10159 B.C.; D
Just as she always did, the Tardis brought him exactly where he needed to be. Wonderful, brilliant Tardis.
Stepping out, he was greeted by a warm breeze and a lot of greenery. With a giant glacier covering most of Europe, he had not exactly expected to find this climate on his trip to the Upper Paleolithic period. But then again, first known wizardry dated back to Ancient Egypt, so the Tardis had probably taken him to North Africa.
He saw a brilliant sky and a brilliant landscape. It was beautiful.
The roar of an aggressive hippopotamus shook him out of his reverie and reminded him of his mission; he had to find the Hand, or the weeping angel is belonged to. Scanning the area for the recorded energy signature, the sonic screwdriver led him further towards the woods, and there, at the food of a lone palm tree, the stone hand lay peacefully.
It was a bit of an anti-climax, really.
The weeping angel it had once been part of was nowhere in sight, and, truthfully, the Doctor would be surprised if it was. They rarely ever travelled to the past on their own will. Most likely, the relic had been taken here accidentally when the angel had only gotten to its victim after a severe fight that had cost it a hand.
But, just as he had grown physically younger because of a connection of unlikely events, the hand had mutated in the process. It was alive, in a way, but rather than living off shifts in time, it caused shifts in dimension.
That in itself was no problem, for weeping angels had always been sensitive to cracks in reality. Any shift done would be done properly. However, several years from that point in time, other beings would have inherited that strange ability, and only that. Maybe the Hand was lonely, summoning artificial companions because it could.
But the Doctor could not let that happen – not in that sense.
"You might be lonely, but you have brought something very dangerous," he explained as he crouched next to it, "I hope you won't mind me doing what I have to do."
He pulled the wand from his pocket and gathered his thoughts.
He would have to do this without causing a conflict with his own time line. He would have to make a subtle, substantial change that would not change anything to the oblivious.
If anyone could do this, it was a time lord.
Thirteen subjective years ago, he had developed a physically possible alternative to magic that had basically equal effects without doing the same.
One last time, he had to use magic to shift realities.
"Substantiam commuto."
As he concentrated on replacing magic with subtle science, he could see everything. For the first time after coming in contact with magic so long ago, he directed his way through the multiverse in absolute awareness. But even when the change in the hand's nature was implemented, a paradox kept screaming at him.
Of course.
Close to the one he would have chosen, he found a compatible universe. It used his approach at magic, fine-tuned so far that everything would have exactly the same results, but it was transparent enough for his keen senses to still show him the original dimension.
Everything would be fine once he went back to 1994, and at the same time, he would have to witness the collapse of the world.
It was a small price to pay.