Wince. 

"Understandable." And flattering that Ed thinks he even could if he wanted to, frankly. Whatever the hell Daniel has turned into, he somehow doesn't think a killing curse would work on it. "This is still clearly Daniel, though. He's just as much my brother as you are until he tries to kill me first."  

Like Scrimgeour we don't talk about that. 

"Wouldn't dream of it," says Daniel, grinning like this is very funny. 

It's probably not worth trying to get him to explain that, is it. 

"Right. So tell me about your clock you want fixed, then." 

It is a five-dimensional bullshit object that he barely understands after like two straight years staring at it, but he'll hand it over and gamely start trying, with liberal use of gestures human fingers shouldn't quite be able to make and the occasional word that isn't English but somehow has meaning embedded in it anyway. 

Sasha, after a full ten minutes staring at his erstwhile roommate and doing nothing but figuring out how to reboot his brain to correctly process Eldritch Daniel Inputs, starts building an illusory gearwork, floating in the air between them. He was never much good at the sorts of visual charms that tell lies - he prefers to tell lies (1) never or (2) as a very distant second by using his face like a normal person - but he loves the ones that let him real-time sketch models in multicolored 3D with his wand instead of barely approximating it with a dozen ink pens and a timelapse notebook. It's not that difficult to cast, just finicky enough that most people don't bother when it'd be useless to them, but it comes up a lot when your day job is to repair mechanisms that have an annoying tendency to change shape while you're not looking at them. 

"So this is not gonna be a fast fix," he diagnoses after several hours, with the eldritch clock in several hundred pieces (ish; this clock is even more magic than the kind he is used to and the number of pieces also keeps changing) scattered around him on the floor. 

"Um," says Daniel. "You cannot really.... go home... until it is done though? Well. You could but you shouldn't." 

"What? Why?" 

Daniel frowns down at the pile of gears and glowing rocks and increasingly less identifiable objects.

"The more this project gets [̶̗͙̒́ḛ̷̈́n̵̥̂́t̴̘͍̽̄a̵̹͝n̵̡̝̂g̶͖̮̉͒l̵̻̖̂̀e̴̘̾͂m̵͔͓̚ë̷̮́̔n̴̙͛t̸͚̅̽-̶̬̣̇p̴̢̻͗̃ṟ̸͝ô̵̘̘̈́x̶̹̌i̶̱̊m̵͍̃̈́ì̵̻t̸̫͐̾ỳ̴̘̙̕-̶͇̔ī̷͕ṉ̴̤̊̍t̸̡̔ë̵̲r̶̍͜f̸͍̋ȅ̸̗̎r̶̛̮ę̵̈̓n̸̙̈́ċ̷̮̥̚e̷̗̖̓]̷̥͒͜͝ with anything else in our timeline the harder it'll be to [̸̭̜̔u̸̲͑̊n̶̈́͜w̴̠̆ỉ̷̹n̴̬̐ḑ̴̯͝-̸͙̕u̴͓̔n̴̘̜̈́̈e̷̛͖̯x̶̯̫̓i̴͚͂͜s̶̼̹̈́͗t̸̩̊̏-̶͈͖͂r̵͎̪͊e̴͍̽͆v̷͉͗i̷̛͈͚̍s̵̞̥͊è̵͚̥̒-̷͔̋̐b̷͕̺͋̇ë̵̙́ñ̵̮̗̊d̶͚̐̆]̵̮͙̎?" he attempts. "...that's why I told Ed not to tell you anything until you got here, and also to pack for a longish trip, see." 

Well that sucks massively but fair enough. 

"Right. ...how long do I have before that's a problem?" 

Ed is prepared to camp down here as long as he needs to, really. The war's over and he's got no family to go back to, Amelia can handle the cleanup without him. "Least a couple weeks," he shrugs instead, because it would be mean to ask them to deal with his emotional trauma right this minute. If it doesn't work he'll have plenty of time to gently distribute it among two dozen teatimes with three or four dozen friends and if it does work (and he remembers; he thinks Daniel said he would, from proximity) he can go hug Helen about it and eventually he will be able to put his trauma away gently in a metaphorical padded box and place it gently on a shelf to be cherished as an important part of his life experience that helped him achieve this. "After that probably I clear out Amelia's pantry while she's not looking. She'll notice but she won't pry." 

Because she will assume he's mourning in a dark corner somewhere and will come out when he's ready. Which to be fair is not that far wrong, but it is wrong in the important sense. 

Daniel chews dubiously on his lip. "Probably works." 

"Well. I'll do my best." 

It only ends up taking him about eight days. 

the world bends. 

there are many worlds, did you know? there are thousands thousands millions trillions, minds souls ̶l̷i̶v̴e̵s̶ ̶t̶i̷m̵e̴l̷i̸n̶e̴s̶, all of them dreaming (waking) (dreaming) 

did you know can you hear it can you s̴̡̬͍̭̫̆̔͝ͅẽ̷̛̘̠̈́̌͐̑͂̈́͑̎̄̾é̸̛̗̼͊̉́̄̂̕͘ ̴̨̛̺̣̹̲̺̫͙̫͈̂̒̃̓͊͋͒́́̆͛̕

there are a m̶̢̨̨͔̞̜̖̱͉͉͈̖͇̙̏̂̋́̎͛̀̇̑͋͋̌̾̿͘͠ͅb̴̨̻̯͕̱̹̱͚̣̹͈͚̮̘̘̉ţ̵͍̮̻͈̟̬̞̘̭̺̰̓͝ŗ̸͙̟̰̹̫̪͙̜͚̱̳̹̠̻͐̓̓́̑̈̿͛̍͐͆͆̅̆̌͑̉͜ź̷̡͓̺͕͚͓̗̞̫̯͎̗͉͍̖͖͜i̶̢͔̟̺̯̱̺̿͌̊̿͝͠͝l̶̩̟̱͈̀̌l̶͈̱͉̪̥̐̈̊͌̾́͛̄́̀͆̌̊̌͆̽̐ͅͅī̵̖̦̭͇̜̱͔̜̗̹̳͎͍̋ͅo̷̗̤̰͙̘̣͇̅̇́̒̅͜n̷͈̭̱̤̬̰̮̩̈̔̓͛̈́̾̌͑̇͒́́͝ͅͅsouls c̵̢̟̮͚̻͇̣͑̃r̵͍̭̆y̵̼͎̭̙͕̹͆̌̈́̚í̸̹̀́̀n̶̨͙̜̹̮̣͙̘͋͊̂̑̐͠ǧ̵̡͚̝̆͛͌̚ ̴̱͒̈̈́͛͆̽ơ̷̲̜̝͓̘̮u̷̹̜̯̪̖̞̒͜ẗ̵̯̝͓̯̰̣͙̏͛ and you have just t̶̹̞̪͎͉̮̝̻͐͂o̸̙̮̻̱̥̦̩̻̅̈̀̅̍̽͠u̵̡̢̨͈͎͕͉̻͌͐̃̊̊͌̒̕c̷̛̖̹̝̦̯̪̋ȟ̴̼̣̘͓͈̰̲̊́̌̂̊͊e̷̗̞̜̋̓̀̓͗̂̇d̸̼̆͜ͅ ̸̡̧̢̧̫͎̬̈́̾̾a̶̧͇̟̣̩̯̋̅̆͌ḽ̶͕̫̈́̅̐ḷ̶̜̈̓̉̿͋̋̀̉ ̶͉͑́͂͒́͠ỏ̶͎͚̦̚f̶̡̤̘͇̦̭̍́̚̚ ̵̡̛̪͎̭̘͉͓̽̑́͌͆̌͘͜ẗ̸͕̱͕͔́͘͜h̴͉̼̦̅͘e̵̛͈̫̗͈͇͛̉͊̋m̶̨̝̰̰̤̻̖̿̋̀̓ͅ ̸̢̻̣̹̟̩͖̾̋͗̃̐̓͜͠a̶͔̔̂t̷̫͉̘̥̩̄̓̃͑̽ͅͅ ̸̢͎̜̱̖̭͓̉̓̓͆̍o̵͚͆̚n̸̦̜͉̩͓̗̳̏̒̈́̐̆ͅc̷̬̀̀̐̉̀ê̸̺͉̪ 

no, there is nothing. nothing here. what made you think there was something here? there are no things here yet. that's how it works. didn't you know? 

Ah. Hello, clockmaker. What are you doing? 

Not sure.

Wait just a  -             [̸̧̺̗̟̦͚̞͉̺̠̲̞̃̿͠t̷̛͔͍̫̯̘̗̣͙͙̙̳͓͋̃̇́͜ḭ̸̫̺̍ͅm̸̢̢̛̭̣̙̜͚̹̫̒͛̂̿̑͘e̵̯̤̮͈̭̻͖͇̋̉̎̈́̽̂̆͆ĺ̵̢̫̝̼̀͘e̷̛͖͓̰̳̜̯̯̪̗̯̠͈͊̃̾̏͊̉́̓̉̓̇́̚͜͝͠s̶̡̨̮͉̺̙͉͔̙̬̯̲͕̔͂̆̏͘ş̴͖̋͗̀̈́̒̓́̀̓̽̄̐̅͘̕͠-̸͎̜̫͚͓̮͈͔̫͓̣̫̈́͒͒͌̽̃̀̊́̄̃͒̋͘͝ṁ̵̛̹̭̽̄̊̀̃̓̌̽̆̕̚ǫ̸̱̦̯̻̭͍̙̊̑̃͠m̷̞̺̀̓̒̎̀͗̊͌̇̎͋̉̑͝ẽ̵̝̘͇̩̭̤̹̬̭͔̟͍̺͎̙n̶̡̛̪̭͎͇̗̹̝̼̟̘͔͓̹̾̒ţ̵̨̢̛̗͖̼̫̖̤͓̩̭̱͚͑̆̑̍͐͑̕-̶̨̮̩͓͚̞̬̩̞͚̦̄̒̄̓́͜͜͝ͅu̵̧̨̠͓̤͔̮̠̰͇̺̇̄̍n̴̺͉̪̊̅͛̆̒̎̏͑̑̽̈́̓͋͜í̶͉̣̖̣̱͖͉̺̘̼̹ͅt̶̡̘̻̻͉̦̱̔̂̓̆̒̂͂̐͛̓̀͒͆̂̐]̶̼̩̋͑́̕ -- 

Oh, there it goes, see, if you want it to spin properly you just have to put that bit of void right here--