Turn the Board
The slow beat of drums echoed down the long, black corridor. Three witches and three wizards, robed and hooded in black velvet carried each of the biers upon their shoulders. As a mark of respect for the dead their wands were sheathed in ornate, glossy scabbards of black dragonhide. Lilies lay around the pair, thick, white petals brushing against the dark robes. Under the head of the younger lay a neatly rolled cloak of silvery, flowing material which shifted like water.
Blue flames burnt along the walls in ancient, corroded, bronze dishes, casting long, twisting shadows. Behind and before the procession strode two pipers, clad in queer long coats, one red and yellow, the other in silver and green, their feet were bare and they walked without sound. They were gaunt and tall with long nimble fingers which flickered over the fingering of the lilting pan-pipes. The master of ceremonies led them all, a long staff of twisted yew tipped with jagged lump of obsidian in his hand, thumping on the smooth floor.
A low humming surrounded them and then the bearers began to chant slowly, in time to the rhythm of their steps:
"I'll sing you nine O,
Green grow the rushes O.
What is your nine O?
"Nine for the nine bright shiners,
Eight for the eight noble lords,
Seven for the seven stars in the sky,
Six for the six proud walkers,
Five for the symbol at your door,
Four for the Founders,
Three for the rivals,
Two, two, the lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green O,
One is one, and all alone,
And ever more must be so."
Their voices rose in harmony, ringing out as they advanced down the hall and the great black, seamless doors before them melted away, parting like mist before them as they entered a large round chamber with a black marble floor, so finely polished that it might have been dark, still water. Candles hung in the air, cool blue flames casting unwavering light. The master of ceremonies shut the door behind them and the room spun about them in a whirl of flame and dark doorways.
There was a soft sigh, lost in the whirl of doorways and a long, pale hand tightened on a wand. The room spun to a stop and the master of ceremonies stepped forward, raising his staff. He slammed it down on the floor and silver rivulets of power flickered from its base across the stones. "Locus Mortis: exhibe te."
A single door slid back smoothly, opening the way into an amphitheatre like chamber in the middle of which stood a worn stone archway engraved with ancient runes. He turned back to the procession, "We come to the last doorway …"
"I do not think that I have ever had the pleasure of attending my own funeral before. For some reason they very rarely hold them," said a cold, amused voice, "I am glad to see things are being done in style though."
Heads turned, hands stretching towards wands. Tom stood smoothly, stretching his limb, rolling his shoulders in one swift movement. Harry rolled from his bier, grabbing the invisibility cloak, the orange pollen of the lilies smearing over his robes. His wand flicked out and a semi-circular blast of silver struck out from its tip striking the procession at chest height, hurling them to the ground. Tom leapt as the bearers collapsed under the blast, landing nimbly on the ground, twisting serpent-like to face the fallen.
One of them groaned, rolling slightly, disorientated. "And that's why a fast draw wins the day," said Harry, turning away. "I can't say I expected that to work Riddle."
"If the stasis charm can operate with a temporal facet there was no reason a spatial charm could not be imposed," Tom replied, shrugging as he turned towards the door which was filled with a pale grey light.
"I meant I didn't expect us to actually get here at all," Harry said, running a hand through his hair, still wild despite the best efforts of the undertakers. "You're lucky she didn't have us dumped into the channel or burnt."
"Harry, Harry, Harry, someday you really must learn that when I make a plan it works ..."
"Occasionally," Harry interrupted.
Tom frowned, "Normally. In any case, compulsion charms and an enthusiastic, weak willed lieutenant can do a great deal to help."
Harry slapped his hand against his forehead. "I should have guessed you'd have done something like that. He'll be okay?"
"I left him to wake up in a field in northern France between a couple of very charming peasants. He will probably have a lovely time. I pay my debts," Tom said simply as they walked through the door and down the steps of the chamber towards the whispering veil. "Now would you mind buying me some time? The magic needed is a little delicate and I only had a day to study the books Stuttgart had on the matter."
"My pleasure," said Harry, turning back to the door, sweeping his wand towards it, sending it slamming back into its frame. He frowned. "I'm really going to miss that coat." He slashed the holly and phoenix feather back and forward, barring the door with rods of slowly burning fire before turning to the other doors which ran around the room.
Tom knelt at the bottom of the dais inking runes onto the stone in his blood. "Do you want a wager on how long the Unspeakables will take to start arriving?"
"Not really, you were their boss once upon a time," Harry said as he cast a simple anti-apparation jinx, following it up with further charms. The Veil whispered, the ragged cloth which hung suspended in the archway twisting and writing as Tom worked.
There was a crash from the doorway and the room shook with the blow. Harry felt it in the floor, a deep booming crash. He raised his wand, placing a locking charm upon the door. There was a wave of force against it and the counterspell ripped it apart. The door exploded, slivers of dark wood flying through the air. Harry raised his wand and the foot long splinters slid away from the two of them, landing harmlessly around the chamber. Dust billowed in from beyond. Harry staggered backwards.
"That was one hell of a counter-strike," he said, kneeling on the floor, "either they've got spells the like of which I've never seen or there are a lot of them out there."
"Quiet would be a wonderful thing," Tom muttered, "I thought I told you to keep them out."
"They won't be getting through there in a hurry. I think they brought down the roof of the chamber out there," Harry replied, heaving himself up, "they'll have to go around."
Tom inscribed the last rune and the Veil shifted slowly, fluttering in a soft breeze. The smell of heather and night air filled the room, there was a soft, strange bird call from beyond and ghostly starlight shone through the ragged cloth. "Do you trust me?" He asked.
"Not as far as I can throw you," Harry said turning towards the Veil slinging the invisibility cloak around his shoulders.
"Good, that's why we are going to be walking," Tom said with a smile.
And together they walked up the steps to the Veil and towards the threshold. Torches flared up around the chamber and somewhere in the depths of the Ministry a bell tolled.
They paused upon the border for a moment. Tom looked across to Harry for a moment, dark eyes meeting green. "Of course the oath only binds me not to seek a kingdom in this world ..." He smiled and with a tug pulled Harry with him through the veil.
The Unspeakables broke into the chamber as the spells vanished from the doors, hooded in midnight blue robes with silver masks. The sound of laughter echoed faintly around them as the dried blood around the dais crumbled away.
Harry looked behind them, there was a pool of still, dark water at their feet and before them stretched a long, white road. Unknown stars sung above them and far away a shooting star raced across the black expanse of the sky.
They had passed from the world of men.
THE END
A/N: If you liked the story (or at least got this far) please leave a review, I would be interested to hear your thoughts. Constructive criticism, rather than insults would be appreciated.
I was hoping that someone might guess, but I guess the clues were too slight. Most major things in this story have been foreshadowed. In this case the last few chapters, Arabella's discussion with Tom about portals when leaving Altewald, the battle of Stuttgart and the chapter dealing with Voldemort's resurrection all gave hints towards this. When Harry brushed Tom's arm in the last chapter that was the signal for them to activate the plan. They had realised that given that it was probably a set up their chances of avoiding defeat were slim and both wanted to escape the world they had become trapped in.
Mustaphar, as I'm sure you've guessed, used the explosive bracelet placed on his wrist by the guards to blow the greater daemon's head off and despite missing a hand is still wandering somewhere.
As to Arabella, it might be possible that she escaped the forces in the dimension she was pushed into, given that so many had flooded into the city ... but it seems unlikely.
Sorry to all of you who felt that the end was an anti-climax. It was meant to be. Ultimately part of the point of this story was that Harry and Tom were outdated, they were exceptionally powerful, but they were powerful individuals and the age of heroes had ended, they were relics who had outlived their time. In the end they couldn't go out in a blaze of glory.
There is now a sequel: Traveller, and a sort of sequel to that The Lord in the Mist (though you could read that as a stand-alone, if you wanted to).