Chapter Twenty-Six

1 Theo, Callidora, Pansy and Ron had spent hours in the library, racking their brains on how to communicate with Draco's group through the seal. Finally, Theo, who would always be the resident mad alchemist, suggested that fireplace conversations might be possible, but only if initiated by someone outside the seal. He would probably have come to this conclusion sooner if he hadn't been focussed on building a true Time Turner for the past five years.

At length, Ron pushed his chair back, stretched, and yawned. "I don't think I've ever been in the library this long before."

"You had your girlfriend to help you cheat," Pansy said, rubbing at her eyes.

"We weren't together back then, and even if: she wouldn't let me – not really. She'd help me study, yes, but flat-out cheating? Nope." He wiped some hair from his pale forehead. "At least one of us needed to be decent."

"You were all decent enough – just not hyper smart. Just look at Potter. There's a reason he wasn't in Ravenclaw, you know." She stretched her arms above her head. Did the crackling and popping mean she was getting old? The silly thought almost made her smile.

Not taking the bait, Ron just snickered and shook his head.

"It may have been a good thing that Granger was allowed to go to Hogwarts," Theo said, frowning slightly at nothing in particular. "She's smart enough to figure out what needs to be done despite her lack of magical parentage."

Ron made a face. "Up yours, Nott."

Theo blinked at him, looking a little confused. "What did I say?"

"Shut it, both of you," Callidora cut in, waving off. "We have problems we need to deal with, and we need to deal with them together. If you can't get over yourselves when all our lives are at risk, then that doesn't reflect well on any of us." Much of her earlier swagger was gone. She looked pale. Her eyes were reddened. The roots of her ruddy hair were a bit greasy.

"Assuming that Draco, Granger, Potter, and company figure out how to contact us," Pansy said, after suppressing a yawn, "what then? We update them on what we found out, tell them our options, and hope they have an even better plan?"

"They won't have a better plan." Callidora pressed her fingertips to her temples. "There is no better plan. No matter what they think of, it won't be good enough. My brother has had decades to prepare. He knows exactly what he's doing. I know that Granger is clever. The others are, too – except for Potter, maybe."

"Funny. I'll go down into the dungeons to laugh, later," Ron said, sounding more tired than angry. "You people."

Callidora ignored him. She closed her eyes. "We cannot assume that any attempt they make at deceiving him, at capturing or killing him will succeed. They don't know him. They will underestimate him."

"If they do talk to us," Pansy said, shifting her weight from one side to the other, discreetly clearing her throat, "we need to give them the benefit of the doubt. You can't deny that both your plan and McGonagall's are a long shot. We can't just rule out that Draco and company might've found a better alternative."

After a moment's heavy silence, Callidora opened her eyes and faced Pansy. "No, but for everyone's sake, we should assume that they don't. Our plan" – She pointed at Theo – "his genius invention is still the best bet – everyone's best bet."

"McGonagall says that a true Time Turner can't work," Ron said, crossing his arms and shrugging. "And even if, do we really want that kind of absolute power in the hands of blood purity supremacists? Really?" He looked around. "Oh. Forgot I was surrounded by Slytherins."

"I was actually a Ravenclaw," Callidora said, pulling up one corner of her mouth in a wry little smile. "But never mind that. You're actually right. It would be unlimited power, and it also might be impossible. That's why there are limitations to what the Time Turner will be able to do before it conks out or destroys space-time. Theo?"

Theo scratched the stubble on his cheeks and harrumphed. He didn't look anyone in the eye when he said, "I know I can build one, but no matter what I do, it will only work once. There are certain laws of magic that don't permit otherwise – cause and effect. The greater the bending of space-time, the greater the pushback. That's a given. The greater the magical feat, the greater the corresponding cost. There's no way around that. There is always, always a price to pay. It's impossible to prance about different times and screw with them endlessly."

"So, we'd need to decide who to send and to what point in time," Pansy said, rubbing her cold hands.

"Wouldn't they be trapped there?" That was Ron.

Theo shook his head. "I don't really know. It's a prototype. I can tell you that this will be a one-way trip, no more. It may even end up killing whoever goes. Maybe they'll merge with their past selves. Maybe their consciousness will go back. Maybe they'll get there and melt. I know the thing will work, but I don't know the details."

Pansy gave him a doubtful look. "Well, that sounds reassuring and all."

"All I know is that I can turn back time once and that whoever does the turning will somehow be affected in a powerful way. The magic behind the device is different from regular Time Turners." He shrugged, looking sheepish, as if he'd flunked first year potions class or something equally embarrassing. "Experimental magic often has unpredictable side-effects, and dark magic always has consequences – usually a debt that must be paid in blood. Consequences always happen, but the price is thrice as high when dark magic's involved."

Ron's brow furrowed. "Dark magic? Really? Feed into the cliché, why don't you. Crikey."

"I think the time for us to have the moral high ground has come and gone, petal," Callidora said, leaned back, shook a few strands of her uncharacteristically unkempt hair from her face, and heaved a theatrical sigh. "The bigger question is this: where do we go and what do we do? If the wizard or witch using the device only gets to be there a little time before disintegrating, then deep changes to the core structures of our society are pretty much out of the question."

"At least some good news, there," Ron said, massaging his neck. "I wouldn't want to wake up and find myself in a Pureblood supremacist's paradise. No, thanks."

Theo gave him a flummoxed look but stayed quiet.

"Time fights back," Pansy said, earning herself astonished looks. "What? Everything is pervaded by magic, and time is basically a malleable dimension – the only thing that doesn't seem to be going from organised to chaotic. It may be relative, but it is tough, and it withstands most attempts at messing with it. Regular Time Turners have a way of screwing people over, so that they'll either get caught or end up in a predestination paradox. Imagine what will happen if you could actually go back decades and radically change things. The pushback will be all the harder."

Callidora smiled a little, even though it looked weary. "When did you get so philosophical, blossom?"

Pansy snickered, scratched her forehead – her skin was dry and itchy – and shrugged. "I had a lot of time to think."

"Even if the thing does work, and we could really make one big change, McGonagall will never agree to this." Ron folded his arms atop the desk and dropped his head on them. "Even less if you got no clue how this thing's gonna work."

The look Callidora gave him was so icy, even Pansy felt cold. "Then I suggest you keep your mouth shut."

He blinked at her, then chuckled. "Oh, you don't know how tired I am of this stupid veiled or non-veiled threat shit, Callidora. Yeah, you were a Death Eater. That doesn't make you impressive to me. It makes you a pathetic racist. So, go tell it to the apothecary. I'm not gonna let you shut me up just because you don't like what I have to say. If I want to spill it to anyone, then I will, and if you think you can control me, you've got another thing coming. Get the hell out of my hair. I'm sick of this and of your goddamn superior attitude."

After a rather awkward silence, the slight smile reappeared on Callidora's face. "Fair enough. You got some backbone; I'll give you that. I won't harp on you calling me names, either. I suppose you are well within your rights to defend yourself."

Ron just ran his pale fingers through his red hair and yawned. "That's really big of you. Can we go back to solving the problem, now? My head hurts, and I'm hungry."

Credit where credit was due, Pansy had to admit that he'd played it cool. She pressed her knuckles to her lips and cleared her throat. "Theo, do you think the Time Turner will have enough power to send a single person back in time and kill the squib?" The slur was out before she knew it. She grimaced. "Sorry, Callidora, I-"

"It's what he is," Callidora said, and waved off. "Weasley's right: we need to tackle the biggest issues: the how, the who, the what…and the McGonagall."

That elicited a few tired smiles.

Theo harrumphed and shifted his weight. He tugged at the sleeves of his robes and scratched his neck. "Well, I think that should be possible. We would need to time it perfectly…and there's only one person here with enough knowledge to know when and where to do what is needed."

Everyone's attention was on Callidora.

She closed her bloodshot eyes for a few seconds before nodding feebly. "I know the when and where. I know the how, too. But this is another issue Weasley's spot-on about: McGonagall won't agree. You may have noticed that she doesn't exactly love yours truly. Besides, we don't know how exactly this trip will go."

"It's still our best chance," Pansy said, and crossed her arms.

It was so nice in here, in their safe bubble, in their private little universe. The temptation to just stay and cut their losses was huge. Still, there were all the other wizards and witches and magical creatures out there. Draco. Daphne. Granger and the others. The rest of the world. Even if the propaganda machine had lied and the rest of the world had so far not been affected, how long would that last? Hell, there might be other psychotic squibs with revenge on their minds who'd be willing to join Nox and his little band of maniacs. Maybe he'd even find a way to breach Hogwarts's defences. Maybe there was no safety.

They had to go back.

The temptation to give into the hope that this might bring back everyone, that it might bring back innocence itself was gigantic, too.

All of a sudden, she felt heavy – heavy, tired, and just so, so worn out.

"If we could find a way to talk to Hermione, Harry, and my sister," Ron said, after a heavy silence.

Deceivingly merry laughter wafted in from the sunny grounds outside. There were kids who didn't even know the horrors of the real world – who didn't know anything.

It should stay that way, as far as Pansy was concerned. She put her hands to the small of her back. "What then?"

He looked down at his hands. "Then maybe we clear this with them…and we don't tell McGonagall. We just do it…save everyone."

The silence that followed was stunned rather than awkward.

"Everyone except for my brother," Callidora finally said, subdued. She took a deep breath and screwed on that utterly phony smile of hers. "You surprise me, Ronald, but in a good way. I approve. So, everyone in favour, please raise your hands." She started.

The rest followed suit.

"Good," Callidora said cheerfully, and clapped her hands together. "Let's save the world. Something tells me that our time is about to run out and that when it does, everyone shall die in horrible agony."

2 "Do you even still have enough Floo Powder?" Daphne said, after everyone had finally agreed to let Harry risk his neck – quite literally – to contact Hogwarts – more specifically, Ron.

Everyone was standing in a semi-circle around the fireplace as if they were getting ready to pray to it. Perhaps they even were. It would be funny if it weren't so depressing.

"We do. Stored a bunch of it during the war," Ginny said, earning nods all around. "Nobody's touched it in half a decade. It's in that jar on the mantelpiece." She chinned toward a white porcelain pot decorated with delicate, blue flowers.

The war. Voldemort. Didn't seem as long ago to Harry as it did to everyone else – well, everyone except for Ginny.

"And you're sure Weasley's the best choice? Not to be insensitive, but he was pretty ill, from what I gather." That was Malfoy. Charming. There was a weird little edge to his voice, too, an unforgiving expression on his haggard face.

"We're assuming they got into Hogwarts," Hermione said, determined but not annoyed. "If they did, he's fine."

"If we're assuming that, we're assuming that. You always do know best." Malfoy's frown softened somewhat.

Hermione shook her head (it was still strange to see her hair short like that) but almost smiled.

So weird.

"She does," Luna said, in a tone that permitted no argument, and took her husband's hand.

They were all working together, sure, but for the life of him, Harry didn't get what Hermione's odd friendship with Malfoy, of all people, was about. What was that even based on? Shared troubles, yeah, but still. This was so…odd. The racist and the Muggleborn.

Whatever.

It should never have mattered in the first place, and now, to them, it didn't.

Had only taken the near end of their world, too. There was a joke in there somewhere.

"If this is gonna work, then yes, Ron is the best choice," Harry said, shoulders tense, hands balled into fists, jaw set. He looked straight into the flames.

This was magic, after all, and magic was – in a sense – an intuitive thing. It wasn't just spells and incantations and rules. There was this certain…well, scientific side to it (something Hermione had always appreciated) but there was also a gut-feeling kind of aspect that could not quite be quantified. It couldn't precisely be explained. That was what Harry had always been good at – instinctive magic. Flying. Dodging curses. Surviving his own recklessness. Just running into a burning building without thoughts to his own safety had not always turned out great, but mostly, his gut feeling had not ended up failing him.

So, maybe he didn't know what to think, but he sure as hell knew what to feel. What he needed right now was reaching his best friend…his best friend, who'd spent the past few years slowly dying of a horrible disease that could be cured by magic in a heartbeat. If he could even make a reciprocal connection through the fireplace, then it'd be with Ron. That really went without saying.

"I don't know precisely where he is," Harry said, taking the Floo powder pot from Ginny, and knelt down, "but if he's close to a fireplace, I'll find him. Can't explain why. It's just how it works."

Nobody said anything, but the tension was almost palpable. It was like static electricity, like the faint taste of iron on the tongue.

Like facing the dragon at the Triwizard Tournament.

It was time.

Harry grabbed a fistful of the Floo powder and tossed it into the crackling flames.

3 Something most Hogwarts student didn't know was that there were, indeed, rooms for guests. In fact – and this was something that was written down nowhere because it was such a natural and axiomatic happenstance – the castle was bigger on the inside. None of the new arrivals was a student anymore, so they all needed to be accommodated outside the House dormitories. That was odd, to say the least, but not as odd as being back there, in the first place.

Ron hadn't thought he'd ever be here, again. Well, a couple of days ago, he was barely thinking at all, but he remembered knowing, just knowing that he would be dead in days. There hadn't been many thoughts apart from that knowledge. The only clear thought he remembered having, right at the end, had been of Hermione. He'd only noticed that she was gone all of a sudden but hadn't quite understood why. His brain had been affected too badly by the cancer. It had originated there, first manifesting as odd headaches, memory gaps, sleep disturbances. He'd gone on to mixing up words, having mood swings, feeling nauseous and weak, losing weight. This only got worse and worse, of course, and yet, Hermione never gave up on him – neither did his only living brother.

They couldn't heal him, but they took care of him when he couldn't anymore: Bill and Fleur. They never stopped believing they'd be able to save him, even if at the last moment. Well, turned out they'd been right.

Here he was, in guest rooms with his only remaining brother and sister-in-law, sitting by a large, roaring fireplace, safe and healthy and protected from magic suppressors. Hogwarts had been there all this time. There were children here – children who'd been born here, in this sealed-off safe bubble.

"We cannot do the plan of travelling back in time," Fleur said suddenly, into the relative silence of the fire cracking. Her accent had softened over time, but her grammar was still interesting. She was sitting on a small sofa with Bill, whilst Ron occupied a fluffy armchair.

"It might work, though," Ron said, not quite looking at her. "Nott is a complete tosspot, but he's not stupid."

"I do not say it will not work. I say we cannot."

"Why's that, love?" Bill said.

Ron shifted his weight so he could face his sister-in-law.

She gave Bill an unhappy look, shook her head. "The children, Bill. The small ones. They will not exist."

That…oh. Oh. Felt like a punch in the face. Ron's mouth was dry. "I…is that what would happen?"

"She's not wrong," Bill said, scratching his neck. "Circumstances that lead to a child's conception are highly specific. If the past is changed so that none of this has ever happened, then in all likelihood, the children born from the point of the change onward will never exist. That might well cause a chain reaction that could end all life as we know it."

Fleur brushed some of his hair behind his left ear.

Ron had grown to be wary of headaches but still decided not to panic when he felt some pain at the thought of all this. This wasn't that kind of pain. This was just his thick skull trying to sort out information – never an easy task, that. He rubbed at his forehead. "But…what about everyone who died and wouldn't if we killed Perseus Selwyn in the past? They'd be alive. Many would go on and have kids that don't exist now."

Bill didn't look convinced. "This is the reality we know. We have no idea what will happen if we alter something this significant, and before you say it: yes, it could be a lot worse than it's now. We still have Hogwarts. We have a way of saving what's left. This isn't about preserving a chain of events that has already happened. It's not a predestination paradox or a closed time loop. We're talking about completely changing everything we know, with no guarantee that anything will improve. Hell, we don't even know if anything but a closed time loop is possible. Are there different kinds of time travel results? Can multiple effects occur? We don't know. Nobody knows. The children born during the past five years would probably not exist and maybe all those who've died would still die. Even worse."

One of the logs in the fireplace cracked loudly.

Everyone flinched. They weren't used to not being constantly vigilant.

"Even worse than that," Bill went on, "we'd have to go back further than zero hour, that is the day the Ministry was put in amber. We would have to travel to a point before Selwyn even decided to turn on the Wizarding World, meaning we would murder him before he ever did anything wrong…and yes, it would have to be murder, as Nott made it clear that there wouldn't be time for deep societal changes that might keep Selwyn from experiencing discrimination. We would be able to change only one thing, and that would be our best bet: killing Selwyn."

Damn headache. It wasn't the cancer, though. The cancer was gone. No need to be afraid. He was fine. He was fine. No reason to worry – none at all. None at all. The dull pain remained, though. "When did you get so smart?" Man, did he sound sulky.

Smiling at her husband, Fleur said, "He always has been."

"Yeah. It won't do any good, though, thinking too much about any of this shit," Ron said, leaned back, and closed his eyes. "Whatever we do, something terrible is gonna happen, anyway. You can't have a happy ending. If we seal ourselves off, everyone else remains dead. More people will die, and we can't even guarantee that we'll be safe forever. If we go back, we might blow up the planet, keep countless children from being born, and murder an innocent person. We got to do something, though, and you want to know what? I'm not just leaving Ginny, Hermione, and Harry out there to die."

"They could come here."

Ron tilted his head to the side and gave his brother a doubtful look. "They're not gonna do that. They'll die trying to stop Selwyn. You know that. None of them would ever just cut their losses when there's a chance they could turn this fight around. And what about the rest of our family, Bill? Our brothers? Our parents? Everyone."

"You think I don't want them back?" There was a bit of an edge to Bill's voice, but mostly, he just sounded tired as hell. "There is no good solution to any of this. Something terrible will happen, yes. Right now, though, we at least know what we have."

"That might not be good enough. I-" The rest of the sentence got caught in Ron's throat when, seemingly out of nowhere, Harry's face popped up in the merrily crackling flames.

Fleur and Bill both flinched.

Harry, who hadn't aged a day in years – well, last Ron had heard, Harry had been frozen in amber for half a decade – adjusted his glasses and blinked. "Ron? Is that really you?"

Snapping out of his bewilderment, Ron all but jumped from the armchair and went on his knees right in front of the fireplace. His knees protested, but he barely even noticed. The heat immediately had sweat break out on his forehead and nose. "It's me. I'm here with Bill and Fleur. There's hundreds of us here, safe at Hogwarts. You can Apparate inside just fine, just can't leave. Harry-"

"And you're not sick anymore?" If Harry knew Ron had been sick, then didn't that mean Hermione must be there?

His heart was thumping. "No, they healed me. Harry, is Her-"

"Have any of the teachers survived? Was it McGonagall who-"

"Harry." Ron drew a shaky breath. His hair was already damp with sweat at the temples. "Is Hermione with you? Ginny? I have to know."

Harry nodded. "Yes, they're fine. I'm here with both of them, Luna, Rolf, Daphne Greengrass and" – He made a bit of a face, probably without even realising it – "Malfoy. They got Ginny and me out of the amber."

That was all a bit much. The headache was gone, replaced by dizziness. Ron sank his fingers into the fluffy fibres of the thick red carpeting. "That's, I…okay. Okay." He breathed deeply again. "How did you know you'd be able to talk to me like this?"

"We didn't," Harry said, smiling a little. "It was a hunch. Works fine, though, doesn't it?" He cast a little look behind his shoulder before turning to Ron again. "Anyway. We need to know if you people have got a plan, because we do."

It was Ron's turn to smile. He felt ten years younger. "I hope it's Hermione's plan, not yours."

Harry returned the expression. He seemed almost chipper. "Group effort, really, though it was mostly her idea, yeah."

All right. Time to focus. "You tell us what you're planning, and I'll tell you what we've been brewing."

"Great." Again, Harry adjusted his glasses. "Let me start."

They talked for half the night.