Terminator
Chapter 1
A/N – I don't own the characters and they are used without permission as are the several key ideas in this work of fan fiction. This is a plot bunny that hit me about an hour ago, and that's all the time I've taken to write this and proof-read it. That's how insistent the idea was. Chapters will be slower if I choose to continue it. Then again that's up to you. Your reviews will decide.
/ Story begin \
The heavy cloud filtered the moonlight providing patchy visibility on the scene of burned out carnage. Not the immediate carnage of people dying, but the carnage that accumulates over decades of war. Shattered, burned out shells of buildings, the wreckage of a once great civilisation, streets filled with fallen masonry and burned out rusted muggle vehicles that had been blown apart and left whee ever they landed. Amongst the wreckage and detritus of destruction were the skeletons of the dead. Thousands of them, millions still where they'd fallen. Nothing living moved, in that scene.
A high whirring roar could be heard somewhere off in the distance, then it vanished only to sound closer the next time it was audible. A minute late it sounded further away, as if it were sweeping across the shattered city searching for something. A crunching sound much closer and closer to the ground drew attention. A foot moved into the visible area and crushed a human skull with nonchalance, the same care it would have given if the street had been clear. Whatever it was didn't take another step and the area suddenly widened to show a dark figure of gleaming stone, humanoid in shape, but not human, definitely not human as it surveys the shattered wreckage with glowing red eyes.
A movement much further away and it snaps the wooden staff it's carrying into firing position before releasing ten rapid bursts of green energy that streak away and strike the rapidly moving target which flares a light blue as our shields hold, once, twice, a fifth time and I'm preparing to switch frequencies, eight and I'm placing the rune sequencer, nine and our gunners gone. A hole blown through her chest as the power of the shot throws her from the six wheeled ATV weapons platform. Another skeleton to lie in the streets unlamented by humanity, other than the rest of her team. Some think it doesn't matter because she was a muggle but I care.
Damn, Voldemort has improved his shield breaker algorithms. It is important information but we don't have the time and it's not as important as our mission. The Terminator(damn the muggle who saw that movie) having fired its ten shots froze waiting for the staff to recharge sometime in the next two hours. We once would have fired a transponder to mark the location so that another team could destroy it, but the Dark Lord might have proved himself arrogant but he wasn't stupid. Where once that Terminator would have been alone, now we knew there would be three others somewhere nearby just waiting for us.
The secondary gunner slips into place and places his shoulder into the braces just as the whirring roar returned, this time the sound only got louder, it wasn't searching anymore because it knew that we were here. It came in low, sweeping around the shattered wreckage that had once been a mighty sky-scraper at roughly a hundred metres. Powerful light beams arced from its underneath followed rapidly by much larger bolts of green than the Terminator had been able to produce. This wouldn't end in ten shots as the flyer had larger magical storage capacities. Who's waiting for eight shots? Certainly not me, I'm frantically changing rune sequences as the shields once more flare blue all around us. The gunner screams out defiance as he opens up with the large quad barrelled magi-cannon, some might have mistaken it for a laser given the light show as blue light seemed to flow from the weapon in answer to the green bolts. It's ineffective but every bit of magical energy that it uses to enhance its shields is one less shot it can fire at us.
We had the same problem of course, but we had a way around it, we didn't need rune crystals to store our magic for later use, we had found muggle channelers who could handle vast quantities of node magic but couldn't utilize it themselves. Voldemort hadn't discovered that fact yet and we prayed he never did as it was our one advantage. The fact that no muggle lived long in his presence wasn't something we should have been happy about but the less contact he had with them the less likely he would find out about our one advantage and neutralize it.
The ATV takes a corner throwing off the gunners aim, missing with several shots. On the other hand the large pile of rubble between us is now taking even more damage from the flyer. Even though it can't see us for a second the rune sequencer is still working through the last five combinations I put in and I'm not stopping anytime soon, it might not be able to see us but it can still extrapolate and right on cue our shields light up once more. Another corner but this time I'm ready and don't slam a shoulder into the left hand roll-bar.
Figuring it's the only chance we'll get I call for them to mount the secondary weapon, a seventy-five millimetre recoilless rifle with extensive enchanting work on both the reloading mechanism and the cooling systems. Fifty rounds a minute is pretty good for a weapon of this power, the trouble is we've only got twenty five rounds of the rune-sabot variant ammunition developed for this weapon. Basically a high powered round designed to accelerate a spike of hardened obsidian with explosive rune clusters engraved on its surface. Designed to penetrate the outer layer of hardened stone, hard in the way that muggle electronics could be hardened against an EMP strike except in this manner it was hardened against magic. Probably why the flyers had been given the nickname of Dragons. These rounds were designed to punch through that two inch thick stone armour and then explode inside the crafts superstructure hopefully causing enough damage to bring it down. With only twenty five rounds we'd need luck and lots of it.
It flew around the same corner we just had, banking hard to the right as it skewed further than it intended. Wouldn't matter to it if it had crashed into the building opposite since it was pretty much indestructible and it had the power to simply bull its way through the wrecked building if it chose. Not that it would as that would waste even more of the power it was hoping to unleash on us. If you think I'm being silly to give that monster up there too much credit, or think that I'm projecting humanlike mannerisms to what is basically a machine, let me disabuse you. The reason I treat it like this is because it really is capable of human thought. The fact that every Dragon is controlled by a human brain suspended in a solution of liquid imperious isn't a widely advertised bit of information, and we don't know much about the process. We do know that they are single minded and they know what to do with the power at their disposal. Luckily they can only react to what they know, or are taught. They haven't seen this before and they don't communicate instantly so they aren't likely to learn about this either.
Recovering it's trajectory allowed it to miss our first three rounds, the next six slammed into the underbelly, two screaming away as they ricochet into the night, just more bright sparks that won't mean anything. Three rounds lodge in the exterior doing nothing when they explode other than light up the target. I wince, it doesn't look good until the underbelly expands slightly and the Dragon shakes in the air. Not enough to damage it, it seems since the flyer is still up there but enough to make it pause to analyse what just happened. Neither it or any of its brethren have ever had anything explode inside them before, not even the early experiments with mini-guns had done something like that. They'd managed to cut a few early Dragons in half with mini-guns before Voldemort had added armour and shielding to them but they'd never exploded before.
Pausing proved to be fatal as it allowed our gunner to aim properly and the next rounds penetrated more volatile places like the nose cone, and wing joints. The brain didn't die since it was too deeply buried within the machine to be reached but its sensor array went dead in a bright flash. The right wing pin-wheeled away as the explosion of three rounds tore it loose. Blind the Dragon tried to compensate with only the left wings spatial distortion engine and failed miserably as it found itself hanging from the motor as gravity took hold and allowed it to be smashed into the ground. The already weakened right side collapsed completely as explosions shook its frame. Energy crystals began to explode, tearing further armour from its structure and exposing the internal workings of the monster to our scrutiny.
We'd stopped in the meantime, the weapons mounts on the Dragon were no longer a danger since the controlling brain could no longer 'see'. Plus we were pretty sure the guns were damaged by the explosion that had taken its sensors. We needed information more than we needed to be moving and we could take the time to find out what was around us before me moved again and possible found ourselves in an ambush that we'd been driven into.
"Sweep!" I called out. Knowing that our shield would be lowered was a daunting thing but necessary when doing a magical sweep. The channelers who had been powering both the shields and the main weapon were huffing slightly while we waited for more information. I drew a little of their power to conjure more of the sabot rounds. It had been a successful field test of its capabilities and I'd be suggesting that we put more effort into their manufacture in the future, if we lived that is.
"All clear!" I raised a sceptical eyebrow at the man waiting for him to elaborate, "Well except for the Dragon here and the four T's we left about eight kilometres away. There doesn't appear to be anything within ten kilometres that can harm us."
Appear was the term that worried me, there was always the possibility that Voldemort had perfected some kind of stealth technology that we wouldn't be able to 'see' until it was too late. Not likely I know but then again the first surprise in this war would likely be our last. Knowing what the dark tosser could do we weren't going to act stupid, and like always we weren't going to give up an advantage by letting Voldemort recover any information before we had to. It was the nasty surprises that we could unleash that had kept the war going as long as it had.
"Take it apart," I didn't even need to explain as Christoph opened fire, blue bolts of energy lanced out and struck the Dragon. It might have been hardened but it wsn't invulnerable and before to long the brain case was completely exposed. Once we'd made the mistake of just vanishing the brain, but we learned later that Voldemort had built in defences against that and had recovered information that had led to he deaths of one of their hidden bunkers. Twelve hundred men, women and children had died that day and we'd vowed never again. I have to be careful here since you can almost guarantee that messing up here will be dangerous. Clear liquid poured from the canister the second I broke the seal, I wasn't wasting any time though. We simply didn't have it, I released the package that I'd been holding in a shrunken chest and watched as it writhed. The heavy canvas began to sprout dark points as whatever was in there pierced it making their bid for freedom. I shielded as soon as the first black carapace became visible and prodded it towards the now open braincase and watched satisfied as several hundred scarabs followed that first one.
Scarabs are meat eaters and for the most part the brain was meat. The results were inevitable, in six hours the scarabs would lose cohesion and return to the air from which they'd been conjured, leaving behind piles of semi-digested brain matter which he hoped Voldemort tried to extrapolate some kind of meaning from. It added whole new meanigs to the term 'Shit for Brains'
We don't have time to watch that though so we slowly pull out and head for our primary objective. Why slow? Because most of the sensors we'll bypass are looking for fast moving targets, so certain is he that nothing travelling slowly could be a threat. We'd prefer to take the tortoises view of things, it gives us time to figure out whether we're heading for the finishing line or a barbeque where the hare is the guest of honour. I'd apologise if anyone could read my mind but twenty years of constant war is bound to give one a slightly dark sense of humour. Enough of that, we're moving. Not towards our final target as one would expect, only Gryffindors and fools attack full frontally, that and corpses which is all we'd be if we tried that.
There's another way, it's dangerous but not as dangerous, we should be able to get through. Especially with me there to assist. My survival now isn't paramount like it once was. If I live, if I die doesn't matter. I had my chance and its been gone for more than twenty years, my responsibility is to make sure there is a second chance.
Ten minutes pass in relative silence, the only sounds the slow whirr of our magically driven motors and the crunching sound the tires make as they pass over the badly damaged and eroded terrain. Ahead I can see our first objective. The front door is a deathtrap so we're going to use the back door or at least the old sewers that pass under most of the city. It'll still be dangerous, we're not the only ones who've thought of this, Voldemort did as well but he placed his defenses and then left them to their own devices knowing they'd stay where he put them. Acromantula were a little like that, once they had a good nesting site that was safe they'd happily travel wherever they needed to for food and with the now wild cows, pigs, sheep and chickens that wandered the landscape they didn't need to go far.
Arveeg was king in this domain, fifth son of Aragog, who instead of entering the battle for control of his fathers' domain had escaped. Deciding to let his larger, tougher brothers have the territory rather than end up dead. Sure he was smaller than his brothers but in essence he was Draco to their Crabbe and Goyle. He was smarter than they, and knew that the only reason they left him out of the initial free-for-all was that they thought they could take him at any time. They would have been right as well so he'd done the only sensible thing, waiting for them to fully engage he'd snuck off and stunned a lone female that happened to be a third his size and then he'd escaped into the south lands where he'd establish his own kingdom. That was until the stone men had come and he'd discovered that they weren't vulnerable to his poison like normal people were.
Luckily Voldemort had only been there to make an offer he really couldn't refuse. One which went, 'Join me or die'. It was simply worded and the answer inevitable given Arveegs' mentality. So here we are looking at the entrance to Arveegs new kingdom and knowing that we aren't going to be sneaking in un-noticed. We're prepared for that though and the two sentries die with barely a high pitched squeal to mark their deaths. Putting on the glasses we were each carrying we enter into the manmade cavern and begin to march in the direction we need to go.
The culvert was one of the larger ones in the London metropolitan area and would measure a good thirty feet across, luckily there hadn't been very many humans in the city for decades and the water in the drain was just that, clear water. The waste and detritus of mankind having been washed away long ago. Not that I'd want to bathe in that so called clear water, let alone drink it. Maybe in a few hundred years that would be a possibility but I wouldn't make any bets on it.
I can hear them. I knew I was right when we entered, those high pitched screams had carried much further down the drains than we would have thought and Arveeg's children lay in wait, trying to hide in the darkness of the ceiling where most prey wouldn't look. That was why we were wearing glasses, heavily charmed glasses that allowed us to see in the dark as clearly as if it were mid-day outside. They're still now, not even their mandibles clicking to give them away, if we couldn't see them we'd never know they were there. A normal Acromantula wouldn't have that amount of control and would have given itself away by now as the excitement of the hunt overpowered its mental control. It spoke well of Arveeg that his children were so intelligent, a pity as well being as we weren't going to let them ambush us as we passed them. At sixty feet from them I stop and my squad stops as well, seventeen men and women await my command. I'm not commanding though, I intend to act and there's nothing the others can do to help. Tapping into the six channelers I intone the spell I want.
"Soflarus Maxa!" I cry out and watch as a small ball of light shoots from the tip of my wand. A good thing our goggles are enchanted to control light or we'd all be blind right now as an incandescent ball of plasma lights the darkness of the tunnel. Beginning to accelerate the ball begins to lose cohesion and expands, I can see the Acromantula once more and they don't look happy. The fact they're creatures that have lived in darkness for decades might have had something to do with that, the fact they have eight eyes to be pained by the incredibly bright light might be another. Or it might be the fact that as the ball of plasma lost cohesion it began to heat up, at thirty feet from me it was nearing a thousand degrees at forty five feet it had doubled that and we could feel the heat wash over us. They must have realized what was going to happen because I can see them panic and begin to attempt to flee back over the bodies of their brothers. It's futile, but I know they know that but instinct is sometimes stronger than knowledge, they'll die either way as the heat flares and their bodies begin to burn. We can smell the charred hair on their bodies even as they attempt to curl up and protect themselves, something else that is futile, the heat is so intense it's desiccating them where they cling leaving smoking husks in its passing. The hundreds of charred bodies are all that remains of a once mighty Acromantula colony.
We know that we haven't gotten all of them, there are more down here but I'm pretty sure Arveeg has learned a valuable lesson and won't risk anymore of his children or his mates, but it's always best to make sure.
"Sonorus. Arveeg, we have no quarrel with you. Do not attack us and we will not hunt you." My voice echoes off the walls all around us. Maybe that was stupid, there are hundreds of thousands of miles of pipes down here and I'm pretty sure that I was just heard all over the city, and that right there is one reason why it wasn't all that stupid. How do you pinpoint the start point of a sound in a system like this? The answer is, 'You don't.' Even the fact that I was talking to Arveeg wouldn't help any searchers since Arveeg's chamber was a long way from here. There's nothing between us and our target now and we set off once more.
Two miles more of this and we're near enough to begin the next phase of our attack, runes are drawn on the tunnel wall and once more I draw power through the channelers to power something that would have been beyond any spell caster in history including Merlin himself. Does that make me more powerful than Merlin, heck no, where do you think I learned about channelers in the first place? Merlin was an anomaly, a wizard who could channel, something that had never happened before as far as recorded history was concerned and has never happened since.
Channelers are distinct from wizards in that they can't use the power they can channel, they couldn't even really sense it passing through them. That's probably why Merlin had erased all records of channelers from the written histories. That didn't mean he didn't leave a record of them, just that it wasn't written. In fact it was almost a prank what he had done, the recording of Merlins history had spoken to nearly every wizard and witch in the United Kingdom for over a thousand years and none had been the wiser. Merlin placed a lock upon the knowledge that certain things would have to happen before the seal on his information would be released and so one day the Sorting Hat chose me to learn some truths that no one else knew. By that time it was almost too late for the survivors of Voldemort's 'Purge of mankind'
The runes flashed red then green as power pulsed through them, several seconds passed before the wall before us vanished completely leaving us staring at a tunnel. We entered quickly, it was a good defensive position because even if there were more Acromantula and they attacked now, they simply were too big to enter this tunnel. The man at the back was also carrying one of the only surviving mini-guns and the last of the ammunition, not that I couldn't transfigure more if he ran out. I'd rather not take the time though as I begin to jog. Time is critical now. The longer we take the more likely Voldemort will act and stop us and we can't have that, we can't or all of this will be for nothing. Sounds pretty stupid to say that, of course this would be for nothing, but that's not what I meant. I was referring to the deaths of nearly six billion humans over a twenty five year period.
We've moved nearly three hundred metres when I hold my fist up to halt the squad. We've reached our target, and from here it's not going to be pretty, the wards are too massive to remove, so we're going to do the next best thing. We're going to punch a hole through them, brute force, absolutely nothing fancy involved. It won't even matter if the channelers that power this can't move afterwards. I haven't made any secret that none of us are likely to survive this, they knew it coming in. Why do it then you ask? Well I don't have a good answer, it won't win us this war, it won't hurt Voldemort, the only answer I can give is one we didn't have before. Hope.
I'm not even going to use a spell here, just unleash the magic and watch the results as a shaft of raw magic punches through the wards, the rock beyond and the research facility beyond that. Hopefully we haven't hit anything critical to our purpose in being here. It shouldn't have since we know that the underground facility that we're looking for is another hundred feet or so below us but this is magic we're dealing with and thus it's a chance we've had to take. I cut off the power, heaven knows how long this shaft extends now. I have no way of knowing as I'm too exhausted to care. Turning back to the team I find we've lost four of the six channelers, death by burnout isn't pretty as I look at their charred bodies with a sense of regret, and maybe a little jealousy of the fact that they're beyond all of this now.
I'd like to have taken the time to see their bodies retrieved but instead I have to move on with the mission to give their deaths some meaning. To give us a reason to continue. Once inside the tech team place runes.
"Sir? Six feet down to the next level." Like I said we aren't here to destroy, we're here for something else. This time I have to use my own power, the surviving channelers aren't in any condition to help and the reserve is exactly that. He doesn't know it yet but he's not here to help in this attack, he is the reason for this attack. Precision vanishing takes time, which I don't have. The hole appears as if it has been torn from the concrete, dust erupts around us. Again I don't have time to let it settle and drop another rune cluster down the hole followed by a Soflarus. The non lethal version of the light spell drops into the hole and lights up the cavern below as I watch it fall sixty feet and come to rest on the uneven floor below. Scanning the room I see something that I never expected and hoped never to see again. The thirty foot bulk of a Golem, I'm moving before I even have time to think. Rolling away from the hole the rest of my team freezes in shock as they watch me move. I roll to my feet once more and notice that despite my expectations the hole behind me isn't an expanding ball of flaming shrapnel, in fact nothing has changed and I'm beginning to feel sheepish as my team regard me.
"Golem," I say and watch as the tension increases even more, I don't need to expain anymore. They know why I moved like that.
"Um, shouldn't we be dead my now?" That was a question I really didn't want to answer just in case I was wrong. But it was pertinent, six feet of concrete between us and a HK Golem wasn't nearly enough to ensure survival. There had only been the one HK Golem and it'd taken eight years to discover how to kill it, and thirty good wizards to actually accomplish it. Where Voldemort got the first one we don't know, I suspect Egypt since the outer skin of the Golem was covered in hieroglyphs but I couldn't be sure, they could have been Sumerian or Babylonian. One thing we did know was that he only had one and probably didn't know how to make another. I cautiously moved back to the hole and peered down once more, this time seeing gantries and cranes attached to its bulk. It didn't seem to be active, which was a very good thing.
"It's dead," sighs meet my proclamation as I turned to the scouts.
"Another six feet sir." I nod as I drop through the hole, levitating myself so that the sixty foot drop doesn't kill me. The others are using ropes like sane people, but then no one ever claimed I was sane did they? I'm too busy covering their descent to care what anyone thinks about me anyway. I gaze at the humanoid shape that sometimes comes back to haunt my nightmares. I'd seen this thing before when it was still alive and I'd seen it tear apart whole battalions of muggle tanks. Aircraft had dropped everything short of nuclear grade weapons on it and even oxygen bombs hadn't even so much as scratched the thing. And it had destroyed, and kept on destroying. To see it on the battlefield was a death sentence and only port-keys and hasty apparition had saved my life the few times we'd met. Here it was though, or at least a facsimile of it. It seemed after having lost his only Golem that Voldemort was trying to recreate it by reverse engineering it.
If so we had done the right thing to be here now, if he ever succeeded in this project there wouldn't be any chance for us at all. Once we'd completed this mission I was going to make sure this thing was destroyed and anything else I could find that he wouldn't want me to destroy. Maybe if I got lucky he'd show his scaly face for the first time and I'd get a chance to kill him.
The ground beside me vanished as I punched downwards once more, this wasn't our target. My team seemed unable to tear its eyes away from the terror that was on this level and I had to remind them to move before I dropped down once more.
This was what we were looking for. A magic circle, it sounds corny when it's said like that but they can be some of the most powerful magical devices every created depending on your willingness to pay the price. Want to summon a demon from another dimension? This is your best shot, the fact the price is often your immortal soul is beside the point, they work and that's all we needed to know. This one wasn't set to another dimension though, this was set this one, or more accurately the fourth dimension, namely time. What I was looking at was a temporal gate, and if our resources were right it was active, waiting for Voldemort to use it. His problem is that we got here first, and if I have my way he won't get a chance. Some of the materials used in the construction of this circle are irreplaceable one of a kind artefacts and once we've done what we came here to do they'll be smoking cinders.
My team now numbering thirteen since we lost the channelers, with two of us nearly out of commission converged on me to get any final orders that I had. Everything had been pretty much as we'd planned but like they say, no plan survives first engagement with the enemy. We hadn't really met the enemy yet but then again we'd mostly been planning blind when I'd ordered this mission.
"Ethan, bring it to me," I wasn't carrying our weapon. Not because I couldn't use it but rather because I was a primary target for the dark lords forces and we couldn't risk losing what was in that small box. It wasn't much bigger than a jewellery box, but then what was inside wasn't much bigger than the average wizard families heirloom ring so it made sense in a way. Weapon might be the wrong term as well, it's not a weapon but rather a protective amulet. We've discussed the plan so often everyone here knows what to do with it and why, the core of the team even know what's about to happen as I turn with the box in my hands and thrust it into the unresisting hands of an unknowing volunteer. He's looking at me with wide eyes that are asking what I'm doing, even as his fingers fumble to hold onto their precious cargo.
"It's time John," I say as I will him to understand.
"But you…" he trails off even as I refuse to take the box back.
"…Can't go back John. You know that, we're already pushing our luck sending anyone but we're pretty sure if I go back that it's all over bar the shouting. Voldemort will win because we think I'll cease to exist, and I'm not willing to bet against the top theorists into temporal travel. Now move, we don't have time for this." He looks like he's going to argue but the rest of the team isn't going to wait for him. They're already rushing to the shaft that contains the lift and putting up the wards to inhibit travel between the levels, next come the defensive wards and I can feel them going up, tey tingle against my skin as they 'taste' me. No one is coming through the ceiling like we did, or if they try to use our holes they're going to find out the hard way that it isn't a good idea.
John must have decided I was right as his knuckles go white around the box he carries. His eyes narrow as determination is born in him and I know that I made the right decision. He will do what is necessary. I'm not ready to let him go, one thing I was carrying was a small silver flask, anyone who'd dealt with a penseive would recognise what it was. This wasn't as necessary as the amulet he was carrying but I wanted to give this to serve as sure knowledge of what we faced if we didn't succeed.
"Take this. Give it…to me when you think I'm ready for it." I wouldn't order him to give it at a specific time because he would know best. If we were lucky I wouldn't be who I am now, and if I had time to think about that I'm sure I'd need to have a good lie down with a cup of tea and my blankie. Fortunately we don't have time and I give him a shove in the right direction and watch as he moves to the centre of the circle. I'm already moving towards the control panel when he turns to watch me. No one is speaking now, there aren't any words, no righteous speeches. All we can do now is act.
I've got to hand it to Voldemort, his creation is elegantly simple, the only control that I can see is a headset and a small green button. It's intuitive how to use it, lace the headset on and think of your destination, both spatially and in time and when you've got it fixed press the button. Any dummy can do it, which is why the room has dimmed as the magic circle begins to drain all magic within reach.. Our carefully crafted wards crumble in seconds but then again so have Voldemorts. I can feel them go, anti apparition, anti port-key, alarm wards and killer wards all collapsing as the magic is sucked into a maelstrom around the circle. John disappears in a flash of white and a sound that proves indescribable, dissonance is as close as I can get.
"What have you done!" Nice timing old man.
"Hello Tom," yep still hates that muggle name. I can feel him now, the link is so strong. I can feel him gathering his magic to blast me and I don't have much left to stop him. I don't think I will in any case, I've got better uses for my last reserves.
"You know you're dying for nothing? As soon as you die I'm going to go back and make sure things work out my way." I can hear the sneer in his voice. A sneer that's cut off as one of my men decides the dark lord is distracted enough that he has a chance. The roar of a sub-machine pistol is heard and the slugs slam into him with enough force at this close a range to throw him from his feet. I'm not going to wait for him to get up as I pour magic into the console before me reducing it and the seven time-turners he'd been able to scrounge out of the Ministry of Magic to a white hot slag. There won't be any interference with my plans now. Time to re-write fhe future.
The year is 2029 and the war continues. My name, Harry Potter and I am the leader of the rebellion, a rebellion we are losing. Oh, and I may have just destroyed the time space continuum. A better fate than the one we were destined for I think.
/ Should I continue this? \
A/N – Review please. Let me know what you think.