Chapter 2: Acceptance
Note/Warning: This chapter contains references/descriptions related to a suicide.
Harry sat back, digesting what Hermione had just said. His thoughts ran wild. Change everything? Time Magic maybe?. That was a disturbing thought. Harry had dealt with many lessons in Time Travel over his years. The first was taught by the very witch sitting in his kitchen. Bad things happen to wizards who mess with time.
A million questions flew through Harry's head. What had she been working on? What was her eventual goal. Would he be ok with the past changing? Did he want it bad enough to give up what he had for it?
Harry snorted What you have? You live in a hellhole of a muggle house, cut off by the wizarding world by your own hand, all of your friends driven off….
Harry looked at Hermione. Well not all your friends. She looked terrified. She must be taking his muffled snort the wrong way. How long had seen been working on this project? Why would she be scared? He had already said he would not report her.
No, Hermione was not worried about him reporting her. She was worried he would reject her. He had seen this before. The point where the burden of secrecy had become so great that being revealed would become a relief. Bloody Hell, how long had seen been living under this? For this project to be weighing on her so, it must have been going on for a long time.
And she thought he might reject her. Foolish, after all they had been through. Harry would follow her into the very gates of hell. She knew that. Still, fear could be irrational at times. First things first, got to snap her out of it.
"Hermione. HERMIONE! It's ok. I'm not going to bite your head off." he said, making sure to keep eye contact. "Will you stop looking like an abused kitten expecting to get kicked?"
Hermione gave him a strange look, then surprisingly, she let out a small giggle. Immediately, she looked horrified, clasping her hands to her face, as if they could somehow re-catch the offending noise. Harry snorted. Well at least she still had her humor, even if it was deeply buried.
"So Time Travel? Have you found a way to boost power to a Time Turner?" Harry asked. He admitted to being curious: A wizard's control over time had always been haphazard. He didn't know the theoretical details, but the department rarely had to deal with temporal issues spanning more than a year.
"Not… quite." Hermione responded. Then she turned the tables "Answer my question first. If you had the power, would you change things?"
Harry decided to treat this like it was a thought experiment. Sitting at the table, he took a few moments to compose his thoughts. Did he wish the past could be different? Yes, oh yes. Everything had fallen apart so spectacularly. How much would he be willing for it to get worse though? He knew what would have happened if Tom had won. What few happy moments he and his friends had would have been denied. And if he had been given the choice to go into the past and change things? Harry doubted he would take that. Reliving those years knowing how things were going to turn out would be a very special form of torture indeed.
He did his best to explain his views to Hermione. It took a while, but they had time, and he knew he would be rewarded with the details of what Hermione was working on. When he had finished, she began to reciprocate.
She had been working on this for years. It started out as an investigation into the magics behind time-travel and artifacts such as the Time Turner. It turns out that temporal theory strictly limited what could be done with time-travel. Try to go too far and fabric of time would refuse to mold around the wound. If the witch attempting this was very lucky all that would be claimed by the failure would be the magics put into the casting. The other likely outcomes started out grim and went downhill from there.
Theoretically the maximum time that could be traveled was a bit over eleven years. However, no wizard had ever been able to get anywhere close to that. Most time travel as practiced today was on the order of hours or days. With good planning and training, a competent witch could travel a couple of months. The world record was held by a wizard from the 1300's, who had successfully traveled a year and a half into his past.
So Hermione had started looking into other rituals that had temporal effects, to see if there was a way around the natural limitations of the time-travel magic. She had….
Wait. Wait wait wait. How long exactly had she working on this? If she had been only trying to go back a few years, Hermione would've hunkered down and found a way to extend the time magic closer to its theoretical maximum. The Brightest Witch of her Age could of easily beaten the previous record.
Warning bells were going off in Harry's head. Warning bells that had been drilled in during his Auror training. Even if Harry hadn't been part of the group that investigated illegal temporal events, he knew Aurors who were and the type of cases they handled. The most likely candidate for attempting to illegally travel back in time had to do with parents whose children had committed suicide.
Harry didn't know how far down the list spouses of suicide victims were, but he can't imagine they were that low. Harry knew what he had to ask, no matter how painful it might be.
"Hermione, when did you start looking into this? Is this about Ron? I know how hard it is to have your family leave you. You know I know. But time travel isn't the solution. You know that" Harry waited, hoping this wasn't all just a hail mary to revive her dead husband.
Hermione paused at that, having to readjust away from her 'explain all the research mode' back into reality. She blinked a few times, then responded. "No no. I mean yes, I started looking into time travel soon after Ron died, it was a way to try to cope. I had to try to be doing something!" She bit her lip, "That isn't what this is anymore. It hasn't been for a long time. I grieved. I moved on."
Hermione was crying. She looked as if she was trying to stop, but the tears just kept flowing. "Besides Harry, that doesn't work anyway. It's… not really described well in the literature, but there is ample evidence to support that trying to change time to stop someone from killing themselves never turns out well."
Hermione let out a small, forced laugh "It's corny and anthropomorphizes death, but the saying 'Death doesn't like to be cheated' has a certain amount of validity. Trying to stop a death generally results in fate snapping back, causing even worse turmoil. There seems to be an exception surrounding events that fall into a stable time loop, but they are an exception, not the rule." Hermione fidgeted, obviously reluctant to bring up the next topic. "It is why the first rule of time travel is not to be seen. If you are not seen, you greatly increase your chances of not interfering with yourself going back into the past. You are much more likely to fall into a stable time loop if you don't interfere with yourself traveling back in time."
Harry gave her a look, and Hermione rewarded him with a stoic gaze. It was really quite disturbing, with the tears she had been crying still on her cheek. "Really Harry, I've accepted Ron's death. That isn't what this is about. This is about everyone. Ron, Neville, Luna, Teddy…. you" Hermione looked as if she was uncertain if she could continue, but when Harry didn't break in, she did. "Harry you know your reaction after Ron passed on was a lot more intense than mine was. This is about more than that."
Harry froze, his mind going back to a past he had blocked out.
It was immediately after the fall of the dark lord. There was many merriments and celebrations, that one Harry Potter desperately tried to avoid. Despite his vehement protests, he was unable escape them completely. An awards ceremony at the Ministry, organized to help shore up support for Minister Shacklebolt's government. A show of support for the remaining Hogwarts professors, who were desperately trying to figure out how to restart the school before the next year. Funerals for friends who were also now war heroes.
Harry wanted nothing more than to retreat to his life, and finally close the book on the story of the boy who lived. Still, he found himself at one event or another, forced to allow the grateful population a chance thank their savior.
Harry was in hell.
At one of the many nameless events, he was approached by an man asking if he could give him a gift. This wasn't unusual, he got half a dozen of them at most of the events. Even the funerals. Harry thought that was odd, but the wizarding world apparently had a thing about giving magical trinkets that one had enchanted oneself as a gesture of goodwill.
Harry was having them sent to Grimmauld Place. Maybe one day he would care to dig through them. Maybe when he was explaining his youthful exploits to his children. This had become routine for him: He held out his hand to accept whatever trinket this man wished to use to thank him for vanquishing the dark lord.
The man wasn't old or haggard by any means, but he did have a scrawny look to him. It took Harry by complete surprise when the man, showing more dexterity than he would've estimated by looking at him, planted his fingers onto Harry's temple. Harry wore a look of complete shock, but didn't feel threatened. The man didn't have his wand out, wasn't of physically intimidating stature, and some of the many faceless ministry men who were tasked with observing him did not seem to be making a ruckus. And then suddenly Harry was somewhere else.
Harry was standing at King's Cross Station. He saw himself, older and with an arm around what looked like an older Ginny Weasley. They seemed to be leading a young boy pushing a trunk toward Platform 9 and ¾. On the other side of Harry was a girl. She didn't have her own trunk, and looked to be a few years younger than the boy.
Then he heard a familiar voice. He turned around and saw Hermione. She looked different, but there was no mistaking it was her. By her side was... Ron. It had to be Ron. He was different, it looked as if his gluttony had caught up with him, for he no longer retained his scrawny boyhood character. But there is no-one else he could be. Between them was a young girl, looking to be the same age as the boy who was by Harry's side. As the two groups met up, they chatted gaily, as if all was right in the world.
And, Harry supposed, it was.
Harry had left the event in tears. While this had horrified the crowd of well-wishers who had been crowding around him, Harry hardly noticed them.
Harry had spent his entire life under the auspices of a prophecy. One that had defined him. It had demanded much of him. He had to send himself, his friends, into harm's way to meet the demands of fate. He was a child of prophecy, and fate demanded that he dance to its tune. Now, however, he was seeing a glimpse of the future that did not demand a trial of him. He had danced to fate's tune long enough, and fate had seen fit to reward him the future he longed for. A family, a place to belong to. Close friends who he didn't have to send into harm's way just because they were his friends. A place in the world that didn't involve being the boy who lived.
Harry never got to thank the old man properly, but in all of the gifts and letters he had received, this one had been the most welcome.
Harry had been in the office when he had heard the news. He couldn't believe it. It couldn't be possible. They all had problems getting over the demons of the war, but they were making progress. Harry couldn't say his relationship with Ginny was all doves and roses, but he was working on it. He knew what was possible, and put his entire being into making that future happen. He made time to see his friends, even when the office was swamped with casework. He was on the way to the vision he had seen.
And then it was all gone in an instant. It had taken the aurors a while to figure out what had happened, they were not familiar with muggle weapons. The wizarding world didn't have a saying similar to 'blowing ones brains out'. Suicides were usually handled by a wizard casting Avada Kedavra on himself or, for those who didn't dabble in the dark arts till the end, a cutting curse followed by the wizard bleeding out.
This wouldn't do for Ron though. He had got his hands on a muggle revolver. No-one quite knew how, but suspicions went toward Author's collection of muggle artifacts. It wasn't brought up in front of him of course, but where else would he of procured such a tool?
It had been after a fight with Hermione. It wasn't a major fight, something silly over nothing. Hermione had left to get some air and cool down. When she returned, she found Ron in their kitchen. He had left a note, but it simply said "I'm sorry, I can't keep doing this anymore"
The suicide shocked the world. One of the hero's of the war, taking his own life? It shouldn't have, of course. Harry knew they were all having dreams. Of the battles. Of those they had killed. But Ron had always seemed immune to it all. He would handle it in his own way, which usually involved becoming overly obstinate about something or another. But the truth was, he was just as affected as any of them. But unlike Harry or Neville or Hermione, he was never able to voice his concerns to others. Even after he and Hermione were married they still never really discussed the war. Hermione would discuss it with Harry or some of the doctors at her office, but never with Ron.
Hermione blamed herself at first, of course. After all, they had just fought. Harry knew he should be beside her, helping her cope. But he couldn't. He was in a pit of raw hatred and agony.
He hated Ronald Weasley. It was stupid, he knew. He had taken enough divination to know the differences between a prophecy and a vision. Prophecies were spoken, vague things that bound to the strings of fate themselves. They were necessarily broad, as to not overly infringe on the free will of the people they describe. And they were always true. Visions however, were seen, not spoken. And they were not bound to the strings of fate. A seer's vision showed a potential future, but did not promise it would come to pass. It is merely one of the likely possibilities that could come out of the current circumstances.
The vision he had seen was just that, a potential future. Harry knew it was never promised, and it was not Ron's fault it did not come to pass. Still, Harry hated Ron for keeping it from happening. Until he died, it was still possible he would see that world from the vision he had so longed for. All the fights, all the political failures, everything he had struggled through... it all meant nothing.
Harry knew he had to pull himself together. To go to Hermione and help her get through this trying time. He also knew he couldn't show himself while he was fuming like this. So Harry disappeared to try to calm the flames. It was not to be however. He had danced to fates tune so long, he deserved his reward. And Ron had made it so it could never happen.
It had taken Harry over a month to rebuild himself to the point he could return to work. The Harry who returned was not the same at the one who had left. He had been permanently changed, the light in his eyes had gone out.
It was ironic really. If he had managed to stay on the path to the vision, he would be sending his children to Hogwarts this fall. Instead, he lived alone in the Dursley house, hoping something, anything could help him escape the his haunted past. Fate had seen fit to retract the reward it had offered him, and so he chose to leave the wizarding world, and its magical prophesies and visions behind.
Hermione saw Harry freeze, retreating into the depths of his memory. You stupid girl, you know better than to bring this up came the thought. Most of the wizarding world thought it was the Longbottom assassination that had caused the withdrawal of the vanquisher of the dark lord from the world of magic. Hermione knew better. Harry's investigation into Neville's death and his inability to solve the case might have been the event that finally pushed him away from the wizarding world, but it wasn't the cause.
In many ways, Harry had been more deeply affected by her husband's death than she had. She had mourned, of course. She had blamed herself for their fight, wondered how he could do this to her, and finally accepted it. Harry had been changed, he was never quite the man she knew before his death.
It wasn't really fair. She was the widow, he should have been there to help her through it. It hadn't mattered though. She knew as soon as she saw him that it was bad. Very bad. Once she had gotten through the worst of it herself she had wanted to be there for him so they could get through it together. She had always hoped he would open up to her about what had happened to him in that month after Ron had died. He never did, and everyone once in awhile he retreated into his head when reminded of it. She could talk to him about the effects of Ronald's suicide on her or her friends, but he couldn't open up about his own response.
She did, however, know the best way to handle it when he fell into this particular memory. Bringing attention to it would just make it worse, for whatever hole in his head he had entered contained a good helping of self-loathing. Instead it was best to simply ignore it and continue on. That would drag Harry back into the present and force him to confront more modern issues.
"Harry, this isn't like that. I went through the denial phase after Ron died, and I looked into time magic like a lot of others. But it doesn't work, and I was smart enough to realize it early. Still, it was an interesting concept, and I kept looking into it, even after…." She paused, looking Harry in the eyes and making sure he was following her. Her voice seemed to be coaxing him out of whatever daze he had fallen into. "I eventually started researching other rituals that had temporal effects but didn't work like the time turner." Hermione bit her lip again. "I eventually found one that… has some interesting effects."
Harry finally spoke. "If it isn't time magic, then why all of the cloak and dagger. Very few magical fields are so heavily regulated. Time Magic, Blood Magic, the Dark Arts … there are only a few fields that cause such concern.
Hermione shook her head "No, it doesn't come under any of the standard dangerous magical areas. But the ministry has apparently made a very special case for this magic. You can't find references for it anywhere in standard texts. Only very old texts that have somehow eluded ministry scrutiny even mention it, and then only in passing."
Harry broke in "Then it shouldn't be a big deal. Beyond the banned arts, the ministry usually takes a long leash on exploration of other magical areas. They might censor items they find dangerous, or discourage general research, but as long as no-one is harmed they take a hands-off approach." Harry knew there was more to this than it seemed. The look Hermione gave him all but confirmed it.
Hermione took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Harry, they consider this on the same level as large-scale involuntary blood magic." she winced "They consider it potentially genocidal"
Harry looked like he was having a hard time digesting that. Suddenly he did something completely unexpected.
Harry laughed.
And not just a small chuckle. A deep, penetrating laughter.
"Harry Potter, what are you laughing at!" Hermione huffed. "Nothing about this is funny"
"It's just that…. the concept of Hermione, queen champion of lost causes, intentionally doing anything genocidal, or even potentially genocidal, is ridiculous" Harry responded, reeling in his laughter. Harry expected a smile to crack across Hermione's lips at that. Instead, she just looked tired.
"You have no idea how close I have come" Hermione whispered.
Harry's mirth was suddenly gone. Hermione sighed, and decided to continue instead of forcing him to ask the obvious follow up questions. "It's been hard Harry. The collapse of the Shacklebolt reforms and the Longbottom assassination were just the beginning. Luna fled the country because of that damned seer registration act. Various marriage and family bonding acts relating to muggleborns have almost passed…."
"Wait, that close?" Harry cut in. He knew she was having a rough time in politics, but he had figured it has only been delays in the inevitable Granger reformations that were coming. He hadn't realized how close they they were coming to backsliding. "What about our allies? Would they have really supported such actions against war heros"
A nasty scowl spread over Hermione's face. It could have done Professor Snape justice. "Our 'allies' are the ones pushing for these laws Harry!" She allowed a moment for the flash of shock to appear then fade from Harry's face. She had kept him up to date on her work in the ministry, but it seems he hadn't realized the full ramifications of those events. "Most of them were never really friendly to begin with. Even during the war. Sure, they were against Tom. But it was naive to assume that meant they wanted reform. The true reformers were targeted without mercy during the last two blood wars, there are very few of them left. Most of our 'friends' are supporters of the wizarding family way of thinking. They don't want any sneaky muggle ideas creeping." She signed "Most of the hard-core supporters of blood purity are gone too, but the concept of human wizarding blood, and its superiority, has never been stronger".
Hermione could see the Harry was having a problem grasping how it was different from the blood supremacists. She should have spent more time informing him on the infighting. Harry rarely got interested in her political lectures unless it was related to one of the few remaining pure-blood purists left in politics. "Harry, the last bonding act wasn't about putting muggleborn in their place, it was about forcing everyone to fit into the patriarchal, feudal system that exists. It would have required all muggleborns to essentially be adopted by a nobel house, giving them a head of house to make decisions for them. Not only do they not mind if half-breeds are part of wizarding families, they want to enforce it. Bring the magical creatures under the control they know. As long as they restrict the families to be headed by wizards who have grown up in the wizarding world and not raised in an external culture, whether muggle or magical creature, they are satisfied. They aren't blood purists, but they don't want to modernize either."
"That bill failed by a single vote. The only reason it didn't pass was because some of the old blood supremacists who didn't want to have to dilute their blood by letting muggleborns in. I've been holding the reform movement together by the narrowest margin, and most of the wizards winning to consider reform are not willing to state so publicly." Hermione had to hold back tears "I'm so alone Harry. All of our friends are dead or have left. The new ones I made are friends of convenience. Sure, they are not going to try to catch me in the law. I'm a war hero after all. Same is true for Luna. But they would of gone after her kids if she stayed Harry."
Hermione could see Harry wanted to comfort her. Let her know that she had him. The sentiments died on his lips. They both knew it was untrue. He had left. Harry wasn't the sort to try to comfort her with falsities.
"I've considered the… alternative means at change." Hermione winced. "Tearing it all down and building something new. I'm one of only three muggle-born in the ministry Harry. That is lower than the level during the blood war. There are a lot of discontented people out there Harry, they just don't hold any of the reigns of power. I could of been able to do it you know. Well, I might of needed some help"
She saw Harry glow at the assumption that he would be behind her if she tried something so crazy. She always knew he would. If she called, he would have come. Of course, she would have consulted with him before taking such rash action. That was how their relationship worked.
"I couldn't do it. It would have been bloody Harry. It'd be our own style French revolution. It is the only way it would work. There is just too much ingrained into the existing system, you would have to burn it down and start again." Hermione looked tormented once again. "And there are so few wizards of age. It was only recently we really started to see regular class levels coming out of Hogwarts." she paused "It would of been the kids fighting Harry. There is no other possibility. There just isn't enough seniority left for it to be hidden from them. It would be worse than the blood wars." Shuttering, she continued "Just thinking about it conjures up memories of the Battle of Hogwarts. It would be kids against parents. The families vs everyone. We'd probably see multiple factions".
In a soft voice "I just couldn't do it Harry. I just couldn't". And then "So I worked on my side project. It isn't time travel: the perils there are just too high. So I found an alternative".
Hermione bent over to take out a notebook. The notebook was packed, what few pages Harry could see were covered with small, neat research notes. Inserts had been placed every couple pages, photo's of books or locations with detailed notes written on them. She placed it in front of him, as if it would answer all of his questions.
"What is that Hermione?" he asked. Harry was sure he would be able to understand what was written in the notebook. If he was given a year. Or two. Or maybe a team of research assistants.
"Details on a ritual I found. It isn't time travel exactly, and thus is able to get around a lot of the restrictions. It is umm. I guess you could call it answering a call to the past." Harry was obviously not any more enlightened, so she tried again. "Look, you know how time travel works right? Someone from one point in time initiates an event somewhere back in the timestream. That is what makes is so volatile. The initiation point is far away from where changes were being made."
"So if it was initiated from the past, you could avoid the problems?" Harry was beginning to comprehend. "But if you invented a ceremony that requires someone from the past to initiate it, how does that help? You might be able to call the future, but isn't the past closed off to us?"
The smile on Hermione's face was downright terrifying. "That is the brilliant part Harry. This is not a new ceremony. It has been around for a long time. The ministry has done their best to remove all mention of it, but the thrice-damned wizard family government structure means they missed a lot of them. There has to be some scion of an ancient and powerful house who tried to call the future. All we have to do is answer him". The smile faded from her face "Well, and figure out how to get around the safety restrictions on the original ceremony that keep the summoned called from doing something against the intentions of the summoner". She pointed to a section at the back of the notebook "Those are my thoughts on the matter. It'll help if the ceremony was performed by someone with a low-level of skill. It will allow us to overpower their will and attempt to make our own changes in the past."
After a moment, Harry nodded and got up. He turned to his kitchen and began to brew a pot of tea. Hermione sat quietly, she could basically see the gears turning in his head. After he had finished his task, he returned to the table, replacing the empty cocoa cups with a fresh cup of tea.
The chatted about the possibility of this spell. The ritual for calling the future was undetectable, and known by several old wizarding families. Both sides of the ritual could put restrictions on the other side. It was impossible to know if there were any matched for your criteria without trying it first.
Unfortunately, the ritual to respond was not undetectable. Hermione didn't know exactly what kind of response the ministry would send, but it was sure to be unpleasant. Rationally, it was an overreaction. Either they existed as a projection cast by the spell in the past, or they did not. Logic was never one of the strong suits of wizardingkind, and instead it was treated as if casting the ritual somehow wiped out the validity of their existence. At any rate, her life as she knew it would be over. This would burn all remaining bridges she had left. If she failed in her attempt, she would be arrested and thrown in jail.
But if she succeeded, it wouldn't matter. She could fix things. Make it better. She had to believe she could do this. It was the only thing holding back the crushing despair that surrounded her.
At the end of this discussion, Harry had gone silent. Then, finally, he said two words, with a confidence she had not heard from him in ages.
"I'm in."
I have thick skin, please send any problems you see my way. I will fix them!
