Opus Horologium
Disclaimer: All elements of Harry Potter (characters, mythical creatures, spells, scenes, etc.) are properties of J.K. Rowling. As much as I wish I could claim it, it belongs to my queen, THE QUEEN.
Author's note: If it isn't obvious enough, italicized means the character's own thinking. Also, this is the first time I ever decided to write a fan fiction so please spare me. Also, the physical description of 12 Grimmauld's place is not mine so don't sue me.
zummm: Thank you, I'll try to. :)
aapril: yeyeye I'm just putting the angst out there like it's candy or something. Well, poisoned candy since it's insanely dramatic.
pawsrule: Thank you :)
freefallingup: IT'S MASON, MASON OKAY. MY GUY COUNTERPART IS MASON, like from WOWP. And..what math?
AllWasWell07: oh deer lord, thank you. :3
aapril: yay criticisms! Oh I was planning Leshy to be some sort of secret experimental mutation of some sort, like an undiscovered breed of creature but I guess I forgot to write that down. He was just a minor character though, so I guess I didn't pay much attention, and herpderp there's a reason why it goes that way (converging narrative), you'll see ;)
beege: thank you, and I do plan too : 3
Chapter 4: The Lone Stranger
"Back so soon, Mr. Potter," a voice called the moment Harry closed the door behind him.
"I was just going out for a walk," Harry explained, trying to keep his eyes away from the young man. He sat languidly on one of the dusty, Victorian chairs, his eyes shut.
"It didn't seem like it." Dumbledore opened his eyes and looked past Harry. "There's no getting out. I know you want to, but there's nowhere to go. Delphi has gotten you."
"Delphi? Isn't that somewhere in India?"
The man chuckled loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. "No. This is Delphi, the unknown center of the Earth." Harry couldn't tell whether he was lying or he was simply deranged.
"I'm going upstairs," Harry said. He didn't seem comfortable seeing Dumbledore this way. It was like invading his privacy, seeing his life before he became the great wizard everyone knew.
"I don't know," Dumbledore mumbled, his words catching Harry in mid-step. "If you're wondering how I got here, I don't know either. I don't know a lot, you see. There was never life before this time, this place, this state. Each day I have to remember what happened the day before; I have to write it down. This place chews up your memory; it feeds on the flesh of your desolation. I'm afraid there's no escape."
His words were flat, but the man's eyes, distant and haunted, say it all. This wasn't heaven or hell or whatever it was they believed the afterlife should be. It was beyond man's imagination. It was Delphi, the unearthed memory, the blurred edges of a faded past, the center of a non-existent universe.
Harry turned to the young man. "Have you forgotten about it…being a wizard? Have you forgotten about magic?"
"Mr. Potter, there's no such thing as magic. It's all in your head."
"But you said…" the man looked at him, his eyes searching Harry's. Of course, Dumbledore never could have said all those things, not in this time line.
"If I knew a great deal about wizardry, don't you think I would have been away from here by now?"
"But…"
Dumbledore turned away from him, his back slouching towards the glass coffee table. Harry got up a couple of flights and tried to peer over the young man's shoulder.
Dumbledore was hunched over a photograph of two young men, one of which Harry recognized was the young man he dwells with now. He stood beside another young man with light hair striking eyes. Dumbledore had looked bright and cheerful then, especially beside the gloomy, foreboding boy cladded in black clothing. The photograph, Harry noticed, didn't move, not like the ones in Hogwarts. They were still photos, like the ones Muggles stored.
I wonder how that feels like, to be frozen in time, to never know what could have been.
Hermione. Every thought of her sent a wrenching drop on his stomach. Images reeled inside his head of the time Hermione first showed him the time turner. She was cut in several places, her hair a tangle of bushy wisdom. But she had been brave, quick witted, just as always. She played with time and danced with danger. It was the first time Harry saw her more than just a 'sister', a companion, a helping hand.
Harry remembered his arms wrapped tightly around her, his eyes searching for hers in the dark. He remembered the beat of her heart, fast like the beating of a hummingbird's wings.
And that was enough for now. He remembered.
The wind howled. The oceans roared. The ground trembled.
Hermione stood on top of a steep rock, her mouth sealed with tape and her hands tied behind her back. She was on top of a tall cliff overlooking an ocean of floating graves. To her side was a dagger and to her left was a key. "Why leave me a key," she thought as she carefully edged towards the dagger. Her knees shook and she tried not to look down. The smell of rotting bodies rose from the bottom of the cliff.
Hermione bent down and felt for the dagger. Her hands scraped the rocky soil. She walked further back and grasped the handle of the dagger with her hand.
Pain shot up her arm from her palms. She felt the sickening crunch of her bones as someone stomped on them with what felt like metal shoes. She tried to scream, but no sound came out of her tightly sealed mouth.
Hot tears began to pour from her eyes. Stop, she wanted to scream.
She fought against the pain, flailing her body around like a rag doll. She lost her balance a couple of times before she was able to free herself. She whipped her head back; her eyes instantly shot wide with shock.
Harry stood in front of her, his hair slicked back, his scar gone. He wore a dark trench coat and sophisticated clothing that Hermione could only compared to sophisticated pre-world war I London apparel.
Where his eyes used to be were two red slits, like that of a snake. A mischievous grin spread across his face.
"Hello, sweetie. Missed me?"
Hermione's eyes fluttered open. "It was only a dream, only a dream," she reminded herself.
She got up and looked around her. The tent was well set-up but empty. The stack of books of the table laid opened, untouched. She had been up all night, going over books, maps, and journals waiting to be filled. She found herself in the middle of the woods, the same ones that they had camped on for months during their search for the horcruxes. It may have been her imagination, but she could still see the traces left of their stay – the ashen ground wherein their fire was built, the deep holes on the soft soil.
Hermione crossed the room and walked outside. The air was crisp, the smell of wet leaves and mildew hanging lightly in the air. She stood underneath the shade of towering trees.
We had been here, in this exact same place. I had held your hand. I had walked with you in the dark. I had listened to you mumble names in your sleep. Hermione began recalling each memory, searching for a clue, any clue at all, to help her find her way. She walked faster, trying to keep the train of thought going. Harry had been thinking of the horcruxes. He had been wrapped by guilt. His parents were dead. Sirius was dead. Dumbledore had just died. He was leaving behind his life – saying goodbye to the Dursleys, to everything about his childhood. He left Hogwarts on his final year, sacrificing his life endlessly to conquer Voldemort. He came here for a mission, and yet he found something else. In this forest, he found his best friend's greatest insecurity. In this forest, he had listened to the names of the people being arrested, murdered, and hunted down like rabid dogs. This forest was one of the many places they stayed in during their search.
Hermione felt the crunch of leaves underneath her feet. He had been here. He had come to this place as refuge. He might be here now. Pain radiated from the soles of her foot. Her arms were sore. She was running now. The trees blurred and her eyes begin to catch the little details. The forest was wide, an endless expanse of fir trees and low shrubs. The soil was soft and moist, covered with fallen leaves. The place had been uninhabited for a long time.
"Harry," she called out. "Harry Potter! Come right out this instant!" She could hear the desperation in her voice. She kept running, her feet carefully dodging the roots that stuck out of the ground. She could no longer see the tent behind her. "Harry."
There was an indistinguishable howl. Hermione whipped her head around, her foot caught in the tangle of roots. She fell facedown with a dull thud. "Ow." She felt her head for any injuries and found none. Her arms were, however, lined with shallow cuts that oozed red. She quickly grabbed her scarf and began fixing her injuries.
She sat there, passing time. From the corner of her eye, she could see the lone wolf that stood on the other side of the forest. Its black fur reminded her of Lupin. The wolf watched her with cold, blue eyes and then walked away. And that's when Hermione wondered just how much that wolf saw.
The sun was high when Hermione decided to stand up; she hasn't been that immobile for a long time. There was always something to do; perhaps a book to read, a mission to complete, a dragon to conquer or homework to finish. As she began walking towards the tent she heard it again- the low howl of the lone wolf in midday.
It felt nice to have company, though I know he could skin me alive in any minute. The thought made her smile; it was something Harry would say.
Darkness bit the night sky and the stars began to appear. Hermione set up a fire in front of the tent and listened to the noises of the forest. Somehow each hoot, each howl, each crackling of leaves and flapping of wings made her feel less isolated.
Along the shadows, the lone wolf stood, his eyes pleading to be recognized. The wolf edged closer to Hermione, his paws barely making a sound as he moved out of the shadows. Hermione gasped at the sight of the wolf, but she didn't seem to back away. She shivered in fear, but she remains firmly seated.
"Luna told me that animals could understand people, whether they're the kind we see in the forest or the type that they keep in Hogwarts," Hermione explained. "She told me that they see everything, that they're just silent because they don't want to attract unlikely attention. They prefer being left alone."
Hermione reached her hand out to the wolf. "Is that what you are? Are you alone too?" In response, the wolf pressed its head gingerly on her palm. "I know this is stupid but have you seen a boy? His name is Harry Potter." Hermione began to chuckle – a soft, lifeless chuckle.
"Oh right, of course, even if you saw him, you wouldn't know that, would you?" The wolf looked up, meeting the girl's sad brown eyes. "I'm kind of desperate right now, you see. I still haven't found him. And honestly, I'm scared for him. I could go on searching but what good is it if he's completely gone."
But you haven't begun piecing the clues together, the wolf's eyes begged. You haven't even seen the man underneath these layers. Hermione petted the top of the wolf's head, thanking him for the company.
"I better go catch up on some sleep," Hermione said as she rose. She looked down on the lone wolf and her eyes sparked with slight recognition. It was like seeing someone from a book and then seeing them in person, the image is grainy, imperfect, but somehow it matches up perfectly. You shouldn't thank me. You shouldn't even accept me. I killed people, people like you. I loathed your kind.
She turned her back and walked inside the tent. But you'll need me. To find him, you only have me.
May 8, 1998
The forest is empty as it used to be – another place to cross off. I would stay here if I could. It's peaceful and beautiful; like a sanctuary where nothing can touch you, hurt you, harm you. But again, it is another day of no clue as to where Harry is. And again, I met something…or rather someone. This will sound crazy but it's almost as if that wolf had been someone I knew. Like Lupin or Sirius. His eyes were familiar, but I don't know from where. They say that happens though, that sometimes, you meet millions of people in your life and you don't remember them until you're all alone and bits and pieces of those people form inside your head and is transmitted to the most human-like presence around. I would want to think it was someone I knew, but there's no use doing that now. I am bound to leave this place by tomorrow. I have 10 more places to travel and tomorrow I take on the valley underneath the bridge.
Hermione woke up to the wolf licking her palm, saliva drooping from its long, slobbery tongue. "I see I have made a new friend," Hermione mumbled as she stumbled out of her make-shift bed.
The wolf trotted excitedly in front of her; it looked like a little puppy anxious to show his master the new tricks he's learned. Hermione smiled inwardly. "Okay, okay, I'm coming."
The wolf led her to the table that was scattered with books. "What is it, boy," she asked. The wolf hopped to the bench in front of the table and began nudging one of Hermione's journals.
Hermione gingerly grabbed the journal from underneath the wolf's palm. Her eyes shot wide. On the bottom of the page was an entry completely different from Hermione's writing. There were ink splotches all over the white blank page, but the words were still legible enough to read.
(This entry is written for future reference; perhaps it would prove useful once the war is over. This entry is for my dear friend, Hermione Granger. I am sorry for violating the privacy your (empty) journal, but this is historical detail and you should feel honored to have firsthand possession of it.)
Voldemort came to him that night, his eyes mad with fury. He was searching for something. He was screaming at the old man. He demanded something the old man refused to give. Voldemort was infuriated. The old man showed no fear; he taunted Voldemort, threw his head back and laughed. "You can never be any better than I am, the man had said. You can never overpower me. I win. I will always win." And with that, Voldemort used the Killing Curse. The man in the cell died – I saw his body fall towards the cold cement. But he was right; Voldemort could never defeat him, for he had known something Voldemort hasn't…for he has long defeated death. He has found the perfect hiding place.
Harry Potter
Hermione looked at the wolf. "How…"
The wolf turned away from her and turned towards the woods.
