My prison was not exactly ankle chains and daily floggings, but I chafed at it nonetheless. I only really tried to escape three times, but Dumbledore was a damn good wizard, and I kept bouncing back after a mild twinge. It sort of annoyed me, though, that he was so confident in his prisoner-keeping skills that he didn't even take my wand away. And Severus! Every once in a while he came in to stare at me and mutter imprecations about Potters.
"How extraordinarily like your grandfather you are," he said on more than one occasion. "So arrogant! You think you can change the entire universe."
"Don't even pretend like you don't wish I'd succeeded," I said. I stared moodily at the tome in front of me. It was large, dusty, and almost unbearable, but I was trying to prove that I wasn't a complete moron, and Practical Thaumaturgy was about the toughest thing I'd ever read. Past or future.
His lip curled. Severus was practically vibrating with rage all the time, and whenever he left, I was always surprised that he hadn't kicked me for either existing, or failing at my self-assigned task. A part of me wished that he would. I thought it might help with the near-constant belly-ache that I had. It felt like I'd lost my dad all over again. The one chance I'd had, and I'd never had a chance at all. I did not know which of the three Laws of Time Travel to blame. It could have been all three. I suspected that either I would not have existed if Dad hadn't been the Chosen One (which infuriated me), or that I'd played too fast and loose with the prophecy, and the universe had felt the need to smack me down.
It could have even been the Cornerstone Law, but I had no idea what the hell that was. No one did.
Severus made an angry, growling sound. I realized that he must have insulted me, and I'd been rude to ignore him.
"Sorry," I said.
He just threw me a disgusted look and left.
In my darker moments, I wondered why the hell Dad would name me after that asshole. Oh, I knew that he was a major hero. I knew that he risked life and limb to help Dad and Mum and the others to defeat He Who Must Have Been Born Without A Brain. I knew that he'd died to do so (both in Mum, Dad, and Uncle Ron's past life, and in the one that everyone else remembers too). But that did not make him any less of a dick.
Albus was even worse. He visited at least once a day. He was unfailingly polite. He asked a great deal of questions about the war, the Horcruxes, and everything like that. I could practically see his brain processing everything I told him; I had not really believed the family when they said that Albus was even smarter than Aunt Hermione. I believed it now. He did not, however, let me in on what he was thinking.
He did let me know in a thousand different ways that he strongly disapproved of the choice I had made. It was a physical presence in the room, his weight of disapproval. A conversation between three people: Albus, Albus, and Albus' Disapproval. It got worse every day, so not only did I have my stomach tied up in constant knots, but I had disapproval and even contempt sitting on my chest like twin elephants. I resented it. Yeah, it was stupid of me to come back. But how could I not try? The majority of me even kind of agreed with Albus and Severus. But I'd grown up knowing about Albus, his little sister, and his weakness for power in his youth, and his weakness for the Resurrection Stone in the twilight of his life.
And I hated the fact that those blue eyes were looking right through me, judging me, and finding me lacking.
So when the day of the new moon arrived, I was filled with acute relief. And when my hands started to become silvery and misty as the memory released me, I tried to be polite.
"It was -- er," I said. I wanted to be polite, but I also didn't want to lie. "Thanks for, you know"--locking me up--"giving me a place to stay while I was here."
The tall, white-haired wizard and the sallow, greasy-haired wizard just nodded. The wizards for which I was named, and they both held me in contempt. Merlin, I'd be glad to be back in the future. Even though I had no clue what I was to do next. Dad would still be dead. Mum would still never really smile. Our family wouldn't be what it used to be, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. I sort of wished that I'd let Wilder talk me out of going. My chest tightened painfully. But I'd had to try...
Color slowly drained from the room. The portraits stopped moving and talking. Albus and Severus' expressions became wooden (more so than usual), until the room became still and silent, and I got the impression that I was looking at a Muggle photograph. A very old Muggle photograph that faded from bright, to sepia, to black and white. Finally, a gray fog blurred the edges, and the heavy silence grew louder and louder until it pressed down on my ears.
And right before the whispers started, I felt a pang, and Uncle Percy's miserable face was very vivid in my mind. "Save my brothers," he'd said.
But I only had a moment to spare to regret broken promises before a black wave of madness crashed over me, and I was swallowed in a sea of memories, visions, and voices. I was not even sure if I had a physical body; if I had, I'm sure that I would have vomited up my stomach. In a moment of sanity (a very brief moment) I wondered if I was breaking one of the Laws of Time Travel, or if I had been put under the Cruciatus Curse.
But then I began to merge with the future. Memory by memory, I inched forward into my own self. I was two becoming one, and it stretched my mind to the breaking point. I tried to close my eyes against the visions, but I had no eyes to close. I could not turn away, I had no head to turn. I tried to close my ears, but the whispers were relentless.
--Voldemort knew about the time travel--
--we never found out how he knew--
--he struck when we least expected it--
--they were lost... every single one of them--
--we wish you could have known your Grandma, Al; she would've loved you very much--
No, no, no, no, no.
What had I done?