hair crackle with the magic she longed to throw at McTavish. "He's my friend, and damn you, he's old and senile. Let him go, and I will stop following you."

"Certainly," said McTavish, much to Evelyn's shock.

She narrowed her eyes. "What are the conditions?"

"I'd rather talk about that somewhere else. I have the perfect place in mind, but first, are you hungry?" McTavish had stopped walking, and they stood in front of stall with loaves of bread. Evelyn's mouth watered.

"Not if you're bribing me," she hissed.

"No. But I think you might find it easier to pay attention on a full stomach," he said, trying to sound generous and kind, but the overall effect came off badly.

He tossed a coin to the woman selling bread, and she handed him a small loaf, which he gave to Evelyn. She tore off a chunk and swallowed it nearly whole.

"This way," he said cheerfully, as though he were merely directing her instead of leading her forcefully with her arm trapped in the crook of his.

Evelyn didn't like the looks of this. Fear squirmed in her belly, so for something to do she took another bite of the bread. It was the most food she'd had in her hand at one time for days.

She was led into an ivy covered church yard. They walked over to a crumbling stone bench, and she was made to sit down. McTavish sat beside her. She edged away from him as much as she could, still tearing off hunks of bread to eat.

"You will be happy to know that I have finished with your friend," said McTavish. "He's alright, for the most part."

"What did you do to him, you bastard?" growled Evelyn, leaping to her feet, wand out and pointing at him. Ordinarily she would not have been so careless, but the graveyard was well enclosed with trees and bushes. That, and Ellery was all she had left at this point.

"Oh, nothing much," responded McTavish, lowering her wand with his hand. "He's still alive, if that is what you mean, and in relatively the same condition he was when he arrived for me."

"You were testing potions on him, weren't you?" she spat, raising her arm up again to point her wand straight at his forehead.

"Ah, so you have eavesdropped enough to know about that?" Pausing, he chuckled softly to himself. "You can stand and stare at me defiantly all you want, dear, but you must realize that you will never see your friend again unless you are agreeable."

He said it so casually that Evelyn was about to hex him to the moon and back, but after a second of consideration, she shut her mouth and threw herself back onto the bench, still writhing in anger at him calling her dear. Nobody called Evelyn dear. She stuffed a wad of bread in her mouth and chewed ferociously. It was the preferable option to grinding her teeth to a powder.

"He will be returned to you at the end of our meeting, but not before we have our little chat. Now, tell me, what do you know about this potion?"

This time he had drawn his wand, and had it covertly trained on her, his knuckles white beneath the elegant cuffs of his black waistcoat.

"I know that you intended to test a new potion on Ellery," Evelyn said slowly, knowing that now as not the time to lie. "I don't know what it does ... or what it is for. Except that the rest of the Potioneer's Society thinks you're developing an entirely different potion, and you said that it will help keep those less powerful in our world from getting too unruly. Which is why you cannot discuss it among the other, more righteous members, and have been coming all the way to the east side of London. A bit far from the rest of your rich Society friends, I think."

"You do know how to eavesdrop, I will give you that," he answered. His voice only wavered for a second after he learned of what she knew. He appeared to have underestimated her. "But alas, I am growing tired of this little chat, so I shall make this brief. You will receive your friend back." He twirled his slightly greying, black moustache for a moment, before speaking once more in his calm, controlled tone. "After this, you will leave London, and never come back. Do you understand?"

"Why? Why should I leave?"

"Because I will kill you for being the one to put a knife in my brother's chest." The pleasant demeanour was all gone. The sentence shocked Evelyn in its frankness, after the suave and controlled demeanour he had been speaking in. It was with this cold tone that he reminded Evelyn most of his brother. She stood up and backed away. She hadn't thought that he had known what she did.

"One thing, before I go," Evelyn dared to ask, "Why Ellery? It could easily have been random, at first, you taking him. But I think you had something more planned."

To her surprise, McTavish answered. And when he did, the cool, calm voice was back again, and McTavish was suave once more, in a sickening sort of way. His calm manner once again contradicted greatly the words that came from his mouth, which made the hair on the back of Evelyn's neck stand up. The light changed suddenly, for a mass of dark clouds had crept over the sun, washing them in a weak, bluish light.

"We needed a test subject," he told her. "He was there, and a bit too slow to fight back in his old age. That and I wanted to meet you, to give you one, last chance to stay the hell away from me, before my hand ... slips. You see, I would be happy to kill you right here and now. However, unfortunately for me, and luckily for you, I, being an upstanding citizen and a member of the upper class society, do not wish to tarnish the family name. Murder tends to do that. My brother was a little bit less careful of that, as I understand, what with the distance between where he and I made our homes. But family is family, and should I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to snuff you like a candle. Understood?"

"Yes," Evelyn said rather faintly, her voice betraying her fear for the first time.

"Can I have a yes sir?"

Feeling it best not to try her luck, Evelyn ground her molars together before saying, "Yes sir."

"Good. You may go now. My colleagues will meet you at the gate, and your friend will be with them. He may be a bit confused, but I suggest you get out of London as quick as you can."

Evelyn didn't hesitate, and, stuffing the rest of the bread in her grubby dress pocket she practically ran to the gate. She glanced back, and those piercing blue eyes were watching her with a strange sort of twinkle. She swung open the creaking metal, and immediately upon going out into the street Ellery emerged from a clump of bushes by the church. The boots of another man were beneath the green leaves, but he did not come out.

"Come on!" Evelyn hissed to Ellery, sounding half grateful and half terrified as she dragged him by the arm. He had leaves sticking out of his wispy white hair and a rather dazed smile about his face.

The rain had started by the time they had reached the outer edges of London. Evelyn crept along the side streets, still dragging a dazed Ellery. She pushed him unceremoniously into a tiny shack, half falling down in her haste to get inside. It looked like almost every other house on Tower Street, and, like every other house on Tower Street, the roof leaked badly. Evelyn didn't really mind this however as she wound around the wooden buckets and pots that the water had just begun to drip into with the sudden onset of the rain. It wasn't entirely safe to pull out your wand to try to repair the roof often, as it was surprisingly easy for passers-by to see when a bunch of straw and grasses started to float up and weave themselves into a roof. So, leaky it remained. She led Ellery over to the bed, and then after pushing aside her folded nightgown, she made him sit down. Waving her wand she started a fire in the grate, and then sent a kettle soaring over top the flames to begin tea. Then, she dragged a rickety chair over to the bed and sat down in front of Ellery.

"All right Ellery, tell me what happened," said Evelyn firmly, an almost inaudible tremor running through her voice. "You do know who I am, don't you?"

"Evelyn, it is you, isn't it?" said Ellery, cupping his hand over his ear. His hearing had gotten increasingly worse since she had last seen him, and his sight appeared to be going too.

Evelyn let out a sigh of relief before saying, "Yes Ellery, it's me. Now tell me, do you remember what they did to you?"

"What who did? I feel fine you know."

"Those men, they gave you a potion. What did it do?"

"Potion, what potion? I don't remember anything about a potion."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Well ... hmm ... talking to you about those boys that helped with the rescue, when you and I went back to the old hideout for my inventing things," said Ellery.

Evelyn frowned. That had been months ago, and had definitely not been the last time they were together. After lying low for two weeks or so, they had returned to the cave hideout that they had used while Blaine McTavish had been hunting for witches in their town. It had been a brief visit - long after Severus and Harry had left - just so they could recover some of Ellery's inventing things. She forgot about the potion for a moment, lost in wonder.

"I still haven't found them, you know," she said sadly. "The boy was so young. I don't see how he could have survived that poison."

"Evelyn ... I don't remember what the potion was," said Ellery gravely after a few moments. "They must have used a memory charm on me. But I do remember some things, and this isn't crazy talk as everyone back in town used to call it. There is a good reason why you have not seen either of those boys."

Evelyn snapped to attention.

"Remember that device I made, to summon someone to help us escape the witch trials?"

"Yes, that silly metal ball," scoffed Evelyn. "You aren't going to tell me it worked, are you?"

"Well, yes, it did work," said Ellery. "The boy recognized the device I invented, and told me that that was how they had arrived."

At this Ellery got very excited. His eyes lit up like fireflies, making him look almost a little mad, with his white wisps of hair going every which way, and his cloudy eyes.

"Evelyn, it brought them through time," he whispered hoarsely. "Isn't that miraculous?"

"Really," said Evelyn, rather disbelievingly. "What year then?"

"The boy said that it was 1991 when I asked," said Ellery.

"That's ridiculous."

"But think about it for a moment," he said breathlessly. "They had very strange clothing fashion, and they didn't seem to know much at all about the witch trials, or even the places around here. You said that the man seemed unfamiliar with the neighbouring towns. It was as if they had popped out of nowhere! The man was a Professor, and the boy, Harry, said to me that they had come from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

"I guess it is possible, they were rather strange," she said slowly. "But we haven't got time for this now. We have to find out if that potion did anything to you, and then get out of London. In the meantime, I have your wand."

"Wonderful," said Ellery, rubbing his hands together. "I have missed it terribly."

Evelyn walked over to the shelf by the door, and took down from it a little metal chest, just long enough to hold a short wand belonging to a wizard of Ellery's stature. She brought it over to the bed and tapped the top of the box. The lock sprung loose and she reached down into it to grab Ellery's wand. She lifted it carefully and put it in his reaching hand.

"Oh how I have missed this," he repeated. Evelyn went to move the box, but Ellery stopped her, all in a flutter. "No, don't get up."

Clearly eager to do some magic, he waved his wand at the box to levitate it back to the shelf.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he said cheerfully. The box didn't so much as twitch. He frowned, and tried again. And again.

"Try another spell," she demanded, trying to quell the sick feeling that had risen in her gut.

"Lumos," said Ellery. Again, nothing. She had never known Ellery to fail in casting a spell.

"I ... I think I know what that potion did," Evelyn said weakly, feeling the blood drain from her face. "And why McTavish made it."

She bit her lip, thinking hard. Ellery continued to try to do magic, and with each failed spell his expression grew more devastated. Evelyn had to look away. In time, her own expression grew from distress, to one of resignation.

"We can't leave yet. We have to stay, and destroy that recipe," she said shakily when he finally gave up. "If that gets into the wrong hands, which it already is in, there will be no telling what that could do to the wizarding world ... the power he could have. But there is no way I can sneak into the Potioneer's Society on my own. Not just on my knowledge. Ellery, I hope you remember what you were inventing back in the cave, because we're going to need a miracle to do this."