Summer, Part 4

Summer, Part 4

By Locke

Authors Note: I'm aware this may be controversial, but I'm trying to make this series a little different and I really want to know what you think, so please review it, even if it is to flame wildly! As ever, it's best to read the earlier parts first, and enjoy!

Through the Looking Glass:

Professor Albus Dumbledore sat at his rickety wooden desk, a pen clutched between two gnarled, wrinkled fingers. He sighed wearily as his gaze wavered over the mountains of paperwork, building up in long, loping rows and spilling over the clutter of the desk.

He blinked as he scanned the first sheet. A tear would have seeped from his eye and slid down his cheek, if he were not already hollow, already dried out.

The curtains over the steamed glass window shivered in a sudden breeze. Dumbledore felt a chill run down his spine as he watched the red material quiver and then straighten.

Hermione wheeled around in amazement.

Compassion touched her lightly on the arm. 'Be still. Observe. Much has changed.'

'This is – this is Dumbledore's office. We're in Hogwarts!' Her face lit up with delight.

'Take a closer look. Yes, this is the place you remember as Hogwarts. But you must remember that in this reality, events have taken a turn for the worse.'

Slowly, Hermione stepped forward. Then she realised that the cracked floorboards made no movement under her weight.

'Do not fear; he cannot see us. We are not yet corporeal. The Enclave thought it fit to let you see more of this place, before taking you through.'

Her head turned silently from left to right. Already it was clear that something bad, something very out of the ordinary – or at least what was ordinary to her reality – was happening here. The walls and the shelves were coated in a fine layer of dust, as though they had been left to decay. The lamp in the far corner was split, fitful bursts of light crackling over the scene. The wood of the desk was splintered and rotting, one of the legs propped up by an old book. Shadows owned the far corners, mess and debris smothered in blackness.

Then, Hermione noticed Dumbledore himself. Though old anyway, his features had lost their vitality. He was tired and weary, his skin loose and clinging desperately to a shrunken skull. His eyes, usually so alive with energy, were pale and sunken, as though the horrors they had been exposed to had made them wish that they saw no more. His face was unshaven, lines of stubble scarring his features. And his hair - in Hermione's reality a gentle, fey silver - was grey and fading, falling in patches.

A sudden knock at the door snapped Dumbledore from his reverie.

'Come in.'

He held up an arm, moving as though he were going to run it through his untidy hair. Then, he sighed and let it drop back to the table.

The door opened with a stiff creak.

For an instant, Hermione could see into the corridor. Pools of blackness were scattered along the corridor, where the walls were damaged as though from fire. Piles of debris were scattered randomly, and the floorboards again were splintered and rotten.

A young man entered, his clothes torn and tattered. He marched over to Dumbledore and made a half-hearted attempt to salute.

'Don't worry, soldier. It isn't worth the effort.'

The man managed a sad smile.

'What do you have to report?'

'The Muggles think they have found our outpost. They are gathering in the hills to the East even as we speak. This time, they may have found us.'

Hermione balked. 'Muggles? Are they involved in this war you spoke of?'

Compassion nodded. 'They are the antagonists. Or, maybe, the protagonists. There are two sides to every coin, Hermione.'

'What?'

'Listen.'

Any trace of hope that might have shone behind the despair in Dumbledore's gaze flickered away. 'Then we may be finished.'

'How can you speak like that, Minister?'

'Because I see precious little that might give me any cause to speak otherwise… For four long years, we've fought! The science of the Muggles is almost a magic of its own, whilst the major victories won by our side can be counted on one hand.'

'What about the Hogsmeade Liberation? What about Portsmouth Harbour?'

'If the Muggles have found Hogwarts, soldier, than everything we've worked to protect will count for naught.'

'Sir…' The soldier sighed grimly, hanging his head low, the impact of his news finally being enforced by his leader's reaction to it.

Dumbledore placed his hands together on the desk, staring up at the soldier. 'Are we sure of the news?'

The soldier shut his eyes and whispered a prayer. 'As sure as we need to be.'

Dumbledore held up his hands, placing them over his eyes and running them down his face. He stood, slowly, moving his chair back perfectly in front of the desk. He stood as tall and as proud as he could, his gaze fixed on the dirty, tarnished crest that hung on the far wall.

'Are Potter and Diggory waiting in barracks?'

'Yes.'

'Then,' said Dumbledore, his eyes shining in the dark and a lump rising in his throat, 'I suggest we prepare for evacuation.'

???

Hermione said nothing as Dumbledore and the soldier left the room.

Compassion waved an arm, and everything became solid.

'It's safe now. Take a look around.'

In the real, material light, everything looked even more decrepit, even more decadent, as though the owner had simply given up on maintaining the homely atmosphere that should have pervaded and let nature take its course. Streams of dust flitted through the musty air, staining all they touched.

'What… what's going on here?'

'You've heard enough clues, Hermione. I've given you pieces enough to complete the puzzle.'

She stopped, her heart beating quickly and inconsistently as she said the words, feeling them burn her lips. 'The Muggles and the wizards are at war…'

'Correct.'

'For four years?'

'Again, correct. It started not long before, when the existence of magic was leaked to the public.' Compassion wandered in a slow circle around the desk, her finger tracing lines in the dust. 'You will learn more about those circumstances, when you are ready to hear it.'

'Why - '

'There was mass panicking, riots in the streets. Houses were burnt to the ground. People were lynched and slaughtered in their sleep. The Ministry fought to contain it, but there was no chance of them wiping enough memories. Remember the hysteria surrounding the witch-hunt period in Salem? You should, you had twenty periods of lessons devoted to it.'

'I do.'

'That was like a candle, this like an inferno. It swept the country, and then news travelled from Europe to Asia and America…'

Hermione looked to the ceiling. 'Why couldn't they get on…?'

'The public were not ready to come to terms with it.' Compassion strode back the front of the desk, straightening her black business jacket in the smeared, cracked mirror. 'The Government declared a state of emergency.' Her heels clicked against the floorboards as she turned back to Hermione. 'Within a year, the world was at war. You might think that magic gives an unfair advantage, but science can appear just as magnificent, and be just as potent a tool of destruction: the hydrogen bomb dropped on Durmstrang killed millions. Now the front lines are drawn across the world. The men and women there are trapped in hell; thousands are falling each day. Just as many bodies lie riddled with bullets or burnt into chunks of flesh as do slain by the forces of magic. Each day, new inventions appear that can block the wizards' powers altogether.'

'Okay…' muttered Hermione, her breaths coming faster as beads of sweat fell from her forehead. The words washed over her, ideas cluttering in chaos inside her mind. 'You… The soldier called Dumbledore "Minister"…'

'The Wizards needed a base of operations. The ideal locations were the magical schools, which were already shielded from prying Muggle eyes. Hogwarts quickly became the European War Office. Cornelius Fudge was one of the first casualties; he was shot dead at a public conference at the start of the war. Dumbledore, as the man who had led Hogwarts for many, many years before its conversion into the War Office, was chosen as his logical successor. Now he is nothing more than a broken shell.'

Hermione shook her head. 'You're lying. I won't accept anything you're telling me. It's impossible. It's so unreal.'

'I'm not telling you anything, Hermione. I am presenting you with fact.'

Bright red, Hermione spun around, her hands clenching into fists. 'This isn't happening!'

'It has already happened.'

'No!'

'The Muggles have slowly beaten the magic users back across England. New bands of refugees arrive here everyday, grateful for having escaped. But the Muggles' are following them. They want Hogwarts, the final outpost of the English Wizards; and they're moving in fast. The front lines are tightening around us. My current estimation tells me that this place will be taken or destroyed before the week has ended.'

'If you know all this, why don't you stop it?' Hermione cried.

Compassion shook her head. 'It's not my place.'

'Why should I be any different?'

'You don't understand. It isn't yet time for you to learn of the war's origins. You must just accept it.'

'How can I accept this?'

She sighed, tired of arguing. 'I did not want you to see this, Hermione.'

Compassion stepped smoothly over to the window. And with one strong tug, she grasped the curtains and wrenched them from the railing.

'Oh…' whispered Hermione, a hand to her mouth. 'No…'

The grounds and surroundings of Hogwarts were laid out before her. But they were like nothing she had ever seen.

The land that stretched out to the horizon was a fractal mess, earth torn into rugged tatters and turned crimson red by the blood spilled over it. Burnt, jagged craters pockmarked the landscape, some still smoking. A wind whistled through the desolation, touching the lonely scrubs. The front line was clearly visible, a giant gash through the ruined landscape, bodies strewn around it where they had fallen. There were no trees, save for broken shells that reached with blackened, skeletal branches for the dead sky, and no greenery – and black forms wheeled in the sky, giving voice to the scene with their shrill cry. She could see nothing human in front of her. Where, in her reality, was a glistening lake, here was a chunk of ripped land, debris piled high on other side by the blast that had destroyed it. The forest that should have been to her left was a desert, charred remains half-buried by dust and dirt. Lines of nothing, where the land had simply turned to rubble, snaked across at their leisure. The sky that drifted in patches overhead was aflame, burning in the chaos beneath. Barriers of mud lay tangled with the split, cracked earth, completing the image of a surreal, nightmare dreamscape, a place where no man or woman should have had to go, where angles would have feared to tread.

A tear rolled down Hermione's face. She felt her legs give way beneath her.

'Welcome to the other world.'

???

Dumbledore and the soldier marched side-by-side, alone, down the empty corridors, listening to the pain this place had endured echo all around them.

'Are we going to give up, Sir?'

'I don't know, soldier. We have little choice. We must evacuate this place immediately. Did you see the reports they sent from Durmstrang? I won't have that happen to my school… I can't see that happen…'

'Who's to say the Muggles won't blast us down as we leave?'

'Nothing, soldier.' Dumbledore stared at his through glassy eyes. 'Absolutely nothing.'

'Surely we must have some plan, some backup, some fallback…'

'The Ministry never prepared for anything like this.'

'But you did, surely!'

He stopped, breathing slowly, letting the air go gradually in and out. 'There is one plan.'

'Really?' A ray of hope broke through the soldier's mask of despair.

'I will evacuate all non-essential personal; get this place running on a skeleton crew. The Muggles camped on the hills to the East will see we are down to the barest military personal; they will ignore the evacuees and head for Hogwarts.'

'But - '

'Listen. A single part of the convoy will break away and double back, approaching the Muggles from the rear. We can hold out in here for three more days, maybe four. The Muggles can easily withstand a concentrated magical attack, but two of our lot - two brave, experienced soldiers - could easily slip between their lines and deactivate their defences…'

The soldier shut his eyes and turned away. 'I know who you have in mind, sir.'

'They're our best soldiers, like it or not.'

'Potter's barely eighteen!'

'He's the best we have. With Diggory's experience - '

'Our one veteran? Potter will get him killed. It isn't worth the risk.'

'What else do you suggest man?'

'I – I'm sorry.' He avoided Dumbledore's wide, wild glare. 'I'm just afraid…'

Dumbledore sniffed and blinked. 'We all are, soldier. None of us have any cause not to be.'

Suddenly, the entire corridor rocked as a thunderous explosion lit the distance.

'What the hell was that?'

'The Muggles must be on the move again…'

'We have to get a move on, if we want even a chance of survival…'

???

Back in the office, Compassion moved towards Hermione.

'Do you wish to see more? Or are you convinced?'

'Show me what you like.' Hermione turned away from the window, greeting Compassion's questioning glance with one of cold dismissal. 'You'll never convince me that that is real.'

'Tell me,' said Compassion thoughtfully. 'Who is your best friend?'

'Ron,' she replied automatically. 'And Harry, of course.'

'Ron Weasley?' Compassion's voice softened. 'On his Eighteenth birthday, Ron was conscripted into the Phoenix battalion. Five weeks ago, he was posted to the frontline in Belgium, just two days before a major Muggle advance. The fields were blasted to pieces. Along with the rest of his battalion, Ron Weasley has been declared missing, presumed dead.'

'No - '

'You said this isn't real, Hermione.'

'But - '

'Only now are you seeing how real it is.'

'Why on earth have you brought me here? What can you hope to gain by torturing me?'

'I'm offering you a chance of salvation, Hermione! I've asked you to trust me, until I feel you are ready to learn more! I can give you an identity; incorporate you properly into this reality, for a time. Then, you can go about at your leisure and understand what you see.'

Hermione gulped nervously.

'Remember, your life may depend on unravelling these mysteries. What is your answer?'

To be continued…