A/N: Previous formatting errors have been corrected and the story should be much more readable. The chapter has been revised and the updates were posted August 18, 2010 and September 8, 2012. This story was previously titled "Past meets Future: Harry's Angels." I want to profoundly thank everyone that has read this story. Even if you do not post a review, knowing the numbers of people that have read my story inspires me to continue.
HP:SPF
Tick ... Tick ... Tick …
It was an older clock. In the right market it would be a valuable antique. When she had bought it, it had been little more than junk and substantially discounted. Hermione had lovingly and carefully restored each part and finish until it became the treasure it was now. Magic served judiciously could do that.
Hermione treasured it. It was a purely mechanical clock, driven by springs and gears. An electric clock would never work reliably in her home. She had plenty of magical clocks. Each served a different purpose. One of her clocks tracked magically significant astrological events. She normally wore a magical wristwatch that reminded her to eat when she became hungry. Her husband's heritage even provided a clock that tracked the location and disposition of her entire family. She had once added three special hands to that clock. Those hands had fallen years before.
This mechanical clock was special to her. It represented a part of her heritage that she rarely had time for anymore. It was a beautiful thing with brass gears and a glass case. It had to be kept up high on the wall. Little hands were as fascinated with it as she was, and much less careful.
Tick ... Tick ... Tick …
The clock steadily counted the passing of time. The inexorable passage of time. Each moment followed by the next. Each effect following a cause. You can look back with clarity and see how each moment followed from the next. You can look back, but can change nothing. You can look forward, and even if the vision is blurred, does not each moment follow the next; each effect follow a cause? Does not unseen fate rule?
Tick ... Tick …
It was not a large room, but recently everything had been moved out, leaving it nearly bare. Several portraits accompanied the clock on the wall, and silently watched the proceedings. Opposite the single, closed, and locked door was a fireplace in which burned a low orange fire. Along with the furniture, the room had been stripped of nearly all of its customary enchantments, and an unfamiliar draft caused the fire to dance lightly within its confines. There was a single high work table in the center of the room on which sat a curiously constructed apparatus.
In the center of the apparatus, a glass globe radiated the blue light of a contained flame. The dancing flames were distorted by the thick glass made imperfect by many tiny bubbles. These bubbles seemed random, perhaps made by trapped gasses in the molten glass. The globe had been oriented such that the mostly obscured bottom contained the a greater concentration of bubbles with the density decreasing until the top of the globe was clear. The blue light waxed and waned as if in sympathy with a somewhat irregular heartbeat.
Supporting the globe was a delicate web of silver wire. These fine wires grasped the globe and table as if they were overgrown jungle vines, and rose up again at seven points equidistant to the center of the globe and to the same height as the globe's equator. There were seven purple gems mounted at those points. They reflected and refracted the light of the blue flame, subtly adding their own internal light.
Hermione put down her calipers. All of the distances were accurate and seemed to be of adequate precision. There were numerous scratches covering her hands and lower arms and a couple of deeper cuts from the final adjustments she had just completed. It wouldn't take more than a couple of seconds and a wave of her wand to heal, but the slight injuries didn't interfere with her task. She didn't bother to think of her injuries, at this point they didn't matter.
She looked at her creation, carefully considering it. She had created many things in her life. She was in some circles very famous for her understanding of magic, and she had created many useful, interesting, or powerful spells and enchantments. She had even helped develop a couple of potions. However, this was her master creation. No other spell or enchanted item could be compared to its power or the new directions in which she had pushed the application of magic.
She picked up her wand and tapped the center globe. It immediately flared brightly, casting her study in harsh blue light and shadow. The light receded, yet the flame remained. It took her a moment to blink away the after images of the bright light and to be able to see clearly again. The harsh blue light seemed to fill the room with a feeling of doom. Hermione carefully pushed aside a feeling of panic.
She then touched each of the seven gems in turn with her wand, rechecking them. When she touched a gem, flashes of emotion and images burst through her mind. She consulted her list. She felt confident that each of the promises had been properly described. She was certain each of the seven promises would be kept. There would be a cost, but she did not allow herself to worry about that - not at this point.
Tick .. Tick ..
She put down her wand, then startled herself by pausing at the act. She would be losing so much, and thought that she had prepared herself. She hadn't even given a thought to her faithful winewood and dragon heartstring wand. She was tempted to pick it up one last time and feel the always consistent surge of magic, but with resignation she turned away. She was long past the point of decision.
She placed her right palm upon the glowing globe. Immediately, she felt its warmth flow up her arm. As it entered her chest, she felt herself become light headed and her vision dimmed. Keeping her hand in place, she adjusted her stance to make sure that she remained standing.
"Wait." A man had been quietly observing her preparations.
With every tick of the clock she could feel her own life diminishing. The blue light within the globe became steadily brighter as it grew to fill her vision to the exclusion of everything else. She felt weak and she put her free hand on the surface of the work table to support herself. She tried to smile, to be reassuring, but she did not have the strength. She did not remove her hand from the glass sphere.
Tick ..
"It's time." Hermione was surprised at the weakness of her own voice. She shouldn't be so weak.
The man seemed surprised as well and started towards her before he checked himself and remained where he was. His voice became pained. "I love you."
Hermione tried to turn away from the light and look towards her husband. But even though she could move her head so that she was looking directly at him, blue light still filled her vision and doom suffused her soul. The only sight she had of her husband was a faint silhouette. "Ron... I love you."
She could not stop the quiet tears. Her last glimpse of husband had been denied her, and the loss that she would soon suffer, unavoidably now, threatened to overcome her strength. Her eyes shone wetly in the dim light of the study. Her expression was uncertain as she struggled to control the muscles in her face. They seemed intent to betray the emotions that filled her heart. Tears were one thing, but she had to be able to clearly finish the incantation.
Turning from Ron, she tried to say something else. She wanted to express hope for the future or confidence in their success - something appropriate for the occasion. She could find no words, and her strength continued to flee.
"...Forever!" Ron exclaimed with conviction, completing their usual proclamation of love. It was the perfect dedication for their plan and action. She faced the light and, summoning all of her remaining strength, loudly declared: "Buskalma".
Previously she had been filled with an empty headed comfort, a feeling as if she burned from within with a gentle flame. A flame that despite its gentleness was inexorably consuming her. Now she felt as if she had been been doused in ice water. There was pain, unimaginable, pervasive, and inescapable pain. She was at once aware of every nerve in her body as each burned in agony. Where once there was peaceful heat, there was now pain as her soul was ripped from her body. She was overwhelmed by blue light and a roaring noise.
Ti ..
But only for a moment. The blue light faded to red then blackness. There was no pain, no noise, and no light. Time in its every continuing march had paused.
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She lay there, floated there?, breathing heavily. She experimentally moved her limbs. She was surprised. Contrary to her expectations, it seemed as if her body was present. She moved her fingers experimentally over her face and chest. Searching fingers seemed to confirm that she was whole and intact. There was utter darkness. Darkness greater than any magic could produce, and bringing to her mind the experience of a deep cave. She tried reaching out, but there was nothing. Besides herself, there did not seem to be anything to touch. It did not even seem that she was being supported by anything.
"Hello?" She tried to speak, but nothing penetrated the silent darkness.
"Harry!" Hermione was trying to yell now. She was not sure that her cry even reached her own ears. She tried again with more energy, "Harry!"
This time she was careful to note any changes in her environment. Her voice did not penetrate the blackness. This time she she was sure that the sound had not reached her ears.
She felt fear start to gather around the edges of her consciousness. The oppressive darkness and silence pressed against her and threatened to trigger latent claustrophobia.
With great determination, Hermione focused on bolstering her confidence. She would not be beaten by fear or anything else. Fear had been a constant companion throughout her life. Starting as a young child, fear had always been close, a constant pervasive threat. She feared that she might not be good enough, or that she might not be liked, or that she might fail.
No matter how well she did, or accomplished, she always had that small voice telling her that it might not be enough. That feeling had never gone away, but she could manage it now. The strongest and best strategy had been to be the best and do everything correctly.
She would not be trapped. No other witch or wizard had ever understood the magical principles that she had employed as well as she did. She had made no mistakes. Events would unavoidably unfold in unpredictable and adverse ways, but she would not be trapped her, she could not be, her spell would not allow it.
Forcing back the fear, and placing her confidence on her own ability and actions she tried to explore her surroundings once more. There was absolutely nothing. There was nothing supporting her, She could not move from her spot. She felt the encroaching approach of a curious mix of both claustrophobia and agoraphobia.
She would not be defeated. "HARRY!"
This time she could hear her cry softly propagate through the space around her, eerily muted and hollow.
Again "Harry!", but this time with greater force than before. She realized that she had placed more force behind her last cry than would have been possible if she was still in her own body. This time she definitely heard her own voice. The darkness shuddered. A grey mist appeared before her, visible without any illumination.
There had not been any motion in the world. With nothing to support her, she had not even been able to move from her spot. Now Hermione felt herself moving forward. The movement was inexorable, but she did not even try to fight it. She faced the unknown future with determination. The darkness fell away as she left it behind.
HP:SPF
Darkness beyond human comprehension remained. Darkness such as presses upon you and extinguishes any light. It was a void, a place of non-existence. Something dwelt there. Not properly alive, and yet not dead either, but asleep. The creature would have remained asleep until both it and the void was destroyed; however, a light had briefly pressed against the darkness and a voice had shouted against the silence. The echoes still lingered
Harry...Harry
In the darkness something stirred. There was no light. There was nothing to touch or smell. But the interloper's voice continued to echo, disturbing its sleep. Rousing this creature trapped in the empty world.
Harry..Harry
The world had been pierced. An external light had shone briefly here and a path had been opened. Words had been spoken and their echoes would not died.
Harry..Harry
It was no longer a woman's voice that continued the refrain. It was a quiet voice, shaky and uncertain, but in the lower register of a man who had once command great power. The echo would not die, but became steadier and increased in power,
"Harry, ... Harry."
Suddenly the rhythm of the echoing voice was interrupted as it abruptly stopped.
"Harry Potter?" Asked quiet, questioning voice. The echoes had all died. The creature was fully awake as it considered that one question.
It started to remembered. No sleep was deeper than from which it awoke. Confusion reigned, there was no reference point, nothing to suggest where it was, how it got there, or even what it was. Only the single phrase, "Harry Potter."
The name brought fear and dread to the creature. It brought the memory of sickly green light rushing like a storm. It brought the sense of mastery and killing intent.
Memories were unlocked. In the timeless void, the creature remembered who it was. None could restrain it. Its power and mastery had grown beyond the ken of mere mortals, for he had transcended even death.
The entity pushed against the darkness, and strained his growing power against the void.
The dark world began to lighten. A gateway existed that lead from the void. As he fully awakened, the gateway opened, and the creature fled the void.
"Harry Potter…" There voice was no longer weak, nor held any uncertainty. Lord Voldemort was awake.
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..ck
Tick .. Tick ..
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Time continued its constant march. Moment followed moment. Cause followed effect. Things might have turned out differently, but every love and happy moment, every tragedy that could have been only existed as a memory and a silhouette in the dark. Yet fate is determined by the choices made each individual. Fate cannot be denied.
