The first ten or so minutes were slightly awkward. We exchanged a few words, I did my best to unobtrusively eat my rather flakey pastries without spewing crumbs everywhere, and it was just generally awkward the way having one person watch another eat always was.

To my surprise, my lackluster robe of all things ended up being the icebreaker we needed. Zatanna noticed how any crumbs that did land on the black cotton fabric vanished nearly as quickly as they appeared and I was always happy to talk about Twilfitt and Tattings’ excellent robes.

The proprietor was an extremely talented witch with a real eye for enchanting and fashion that my family had sponsored a few decades ago. The number of enchantments she could work into even the simplest of fabrics was extremely impressive, perhaps even more so than I thought if Zatanna saw fit to mention it. Even her lowest quality, cheapest options were enough to impress an American witch decades in the future.

From there, the conversation turned to the extreme conveniences of magic when it came to day to day life. From the sound of it, the Zataras didn’t have a house elf––not that unusual for an American family from what I knew, few of the creatures had made the trip over to the new world––but a few handy spells and enchantments could make short work of even the most exhausting chores.

I was extremely surprised to find out that Zatanna apparently attended some manner of muggle school, studying magic only in the evenings and weekends under the tutelage of her father. It was moderately alarming to see such a bright young witch denied a proper education for the sake of whatever public facade her father was holding.

There had been many good reasons to dissolve the old system of apprenticeships in favor of formal education and I couldn’t imagine having to spend every day of my youth surrounded by muggle children. No wonder she was so eager to discuss magic with someone else after being stifled for so long.

I didn’t say any of that of course––it would be the height of impropriety to disparage her father in front of her––but my tentative opinion of this Giovanni Zatara fell considerably. Hopefully his poor decision making did not extend to his own magical education or else I doubted he would be of much help to me.

Eventually Zatanna asked me the question I’d been both expecting and dreading for some time. “So, what do you need from my dad anyway?”

I took a sip from my cooled tea to buy time, not certain yet how I wanted to respond. It went against my instincts to just reveal important information to a veritable stranger, but at the same time Zatanna was my best shot at a positive introduction to her father without the need to hunt him down after his show.

I rapidly weighed my options and eventually decided that there was likely no other real option. Ultimately, it was likely that anything I told her father would trickle down to her regardless, and I would need to tell Giovanni about quite a few things if I expected to get any help from him whatsoever. Plus, if I could get his daughter to believe me and make a favorable impression, that would potentially buy me some amount of goodwill as well.

“I, um, well. It's a bit of a delicate issue.” I gently set my mug down, the ceramic clicking quietly against the wooden table. “I fear that I may have become…moderately temporally and geographically displaced.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Zatanna stared at me for several seconds. “You mean like…”

“When I went to sleep three nights past, it was still the early nineteen-hundreds and I was in England,” I said flatly. It was perhaps not exactly the most…complete way of describing what had happened, but it had the benefit of being completely true. Hopefully I could completely avoid saying anything about the whole Wizengamot fiasco and giving a more specific date.

“That um, that sounds pretty crazy.”

I shrugged. “It's the truth. I have no more idea of how it happened than you do, unfortunately. The world is…very different than how I remember it. On my first day, I saw a man fly and do magic in full view of countless muggles on a strange contraption in a muggle restaurant. I do not know who else to turn to in America, nor how to contact the local magical communities, so I decided to seek out the first wizard I could find. A waitress told me of your father’s public performances and so here I am.”

“That um, yeah wow. That’s crazy. So like, you’ve never seen a computer before then? And wait, when were phones invented? Were they even a thing yet? There’s like, entire new countries now, and countries that used to exist are completely gone. There’s a lot of history that happened in just the past decade, much less a whole century.”

I smiled ruefully, “Indeed. I fear I am rather behind the times.” I was glad to see that Zatanna’s reaction seemed to be mostly positive so far, though I wasn’t actually certain that she truly believed me.

I was unsurprised when, after another minute of chatter, Zatanna smiled at me awkwardly and asked, “So um, I don’t want to doubt your story, but it’s a pretty wild thing to say. Do you mind if I cast a spell on you to confirm what you’re saying?”

I did mind––allowing a mostly unknown witch to just cast a spell on me was pretty crazy––but I agreed anyway. “Absolutely, I understand that my story is rather far-fetched.” I twisted my hand slightly, ready to grab my wand and respond at a moment’s notice.

I had expected her to retrieve a hidden wand from somewhere, but instead Zatanna stretched a hand out towards me and chanted, “Rewsna Yllufhturt! Did you really come here from the past and don’t know how it happened?”

I felt the compulsion settle over me, snaking tendrils of Zatanna’s magic tapping against my occlumency shields. I didn’t fight it, instead doing my best to continue smiling. “As far as I am aware, that is indeed what happened,” I told her simply.

“Huh,” Zatanna lowered her hand and the compulsion vanished. I did a quick sweep, but it didn’t seem like she’d left any lingering magic waiting in my mind. “Well, I guess at least you think that you’re telling the truth.”

“I do not believe that someone messed with my mind to make me believe so, if that is what you are implying. That was an impressively performed spell. I do not think I am capable of such a simple, wandless truth spell.”

Zatanna preened. She seemed rather weak to flattery, particularly when it concerned her magical skills. “Thanks! I’ve worked really hard to get where I am today.”

“It shows.” It really did, wandless magic was insanely hard, and she’d managed a wandless compulsion spell without blinking an eye. Maybe that was some sort of family trait? It would explain some of what I’d seen from Giovanni in videos and also why he’d chosen to educate his daughter himself instead of sending her to a proper school. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad father after all. “Your casting would be the envy of wizards thrice your age.”

We spoke for another several minutes and I did my best to sprinkle a liberal amount of praise into our conversation. Eventually however, Zatanna noticed the time and told me that she needed to go back to the theater. She invited me to come along, saying that she could introduce me to her father though any actual help would probably have to wait until after the performance.