"Hi! I'm going to go meet somebody to run some experiments on the interactions of magic and daeva invulnerability. It's probably safe, but I would like to have a plan to leave if he decides he is disinclined to let me without a lesson in summoning. The fastest way of doing a distress signal we could think of was to have someone on hand and snap the binding if there's any kind of trouble. Can you, like, safely-for-the-inhabitants turn the roof of a house to air?"

"Sure, unless it's structurally important somehow..."

They have a demon. They can make a scale model of the house - "Unless structural importance wouldn't show up on a small model, somehow..."

"...not an architect..." She deroofs the model.

Nothing collapses. "I think in an emergency that'd be better than not doing that. ...assuming all goes well, I was thinking I could repay you with a trip to London, sightsee for a little while?"

"Ooh, that sounds fun - can I have a camera for it -"

"Sure - let's keep it a subtle camera, they don't exist yet - do you know a model -"

She does; it can be made to look like spectacles.

Then the demon can make it for her, and Timothy can make her invisible - "this won't fool wizards up close, but if you want to fly around somewhere you can drop into range, it'll be safe enough for that -"

She nods.

And he heads in.

 There are footsteps. There's a squeaky gate. The microphone continues to work fine.

             "Way. It really has been too long. You're all grown up."

"You said that last time, too."

             "I was lying to you."

"Yes, you were."

              "You always were a clever boy."

"That's how I remember it, too," Timothy says amiably. 

             "Who's your friend?"

"I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I claimed not to know his name."

              "I suppose I wouldn't."

"You don't need to know it, though. I want you to kill him for me."

               "Not all that grown up, then."

"Is that the mark of a man?"

               "It's an important milestone."

"I'm saving it for marriage."

              Laughter.

Timothy doesn't join in. 

               "It's the mark of a man to be willing to do his own work, at least." 

"I apparently don't want him dead evilly enough. I did try. It was embarrassing, or would have been if there'd been surviving witnesses."

               "- come on in and explain yourself."

"Gladly."

Shuffling and coughing and -

"He can't be damaged by conventional means. You can stun him, but he wakes up in forty seconds or so. You can deprive him of sleep but he doesn't get past mildly exhausted. You can starve him but he doesn't get very hungry. You can try to slit his throat, any kind of weapon, you'll get a shallow little cut.

The other Unforgivables work fine."

             "Who is he?"

"Muggle. The ritual does not have a very good success rate, yet, but this one was a success. Coloration changes aren't a consequence of the ritual, they're an adverse reaction to trying eighty times the lethal dose of the Draught of Living Death."

             "What happened to Azkaban?"

"It's on the Moon. Look with a good telescope."

              "Why?"

"I said I'd give you a location, not an explanation."

              "You didn't say you were asking for an Unforgivable."

"In the last few weeks I've cast dozens, and I've dismantled the prison you'd go to if you were ever convicted, and we both know you never would be. What, exactly, are you afraid of?"

              "Imperio."

"I'm all grown up," says Timothy irritably. "You want things from me, you'll have to ask." 

               "I want to know how to do it."

"No. Try again."

               "And if I said you aren't going to leave here without telling me how to do it."

And then a sharp crack, and a cry -

"That could've been your wand," Timothy observes mildly, "but I need you to kill someone for me. You wouldn't say something like that. It is unwise to threaten someone with capabilities you know you don't know."

               "All right, then, I want a promise."

"You have someone here to cast -"

               "No, no, no magic, just your promise as the man you're trying to grow into."

"I see."

              "I want you to remember me as a valued ally to whom you are much indebted."

"I do, and I am."

               "And when you take over the world, I do not want to die and I do not want to be imprisoned and I do not want to be deprived of my health, sanity, memories, or magic."

"Once I take over the world I will expect from all my subjects compliance with my laws. I will not hold against you anything you did before I took over the world, and if you break my rules I won't deprive you of anything more than what's necessary to ensure future law-abiding, how's that?"

                Laughter. "I'll take it." Pause, a sort of thudding sound -

"I told you that wouldn't work."

               "Yes, you did. I am entitled to attempt it myself. Shush." Another thudding sound. A crackling one. A swooshing one. And then - "Avada Kedavra."

"Fascinating," says Timothy neutrally. 

               "Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra."

"Thank you."

              "How is it done -"

 "Maybe later."

             "You're miscalculating, because you're a child. A world where people were safe like this would have fewer problems - people take drastic measures because they fear for their lives -"

"I don't want you to die. I don't want anything to die. I might tell you the ritual later, though it hasn't gotten any safer in the last five minutes. I am not going to tell you now."

            "All right, all right. Stay for tea?"

"I don't think so."

Timothy leaves. He dismisses the demon.

"So," he says, "London?"

"Okay... are we still indestructible -"

"Yep, it does absolutely nothing. Wizards who are trying to mess with you would try the mind-control thing, that works fine, but they can't do permanent damage any more than anything else can."

"Okay, good."

"Yeah. If you take my arm I can teleport us there -"

Elbow linkage.

London!

The angel is delighted by London and mostly wants to look at churches.

Of course she does. That's fine, he can take a day off to sort of calm down. And think of Vala-alternatives.

Eventually the angel is all Londoned out and is due at her friend's party soon.

Home she goes. 

Home he goes. 

Cam is in the main bar area. "I did not expect that guy to not be a creep, or anything," he says, "but wow that guy is a creep."

"Everything worked? Wasn't sure how to check. He's - possible to have positive-sum interactions with, lots of people are worse."

"Yeah, it worked. I didn't say he was the worst person ever he's just a creep and I want the world around him to become his moral superior until his entire mode of thought is beyond obsolete."

Kiss. "That sounds lovely."