A/N: Some events may not make sense in this chapter. Don't worry, they'll be covered in flashbacks in other chapters, you didn't miss anything - I hope!
Pointing his wand at the downed, emaciated figure, he roared, "Voco Argentum Incendia!" Writhing silver fire burst from the end of the wand and engulfed the Dark wizard on the ground, reducing him to charred bones in an eye blink.
With one last spell, it was over. Finally, after nearly thirty years, the war that could without hyperbole be called the true 'war to end all wars' was over. In one last, cataclysmic battle, the combined might of the Allied Resistance Forces and the United States of America had smashed the war machine of the Dark Order and their own Muggle allies.
During that fight, the core of the ARF had fought their way through to the Death Eaters' inner circle and none other than the Dark Lord Voldemort himself, finally deigning to show himself on the battlefield. The resulting battle had cost the lives of six CSS troops, but in return they collected the entire Inner Circle – and Voldemort himself.
'And what a scrap that was,' ARF General Alexander Mitton thought wearily as he looked out over the pre-dawn scene of the battle royale that had just petered out in front of him, the haze from high-yield binary liquid explosives still lingering, mixing with the smoke from destroyed armoured vehicles and numerous fires. Man-for-man, the ARF's Central Strike Squad wasn't as powerful as Voldemort's Inner Circle, but the CSS had the advantage of hyper-advanced Muggle weapons and Alex's vast combat experience from both before and during the war.
In their own short-sightedness, the Dark Order had discounted the capability of the US-supplied plasma weaponry, a misstep which cost them dearly, simply because they were of Muggle make – regardless of the fact that they were lethally powerful, capable of flash-boiling body fluids into steam in the blink of an eye and chewing through most materials that would block spells. Images of Dark wizards and enemy troops being ripped apart by energetic plasma beams flowed through Alex's tired mind, interspersed with the horrors he had seen perpetrated at their hands. Any thoughts of sympathy for those wizards disappeared in a moment. Shaking that line of thought from his head, Alex crouched down on the hillock he occupied, watching his exhausted yet exhilarated troops collect their dead and wounded in readiness for transport home.
A gentle hand alighted itself on his armoured shoulder, and Alex turned to behold the marred yet still indescribably lovely face of the woman who had stolen his heart so long ago, dragged him back from the brink of madness and kept him sane for longer than Alex cared to think about. Her long brown hair fell from under her battle helmet to her shoulders in wavy curls, and a pale scar cut up across the left side of her face and across one chocolate brown eye – a badge of honour, Alex thought, remembering how she had got that scar. That single touch brought him back to reality, and he rose to embrace her.
"I can't believe it – we really defeated them, didn't we?" Colonel Hermione Granger-Mitton murmured into her husband's breastplate, being several inches shorter than his 6'7". "At what cost, victory?"
Alex stroked her hair, pulling his wife close to him, grateful for the chance to hold her for what would likely be the last time, if the CSS' main plan went ahead. "It's done, luv – and at terrible cost," he replied in a heavy voice. "First counts put it at nearly ten thousand dead and wounded for us – nearly four times that for the Darkies."
Hermione pulled her husband close, before retreating a little. "Over fifty thousand lost or maimed … it's almost unbelievable that a war could cost so much –"
"That was for this battle, 'Mione." He didn't want to think of the counts for the war – especially at the beginning when things didn't go quite so well as they did at the end …
"Oh …" At times like this, Alex could see the girl she had been shining through the hardened exterior all the originals like him and her had had to build up in the face of the atrocities of war. It made his blood boil to see such a waste of innocence and undeniable talent.
"I wish he could have been here to see it," Hermione said in a dreamy, faraway sort of voice. When her voice took on that quality, there was only one person it could have referred to – the one whose death had started it all, nearly forty years before.
As ever, Alex called his commanders together for a post-battle (and in this case, a post-war) debrief. Also as ever, they began with a dedication to those fallen in battle.
This time, though, Hermione added another dedication.
"To a friend who never saw any of our victories, but is remembered as the great warrior he would have been," she said, standing from the rock she had been sitting on and raising her wand in salute.
"Hear, hear," Alex said approvingly in response. He knew who it was, as did those survivors of the original Order of the Phoenix. The one who had supposedly been the only one capable of destroying Voldemort for all time, but had been fatally let down by the adults of the Order year on year, which culminated in the tragic event of summer 1996. The event which had begun the war. All the commanders followed suit, standing and raising wands or weapons in salute.
"To Harry Potter," twelve voices said in unison, before all present sat and looked towards Alex to begin the debrief.
"Final combat debrief, October 19th, 2039. Status: operational. Debrief held by Major-General Alexander Mitton, commanding officer, ARF XII Army Group. Present: Colonel Hermione Granger-Mitton, Colonel Ronald Weasley, Colonel Ginevra Weasley, Major Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lieutenant Colonel Nymphadora Tonks, Lieutenant Colonel Daphne Greengrass, Lieutenant Colonel John Harding, Major Sam Shaw, Sergeant-Major Nicola Wells, Sergeant-Major Kate Holmes, Sergeant Joey Haines and Gunnery Sergeant Richard Leeves." Alex began formally, as was his wont. "Well, everything came to a head as we expected it to. Ginny, your wing's support tactics may well have saved us all from very grisly deaths – nice work with that, soldier."
The tall, rangy redheaded woman to Hermione's left, dressed in the combat flight gear of the ARF's Air Battle Force flicked a lazy grin at her commander in insolent acknowledgement, prompting a round of muffled snickers: Ginny and her wing were famous for their … maverick approach to the chain of command. It kept them alive longer than most. Alex grinned and returned the salute, before continuing with the combat debrief.
"Ron, Kingsley, John – be sure to say congrats to your boys when we get back to Hamburg; that delaying move you cooked up gave us the time we needed to hem in the Inner Circle. It's gonna be odd for you going back to chess after the real thing, eh, Ron?"
The tall redhead in battered and bruised combat armour shot a withering look at his commander that spoke volumes, before flipping him off good-naturedly. Alex chuckled at that: everyone knew that Ron was an incurable chess fiend, which had made him the obvious first choice for field tactical advisor. The shorter brown-haired man next to Ron hefted his M-95E3 plasma rifle over his shoulder as he shifted his weight.
"Touch and go for a while, though, sir – there were a few times when I thought the fuckers were gonna smash our line in two – Battle of the Bulge, and all that," John Harding replied to Alex. That was a typical feature of the man – he was modest to the point of self-deprecation.
"Hey, man, you held those lines in one piece, keeping everyone fired up. I don't think it's too big a leap to say that the battle could well have turned if you hadn't kept morale in one piece," the woman across the boulder from John reproved. She stood a little shorter than he did – 5'6" to John's 5'9" – but had the lithe appearance of a dancer whose skills had been turned to warfare. That was where any semblance of normality went totally out the window.
It was unusual to see a soldier go into battle with violently purple hair and a seeming inability to stand up without falling over things every ten seconds, but Nymphadora Tonks did that and more. John and Tonks had bonded immediately upon their initial meet-and-greet, and formed a close friendship both on and off the battlefield, each having pulled the other's buns out of the fire more than once.
It also hadn't escaped notice that John was the one of only two members of the CSS that could get away with calling her 'Nymphadora' or some such derivative of the name (Alex being the other, except that he only employed this privilege under extreme duress). Much speculation went on as to what occurred behind sealed doors and Silencing Charms with those two. Neither gave any help to such speculation, apart from knowing glances and mysterious grins.
"Thanks, Dora, but I'm no one-man army – those guys did the hard work, they deserve the lion's share of the kudos," John replied, indicating the troops who were even now being airlifted out by US Army V-22 Osprey vertical lift aircraft. All the same, he shot a smile at Tonks, who returned it with interest, and Alex suddenly twigged.
'Aha, so the speculation is true! You've got good taste, man,' Alex thought to himself. Out loud, he said, "Regardless of what you say, John, you held things in one piece long enough for us to come away with a victory. I can think of a lot of brass who would want you on their side – and not just in our army, either."
The debrief continued with Alex addressing the surviving members of the CSS, and eventually he reached the end of the line.
"In closing, we remember our fallen brothers and sisters, those who fell on this, our Dagor Dagorath," Alex said, to several uncomprehending stares at the strange choice of words. At that, Alex sighed and continued, "It's from Tolkien, all right?"
A general chorus of "Fair enough" and "Whatever you say, Chief" erupted for a moment, before Alex spoke again, "This will probably be the last time we meet like this, and I hope that our meetings in future … are under better circumstances." A strange expression crossed Alex's face at this – almost wistful, as though he was fixing the image of his loyal troops into his mind's eye. A murmur raced through the assembled troops, before Alex suddenly shook himself back to awareness.
"In conclusion," Alex said once he had regained his composure, "I can safely say that it has been the greatest honour to have fought and won with you all over these long years, and although there will be battles in the future, and horrors still to come, let us hope that they do not reach the magnitude of the horrors that you and I have witnessed." At that Alex sighed and rose to his feet, catching the look on Hermione's face as he did.
'Damn, she knows – I should've known better than to try that,' Alex cursed to himself. Again out loud, he simply said, "Squad, atten-shun!" Twelve bodies were suddenly standing ramrod straight and still as statues. Alex took a deep breath as he prepared to give the order one last time. "I can't believe this will be the last time I give this order, but … Central Strike Squad – dismissed!" As Hermione passed by the end of the boulder, Alex leaned over and whispered to her, "Get all the magical members of the squad together by 1800 back at HQ – it's time."
After the offensives of the early years of the war, during which the ARF had broken out of their American enclaves and retaken the British Isles in a long and bloody campaign that lasted nearly four years and given the Dark Order a resounding introduction to the ARF, the situation had devolved into bloody stalemate, with a long chain of fortifications stretching from the Mediterranean in the south to the West German coast in the north marking the ARF lines. Various assaults by the Dark Order to breach that line had fizzled out against such places as Dresden, Munich and Salzburg. However, the ARF high command, headed by Alex, had concocted various interesting offensives to extend that line deep into Dark Order territory, in order to allow breakouts into various tactically vital areas. One such 'tactically abnormal' (as half the line commanders had taken to describing Alex's tactical style) assault had led to the capture of the heavily fortified city of Magdeburg, in which Alex had relocated the field headquarters of the 2nd, 4th, 5th and 8th Corps, forming the XII Army Group, his command.
Right now, though, Alex was in his office, pacing up and down the length of the ornate room within the town hall that had once belonged to the mayor, then to the Death Eater in charge of forces in the Magdeburg region, and now served as his private redoubt from the pressures of command. The top-secret plans that had been laid down in the dark days of the war were in their final stages of preparation, and the arithmantic sequence calculations were complete. Still, in Alex's mind, furious battles were raging within his own thoughts.
What if it doesn't work? his mind asked.
It will, don't worry – half the R & D section have been working on this for years, not to mention that it was Hermione who came up with the plan in the first place, a little voice at the back of his troubled mind answered.
But I won't be me! Lord knows what'll come out of the spell portal at the other end!
Oh pish-posh! You'll still be you, just a you with a body from then and a mind from now, with all your thoughts, memories, knowledge and experience. And, you'll be hurled back to the focal point – where you can get into action.
What about Hermione? I do this, I'm leaving my wife behind, giving up a chance to help restore this world to rights. It sounded half-hearted, even to his own mind.
It was her plan. She knew that if we ever went for it, the only one who could have a hope of enacting the change would be you. She accepted that it would be your war to fight.
Old man, the world's been badly damaged. The status quo we knew is gone for good – the entire world knows about the wizarding world now, and maybe it's a good thing that the divide was shattered. What isn't, is how that divide was shattered. It may well have dealt us all, wizard and Muggle alike, a deadly blow. This is the only hope of giving us some kind of bedrock to rebuild on.
What hurt more than anything, he knew, was that in his heart of hearts, Alex agreed with all those sentiments that his subconscious had just delivered. With that in mind, he walked over to the other side of the room and sat down at his desk, which held various paraphernalia related to the war: several maps, a bayonet that Alex had 'liberated' from a Dark Order soldier, two clips for his plasma rifle, unit flashes of both the CSS and the XII Army and a small, battered photo album that held Alex's most precious keepsakes – the photos of his wedding and honeymoon, pictures of friends long dead and memories of the few times that he and his friends had managed to get some time away from the front.
Perhaps most precious, though, were the pictures of his family. Alex still found it hard to believe that he was, apparently, the last of his immediate family left; his mother had been raped and murdered by a gang of Death Eaters in the first war before his eyes; his father had died fighting off those same Death Eaters, but had managed to protect his youngest, Alex's sister Sarah, from a similar fate to that of her mother – Alex had finished off the Death Eaters in as cruel and agonisingly lengthy terms as he could think of (what he now knew to be the beginning of his descent into near-murderous insanity); his three brothers – Niall, Lawrence and Jonathan – had all died in bed, surrounded by children and grandchildren; Sarah had inexplicably dropped off the face of the Earth after the incident with the Death Eaters, and Alex had never found out what had become of her.
"Oh, quit wool-gathering, man!" Alex muttered to himself, as he stood and walked over to the window of the office, which overlooked the Rathausplatz of Magdeburg. Right now, the square was filled with armoured vehicles of all kinds that were preparing to pull back to ARF rear-echelon bases, groups of soldiers, tired, dirty but exhilarated at final victory nonetheless. He turned away from the window after a moment, and went over to one of the large wardrobes in the room, which held Alex's personal gear, and pulled out a large rucksack to hold the vital things that were going back with him.
A knock at the door announced the arrival of Alex's aide de camp, a young lieutenant from Magdeburg who'd jumped at the chance to work for the great General Mitton. Alex turned to greet the young man.
"Yes, Lieutenant?" he said.
"Colonel Weasley sends her regards, and says to tell you that the group is ready," the young soldier replied. At that Alex sighed deeply.
Time to get this show on the road.
The spell chamber was ancient, older than anyone had ever been able to figure, which made Alex wonder who had really built it.
The torches carried by the CSS troops did little to dispel the inky darkness, and the shadows danced on the rough-hewn stone walls. The Magical Research and Development teams of the ARF had come up with some pretty heady stuff over the last forty years, as well as some theories that were intriguing, to say the least. Only tonight, their activities were not so much intriguing as ground-breaking.
Tonight was the night when they would attempt to change the past.
"We've got together a few special toys for you to take back," Tonks said to Alex as the rest of the CSS set up what was necessary for the ritual spell. At a gesture, one of the techs that had accompanied them handed her a plasma rifle that didn't look too different at first glance, until Alex noticed that the plasma energiser was a totally new design.
"Yep – it's the E4, first production model. The energiser coupling is made of superconducting alloys and the laser initiators draw nearly 80 less power for the same outcome that on the E3," the tech said. "We also modified the fuel feed system – each magazine now holds enough refined fuel and energy charges for five hundred shots instead of one hundred. That should help you in whatever year you end up in, and we're throwing in about twelve dozen extra ammo boxes, each holding ten 500-shot clips."
Tonks next pointed him to a set of large crates marked with various symbols, signifying what was inside. "There's enough comms and sensor gear in the crates to help you get set up when you arrive at the target date, together with a few surprises, namely binary grenades and blasting packs," Tonks said as he shrunk them and arranged them in his rucksack, though Alex had already detected the tremor in her voice and the slight glistening in her eyes. "Hopefully, you can make a difference with that."
Alex fixed her with a gaze he hadn't used on her for nearly fifteen years, staring into her eyes in that way that always made Tonks' heart race. "I honestly cannot thank you enough for this, Nymphadora," he said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder and drawing her into a hug that lasted a little longer than necessary. "I owe you and Hermione so much, and I feel like shit that I can't stay and find a way to make it up."
"I can think of a way – go back and make a difference for all of us," Hermione murmured from behind Alex. Tonks made to draw back, but a gesture from Hermione pulled the older woman into a three-way hug with Alex. "I wish it didn't have to be you doing this, but I know you're the best bet for success. Oh! I nearly forgot – this'll help hide the armour as best as possible," she said, pulling away from the other two and handing Alex an ankle-length leather duster, which he donned immediately. "Plus you look like a superhero in that – all broody and angsty," she added with an impish giggle, which Tonks shared. Alex couldn't argue with that – he looked just like that Blade character!
The spell chamber contained a series of stubby stone columns, arranged to form a seven-sided polygon around a symbol carved into the ground - a snake that was eating its own tail, the symbol called 'ouroboros'; everlasting. The symbol of Time itself. Seven of the members of the CSS had stationed themselves on one of the stones, robed in deepest blue, faces hooded and obscured. In the centre of the circle stood two semi-circular arches, facing each other with a space in between mounted on a dais. A small stone stairway led to the gap between the two arches, and Alex stood at the foot of these stairs.
Alex looked around the chamber, catching every gaze as he did: the tearful eyes of Hermione and Tonks, the women who had both won his heart over the years; the serious stare of Ron; Kingsley's penetrating, knowing gaze; Daphne's ever-understanding look; then. as if he were silently imploring the gods to grant him strength and wisdom enough to succeed, Alex bowed his head for an instant, before turning to his cohorts and saying only one word:
"Begin."
Hermione began the chant first, as was required by the spell. Her voice wavered at first, and threatened to break completely, but a single reassuring glance from Alex shored up her unsteady emotions, and she held on, completing the words of the spell, sending a bolt of cold blue light from her wand to the arches at the centre of the chamber. Tonks followed her, her own chant differing because of her different relationship with Alex: a former lover who had retained a deep and rewarding friendship with her ex-partner despite everything that had happened since. Completing the chant, a bolt of similarly coloured light shot towards the dais from her wand.
One by one, the other wizards and witches cast their own portions of the spell, sending their own blasts of light at the twin arches. By this point, Alex's jacket was blowing in a wind that only he could apparently feel, and his entire form was pulsing at the same rate as the light between the two arches on the dais. Eventually, it was left to Alex to finish the spell and seal the magic.
Drawing deep into himself, Alex gathered his elemental powers – the sturdy hand of the earth, the soft touch of the air, flame's cleansing fury and water's cooling caress – and bound them with his own innate powers, each interacting with the others, letting the unleashed power fill him to the brim. He was no longer an agent of the Balance between the elements, he was the Balance. A quick flick of each wrist drew his twin wands, one of black-burnished steel, the other of polished titanium, and he pointed each at one of the arches.
In a voice that sounded at once like the violent rumble of a mighty earthquake, the deep roar of the strongest hurricane, the greedy crackle of a huge forest fire and the throaty crash of a powerful tsunami, Alex cried out at the top of his voice, "LET THE CHASM BE BRIDGED!"
A tremendous clap of thunder reverberated around the cavern as each of the stone columns suddenly glowed brilliant white and created a howling web of energy between each other and the dais. A second boom rocked the cavern and the twin arches were suddenly filled with a gently pulsing silvery-white light. Just as abruptly, the glow from the columns faded and the chamber was still again.
In the light from the portal, Alex could see that the CSS had assembled itself behind him to give one last salute to their commander and friend before he went back in time. He turned to regard his comrades for the last time. In that instant, words failed him. He simply smiled in a way that spoke volumes about his love and trust for all present.
After a few seconds, Alex turned back to the arches, brought his plasma rifle into a low-ready position and strode through the portal. A heartbeat later, the portal collapsed, and all was still.