Chapter Two - Tripping Slantwise
See that sparrow 'way down low, better not ask him why,
He's down here wondering where to go, see how the sparrow flies.
See that eagle 'way up there, better not ask him why,
Got no worry, got no care, see how the sparrow flies.
- Cats Laughing, "See How The Sparrow Flies"
And they were no longer in Westchester anymore. They all fell into a defensive circle reflexively, blinking their eyes at the hazy light filtering down from the clouds above.
"There. London," Illyana smiled to her passengers, flashing the dimples in her cheeks. "Told you I could do it."
"This doesn't look like any part I remember," Kitty remarked with a slight frown.
"'Sa big place, London," the blond said with a slight hiccup, "I bet, I bet there's loads 'a places you haven' been!"
"Not so many, I think, where the people dress quite so – outlandishly."
"Wha'choo talkin' 'bout, Peter?" giggled the girl. She swayed gently in place as she looked around, nearly losing her balance. All around them were people clad in costumes, with robes featured predominantly. Livestock and exotic animals shared the busy cobblestone street.
"Ha ha," Rachel snarled, "When did you have time to set up the Danger Room – when you were slipping out to get the vodka?" She looked up, and said in a clear voice, "Voice override - end simulation."
Illyana laughed, "'Snot the Danger Room"
Crossing her arms, Rachel waited. When she realized the scenery wasn't changing, she frowned, "Fine, I'll shut it down telekinetically." Her brow furrowed, and her eyes went blank, glowing faintly in the soft light peeking down the street. "OK, so it's not the Danger Room. What did you do, Illyana – drop us in the middle of some renaissance faire?" Rachel said, her temper flaring.
"'Snot a ren faire either. I said we're in London, didn' I?"
Kitty peered more closely at the passersby. "Then either we've landed on set among the extras for another movie – or a Harry Potter convention." Her eyes flickered down, then widened. "But there's nary a camera or key grip to be found, and you'd think a convention would have demographics that would skew a tad younger. And neither would explain that."
They all followed her finger to a newspaper lying on the street. Realization dawned as they looked at one another. They'd seen that headline before- "Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup". But the shocking part was the black and white picture that accompanied the text, of a skull against the night sky with some sort of snake coming out of its open mouth.
The snake was moving.
They fell silent, oblivious to the stares of the pedestrians.
"OK, so I was off a li'l bit," Illyana said, her face serious, "But you have to admit, Diagon Alley is in London."
They all laughed awkwardly at the joke, except for Rachel, who was still irritated with the inebriated girl. "So, fine, you found this place. Now remind me again why we aren't back at the Institute?"
"I don't know if we want her teleporting again, Ray," Kitty said, chewing her bottom lip in thought. "At least, not until we're sure where we are."
"She just said it, didn't she? Somewhere in London."
"It's just that Diagon Alley may be subdimensional. It would be the easiest way to hide it, anyway. And even that's assuming she didn't toss us through some 'Well of Time' alternative universe accidentally." She paused, recalling the time she and Kurt were playing around with the Danger Room, and she'd inadvertently sent him traipsing through a myriad of fantastic, yet deadly, worlds. "That's actually the most likely scenario, isn't it? It's got to be more probable than Harry Potter existing in the real world."
Piotr was frowning - he'd pulled his cell phone from his front pocket, but the display had been unresponsive. "No signal," he commented. "And the emergency link is dead, also."
"Don't tell me we're trapped inside a damn kid's book," growled Rachel, not noticing that her elevated tone had started to attract a crowd.
"Hem-hem!" An insistent cough finally got her attention.
"Yes?" she demanded, testily.
"I certainly wouldn't want to seem impolite in asking, but are you Muggles?" asked a short, squat woman in a shockingly pink cardigan sweater,
"Are we what?"
*Ray, she's asking if we're non-magical – normal humans. Let me handle this*, Kitty thought at her. "Us? Muggles?" she forced a laugh, "Oh dear me, no! I'm sorry, we're Americans, we've just never been to England before, and our friends gave us this location as an Apparation point."
The woman frowned, pursing her lips disapprovingly. "Yanks, you say? I suppose that could explain things, then." She started to walk away, but then stopped, staring at Nightcrawler. "And, dare I ask, what manner of creature is that?"
"Creature? Oh, Kurt? Just a prank gone wrong." The young woman spoke quickly, "That's the last time he'll mix Polyjuice Potion with Flingleberry Juice, isn't that right?"
"Yes. Definitely," the blue furred mutant said in agreement. He'd affected an American accent.
Kitty pressed on, "We figured we'd stop at St. Mungo's while we're here, I mean, it's been a couple days now, and we hear that they've got much better healers than we have in the States."
That seemed to mollify the woman, and she sniffed a bit and bade them good day, walking off hurriedly.
"Is she gone?" Kitty asked her friends.
Piotr glanced quickly, "Not yet. She is talking to two others, a man and a woman, both in black robes with some sort of official looking insignia. There, she just went into a building."
"I don't think she believed me," she said, frowning, "and we're sticking out like Morlocks at a Purity meeting here. We need to duck down an alley, or find the Cauldron and get into London proper. There has to be some way we can see what Universe we've been dropped in." She turned to Rachel, "Are you reading anything off her?"
The redhead shrugged, "I wasn't trying anything beyond an immediate surface scan. She had pretty good shields, so I didn't want to push too hard." She concentrated, resting her eyes on the doorway the man had entered. "I can't find her at all now. Either she's scrambling, somehow, or she's just vanished."
Kitty nodded, "We have to assume she intends to investigate."
"Why?"
"Because," she replied, "that was Dolores Jane Umbridge. Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and royal minder of everyone else's business." She shook her head, "Gotta admit – Rowling nailed it. She's toad enough to be old Mort Toynbee's twin sister."
Piotr nodded, still watching the building. "Katya, I saw a green flash through the window. Could that be their transport system?"
"Hey big brother, you were paying attention t' those movies after all!" Illyana laughed. "An' here I thought you were jus' humoring us." She impulsively hugged him. "I'm so proud of you!"
Kitty was considering her fiancé's comment. She flagged down one of the gawkers, a pimply young man in a fuchsia robe. "Excuse me, sir? We just got in from America, and I'm afraid our friends are playing a bit of a trick on us. Could you direct us to a place called the Leaky Cauldron?"
The man's eyes widened, then narrowed with suspicion. Then he mumbled something vaguely unintelligible before hurrying off down the street.
"Thanks!" Kitty said, forcing some cheer into her voice. She thought at Rachel, *Did you get that*?
*Yes. It's just down on the left. But I think we need to get going - I just saw four more flashes in that building Pete was talking about. I think the toad just went for reinforcements.*
"My friends, I think it would be best if we moved along as quickly as possible," said Piotr, watching the robed figures come out of the building.
"Hey, it's not our fault that you and Fuzzy elf stick out like a coupla really big and really blue sore thumbs, big brother," laughed Illyana, "Maybe you two shoulda been shorter an'... an'... less blue!"
"Not helping, 'Yana," said Kitty, making her way through the crowd as rapidly nonchalant as she could. "Rache, you got a fix on the 'Cauldron?"
"Second alley on the left. But based on the local's thoughts, we won't be able to get through without a wand."
Illyana cracked her knuckles, "Leave the magic to me." She paused, frowning, "D'ya think I should change my code name, Kitty? Magik is sooooo lame."
"Really not helping, 'Yana." Kitty spoke, frustration with her friend evident. "I think I'll get us through the wall, thanks.
"Everyone hold hands!" Kitty ordered even as she picked up the pace. She felt the familiar comfort of Peter's larger hand enclose her right hand, and Kurt's three fingers grasped her left. Without looking back, she knew that Rachel had taken Nightcrawler's other hand and that Illyana had been scooped up by her brother.
"You there!" came a voice at the other end of the alley, "Stop, in the name of the Ministry!"
Ten feet from the wall, the group decided to make a break for it. Kitty focused on her phasing talent as she reached the bricks that marked the exit to the real - Muggle, she thought - world, grimacing as she pushed herself through the magic barrier.
Colossus felt Katya's fingers slip from his grasp a split second before hitting the wall, and barely managed to twist his body to shield his sister from the impact. Nightcrawler and Rachel were luckier - the German mutant's reflexes permitted him enough time to 'port himself and his passenger back a few paces in a burst of foul smelling brimstone and sulfur.
"What happened?" Kurt asked.
"Kitty lost contact - the wall must've disrupted her connection to us." Rachel answered, "You know, I really hate magic."
"Well, maybe Magik doesn't like you so much either!" Illyana said, her face flushed with seeming anger.
Rachel frowned. Illyana was for all practical purposes invisible to her telepathy, so she couldn't be sure how much of the comment was sarcasm and how much reflected the cold détente that existed between them. Seeing her grimace, the blond Russian girl gave a little laugh and stuck her tongue out.
Their pursuers were yelling to one another to beware. Kurt's teleport - and the resultant stench - had them wary, and they stood at the end of the alley, wands at the ready. A woman's voice called out, through the sleeve of her robe, "Stunners on my mark!"
"One! "
The X-men glanced at one another, and nodded. Kurt took their hands as Rachel's free hand grasped a ball of pure psionic force, while Peter prepared to armor up, hoping his organic steel would offer some degree of protection.
"Two!"
The bricks behind them suddenly began moving, grinding their way into the portal to London outside.
"Quick, before they escape, three! Stupefy!"
"PROTEGO MAXIMO!"
Looking up at the battlements, Peter's mind drifted off into a reverie, thinking of another castle, years ago, one without all this Muggle steel and lights. Wormtail, his master had called him. He recalled how he'd been given the name, when he'd first successfully managed the spell to become an Animagus and was able to shapeshift into the form of an animal. Only unlike his companions, who'd become a stag and large dog, he'd become a rat. Oh, how Sirius had tormented him over that, mocking the hairless tail. Even though he'd been able to do things in that smaller form that the others could not, such as deactivating the Whomping Willow and exploring the nooks and crannies of Hogwarts to discover secret passages to add to their map, even with all of that, he was still, always, Wormtail. He was insulted, belittled, treated as an errand boy. In return for the abuse, he was protected from other bullies, such as Snape's friends in Slytherin.
But James, Sirius and Remus could not protect him from Voldemort. The best and brightest they may have been, particularly when pretty Lily Evans had joined them, but they were just students. They weren't soldiers; it was foolish to pretend that they were, to believe that Dumbledore could really stand against the Dark Lord when so many others were falling. He'd joined the Order of the Phoenix, tagging along behind his "friends". But he'd known in his heart that it was a lost cause, and when Sirius had the idea for Peter to be the Secret Keeper, he knew that he finally had a bargaining chip with which he could make a deal to survive the war. And he kept telling himself that they only had themselves to blame.
As he made his way across the stone bridge, Peter wondered just how he was to signal the inhabitants to open the massive gate. It loomed in front of them, an impenetrable obstacle that no Alohamora spell could ever unlock. He cringed at the thought of standing there in front, the Muggle guards snickering at him from their positions. That would not go well with his Master, of course, who would then start killing every one of them. And it would serve them right, to laugh at Wizards like that. But while the Dark Lord seemed well-protected from death, poor Peter Pettigrew was not, and would certainly perish in the ensuing battle. He steeled himself and continued forward.
His fears were unfounded, for as they approached, the doors began to open of their own accord, revealing an attractive young woman in a grey business suit.
"Lord Voldemort, Master Pettigrew, my name is Miruna Eminescu. Please allow me to welcome you to Castle Doom. If you will allow me, I will escort you to our throne room for audience with our most benevolent leader, Dr. Victor von Doom."
Peter felt the Dark Lord tense at the mention of his name, and knew if he'd had his wand, the woman would be dead for her effrontery.
He followed the woman, listening absently as she spoke glowingly of her homeland and the magnificent works undertaken by its beloved leader. If she was in any way disturbed by the Dark Lord's appearance, there was no sign of it, nor any hint of the revulsion Pettigrew was so accustomed to from witches. She even smiled at him, and even if it were just out of courtesy he couldn't recall the last time that had happened. He regarded her as she pointed out a large canvas – unmoving, in the Muggle way – and he found himself hoping that she would not offend his Master again. To do so would result in her immediate demise in a sickening flash of green light - if she were fortunate. It would not be out of character for the Dark Lord to choose the Cruciatus Curse, to reduce her to gibbering insanity through repeated application of the torture spell.
She led them on, to a set of ornately carved and bejeweled double doors, guarded on each side by two gleaming suits of armor. She bowed before the center of the doors and announced herself, seemingly to no one at all. The doors opened, again as if by magic, and Peter wondered if this Muggle king were somehow more than he appeared. She beckoned for them to follow.
The hall they entered was enormous, with vaulted ceilings towering over them. Peter glanced around nervously, trying to keep from gawking. It was easily as large as the dining hall at Hogwarts, but whereas that room would always be filled with laughing children in his memory, this one was almost completely empty of people.
Except for him.
He was sitting on a throne on a raised dais at the far end of the room, clad in a green tunic and cloak over steel grey armor with riveted mask, and could only be the ruler of this place. And somehow, instead of being dwarfed by the room's immensity, his presence seemed to swell to fill its environs.
"My Lord," Ms. Eminescu said with a deep bow, "May I present your guests, Lord Vol-"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" The Dark Lord had managed to grasp his wand, and the young woman's body slumped to the floor, lifeless. Peter felt a pang, but had served his master for a long time and had known the inevitable result of the young woman's lack of deference.
Peter's eyes darted from the corpse to the figure on the throne. He also glanced around the room and noted that what he'd taken to be statues lining the walls seemed now to be more suits of armor, and the weapons they held did not look ceremonial.
The Muggle king's face was unreadable behind the mask. Then he spoke, a booming voice that filled the room. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, called 'Lord Voldemort' by those who dare. Peter Pettigrew, also known as 'Wormtail'. I bid you welcome to Latveria."
Again Peter felt his master tense with anger, at the sheer audacity of this man to use his forbidden Muggle name in light of what had happened to his servant. The armored men had moved to ready their weapons. He spoke, "We thank you for your hospitality, your Majesty." Thinking fast, he knew the longer they remained, the greater the chance that the Dark Lord would escalate the situation into one that would get him killed. "We know that your time is valuable, and we do not wish to intrude upon it."
"Indeed," the mask intoned. "I have summoned you here to examine this artifact a team of my archaeologists excavated from the southwest border." He pressed a button on the arm of his throne, causing a part of the floor to open with a whirr. From the opening rose a large stone cauldron on a platform, and it hummed with power that Peter felt from across the room. "I am well skilled in both magic and technology, but this eludes even my talents. My research indicates that it may come from your brand of Wizardry."
The Dark Lord's early rage had melted away, replaced with a sense of expectant glee.
"Yes," he hissed. "The Cauldron of Hecate. Long have I searched for this precious artifact. Wormtail, take me to it."
The man on the throne stood, "What is its aspect? Its power? Tell me!" His voice, like his master's, was one that was accustomed to being obeyed instantly.
"Ignore him, Wormtail, I must touch it, verify it is the one." More afraid of his master, the rat-faced man leapt forward, reaching forward with the pack containing the Dark Lord. The armored men leveled their Muggle weapons at him and he bent low.
"Enough!" shouted von Doom. "You have abused my hospitality, you have murdered my subjects. You will surrender now."
The creature in his arms whispered to Peter. "Turn me to face this Muggle king, Wormtail. I will give him my response."
Peter turned, slowly. The king was standing, his cloak billowing behind him. Even with his expressionless mask, his fury was palpable.
"Avada kedavra!" spoke the Dark Lord, and the jet of green hit the Muggle king directly in his chest.
He did not fall.
"Impossible!" cried his master. "No man can stop the Killing Curse!"
Peter, though, was moving, racing back to the cauldron. He formed the image of the forest in Albania in his mind, and lunged for the stone surface. "Portus!" he cried.
Dr. Doom watched the two vanish in a flash and scowled. He'd monitored the effects of the spell on his Doombot, and noted that it most certainly would have slain him, had he faced it. He'd hoped for more information, and had lost a valuable aide. He shrugged. The data would be analyzed, and he was certain he would master this new magic in time.
He was, after all, Victor von Doom.
The X-men dropped low into defensive crouches, clutching their heads against the sound.
The voice had to have been magically enhanced - it reverberated through all their skulls like standing next to the speakers at a rock concert. There was a dazzling display as red flashes impacted and rebounded off the shield protecting them. A wizard stood in the newly opened wall, his wand held loosely at his side in sharp contrast to the ferocity of the spell he'd just cast. Behind him, looking somewhat pale but offering a reassuring smile, was Kitty.
"Ah good, just in time I see. Forgive my interference in the pursuit of your duties as an Auror, my dear Atalanta, but I believe the Minister shall be glad to not have to deal with an International Incident, or, to be precise, yet another International Incident, with consideration of the happenings after yesterday's Quidditch World Cup."
"Professor Dumbledore," the lead Auror straightened her own robes, nonplussed, "we received a complaint about Muggles in Diagon Alley accompanied by an unknown Magical Creature of some sort. After yesterday's... happenings, we felt it our duty to respond as quickly as possible in case more Death Eaters had decided on an encore."
"And respond you have, and promptly too. Full marks, Auror Lilywhite, I'm quite sure Alastor would be proud of your vigilance." He smiled warmly, then continued, "Alas, this is one of those unfortunate misunderstandings. These Americans are guests of mine, so that I might have a chance to research their colleague's enchantment. A quite fascinating case, in fact, and one that I've been eager to delve into. When his Potions Master owled me, soliciting my advice, I was honored - we have such little communication with our American cousins, you know, that - "
"Professor - Professor!" Auror Lilywhite tried to get his attention. "Please, Professor Dumbledore, we don't need the details. May I take it that you are willing to vouch for these individuals, on your oath?"
Dumbledore looked a bit startled at her directness, then spoke clearly, "As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, yes, I will vouch for them. I have, indeed, taken the liberty of procuring them rooms in the Cauldron, so if you have no further questions, I'm sure they are fatigued from their travels and would like to get some rest."
"Then I will release them into your care." The auror said as she slipped her wand inside her robes.
The X-men watched the Aurors depart with a series of popping sounds
"Thank you, Professor," began a grateful Kitty, only to be silenced with a single raised finger.
"In good time, Miss Pryde," the elderly man said, "Right now it is best we retire to a less exposed arena. I find the morning insect population to be rather vexing."
With a sweep of his robes, he led them back through the opening in the wall at a brisk pace.
*Hey Kitty!* came Rachel's mindspeak, *Was that some sort of joke? There's, what, three flies and a beetle around here? Am I missing some sort of invisible, magical mosquito or something?*
Kitty pursed her lips, eyes narrowing in suspicion at a large beetle with two odd circles around its antennae. *I have a suspicion that this Wizard isn't as White as he'd like us to believe.
*What do you mean?*
*Working on a theory, let you know when I got something concrete.*
The pair had to hurry to catch up with their teammates as they entered the door to the Leaky Cauldron. Dumbledore was talking quietly with Tom, the proprietor. The man nodded in agreement to whatever the Headmaster was saying, and jerked a thumb in the direction of the staircase. Dumbledore gathered his robes around him and headed in that direction, beckoning to them to follow him with a long, crooked finger.
He strode deliberately down the hallway and stopped before a door, tapping it with his wand. It opened obligingly, and he entered. Candles burst into life as they gathered inside.
"As I was saying, Professor," began Kitty, "It's such an honor to meet y-"
"Whoever you are," the old man interrupted, his voice quiet but with a sternness that surprised them, "I would ask you to remove yourselves from this place forthwith. Your presence is highly unwelcome."
"I'm sorry, Professor," said Kitty, "It was purely an accident - we were just coming to visit friends in London when we - "
"Intentionality notwithstanding," he interrupted her, "I find it most inauspicious for five mutants to intrude on this place at this particular moment - particularly mutants with foreknowledge of a world that we have taken great precautions to hide from those to which they are not connected. I hope you will allow me to satisfy my curiosity about the circumstances surrounding your arrival, after which it would behoove us all if you were to remove yourselves as quickly as possible."
"Great precautions," scoffed Rachel, "There's a laugh. Seven books and movies, you can't have a conversation without getting hit with a joke or reference to Harry Freaking Potter. You'd be more anonymous if you hired Donald Trump to put his next casino on the grounds of Hogwarts."
Kitty pursed her lips, "I don't know, Ray. There's something to refuge in audacity - assuming this isn't a parallel dimension, of course."
"I am sure I am missing out on a riveting and fascinating story," Dumbledore said, his eyes growing momentarily distant. He scratched his long nose absently, then continued, "But again, I must insist that you leave immediately, by whatever means brought you here."
"Oh, Al, don't be such a Dumblebore…" sniggered Illyana, "I'll get the troops out an' back to 'Merica lickesply… spitelky… in a flash."
"There is no way you're taking us anywhere, missy," scolded Kitty, "It's bad enough you drunk 'ported us here, there's no telling where we'd end up – or when."
"The girl's intoxication need not be a problem, particularly if it will get you out of my beard and back to your own world."
The professor snapped his fingers, and Illyana's eyes grew wide and her vague smile vanished. "Oh my god!" she cried, a blush rapidly overtaking her complexion. "I can't believe I did that! I'm so sorry!"
"Yes, very good," said Dumbledore, his tone insistent, "Now if you would be on your way."
"Right," answered the blond, clearly eager to remove herself from the embarrassment. "Everyone, gather around. It's time to go home."
Kitty started to say something to the wizard in front of her, but the scowl on his face made her bite her tongue. "Maybe some other day, when your war is over…" she muttered. "OK, 'Yana, make like Dorothy Gale and click your ruby slippers."
The glowing disc surrounded them all, and they vanished.
The aged wizard watched them disappear with a slight frown, stroking idly at his long beard. As with most mysteries, he was intensely curious about the five individuals who had just departed, but their presence at such a critical juncture might jeopardize everything for which he'd planned.
There was a tapping on the window. An owl, its round face peeking in through the pane, looked up at him expectantly. He sighed, opened the window and retrieved the message from the band on its leg. He fumbled in his robe for a treat for the bird, and sent it off.
He read the missive twice. It was a short letter from Madame Maxine, and it troubled him. He pulled a slender volume from his robe. The title - Talecrafting: A Dissertation On the Application of the Thaumaturgick Power of Narrative Causality in a Multiversal Setting - took up the largest portion of the front cover, faded silver letters on a cloth binding. He paged through the book, eyes stopping at the frequent annotations made in the margins.
What he found – or rather, did not find – troubled him more. He let out a mild curse.
"Spit and hades!"
He looked up, as the voice and flash of light revealed that the youngsters had returned, and unless he mistook the situation, not entirely willingly. They all showed signs of recent violence, with the red headed girl glowing with power, and the taller man having somehow turned himself to metal.
"Sorry, Professor," began Illyana, "I don't know what happened. I teleport through the dimension of Limbo, but it-," she paused, worry plain on her face, "it was wrong. We were attacked…"
The blond girl was sheathed in silver armor and held a glowing sword, and all of them had formed a defensive circle.
"Well, that sucked," spoke the redhead, disgustedly. "Way to go, Illyana... remind me again why we rescued you from Limbo?"
The metal skinned man turned on her, his face contorted with anger, but the other man, the one covered with blue fur laid a hand on his arm, interceding. "That was unkind, Rachel."
Rachel flushed at his words, and stared determinedly at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.
Dumbledore assessed the group calmly, his earlier irritation now absent from his face. "It appears that I may have been somewhat rash in my casual dismissal of you before, so I find it fortuitous that you have returned, for whatever reason."
He gripped a scroll in his hand, and went on, "It appears that I have great need of your assistance, and so I ask for it, most humbly."
"I'm not sure I understand, Professor," Kurt said, "'as it seems that you're asking us to interfere with the history of your people. This is against the laws of your people, ja?"
"I have received some disturbing information that leads me to believe that other people of a non-Wizarding persuasion are making their presence felt in our world. If I am reading the signs and portents correctly, these may be persons of Power, such as yourselves, and possibly ones that you are familiar with. For all our magic, I know that should war break out between Muggles and Wizards, it will go badly for us. It can only be worse if an alliance is formed between Dark Wizards and some of your adversaries."
Kurt thought on it, "But for us to become involved might change the way certain… destinies unfold. Wouldn't it be better if we were to just try to eliminate those villains that would normally fall under our purview?"
"I don't know that Dumbledore here is all that concerned with preserving the timeline, fuzzy elf," Illyana said. "Wasn't it last year - for him, anyway - that you had Hermione and Harry save Sirius?"
"Stable time loop," commented Kitty, absently. "Nothing in the book to indicate Buckbeak was truly killed, Harry saw himself cast the Patronus... I guess our intervention could be the same, if we stayed behind the scenes. If we can avoid contradicting the text as written, then we might be able to pull it off."
"But that means-"
"I know, Illyana, I don't like it either, but preventing his death definitely alters the timeline..."
Rachel cut in, "You say that like it's a bad thing..."
"Isn't it? If things are supposed to happen, won't we screw up the future by blundering about?" Kitty chose her words carefully, "The events at the end of the school year are critical for the story to play out correctly…"
Dumbledore spoke, quietly, "I don't expect that bickering amongst ourselves will reach any sort of satisfactory resolution to our mutual problems. If we might concentrate more fully on the problem at hand…"
"Seriously, Professor?" Kitty asked, "I'm a huge fan, but I think this is extremely important. We know how your story goes. We've read it – some of us, anyway – and we've seen the movies. Maybe you don't think that's a big deal, but I do."
He looked at her, his eyes glazing over. "I do not."
"But how can you say that?"
Rachel was staring intently at Dumbledore. "Kitty," she said, "He didn't hear a word you just said."
"What?" Kitty said in disbelief.