A/N: Last chapter, I mentioned the Evil Overlord List. It's a hilarious resource that can also help writers create villains who don't end up holding the idiot ball (here's hoping mine doesn't, in the end!). For this chapter, I consulted "A Time Travel Website", "The Conversation" (article: "Star Trek's Version of Time Travel is More Realistic Than Most Sci Fi") and "Futurepedia" (article: "Predestination Paradox"). Time travel is a head-scratcher without compare, so research was needed. Hopefully, I understood the sources I used correctly.

Chapter 29

1 "What exactly makes you so sure that the Time Turner would only work for changing one thing? That's not how they usually function at all," Callidora said to Theo, as they both sat in the library, pouring over his many, many notes and at least half a dozen thick, dusty tomes they'd got from the restricted section. She was barely able to suppress a yawn but did. It would not do for a woman of her breeding to unlock jaws in public. If she had to yawn, it needed to be discreet.

Not that Theo would notice. When that kid (okay, an almost thirty-year-old kid, yet way younger than Callidora) got focussed on work, he didn't see anything else. It was late, though, and he was clearly tired. He dropped the parchment he'd been frowning at, raised his head, and looked at her. His eyes were reddened, his brownish-blondish hair dishevelled because he kept ruffling it all day. "Because it's too powerful. The harder you push against time, the harder time pushes back. Go back an hour, and a million things will happen to keep you from changing anything. Once you're back in your time, you'll realise that if anything changed at all, it was always something that was going to happen – a causal loop. You changed it because you already knew that it was changed. Ergo, nothing was changed at all. There's also the so-called grandfather paradox to consider: if I have changed something in the past, I will not go back in time to change it because it was always changed, ergo, I will not have changed it, in the first place. Time travel that alters the past is almost impossible."

She furrowed her brow, placed her elbows on the desktop, rested her chin on her steepled fingers. "But it is possible."

An odd little smile curved up the corners of his mouth. "Of course. I wouldn't be building the Time Turner if it weren't. Don't worry, Callidora. I've considered all the variables."

"It's hard not to worry." She blew out a heavy breath, looked around. They were the only ones around, their lamp the one remaining source of light. "Oh, don't listen to me. I'm tired and just really, really vexed that it's my brother causing all this bother. It's typical him, though. He never could let anything go."

He scratched his bearded cheek, kept his eyes trained on her. Was he even blinking? "Why didn't you ever marry or have kids? A beautiful, smart, powerful Pureblood witch like yourself."

Gobsmacked, she stared at him for a few seconds, before snapping out of it. She laughed softly. "I suppose we're close enough for that kind of conversation."

An awkward silence ensued.

Looking as if he'd accidentally murdered a baby, he said, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude."

Having recovered from the consternation, she waved off, leaned back, crossed her arms. "That's okay. We're trying to save the world together. Why not get to know each other better? The answer to your question is: I loved someone once, but that person died. I've been wallowing in self-pity ever since."

"Oh." He nodded slowly. "I understand. You see, I never really had time for…well, getting close to anyone." Leaning in, hands flatly on the parchment before him, he whispered, "We were fighting a war. When we lost, I spent years wondering why, trying to find a way to right the wrongs. I can't believe that they" – His expression turned disgusted – "won. Blood traitors. Half-breeds. Mudbloods. All they've ever done is close their eyes to everything that matters, while, at the same time, they keep pretending they care so much about their holy statute of secrecy…and then they wonder why things went to shit."

It took Callidora a moment to digest all that. She smiled, the way she always did when she needed to keep her thoughts to herself. Her mother had taught her this…well, her and Perseus. "As much as I might theoretically sympathise, dear, my brother is a squib, not a Muggle."

"If Dumbledore and lackies had been a tad less worried about Muggle sensibilities, they might have turned their caring eye to their own people in need," Theo countered, serious as a heart attack. "It mattered so much to make the Muggle families of Muggle-borns feel welcome, didn't it? But Purebloods like your brother with a deficiency were ignored. Is it any wonder he teamed up with Muggles, manipulated them into seeing us as the enemy?"

"Wow, Theo. Tell me how you really feel." Had it got colder in here? She thought of Perseus, of how awkward things got once everyone had to face the facts and accept that he was a squib – he, her twin, the person she'd been closest to, whom she loved so dearly. Telling herself to quit it with the drama, she reached across the desk and pinched Theo's cheek. "I'm not saying you're wrong. The others would, but not me. Still, it doesn't matter. We can only change one single thing, according to you, and you're the genius. Revolutionising society is out of our reach."

"One single act can shape the course of the future." He smiled again. It looked a little stilted, as if his face wasn't used to the motion. "We can still do so much good, Callidora – so much good."

She smiled back almost on instinct. "Of course we can, pumpkin. Just…don't tell any of this to anyone else, not even Pansy. I know she's your friend, but-"

"She's friends with Weasley." Theo's expression hardened. "Believe me: I can keep things to myself. I may be a mad alchemist, but I'm not naïve."

"No. That, you are not." She stretched her arms, breathed deep, managed to keep her lips together as she yawned through her nose. "We should call it a night. It's late, I'm tired, and we've got a big day tomorrow. It will not do for you to drop from exhaustion, either."

A few seconds later, he nodded. "You're right. Let's pack it up."

It was just as well. She had a lot to think about.

He'd given her much food for thought.

2 The next day, McGonagall called the lot of them into her office: Theo, Callidora, Pansy, and the Weasleys. She was accompanied by thirty-six-year-old Auror Aillen Fawley, who'd – as Pansy recalled – had lost his older brother Marshall to the Death Eaters back in 1997. That would certainly explain the sour look on his face when he set eyes on Callidora.

To be fair, McGonagall wasn't looking particularly happy, either. She invited nobody to sit. There weren't enough chairs, anyway, but still. Didn't bode well. "You didn't just talk to Miss Granger and the others, did you? You have an arrangement with them."

Everyone automatically looked at Callidora, who arched her thin eyebrows and shook her head. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Professor."

McGonagall's expression darkened. She clasped her hands so tightly, her knuckles shone through her skin.

Pansy exchanged a look with Ron, who jammed his hands in the pocket of his jeans and shrugged.

Aillen Fawley's death glare intensified. He wasn't a very tall person, nor did he look very intimidating, but one underestimated him at one's own peril. "Selwyn, don't. Just don't. You all met in the Weasleys' rooms, stayed there for over an hour, and then you and Nott immediately went back to the library. Ronald Weasley and Parkinson went outside to chat, both looking rather consternated."

Ron raised a hand. "I'm standing right here, you know."

Fawley ignored him. "You wouldn't have conferred if you hadn't managed communication with the outside group. If you hadn't decided something the Headmistress would disapprove of, you wouldn't have kept it from her…you wouldn't be lying, now."

"Conferred. Listen to you being pompous, boy," Callidora said, pure disdain.

Pansy noticed Theo giving Callidora a peculiar look, almost…adoring? Okay, then. Everyone had fans.

"We can't tell Draco, Granger, Potter and the rest what to do," Callidora went on. "They told me they're trying to stop my brother. We said that if they should fail, we'd have a backup plan."

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Mister Nott's fabled True Time Turner, no doubt."

"Or your plan, Professor." Callidora put her hands to her waist. "We haven't voted on that, yet…the lot of us, all people in here that are of age." It was amazing how great she was at lying – a little troublesome, too.

The others kept quiet.

"You should have called me once Potter and his group contacted you," McGonagall said.

Potter and his group? Typical. Again, Pansy shared a meaningful look with Ron.

Again, Ron shrugged.

She had to suppress a giggle.

"It didn't even occur to us," Bill Weasley said. Unlike Callidora, he was a terrible liar. One just had to look at him. He wouldn't meet McGonagall's death glare, scratched his neck and harrumphed. Adorable, that – adorable and worthless.

"Yes, it did." The Headmistress closed her eyes, exhaled sharply, shook her head. "The damage is done, now. If we're lucky, your brother, Miss Selwyn, will contact us to set terms. That'll be our only chance to assess the situation and to maybe save Potter and the others. It will be their chance to fight back, once using magic becomes possible for them. Should no communication occur, then we will go through with sealing off what is left of our world. Your reckless actions have shown that you are, as I already suspected, not to be trusted." Her brow furrowed even deeper as she focussed her attention on Theo. "You, too, Mister Nott. Don't think I'm not perfectly aware of your opinions. I hoped, against my better judgment, that you'd really had a change of heart, but it's clear to me now that this was wishful thinking. As of now, none of you is allowed anywhere near the library until this situation is cleared. There will be no haphazard attempts at altering time to fit your tastes."

Everyone stared at her, gobsmacked.

Everyone but Theo. No, Theo had an almost serene look on his face.

Huh. Fancy that. Knowing him the way she did, Pansy was sure he had an ace up his sleeve.

He might not be a good liar, and he'd never lied to her, but that didn't mean he wasn't sneaky.

Callidora glared at her for a couple of seconds. Then, she smiled. "If that's how you feel, I can't stop you…I just find it intriguing that you judge my and Theo's personalities and then dictate, single-handedly, that we should be barred from educating ourselves and contributing to our society."

Fawley uttered a wry little chuckle. "You're so full of it."

McGonagall just raised a hand at him but looked at Callidora. "If you were in my position, you would do exactly the same thing. You wouldn't trust me, either. Now, once we've weathered this current crisis, you will regain the same access everybody else has. Until then, please don't do something reckless. I don't want to give Mister Fawley permission to take you into temporary custody." She chinned toward the door. "Now, please excuse us. Mister Fawley and I have a few things to discuss."

The little group lurched outside, and the door shut behind them. Theo and Callidora went first, not saying a word to the others. Bill and Fleur followed. Pansy and Ron went last.

Lowly, she said to him, "She had us under surveillance. She actually had us under surveillance."

Glancing at her over his shoulder, Bill said, from further ahead downstairs, "Can you blame her? What we did was megalomaniacal and stupid. I can't believe I let a former Death Eater talk me into going behind Minerva McGonagall's back."

"You don't have to worry about it anymore, do you, Weasley?" The jab at Callidora was a little uncalled for. Everyone had agreed to proceed as they had. When Pansy got to the foot of the stairs, she saw that Theo and Callidora had already vamoosed.

"It's better this way," Fleur said, taking Bill's hand. "We cannot do the time travel, anyway."

"You're right," he said, first smiling at her, then giving his little brother a stern look. "She is, and I'm glad we got caught. The Headmistress knows what she's doing."

With that, they both left.

Ron watched them go for a moment, then whistled lowly and gave Pansy a pained look. "Phew. We done got busted."

She blinked at him for a few seconds and then broke out laughing. "That was terrible! Didn't anyone ever tell you to stay away from Muggle literature?"

He pulled up one corner of his mouth. Wasn't quite a smirk. That wasn't something he did a lot, anyway. "I'm either too dumb or too stubborn to listen to anyone. It's hopeless."

When she started walking down the hall just to get away from the stairs leading to McGonagall's office, he fell into step with her.

"It was never gonna work, anyway," he said, and crossed his arms as if he were cold. "The whole thing was always ridiculous. No. Hermione, Ginny, Harry…they'll make it. We'll be fine."

"How can we ever be fine, Ron? Hm?" she retorted, an edge to her voice. "The whole Muggle world knows about us. Most of us are dead because they all hate us and want us destroyed."

"No, I don't think so. I mean, sure, a lot of us are gone, but maybe it's not so bad. Maybe some of them are hiding."

She snorted. "Hiding? Hiding where? I know you were confused a lot this past year, but come on. You remember what it was like before we fled into the wilderness."

He shrugged, visibly unfazed. "I just can't believe all Muggles hate us. I mean, if we're all different, and we even fought wars over who can be part of our world and who can't, then the same has to be true for them. There just have to be those Muggles who'd hide a neighbour who's a witch. There'll even be those working for the government who're secretly helping people like us. I know it. Nothing else makes sense."

Suddenly, barely even aware that she was doing it, she stopped and grabbed his arm. When he gave her a questioning look, she said, "Your infallible optimism never ceases to baffle me. You lose everything, get horribly sick, almost die in agony because of those…those Muggles. Your wife, sister, and best mate are stuck in a crappy apocalyptic nightmare, and here you are, believing in the power of friendship. I wish I could be like that."

The questioning look turned rather astonished. Then, he beamed. "Pansy Parkinson wants to be like me. Fancy that. Weasley really is your king, now, eh?"

The joke was so cheesy, she had to laugh again. "Oh God, we might all die. Come on, your majesty. Let's go grab a bite to eat. Maybe we'll have an epiphany, then. You can certainly use a few pounds on your ribs."

"Remember when I was really good at Quidditch?"

"Yeah, but that was before you weighed fifty pounds soaking wet. Come along…and do keep the constant rain of stardust and rainbow sparkles coming. After the dressing down we just got, I could do with a little cheer."

They set into motion again.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that he was smiling. He still was pasty and extremely skinny. He still had dark rings under his eyes. He still looked like he'd only just escaped certain death. But there was an aura of unshakable positivity and good cheer around him that was weirdly captivating.

For the first time, Pansy understood why he'd been popular among Gryffindors. Even worse, she could finally comprehend the appeal that this mentality (and the resulting tolerance) had. It just felt…right, didn't it? Effortless. To understand. To accept. To not sneer at those who were not like her. Good God, was she turning into a…what was that Muggle word again? Ah, yes, a hippie? Ugh. She suppressed another bout of juvenile laughter and said, "I was a shit to you at school. I'm sorry."

He glanced at her but kept walking. "So was I…we all were, especially me and my brothers. Complete shits. I'm sorry, too."

"Thanks." Eloquent, that. She'd never been as witty or snarky as Draco.

"I, uh…" He trailed off, scratched his neck. "I'm not really used to being listened to like this. You know."

"Oh, I do. Runt of the litter syndrome."

That made him snicker. "Yeah, that. I love my family…loved. Most of them are gone. They were great, but it wasn't always easy. To think that you, of all people, care about what I think." Again, he whistled lowly.

"Likewise. And that's enough soul searching for me. I'm hungry."

They reached the Great Hall.

3 The weasel had told Narcissa some ridiculous, completely insane plan that had zero chances of success, then had decided to be magnanimous and allow her to spend the next few days in her husband's company. Yes, this was all the little cretin's fault, and no, she was not inclined to feel any sympathy for his plight whatsoever. Still, she controlled herself, since she knew that two minds worked better than one, and…oh, she just missed Lucius like all hell. For her good behaviour (and how difficult it was not to gag!), the weasel even gave her and Lucius a potion that muted that ghastly itching sensation. He told her that everyone else had been getting this for years, and that not giving it to her or Lucius was some sort of petty revenge – not his, mind, but that of someone close to him.

Aw, squib boy had a girlfriend. Touching.

But by any god that may or may not exist, it was good to be with her husband again. She and Lucius had defected shortly before Voldemort got defeated, but they'd never made any excuses for themselves or their choices. That was something she had always loved about Lucius: how pure his ideology was. Fine, things had changed somewhat these past ten years, but that didn't mean their original idea had been wrong. After all, with less contact between the wizarding and the Muggle world, none of this would have…

…okay, Perseus Selwyn had decided to have his global tantrum long ago, obviously, since preparing the takeover must have taken decades. But what if things had been handled differently among themselves? If he'd had fewer Muggle allies then, he wouldn't be this powerful now. He obviously had some wizards and witches on his side, for whatever reason – probably disgruntled malcontents who'd pushed for harsh punishment of the surviving Death Eaters and were disappointed their expectations of justice had not been met.

If none of that had happened, if Voldemort hadn't lost his mind by slicing his soul to weeping shreds, then maybe things would have played out differently.

The thought was moot, though. They needed to kill the little bastard, and they'd probably only get one chance to do so – in a couple of days, when he was going to make some big announcement to the adoring masses or some silly such.

But seriously: how did someone like him gather so many followers? His soldiers loved him, that much was clear. No Imperius curse needed, no intimidation, no torture, no magic. They loved him, and that was why they followed him.

Curious.

Did the magic users who collaborated with him love him, too? A genocidal squib?

"How could we have been so arrogant?" she said out loud, but more to herself than to her husband.

They were both occupying the one smallish sofa in their rooms – stately, those, and more or less adequate for people of their standing – and holding hands.

Who knew how long before the weasel decided to separate them again out of pettiness? He sure as hell was self-secure enough to allow them to conspire.

But then again, there wasn't much they could do about it, anyway. Right now, the Malfoys were pretty much powerless.

"What do you mean, my love?" Lucius said, stroking her knuckles with his thumb.

"I mean that we were so sure of our own superiority, we never thought someone like Callidora Selwyn's squib brother could grow to have so much influence. She always knew how smart he is, but we just waved off and said, don't worry, he's just a squib. Just a squib." She bit her lower lip, shook her head, and looked at the bookcase that lined the opposite wall without consciously registering it. "No-one can get this far by themselves. He has droves of supporters, among them people like us."

"Hard to believe."

"Someone has been helping him, and from what I can tell and conjecture, it's not just one traitor. The little bastard has actual followers among witches and wizards. He is loved. Ironic, isn't it? Someone so angry at being ignored and considered inferior breaks the world via the power of love. He was loved before. He could've chosen differently. He could've achieved acceptance in a less destructive way, because if there's one thing he's good at, it's inspiring love."

"Does it matter?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Oh, yes. It matters. We followed Voldemort because we believed in his ideas, but from a certain point onward, we all feared and hated him. That was what felled him, in the end. Selwyn, though? He is human, approachable, and does a really great job selling to the masses the idea that he cares about them. I've never seen the like. I hate him, sure, but most people don't. He knew that going in. He could have built up support to effect change in the way squibs are treated, but instead, he did this. And now he tells me that he wants to give every human being magic, so that nobody should ever suffer that kind of prejudice again? To create a utopia? He almost sold me on it, but that can't be right. Something about this whole plan seems off…like a fever dream, and he's too meticulous, grounded, and plain intelligent for this kind of nonsense."

Lucius didn't reply at once. A good minute went by until he said, "He set you up. He set us all up. Whatever he's really planning, we've got one version, and whoever else is involved has another. The fact that he's letting us be together means he's either overconfident or just secure in the knowledge that we can't do anything to stop him anymore."

Shifting her weight a little so she could face him, she said, "For all his smarts, he's still a human being with certain needs. Someone who feels shunted to the side by his own people might succumb to certain temptations, such as gloating."

He gave her a doubtful look. "I'm sceptical. I've underestimated him at every turn."

"Maybe. Still, I won't give up until the very end. Whatever he's got planned for us, there's got to be a blind spot. I surprised him once at the Ministry. I can surprise him again." She smiled. "Besides, he has a weakness for me."

His expression turned disgusted. "Don't remind me."

She raised her face to place a kiss on his lips. "Whatever happens, whether we live or die, we'll stay together."

"Always." He put his arms around her. "I love you."

"I love you, too, and I promise you this: I will get our son back. I will end Perseus Selwyn for what he's done to us. I'll do whatever it takes."

"I know. If anyone can beat this bastard, it's you."

She closed her eyes and held him tightly.

4 Trusted lieutenant Joshua Lucesco had had enough time, Perseus figured, to work through his little spaz-attack concerning his witch mum. It was important that the kid keep his marbles for what was to come, though he wasn't the most important piece on this particular chessboard. The thing was, everyone mattered. It was never smart to place one's bet on only one person or object or whatever. That was one of the reasons Voldemort had failed so pathetically, in the end. He'd trusted nobody but himself, and since only he was indispensable, he'd mutilated his mind by cutting his soul apart. Therefore, the only person he trusted was the one person he couldn't trust. That explained why he'd kept trying to kill Harry Potter with the one method he couldn't kill him with – stupid, but explainable.

There were trusted lieutenants for a reason – like the fabled list said. In Perseus's case, there was Josh, who hated magic ever since his parents had been taken from him because of it. There was Sarah, the Terminator, who just wanted an extreme rule of law and order. There was Oswynn, who'd lost a bit of herself when her brother had been killed by Callidora and Lucius fucking Malfoy.

There was also his trump card.

Narcissa probably hadn't bought his now-let-me-delineate-my-nefarious-plot act, but that was okay. Everything had long been set in motion, so it would make no difference if the ragtag band of intrepid and charmingly unlikely heroes figured it all out. There was no countdown to activate the doomsday device. No Legions of Terror were waiting to be deployed. Hell, he wasn't even an evil overlord, and yet, better to keep the pitfalls of power in mind.

He met with Josh, Mary, and Sarah in his office.

They settled down. Mary and Josh were holding hands, both looking a little sheepish. Meanwhile, Sarah went on not giving a damn about her colleague's relationship drama – any of his drama, really. She never once complained, but it was obvious that she wasn't too keen on Josh's tantrums, his occasional ultraviolence, and his impulsive behaviour.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to drink or eat?" Perseus said, nodding when the three shook their heads. "Now, you must all be wondering what the hell this is about, being called to the headmaster's office and all." That elicited smiles from Josh and Mary, but not Sarah, because of course not. "It's nothing bad, so don't worry. You all know that I've kept many details of our organisation close to my chest, and none of you has ever complained about it. So, first of all, I would like to extend my gratitude. None of what we've accomplished would have been possible without you three. All over the world, we have loyal and competent people keeping things running, but I keep the three of you close for a reason. I trust you implicitly."

Josh's face got a little red. He'd showered, shaved, and changed clothes in the interim. Made him look like a real grown-up, too. "Thank you, man. After all the times I've fu…I mean, I messed up, I would've thought you'd demote me or worse."

"You had your own fish to fry, as the idiom goes."

Finally, the corners of Sarah's mouth twitched a little. "You finally got to terms with having a witch mother?"

Oh, dear.

Josh glared at her. "Did everyone know about that?"

"No," Sarah said, unfazed, "but given your background, it made sense to assume that they would target your family for a reason, the Death…" She gave Perseus a quizzical look.

"Death Eaters." He folded his hands atop his desk. "Josh, no-one told anyone about that. I was the only person who knew for sure. Sarah has high-level clearance and is privy to some details regarding the history of magic. And if I'm interpreting Mary's face correctly, she already suspected, too."

Mary only nodded.

Josh balled his free hand into a fist.

"Guess what? I know it was a shocking discovery for you, but it's not so bad. You mother was born into a Muggle family – a non-magical family, that is – with abilities she did not ask for. The powers that be took her to Hogwarts despite her parents' reservations. Afterwards, she chose a non-magical life and married your father. She was a good person who never hurt a fly. Isn't personal choice the deciding factor, here? Even though she possessed terrible power nobody should have, she chose not to abuse it. That takes strength of will. Your parents died trying to protect you. You should be proud to be their son."

This was followed by an awkward silence.

Finally, Josh nodded. "I know. I was just…shellshocked. But you're right. Heck, you're always right, so why should now be any different?"

"Not always, but a lot." He smiled at the boy. "Look, we all agree that the wizarding world was a giant threat to everyone by virtue of their immense and by nature inscrutable power. When people have such power, they will abuse it. That's exactly what happened, and not just once. But that doesn't mean all of them are evil. Some have, in the past, done their best to keep their world and ours separate. Others have been helping us these past few years. And that's a subject we need to tackle not just amongst ourselves, but publicly."

"Good witches and bad witches," Sarah said, and briefly clapped her left hand on Josh's right shoulder. "Boss, that might help with those of us who've been hiding those of them…you know, to decriminalise that. It's not like they can cause too much damage, anyway. We'd look like the reasonable people we are."

"Precisely."

Josh gave his boss a doubtful look. "I see where you're coming from, but isn't that…dissidence? People are supposed to report anything supernatural. If they don't and we just take it without protest, then that could lead to widespread rebellion."

Surprisingly, it was Mary who said, "No, Josh. We've never been afraid of different opinions, and you should never underestimate a human's capacity for compassion. If we reach out to people, decriminalise, and then tell them how the harsher measures were just temporary, then we can bring them all on our side."

Perseus had to admit, this was great thinking. He'd underestimated Mary, hadn't he? A mistake born out of arrogance, no doubt – arrogance and prejudice. Yikes. Even at this point, he wasn't inoculated against his own snobbery. A confession would do some good – a confession to Oswynn, who always knew how to ground him. "Well put, Mary. I agree completely. In fact, I find your intelligence, your quick thinking, and your good heart so impressive, I'm promoting you to Maisie Huang's old post."

Mary stared at him, wide-eyed. "Thank you, sir…I don't know what to say."

Josh smiled warmly at her, whilst Sarah remained impassive.

"Thanking me once is quite enough, dear Miss Shelley." He focussed on Josh again. "Your sweetheart's argument is sound, kid. You know she's right. You know because that was your own domestic situation. This is progress. We're closer to an actual solution. Look happier."

Josh brushed a strand of his fair hair from his forehead and nodded. He was still so young, wasn't it? Not even thirty years old, and he'd seen and suffered so much. Poor lad. There was still a great deal of pain in front of him. Everyone had their part to play – everyone. "I've had some time to think. You, Mary…you both helped me accept who I am, who my mom was. Because of her, I can't ever let those monsters succeed." He swallowed visibly. "Because she could've been a monster and chose to be a human being. Because she loved me and my dad. Because if she's possible, others are. All we need is to show them that nobody should have that kind of power." Conform or die was a very clear-cut philosophy that simplified matters quite a lot. This wasn't exactly what this enterprise was trying to achieve, but Josh didn't have to know that. He wasn't stupid and had, from time to time, shown a certain willingness to question his beliefs. Still, he was volatile and had an unfortunate penchant for brutality. That was an explosive combination. Therefore, it was better to treat him like the ticking bomb that he was.

Perseus, who prided himself on not being stupid, as well, had a contingency plan for the case that Josh might pop at the most inopportune moment.

If all else failed, Oswynn could work her magic, ha, ha, bad pun unavoidable.

What mattered that was all the players were now in place.

Soon, very soon, the war would be over.

5 Hermione and Draco were taken to a nice suite with all the creature comforts. Someone brought them sandwiches and tea in a thermos. There were clean clothes waiting for them in the large wooden closet. Okay, there was only one bed, but it was gigantic, and they were both grownups, so she didn't see a problem there. Even having that kind of thought was juvenile and silly, so she told herself to not be a child but to focus on what actually mattered.

First things first, though: they settled down in the living area – a smallish couch and an armchair around a fireplace – and ate.

"Vegetarian. Who would've thought," he said, and made a face, before taking a second bite.

"Why? Because genocidal maniacs have a contractual obligation to only serve unicorn steaks?" She sipped some of the tea out of the extra metal cup that had been on the tray with the thermos and watched him. "Your mother's alive. That's great news."

He shot her a doubtful look. "If that's even true. I don't want to think too much about it. If she's alive, she's still imprisoned here…a distraction I don't need right now." That made sense.

"Okay," she said, and nodded. "You know, he said that he doesn't need to get into Hogwarts physically, but he does need to communicate with them. Whatever he's really after, that at least is a fact. He said he needs us. He needed someone or something out of the Ministry. That means he still needs to use magic. It's the one chance we get to trap him." She let her gaze wander across the beautiful, luxurious room. Had she really spent the past year camping in Wales? Felt like another life. "I know he said that we can't trap him in amber, but that might be a lie. Might be a lie that he's caught the others, too."

"No. That one I believe. It was too transparent, and he's been ahead of us this entire time. The only thing he didn't see coming was my mother's sacrifice at the Ministry." He put the half-eaten sandwich down and wiped his fingers on the surprisingly provided napkin.

Were all prisoners being treated like this?

Hermione had to admit that this was a long way from being the captive of Bellatrix Lestrange at Malfoy Manor. She suppressed a shudder and drank more tea. What a relief it was to not feel that terrible itch anymore. At least she could think clearly like this.

Draco leaned back and started drumming on his thighs with his fingertips. "He said something I can't shake. He told us that Theo's Time Turner can't work…and he said we should mull this over. I have, and he's right. It can't work. I don't know if he's read books on this or if someone told him how time travel works, but he's right, and I can't believe Theo Nott of all people didn't catch that."

Gingerly, Hermione picked up what was left of the sandwich – egg and cress – and took a bite as she pondered his words. Once her mouth wasn't full anymore (a simple rule of courtesy that reminded her painfully of her parents…of the Weasleys, too), she said, "Why is that so? Please explain."

Pouring himself a cup of tea, he said, "Well, there are certain pitfalls where time travel is concerned, according to Theo himself. A little over eight years ago, he came to visit us at our estate and told me he'd been trying to develop a Time Turner that could actually be used to change time, not just effect a causal loop, like the Time Turners that already existed did. He also said it wasn't possible and that he was about to give up. When we had our little talk yesterday, I didn't even think of it, but now that we've got a little quiet and time, I remember our conversation quite clearly." The possibility of Narcissa Malfoy still being alive (Death Eater dad, as well) was probably helping him gather his thoughts. In any case, he looked less pale and ill. There was even the subtlest flush of colour on his haggard cheeks.

"Whatever happened must happen," she said, thinking back on her own experiences. "I've lived through a causal loop during our third year at Hogwarts. Harry cast a Patronus to save his past self because in the past, he'd been saved by a Patronus. Because it always happened, it had to happen. History was not altered. That, I know. But why do you say the past can't be changed?"

The question elicited a little smile. "Has the day finally come where I get to explain something to you?"

"Funny," she said, wanting to sound snide but missing the mark completely. No, she sounded as if she found his remark charming. That was what fire-forged friendship did to people. It would have seemed impossible only a few weeks ago.

He sipped some tea and leaned back again. "There are two scenarios that exemplify why, in theory, time travel that changes history is impossible. First, there is the grandfather paradox."

She nodded. Her hands, cupping the metal mug, were warm. Breathing in the tea's sweet steam was a balm for the soul. Sure, the suite's windows were shuttered, but like this, she felt civilised again – a dangerous lull, to be sure, but a pleasant incarceration beat what she'd already been through a million times over. "Jane knows her grandfather died in 1975. She travels back in time to kill him in 1955, even though she knows that he will die twenty years later and of natural causes. So, assuming she is even able to kill her grandfather and goes through with it, grandfather will have died in 1955. That means Jane will not travel back in time from her point of origin to kill grandfather, because she doesn't have to, because he didn't die in 1975. If she kills him before her parent is conceived, she will never even exist, will not travel back, and grandfather will survive until he dies of natural causes. Change becomes an impossibility."

"Yes. Ten points to Gryffindor." He jabbed a finger at her. "There's a different scenario, though. Picture this: there's been a tree in your yard since you can remember. You decide to travel back ten years and carve your name into it. You only do so because you grew up knowing the tree was uncarved. Now, if you do go back, your name will have been carved into the tree for the past ten years, but it can't, because you travelled back in time to do that. So, simultaneously, the tree will be carved and uncarved, which is impossible. Therefore, change cannot happen."

She just let this sink in as she kept looking at him. At length, she said, "But that's all theory. What if I do go back in time and carve my name into a tree?"

"You can't, not unless this has always happened. If you have that tree, your name has always been carved in it, and one day you discover that you're the one who has to go back to do it…that's possible. Causal loop."

"This is hurting my head." She rubbed at her brow. "The only explanation I have is that if I do go back to carve my name into a tree that was previously uncarved, I have created a parallel reality, therefore making it possible for the two alternatives to exist: the carved tree and the uncarved tree."

"That's what Theo said. He told me that a paradox would be created that was unreconcilable." He shrugged, sipped some more tea. "When Weasley told Potter that Theo had apparently worked out the kinks, I didn't put much thought into any of this." Looking somewhat embarrassed, he scratched his neck and broke off eye contact. "I suppose I was distracted."

"Small wonder." A moment went by in silence. Her thoughts were racing. "Either the plan is to really create a parallel reality where the past is changed, or Nott is mistaken."

"Mistaken or lying, though I don't think the latter is true. I also don't think Theo wants to create an alternate reality." Draco gave her a pointed look. "We're all on the same side, here, and what good would it do to create a different world where all this shit hasn't happened? We need to change our present, not create a different one."

"So…is he ignoring this? Does he have a solution? Is there a solution?"

Again, he shrugged. "I have no idea. They didn't mention it, and we didn't ask."

"We can't rely on that, anyway," she said, and closed her eyes for a moment. The pain in her knotted shoulders was flaring up again, and God, she was so, so tired. "No, we need to act as if no help is coming. We need to, as Selwyn put it, throw a spanner in the works. Nothing else will do."

"These cheap sandwiches certainly won't," he said, and heaved a theatrical sigh.

When she faced him again, she saw that he was smirking. "No," she said. "Tomorrow, I shall lodge a complaint with the hotel's administration. I suppose they'll have no choice but to give us a free meal."

"At the very least. The execution of the manager would be better."

6 Not long after, she took a shower and was happy to find body lotion, a fresh toothbrush, and other wonderful tokens of civilisation. It was probably bad that she felt grateful for this, but she couldn't help it. Her entire body was sore, her head pounding. It would be heaven to sleep in a comfortable bed with no fear of capture…because they'd already been caught.

She was already half dozing off when Draco came back from taking his own shower.

He got into bed gingerly, kept a healthy distance from her.

They hadn't talked about the sleeping arrangement because it would have been silly. Also, that would have meant even entertaining odd possibilities.

After yawning heartily, she said, "If you'd turn off the light, please."

He did so and settled down. "I feel like an idiot, getting all happy about a spacious shower and mint toothpaste…and product for my hair." The last bit, he added in a quiet, sheepish tone.

Despite her weariness, she had to snicker. "My hair's beyond good and evil right now, but did you try the almond milk body lotion? Heavenly."

"Exchanging beauty product experiences with you has been the highlight of my week. Thank you, o Lord." Just a few seconds went on in silence, before he said, "Hermione?"

She blinked, trying to get her poor eyes to adapt to the gloom, but she couldn't make out more than his contour. "Hm?" What she needed now was sleep – sleep, sleep, sleep.

"If all else fails, we need to get out of here and get into Hogwarts. Cut our losses. Survive."

God, her body was as heavy as lead, the bed soft like a cloud. "M-hm. We will. I know we will."

"You know, I'm really glad I'm here with you," he said, and yawned. "Because if you can't find a way, no-one can."

Even as she was drifting away, unable and unwilling to keep fighting sleep, she said, "We'll make it, Draco…together." She was dead to the world not ten seconds later.