"The Angel hearing this became almost blue

but mastering himself he grew yellow,

& at last white, pink & smiling, and then replied:

'Thou Idolator, is not God One?

& is not he visible in Jesus Christ?

and has not Jesus Christ given his sanction to the law of the ten commandments,

and are not all other men fools, sinners, & nothings?"



Harry Potter stared at the Kraken gently floating in the distance.

It stretched across his entire field of vision, covering the full arc. Directly in front of him was the thorax and one large tentacle that branched off towards him before drifting down from the light blue water in front of him and disappearing in the inky black depths of a crevasse that marked the edge of Atlantis. The tip of a second tentacle lolled through Atlantis' main agora, twisting between buildings like an errant oil pipeline from the bygone days of fossil fuels. Other tentacles trailed away in various directions to his (current) left side.

Presumably the head was off to his right, perhaps a nautical mile or two distant. Harry couldn't see it as the body disappeared into the murky ocean in the distance. A dolphin gamboled along the edge of the Kraken, nudging it once or twice. Schools of fished pirouetted in their eternal dance in the background, splitting up and regrouping according to simple rules to produce complex beauty. Harry's gaze lingered on the dolphin for a second. Its behaviour increased the probability that Harry's research was correct, that the Kraken wasn't a threat, assuming dolphins understand Krakens better than humans. The dolphin didn't seem afraid of the slumbering Kraken.

The Kraken didn't bother Harry.

He'd practiced dealing with Krakens. He'd made detailed plans on dealing with any number of magical aquatic beasts, both common and uncommon. Krakens were rare, and had been considered mythical for centuries, but they existed and so Harry had prepared. The Ancient Libraries of Pacifis contained records dating back nearly fifteen hundred years tied, woven in giant kelp strands. They were knotted into the language of Merfolk much like ancient Andeans used knotted strings as records and books. As tempting as it had been, Harry hadn't bothered learning to read archaic Mermish. He'd simply hired experts to literally comb through the library and summarize the information for him.

There were three references that contained the rings of truth, and not just tall tales passed along. From those Harry hoped he knew what to expect. Krakens were notoriously difficult to deal with physically but had no specialized mental defenses. An unnamed Viking from the early twelfth century had Imperiused a Kraken that had happened to be lolling on the surface near his skiff. But the viking had gotten lucky that the beast had ignored him. Much like anything else, a strength often implied a corresponding weakness. Krakens rarely bothered attacking anything smaller than a ship displacing ten-thousand tonnes, and probably couldn't even detect a swimming wizard (or dolphin). If the Viking sailed an 18th century Ship of the Line, the Kraken would have crushed him instead of sunning itself, oblivious to his approach. Hide thick enough to repel the strongest magics rendered it insensitive to small pests like humans, dolphins, or row boats. The odds of a Kraken deliberately crushing a nearby swimmer were miniscule.

The odds of getting accidentally sucked into its gills or smashed by a tentacle as the Kraken swam along were phenomenally higher.

If you needed to defeat a Kraken? Other encounters compiled by the Merpeople confirmed that a Kraken's eyes were the windows to the soul and mind. The trick was finding the eye then stunning the Kraken before it saw you. Or crushed you to death accidentally. Harry had expected at least one amazing mythical beast, and had prepared.

The Kraken didn't bother Harry. It was already unconscious.

That fact troubled Harry, because he hadn't done anything. He'd just arrived.

What good was a defense system that didn't work? The Kraken seemed like the Atlantean equivalent to a laser-filled hallway with exquisitely precise motion sensors, floor pressure plates capable of detecting the smallest change in weight, mana detection runes and lethal countermeasures ... all turned off. Harry swam away from the Kraken, down into the main ruins of Atlantis. All of his sensors - magical spells, sonar, pressure and current gauges - indicated no threat other than the Kraken.

That also disturbed him, and he thought as he swam towards the city.

Theory #1 - Conspicuous Consumption. The Kraken's mere existence represented a phenomenal show of force, a symbolic warning against those who would dare to trespass. It said that Atlantis has such ridiculously good defences that we wasted a Kraken. This would not fit Harry's style - a 'Do not disturb' sign would work nicely - but perhaps the ancients had their own peculiar style. Warnings shouldn't depend on subtlety or the target making inferential leaps, so Harry was inclined to discount this theory. If the Kraken had been intended as a warning, Harry considered that it would probably be prudent to heed it. But he swam on, thinking still.

Theory #2 - Coincidence. Perhaps the Kraken was just passing through, or had made Atlantis its home. There was a logic to that - Atlantis had been an above-water city and only later an underwater ruin. While Harry had trained with Merpeople, there was no reason to believe that Atlantis had specialized ocean-based defenses. It might not have any traps remaining after all this time underwater. Perhaps the Kraken just liked the view, its own little miniature town to play with. Maybe it felt attracted by the nature of the city. Harry could feel the magic in his bones, it made his hair try to stand up underneath his wet-suit. The Kraken might enjoy that feeling.

After all, the nature of Atlantis attracted Harry. Harry didn't plan based on coincidences, but they happened more often than plots and he couldn't rule out that the Kraken simply admired the magical decor of the place.

Theory #3 - Someone else had beaten him to Atlantis and dealt with the Kraken. This was the most troubling theory.

By all accounts Krakens slept hard. If someone else had knocked it out, it would sleep for years. Decades. At least one (non-verified) story said that the famous Greek Kraken slept for four or five centuries at a time when Zeus wasn't releasing it. Apocryphal, but that would account for the disappearance of Kraken's from Muggle sea lore from the time of Admiral Nelson. Harry briefly worried his dallying had cost him, which was ludicrous. Atlantis had been down here for Millennia. The chances that he'd been beaten by a year or even a decade seemed small.

Of all of the theories Harry imagined, this wasn't the most plausible theory. But it was the most actionable.

And it wasn't like looking out for a potentially hostile other wizard differed much much from watching for magical defenses in general.

Harry swam down to the ocean floor. Entering the city on the east side, well away from the stray tentacle.

The buildings had a style Harry labelled Classically Greek, but with more ornamentation that he'd seen in the Parthenon or the recreations of other ancient sites. Falcons, Owls and other sculptures of Patronuses looked down on the ocean floor from the tops of buildings. Atlantis had a simpler architecture, more consistent than the magical buildings of his youth which, like Hogwarts, tended more towards chaos than consistency. But statuary and carvings made each building distinct. Harry could look from building to building and see the same shapes. Houses were all roughly the same size with the same layout of doors. He could pick out repeated features, not mass produced like Muggle technology, but either the Atlanteans had a building code or specific reasons for design. Large windows faced north, with smaller doorways to the south. Apart from the ornamentation, sigils near each door and etchings on the side, the buildings looked near identical.

Smaller buildings clustered along the outskirts of town. Larger buildings - probably meeting houses, marketplaces, and the like - were towards the center.

The city looked serene, as if it had been gently lowered into a bowl of water and then ... nothing. The difficulty of finding Atlantis had doubtless helped to keep it from being looted, but Harry had expected much more damage and decay. Most buildings looked intact, although a few had collapsed into the crevasse. Historians had never nailed down the exact nature of Atlantis' destruction, although the topic was hotly argued. (Harry had long since stopped using the word debated when discussing differences of opinions about legend), but Harry had expected it to look like ... , well, more like a disaster.

What kind of natural disaster destroys an entire population, but leaves the city intact? Disease seems obvious, but then it would be above ground. An odd coincidence. Even now, swimming among the ruins, no answer presented itself to Harry. If Atlantis sank slowly, the citizens would have relocated. Muggles did that all the time, abandoning cities that became uninhabitable. For powerful wizards it would be minor annoyance, no more. If Hogsmeade fell into a newly-created sea, the world would hear the complaints. Complaining occupied a good portion of every day life. But Atlantis had just - ceased, with not a single record or complaint.

It seemed unlikely that the population survived the disaster.

But the city of Atlantis had. It looked abandoned, but peaceful. Just submerged as if it had been placed inside an unshaken snow globe. If it had been a quickly submerged, enough to kill the population (if a natural dam had burst, for example) then Harry's quick Fermi calculation indicated more buildings would be destroyed. Unless they were magically reinforced, Harry thought, doubting himself automatically.

A neutron bomb or other modern technological horror could have done the trick, but technologically those hadn't existed (had they?). Magically ... Harry didn't know.

Harry swam up to one of the smaller houses and wordlessly cast five spells to verify his solitude. His panoptis incantation caused his vision to flash yellow and Harry quickly spun around, wand in hand. He started to cast a wide ranging stunning spell, but the only created he saw was a dolphin that stopped abruptly and stared at him. It floated just past the corner of the alleyway, halfway between the ground and the roof.

Harry remembered the dolphin inspecting the Kraken. Was this the same one? Even if he'd been looking down at the dolphin swimming in a pool, Harry doubted he could tell dolphins apart. Underwater, in the depths illuminated by some natural light and the glare of his headlamps, he had no chance. The dolphin floated there, waiting and watching him. Harry didn't lower his guard, but relaxed a bit. Dolphins could be dangerous, but they were no Krakens.

In other ways dolphins posed more of a threat. Dolphins weren't magical, but were definitely sentient. That also meant they could be reasoned with.

"My name is Harry Potter," Harry said calmly in his passable (albeit heavily accented) Mermish. Well, his name he bubbled in closest equivalent he could find phonetically, which basically sounded like 'Harry Potter' spoken underwater. Hahahahrraaeyeeye Potttototor. The dolphin's head swiveled around a bit, to take in Harry with one eye. It was tough to judge another species facial expressions. The human mind spent immense power to read human faces, but those didn't translate well the further you walked the evolutionary tree. But some part of Harry thought the the dolphin looked ... intrigued.

The dolphin didn't move beyond small gestures to hold its position in the mild current. It just watched him, fins slowly pushing up and down in the water. Harry dare not turn his back on it. But Blboblb had not withdrawn his objections trivially. Harry slowly reached into his pouch and pulled out a small crystal. He gave it a squeeze and made a small mental command: 'Dolphin greeting.'

The crystal erupted in a series of squeaks, chirps and squeals. Even in his own range of hearing, it sounded impressive, but Harry knew the sounds had a range many kilohertz above human hearing.

Even before the sounds died out, the dolphin convulsed with laughter. Bubbles of air escaped the blowhole as it rolled back and forth slightly, shuddering with amusement. Harry squeezed his crystal again, waiting for the translated answer, but there was nothing. He frowned.

"The Devil answer'd,

'Bray a fool in a morter with wheat,

yet shall not his folly be beaten out of him;

If Jesus Christ is the greatest man,

you ought to love him in the greatest degree:

now hear how he has given his sanction to the law of the ten commandments:"



Alexio laughed like he hadn't in years.

Earlier, Alexio Vasconcelos had been stunned to see Harry Potter. All of his spies, moles, sources and spells agreed that Harry had been a statue for several decades now. Harry, along with one-hundred thirteen other unfortunate victims, were safely inside the Department of Mysteries, until their radiation levels allowed for depetrification. When had Harry gotten free? Had he never truly been trapped? How had they circumvented the radiation? Alexio didn't trust any of his spies - that's why he had so many, and why they were all ignorant of the others existence - but he trusted physics and radioactive decay followed a predictable schedule. In the first year after his trap, Alexio confirmed and double checked the list of victims, to make sure that Harry hadn't escaped. Then Alexio had relaxed and decided to use his time fulfilling an earlier goal of his - of Draco's.

Alexio's search led him to Atlantis. The obvious destination, in hindsight. Finding it hadn't been simple, but Alexio had access to esoteric works and vaults and accumulated lore that wizards decades his senior would have killed for, had they known he possessed it. His search had taken extensive resources and years, but the resolution had never been in doubt.

Alexio found Atlantis.

And, unexpectedly, Harry Potter.

He froze when he stumbled across Harry swimming through Atlantis as though it was just another adventure. He'd been stunned to see the Harry Potter he'd spent decades plotting and conspiring against swimming in the immaculate ruins. It was so wildly improbable and unexpected that, for once, Alexio had no idea what to do.

Fortunately Alexio's passive defenses continued working. Over his wet-suit he wore his newest invention, robes with a calming illusions. He'd had the idea decades ago, after a few bad experiences with Armageddon Enchantments. Armageddon robes had their purpose, but lacked subtlety. The viewer's eyes slid off the wearer, to be sure. But the apprehension and fear that the spell caused triggered a fight or flight response. Armageddon robes put everyone on high alert, which was counter-productive.

Alexio often needed to appear innocuous, like he belonged in the situation. The enchantment worked on the same principle as before - don't bother with illusions and simply attack the victim's mental state - but with more serene results. Often times Alexio could pass unawares through a crowd and even walk past supposedly guarded doors. It was not that the guard weren't aware of him, the robes did not make you forget.

They just made it seemed like you belonged. Guards didn't see Alexio, they saw their employer, or an Auror, or any number of 'authorized personnel,' walk through the restricted door. Anything that seemed reasonable. So when Harry whirled on Alexio, somehow detecting him, he'd simply frozen and hoped that his Affinity Robes worked.

Alexio dare not raise shields. Armaggedon robes worked on brute force, but he'd learned the price payed for a more subtle illusion was that it was more easily disrupted. If the guard stopped to think about it, he may wonder why his employer was here instead of on that business trip. Doing anything that contradicted the viewer's beliefs would shatter the illusion and break the spell. And while Alexio had a decent mental model of Harry Potter, nobody could be said to have a good one.

Still, Alexio's wand was ready.

Harry spoke something that sounded like Mermish. Alexio stared. That could be a problem ... Alexio didn't speak Mermish and if Harry was seeing a Merperson, he'd get suspicious if he wasn't answered. Alexio's wand twitched nervously. Harry had obvious shields up, and that meant he had other less-visible means of defence. Alexio glanced at Harry's wand. It was the same one he always had. That was good, some of his spies said that Harry had been seen (rarely, but from time to time) with the Elder Wand. Perhaps if he attacked Harry, he could win.

Possible, but probably no better than a coin toss. Non-lethally? That seemed unlikely.

Alexio considered raising more subtle shields, perhaps if he just retreated... he furiously considered his options.

Harry had pulled out some magical bauble like nothing Alexio had encountered and then the dolphin squeals started.

He couldn't help himself. He laughed with relief, laughter that echoed in his mind by Draco Malfoy.

A Dolphin! Harry Potter sees a dolphin!

A stroke of luck, or perhaps his invention worked even better than he'd hoped? After a few second Alexio controlled himself and calmly swam away into the nearest building. It's what a dolphin would do, and in any case Alexio was in no position to deal with Harry now. Given that Harry considered Alexio to be part of the local fauna, he doubted Harry would attack him. The prudent course of action was to retreat and try to figure out what had gone horribly wrong and why Harry was awake - and in Atlantis of all places - but that meant ceding any discoveries to Harry.

As long as Alexio's Robes functioned Harry would simply view him as something that belonged. Harry would be thinking, to be sure, but even if he did somehow see through the illusion - well, just because he'd managed to escape his fate as a statue didn't mean that Harry had any particular knowledge of Alexio Vasconcelos' past identity. At worst, Alexio and Harry were rival archeologists searching the same site. Some deception and secrecy would be expected. Even if Harry later worked out that he'd been tricked, Alexio could simply admit that he'd been racing Harry Potter to discover the secrets of Atlantis, which was true enough.

It was rational. Harry would accept that, even if he was annoyed. He might try to bargain or negotiate or cajole, but he would not attack if he discovered Alexio's deception. Of this, Alexio felt sure.

So, Alexio continued his exploration. If Harry thought starting in one of the side buildings had value, Alexio saw no reason to second guess that. He swam through the doorway and paused to take stock.

The house could have passed for a Muggle apartment, albeit spartan and low technology. It looked comfortable, even elegant. A plush couch ran along one side of the room between two ornately crafted end tables, legs made of what appeared to be twirled ivory. Narwhale horns. Beautiful shells lined the table, reflecting all the colours of the rainbow from the glowing light that emanated from the very walls themselves. The couch faced a simple fireplace carved into the building's stone wall. Wrought iron pokers, dull black, stood sentry in a rack beside it. The couch's fabric appeared bright and unfaded, a clean floral print.

Alexio was impressed. Magical items degraded slower than Muggle tools, but they degraded all the same. The elements would not be denied, at least not by the modern magics he grew up with. Spells had to be renewed, so seeing Atlantis in such pristine condition after eons spoke well of the magic of its inhabitants. Nothing rusted or faded. The lighting spells had not faltered, either. These were just throw-away enchantments meant to keep houses tidy.

Alexio whistled his appreciation inside his bubble head sphere, idly wondering what that sounded like to Harry. Probably a high pitched squeal, he thought as he swam through the house.

Alexio heard Harry swim into the house behind him, while he inspected the kitchen.

The kitchen table was still set. Small ivory spears the size of knitting needles were set besides plates in lieu of knives and forks. But also spoons and glasses. Red wine filled one of the glasses, the color clear and ominous and Draco was reminded of the phrase "The Wine Dark Sea." Besides the glass, a crystal pitcher also held wine, as if the pourer had only had time to pour one glass when the disaster occurred. Alexio stared as the wine from the glass and pitcher started to mix with the surrounding water, viscous globes slowly spreading and diffusing into the salty brine.

Alexio watched the scene for several seconds, uncomprehending and merely observing before realization sunk in.

The disaster just happened here. Moments ago. Seconds ago. Atlantis was frozen, somehow. Which explains why my search ended here. Atlantis is also trapped beyond time. No matter when I arrived in Atlantis, it would have always been right after the disaster, in the Atlantean frame of reference. And if that is true for me, it would be true of any searcher ... Harry wouldn't bother with Atlantis until he had no pressing business, which means ...



Alexio spun around. He saw Harry Potter staring through the doorway, eyes fixed on the same place setting, tracking the wine diffusing into the ocean. Alexio raised his wand and started Al-Jabber's Silent Stupefication spells. Alexio raised his shields just as Harry calmly flicked his wand.

Alexio's Robes rent apart just as his shields went up.

Harry's eyes widened, but he made no move to cast again. Harry seemed to be searching for the right words.

Alexio could imagine Harry's predicament. Harry faced significant information leakage problems. Difficult enough when limited to six hours. How much of a problem did this Harry face? Alexio watched the range of emotions playing across Harry's face for the briefest moment. Harry had been stunned, as surprised as Alexio had been when he realized Harry saw him as a dolphin. Potter's training kicked in, but it was too late. Before all emotion drained from his face at some level Alexio ... Draco ... knew. This Harry arrived from far enough in the future.

This Harry had witnessed their endgame. Harry had come out of his enforced delay and Alexio's next plan had failed. Or perhaps the one after that. It didn't matter. Harry had discovered who had plotted against him. He had no logic to back it up, but Alexio knew.

Had Harry imprisoned me out of necessity? Had he killed me? Did he hate me? Did Harry regret what had happened as much as I did?

And the last thought, his greatest fear. Had it all been a misunderstanding?

More than he'd wanted anything in a long time, Alexio/Draco yearned to know the answers. How it all turned out.

And he knew again he just knew that Harry wouldn't tell him. Harry Potter would be capable of biting his tongue no matter how much he wanted to explain. (If he did).

Alexio reminded himself that the possibility remained that Draco was merely projecting his hopes and desires onto the Harry Potter that swam before him today. Today there would be no answers.

"I know you are from the future, Harry Potter," Alexio said. He'd seen numerous small details in Harry's equipment and general bearing that confirmed his hypothesis. In hindsight it was obvious that the Crystal melded technology and magic in a strange hybrid function (although an MP3 player would have done just as well).

Alexio didn't berate himself for missing it. Time-traveling (beyond the six hour limit of Time turners) had never entered his mind as a hypothesis.

Harry seemed satisfied with Alexio's statement, like it settled a number of issues and made everything smoother. Harry still paused for a second, apparently considering implications. Alexio waited patiently. If Harry was from the future, he would have more to consider. After a few more seconds, during which Harry tugged on his recently trimmed beard, he finally spoke up.

"One question, a safe question that has no bearing on our situation, but I'd like to know. Your robes. Did you invent the Lotus Eater Enchantment ... Alexio, isn't it?"

Is he calling me Alexio because he doesn't know? Or on the off chance that I don't suspect? In the end, it didn't matter. The game had rules, and now was not the time to break them.

"Lotus Eater?" Alexio cocked his head, carefully pronouncing the words. "I am not familiar with that phrase," he said, emphasizing his normally mild Portuguese accent.

"In Muggle Greek mythology, those who ate the Lotus became complacent with the world around them. Not oblivious, just ... content."

"That is a good name," Alexio agreed with a chuckle, "better than the one I used. Yes, it is mine. I take some comfort you overcame it only because it was already known to you."

"It's on my checklist. Along with many other mind-altering magics. I still didn't catch it right away," Harry added in a comforting voice. "That's the trouble with Pasithean illusions. They seem so reasonable. You don't notice your confusion. At some level I always thought whoever designed them ..." Harry trailed off, and didn't finish explaining what he thought.

Alexio slowly lowered his wand, other hand up in a surrendering gesture and spoke calmly and confidently.

"You saw the wine. You of all people understand the implications. Everyone who has ever sought out Atlantis has arrived now - at the same time. I suspect you and I are here for the same purpose, Harry Potter. Later on, I may have questions. Perhaps you do, too. Those must wait until we both pass this time in your timeline. We each possess different knowledge, but we share the same goal."

"Tell me my purpose, then," Harry said. His wand never wavered from Alexio.

"We are both here to rescue Albus Dumbledore," Alexio said solemnly. The seconds ticked by.

"Truce?" Harry Potter asked.

"Truce," Alexio agreed.

They swam out of the doorway side by side, discussing their respective plans for exploring Atlantis.