Caelius Lupin had not slept since the moment he knew that his nephew hd taken the floo nudge through the fireplace of the room belonging to his sister-in-law. Dawn's grey fingers were being replicated by the ministry's weather wall as he sat in the cabinet office waiting for the rest of the Ministry wizards to join him for what was now going to be the last cabinet meeting of the Ministry. At least, the last one to be held in living memory, if things went wrong. Certainly the last one that would be chaired by Caelius Lupin,
Despite his medicine, supplied by Snape prior to his leaving with Septimus, he was beginning tire. But, of course, this wasn't his lycnthropy. His fate now was inextricably linked with that of his brother. He would perish because he had taken Remus's potion, this he knew. Caelius's mind drifted to his little brother. He needed him to live, and live as a human. There was one more deal yet to strike so that he could guarantee this.
Gritting his teeth, the Minister for Magic gritted his teeth and pulled himself into an upright position in his chair. An hour later he was still there, as his cabinet sat around the table, a variety of expressions sitting on their faces. But all those expressions meant the same: we know this is serious: guide us. Help us to know what to do.
"Depending on how the weekend goes, Dulcie, we will reconvene on Monday. Those of us who can should meet here at eight in the morning." Caelius removed his wand and flicked it, adding the date and time preposterously into all the Ministers' diaries.
"And how are we supposed to deal with all of this?" asked Hervert Herbert, Hovel Office Minister. "All of the non-wizards know now about the segregation: that wasn't meant to happen."
"No," laughed Caelius, drily. "The public, wizards as well as non- , weren't supposed to know. But Draco Malfoy underestimared the British public. Those who did know did not keep it a secret and, despite past divisions, it would seem they are united in one cause: to prevent segregation."
"But, of course, now that was not the focus. Now, right now, herever they were, in the Alps, two wizards would be making their way over to the Ministry to put an end to something they started a very long time ago.
"But there is give, even now." Caelius shifted in his seat, but no position eased his pain. "Even now, exemptions have been restored in wizarding families and those non-wizads who give birth to magical children."
"I can't see that that won't work," conceded Evelyn Forteskew, one of Caelius' most conservative of ministers.
"But that's not the point," replied Caelius. "It's not that: I do believe all of this: the development of Conjurists; "The Art of the Wize", the trial, the attacks at Halloween at the quibball exhibition at Hedgewards - " Caelius looked across to Bellatrix's empty chair, empty as the Minister for Sport had organised a protest lock-in at Wembley Stadium. "All of tha has been a smokescreen for Grindelwald and Dumbledore's plan, their main plan developed over decades." He gripped the chair's armrests and hauled himself up. "
"Keep everyone's minds on that and we won't notice that they are trying to cross dimensions, to potentially contact an evil wizard of their kind."
"What?!" asked Mick Mullen, aghast. "You think that's what this has all been about? Excuse me, Minister, but it does seem a bit far-fetched."
"Who is this wizard?" asked Mick's twin, Dave. "And why? Inspiration? A deal of some kind?"
"Who knows?" conceded Caelius, stretching out his legs as he paced around the grey-carpeted room. . "We do know they are targeting Cecilia Lupin's original time, and the attraction of Voldemort must be too hard to resist."
"Then why haven't they done it yet?" Dave pressed, nudging Mick's crossed legs off the cabinet table. His brother "hmph'd" disapprovingly.
""We do not think they have all they need. If Dumbledore and Grindelwald are going to do as we believe: use the veil to access Beyond, they need the three Non-Transmutable objects from where Cecilia came from. And to answer your first question," Caelius leaned heavily on the edge of the polished oak table," the wizard in question is wreaking terror and havoc currently in that dimension. Maybe they're waiting for the right time."
"What is the right time? Walpurgisnacht? Why is today that important?" asked Dave again,
"An ease of passage between worlds," replied Dulcie Dainty, unexpectedly. "Although physical passage between worlds has never been proven. The festival, I understand," she continued, lying down we spectacles with a small "clip", "is celebreted in Central Europe, when the passage between ours and the world of the devil is thin and he and the witches dance around and on top of a mountain."
"Real witches?" asked Evelyn, scornfully. "Whatever would real witches be doing there?"
"I understand it's more the custom from non-wizard myth, as are so may ancient aestivals around the world.
So, that is today, sighed Caelius, pain in his limbs and body. The potion was not as effective as usual.
"And, are you sure about the Non-transmutable objects? Such have only ever been postulated."
"They have them," replied Caelius, simply."
"So," said Lucius Malfoy, getting to his feet. "We are to oppose them?"
"Indeed, we with Hedgewards; they had a near miss – the ice phoenix could not withstasnd the might of the combined attack from the European Ministry wizards. They were seen off that time, with the help of someone to helped the bird. But they may be back. We have to do all we can to oppose extremism at the school; it cannot fall to the Dumbledore's Army wizards. So, my plan is this: some of you are needed with the protestors, here in London and around the country. Swap duties between yourselves while we undertake the work we need to do in the Departement of Mysteries. Lucius, Peter, you are with me covering that department.
"Why?" asked Peter, exchanging a look with Lucius.
"You will see. It will all become plain." He looked across to the self-minuting meeting quill.
"And so, I close the meeting. Don't forget, we all meet again successfully on Monday. Good luck, everybody."
88888888
"Hello?" Septimus's voice sounded strangely quiet in the cavernous chamber in which he found himself. Black was definitely the colour scheme which has been chosen for...wherever it was he was now.
He had come via the floo network; he knew that Harry Potter, Hermione Grainger and Ron Weasley had come too, but for the life of him he could not work out where they were.
"Hello..? Harry..?" he tried again, wondering whether it was still the middle of the day, as it had been at Durmstrang.
That had been a funny escapade. Having travelled there without Severus Snape, he had been rescued from certain death on the rocks below by a friend of his mother's, whose daughter he had, well, not exactly known from school but had certainly been at school, girlfriend of Harry's brother.
"Hello!" he tried again, and looked into the darkness, trying to discern shapes, gradients of the black, anything that might be able to tell where he was.
And he was in luck: ahead him was a very small, almost invisible, point of light. Go there, Septimus's mind told him. Go there.
In another part of the Department of Mysteries – for that is indeed where they were – Harry, Ron and Hermione were also looking into the darkness. They had spent the better part of six months tracking down Septimus Lupin only to find that they had lost him in the journey by floo from there to here. Ron, employee of British Floo, said there was no way that he could have got lost on the way. So he had to be here, somewhere, they reasoned.
"We're supposed to be getting married today," remarked Hermione, as they walked towards a greyer section of the department stood out from the black. "This morning. I suppose we've missed it."
"We can get married tomorrow," Harry shrugged. "We can get married any day. Today, there is something we need to do, isn't there?" When neither of his friends answered, Harry continued, "Work out what's going on, and how all of those things that have been baffling us for so long will be answered."
"I suppose so," Hermione conceded. "But I'm worried about mum and dad. I know they said that they'd delay modifying their memories until we were married, but still, that means that for all of the rest of their lives they won't know me, or any children we have, Harry. Wiping minds is immoral."
"Hello?" shouted Ron, into the darkness. "I tried," he whispered to the others, when there was no reply.
"Yes," nodded Hermione, noticing the grey to which they were walking was increasing compared to the black they were leaving behind. "We have Septimus to find. He'll probably be terrified, all on his own in the dark."
"Hello!"
"...hello...!" A reply came to Ron's shout and all three friends came to an abrupt stop.
"Where did it come from?" whispered Harry. "Do either of you know?"
"No," whispered back Ron. "Let's listen again."
And, sure enough, another reveberating "hello" came to their ears, its fuzziness indicating that the shouting person was a long way away.
"This way," Hermione hissed. "Straight on."
They continued to listen to the erratic shouts of "hello" as they moved further and further towards the greyness. It wasn't exactly light, so to speak, it was just brighter than the blackness around it. A good half an hour later, the "hellos" getting gradually more distinct they rounded a corner into a wide, cavern-like atrium, the light from the centre filtering out in all directions. Here, the stone was no longer obsidian-black, but like a cross between limestone and slate, a warm, comforting, beguiling feeling, which was making them feel very relaxed indeed.
And, near one wall, panting and sighing, was Septimus Lupin. Harry crossed over to him, supporting him as he breathed, Hermione and Ron hurrying over too.
"Are you alright? Is it the floo?" asked Ron. "It can take you like that sometimes," he added, as Harry helped the boy sit down.
"Just need..." Septimus reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a vial. He uncorked it quickly, and took a swig of some dark liquid, its colour indistinct in the grey light. "There," he said, his expression one of disgust. "I suppose your friend Sirius Black will have to take his lycanthropy potion now too."
"He will," came a voice. Severus Snape was sitting almost out of sight, his face pallid as he addressed them. In his arms was the body of Ragnhild Andersson, the truth teller, whom he had brought with him through the floo nudge.
"Is she dead?" asked Septimus, a little warily. But Snape just shook his head. "Will she be alright?"
"Who can tell? Her body is weak now; she is without her watchstone. She had had a good deal to cope with. Being a Narratoveritum is an unenviable gift."
"Where are we?" wondered Ron, getting up from his crouching position. "And, wow! I have never seen anything like this before." They all turned to look at it, almost nondescript, almost benign. Its ragged curtain, hung at the centre by someone who must have been a very inept, was moving, yet there was no breeze. Even the top, attached as it was to an archway, was rippling.
"We are at the right place, at the allotted time," Snape said, vaguely, and in answer to no-one. "We are where we are meant to be."
"Which is...?" asked Hermione.
"At the very centre of things. In the very middle of the Department of Mysteries."
88888888
These memories always seemed so unalike, so disparate. Now she had them all, Tabitha wondered whether it had been worth the time.
But of course, here, where the souls lived, where memories were animate and alive, there was no time. This was what Aloysius once said the time before the Big Bang, when the universe sprang forth, was probably like.
It didn't matter: she had done it. If she knew now was not the time to go she might find Aberforth Dumbledore and tell him. But then, knowing him, he probably already knew.
The rope was there, dangling just a few feet away. In her possession, like the knots in the perimeter of a fishing net, the time would come and the trap would be sprung. With her memories bunched together, Tabitha Penwright climbed up the rope, ready to pull the line. And, just a few steps behind her, the man, who had watched her for the entire of her quest Beyond, joined her on the rope.
He was there, behind her, with just a few more steps to go. His journey was nearly over too. Tabitha leaned over her shoulder smiled at Aloysius Lupin.
The Twine of Togo seemed as safe as ever she remembered it, when she descended. Another quick look over her shoulder, at the coalesced mass of memories. Did she have them all? Was it safe to climb?
88888888
"We could just disapparate," Hermione whispered to Harry, as they walked towards Septimus. "I could go to mum and dad's; you could go...home," she added, lamely. "We could still make our wedding."
"No-one will be able to get in or out, now," said Snape, lowering Ragnhild with the greatest of care to the ground. "Your Uncle Kay will have seen to that, Septimus."
"And, why are we here?" Septimus asked of Snape. "Apart from that Miss Andersson predicted we would be."
"Told it as it would be," Snape corrected. "She is not a fortune teller. She knows the future. Sometimes we just don't want to hear it."
"And we can't get out?" Septimus asked, looking around at the grey walls. Julian would like it here; it was his sort of stone.
"Not yet, at any rate. There's something important that we have to do first."
"But - " But before Septimus could continue, a green flash of light came from the corridor down which he had stumbled. Three of his friends stood there, arms interlinked.
"Thanks, Septimus," said Darren. "We really didn't think we'd get here. But, dad managed it, you know?"
"Where is it exactly that we are?" asked Julian, looking around. "The gneiss is nice but, you know, there aren't any windows."
"You are in the Department of Mysteries, in the Ministry of Magic," said Snape, his voice hollow. "And I do not know how it is you got here, but - "
"Mum and Dad, sir," said Darren, simply. "Dad arranged for it so we could follow Septimus's non-wizard floo."
"Hello, Septimus," said Rufus, his dark curls bobbing as he spoke. "Dorielle was a real help just now."
"Hang on," said Harry, "I don't get it: what are you talking about? Why is it you're here?"
"To be with Septimus, of course," said Rufus, brightly. "We've spoken with his floo powder; we knew he was safe with you, Professor. But, now that Hedgewards has been attacked, we thought it best to be together."
"Did you now!" snarled Snape, taking a few steps towards Julian, Darren and Rufus. "Well, you can go right back to Hedgewards and - "
"Oh, but they can't." The voice came as if from all around them, its soft syllables warm and comforting and, to the listeners made them feel at ease, relaxed. "The Ministry is in lockdown. It would be far too dangerous for them to leave."
"Uncle...Uncle Kay?" asked Septimus, looking around. And there he was, his kindly uncle, who he had missed for so many months. Who took care of him and who looked decidely not like himself.
"We are all quite safe, for now," Caelius's voice continued. "And your particular magic has allowed your friends to be right by you, Septimus. That will be good, in the end."
"Uncle Kay, are you here?" Septimus asked, his face full of anticipation. "It's so good to hear your voice. Why are we here?"
"In a few minutes, you will discover that." From the darkness, Caelius Lupin trod carefully, the pain now seeming to lighten from his frame as he saw his much loved nephew. "I am so glad to see you, Septimus," he said, as Septimus gave him a huge hug. "I am grateful to you, Severus, for bringing him safely to me." No, definitely unwell. He would ask his uncle about it when they got out of...wherever they were.
"So, why are we here?" asked Harry, staring at the Minister for Magic. "It can't be just for a happy reunion. That could happen anywhere."
"Indeed it could not," Caelius replied, frowning at Harry. "You should know yourself, Mr. Potter, that at this moment the whole of the country is in protest at the Segregation Act and, at this moment, a huge crowd is assembled outside the Ministry.
"For what? To attack it?" asked Hermione, anxiously. Caelius shook his head.
"To just be there, I think. To register their opposition. Sometimes being there is the only thing you can do."
A soft moan from the floor near Severus's foot brought everyone's attention back tot he truthteller. Ragnhild tried to sit up, but the effort was too much for her.
"Dear Ragnhild," said Caelius, crouching down next to her. "You have done well, so well. Your daughter is safe; she is in Iceland with your husband's family, and with her own husband."
"With Sam," hissed Hermione, to Harry. Harry nodded, then whispered back, "but he's so young! He's only seventeen – and married?" Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. She wanted to say that she wished she had not been so insistent on them following Septimus, that she wished she was at home making the preparations that they themselves had been making for over a year. But then, would there be anyone to attend? Would anyone come? Would the wizard performing the ceremony? It seemed like a lot of people were involved in protesting across the country. Harry was right: they could do it another time. This, however inexplicable, seemed to be where they needed to be right now.
"Then, it is as I hoped," Ragnhild managed, with effort. "I betrayed so many people to make it so."
"Betrayed?" cautioned Caelius, sharply. "You did nothing of the kind, only passed the truth when it was needed.
"Miss Andersson," began Harry, desperate to know how everything that had filled his report, from his mother's work, from the Ministry, all fitted, but Hermione shushed him.
"Why are we here?" she asked, bluntly.
"It was once the beginning; it is now...the end..."
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean, Hermione Jean Grainger, twenty six years one month and twelve days ago was your beginning."
"And the end?"
"When the wizards come – that will be to end of all of this, and they will go." She strained her head round to the Minister for Magic. "Will they not, Caelius Aloysius Lupin?"
"What you say is the truth, dear friend," said Caelius, serenely. "But it is the manner of their exit that we have come to decide." He looked around at the people in front of him: Harry Potter and Hermione Grainger, Ronald Weasley. Septimus's three friends. And Severus Snape. He would have the hardest time with Severus Snape.
Just below them, dimensions away, two people were ascending a rope, all of the memories amalgamating into one cloud now, coalescing and becoming darker, and dense. Above Tabitha, the veil fluttered.
"Yes, Ragnhild, said Caelius, in a voice more delicate than anyone had ever heaed before, "they will go as they came."
"Your security, that will not be enough and you know it," Snape shot back, pacing warily, like an angered tiger, between Harry, Ron and Hermione, past Rufus, Julian and Darren, not daring to look away from Caelius. "You know that nothing will now stop them."
Nor stop me, thought another former headmaster of Hedgewards School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And you knew I would be here, dearest Caelius.
"I have help. Two of my most trusted ministers." From behind him, Lucius Malfoy stepped out, and behind him, smaller and less confident, Peter Pettigrew.
"Malfoy? Pettigrew?" scoffed Snape, derisively. "Tell me, isn't it your son who has caused all of this trouble?" Lucus Malfoy had the decency to look ashamed.
"He has overreached himself this time," he replied. "And I truly think that, given time - "
But he did not continue. Nobody who was about to follow him did either. For, just then, a flash of light, brighter than the sun, hotter than a summer's day illuminated between them all. Septimus held up his hands to prevent the light from hurting his eyes and he saw for a split second, the outline of his metacarpals, like an X-ray. When he removed them he saw, to his utmost arrangement, lying still on the floor, his mother, Cecilia Lupin, looking peaceful, looking well.
Still in her turquoise-blue dress, as lovely as I left her, thought Lindvald, waiting patiently as the two wizards who stood either side of her glared around at the company. But Septimus only had eyes for his mum, someone which a part of him had begun to believe was dead.
"Mum!" he shouted, and was about to rush over to her, when a large, restraining hand landed on his shoulder.
"Stay still," his uncle hissed, as he himself withdrew his wand. It was a common idea, for all those standing before Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald had also done the same.
"Well, well, Gellert, a welcoming party," mocked Dumbledore, leering towards Harry and Hermione, and then at the boys. "Ah, well, more people to tell of our terrible greatness."
"And we truly are great, are we not, Albus?" replied Grindelwald, withdrawing his wand. "Let us begin with our two old friends." He dipped his wand in the direction of Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew, who bent at the waist as their command.
"You knew you had a traitor, Caelius Lupin," continued Grindelwald, making Malfoy and Pettigrew bow again, this time more comically, "but you didn't know you had two."
"Two traitors!" Caelius exclaimed, looking at his trusted ministers. "But that means..."
"Yes," nodded Dumbledore, in a mock-grave manner. "Loyal ministers for nigh on twenty five years. Such a long time to be under the Imperius curse. Still," he added, stupefying Malfoy and Pettigrew, "I chose well, all those years ago. They have given excellent service to me." He looked round, leering at Snape. "If only dear Aberforth was here to see this; he would have been incandescent with fury. He thought he was playing a long game. Only mine was a little longer."
"And what exactly did they do?" asked Harry, quickly. "Something to do with the time turners? Something to do with conjurists? Or the Going?"
"Very good, very good!" patronised Grindelwald, flicking his wand in Harry's direction. You think you have all the answers?"
"I have some of them," said Harry, trying to resist the bodybinding curse that Grindelwald was attempting to put on him. "Like, for instance, Mrs Lupin. She's not from this place; she's from...somewhere...else..."
"Then, stop struggling, and watch."
For a moment, the Department of Mysteries darkened, like the darkness in between the flashes of lightning in a thunderstorm. As they looked, projected just in front of the wall, appeared the image of a boy, dark-haired, smiling, happy. Next to him, parents held out their hands for him. He was toddling through a wood, the sun bright through the glades, shining off bluebells and wood sorrel. The man called for the boy and, as they watched, the boy aged, an older child, a teenager, a young adult. His first job, at the Ministry of Magic sorting the post and delivering drinks to the older, crankier ministers. His next, as a clerk; his next as security. The minutes it was taking to see all of this, Tom Riddle's life was over, and younger colleagues from the Ministry were at his graveside paying their respects to an old, happy, full-of-life man, living peacefully in obscurity.
"Merope amd Tom Riddle were so pleased when they had their son," Dumbledore continued, lowering his wand. "The sum of nearly a hundred years and so very few of them making much of a difference to anybody or anything at all. But now..." He held aloft his arm, and in it Septimus could see, a white object, long and thin, its appearance looking even more grey in the light.
"With just one or two things that we have before us, we can recreate this life. We can use it to our purpose." And with one swift movement, Harry Potter found himself walking with relucatance, to where Albus Dumbledore was standing.
"Bone we have...but blood...we need blood, Harry Potter."
"Harry?" Hermione's voice screamed at them. "What has Harry got to do with this? You can't...you can't take his blood without...without..." she looked about desperately. "Without a qualified healer!"
The laughter was sickening. At Hermione's words both Grindelwald and Dumbledore began to laugh, deep, throaty laughs which filled the whole of the veil's atrium.
"You even had the books in your house, despite the number of times you threw them away, Hermione Grainger of the European Ministry. How is it that, despite your cleverness, you really didn't see what was right under your nose."
He pushed Harry away, and he sprawled on the floor in front of Ron, who ducked down and asked, "Alright, mate?" as he helped Harry to his feet.
"Books?"
"The Boy Who Never Was," Harry managed, staring at Hermione as if trying to tell her something above his actual words. "I was the boy; or rather, the boy was Harry Potter."
"But why?" insisted Hermione, shivering, though it was quite warm down in the veil's chamber.
"Because!" shouted Gellert Grindelwald, exultantly, "Lord Voldemort only has to be reunited with all parts of his soul and beyween us we can rule two realities for the glory of wizardkind, for the Greater Good."
"Then Aloysius was right," thought Hermione, something clicking into place in her mind. "The place she came from was real." She looked around, and realised eyes were on her. And then, Hermione realised, to her horror, that echoing around them were her thoughts. "The place...she came from...was real..."
Try harder, Harry thought back to her. Focus. Hermione looked at him, and nodded her head enough for him to notice.
"And so," concluded Dumbledore, in light of this, "I need your blood - " he grabbed Harry's wrist, exposing the soft underside of his arm, "just a little." He stroked the end of his wand down Harry's arm, at which is began to bleed copiously.
"Very good," mocked Dumbledore as he held Tom Riddle's femur under the scarlet trickle. "Blood, and bone will put us at the very centre of the action, so to speak." He turned to Grindelwald, who nodded briefly with satisfaction.
"I don't believe you!" shouted Hermione. "It's all a load of - "
"Is it?" murmured Dumbledore, whose eyes drifted now to the floor, and at the back of the chamber where Ragnhild Andersson breathed heavily, her eyes closed. "What say you, truthteller? Do I speak falsely."
"No," panted Ragnhild. "Harry Potter exists where you intend to go. This Harry Potter's blood will get you there."
"Exactly." Dumbledore looked back to Hermione, savouring the word. "You don't really still believe the cause of the conjurists and the Separation Act were our only intent? They aided our cause to get us here. Now, shall we hear it from the Narratoveritium herself? For she does not have long left in this world, and we may as well make the best use of her as we can. Truthteller," Dumbledore called again, "can you tell us how it is we will get back?"
"Leave her!" demanded Caelius Lupin, striding over to Albus Dumbledore. "You have the three non-transmutable objects; you can go, can you not?"
"Can we?" Gellert snapped, withdrawing a locket, once belonging to Tabitha Penwright, and before that Ragnhild Andersson, and, right back before that, her ancestor."
"Tell them, Ragnhild Andersson, the significance of these objects."
"They have travelled through dimensions, through time and space, carried by a mysteriour, by a non-wizard and by a truthteller," Ragnhild continued. "They will get you back to Cecilia's correct place and time. And, now you have the bone and blood, they will take you to Tom Riddle there, too."
"Cecilia's correct place and time?" Septimus sank down to the floor, his mother's face, still and silent, almost peaceful, looked back at him. "But she lives here."
"She came here," corrected Dumbledore, "she arrived here, Septimus Lupin. Ah, and I had rather forgotten you were here." He flicked his eyes to Caelius, who took another step towards Cecilia.
Why aren't any of them trying to stop Dumbledore and Grindelwald? Hermione's mind tried desperately to get that into the mind of Harry. Why is Caelius so insistent that they have what they want and they need to go away with them now?
Harry glanced at Hermione and thought back: he has a plan, Hermione. This must be part of their plan. Slowly, he withdrew his wand from his back pocket.
"Slytherin's locket; Cecilia's letter. Cecilia herself." He stared back at Dumbledore and then demanded, "well, use them, Albus! Leave this place and never return. Leave with no casualties and it can be said, in front of all of these witnesses that Albus Dumbledore found a way to make peace." He glared at Dumbledore again, "unless you are afraid."
"Afraid?!" The word echoed around the chamber, the gneiss rocks shaking a little. Julian looked at the others, who also were too scared to move as the word increased in amplitude, and same flash of light which heralded their arrival also signalled their departure.
Siezing Cecilia around the waist, and gripping what looked like a yellowing letter Gellert Grindelwald conjured a shield charm around them, Dumbledore the be-blooded bone. As the author of this story I would like to say that they disapparated, for no spell I know describes what happened next. All three bodies, two wizards and on non-wizard, turned in a sort of vortex, falling in on themselves as Dumbledore's word echoed around them. The glowing mass swirled towards the veil.
"Mum!" screamed Septimus, trying to dash forward, but was pulled back by Snape, who held a strong arm around his chest.
The white mass disappeared, but only for a second, and then the three forms reappeared.
Aloysius Lupin, invisible to this dimension, stepped out after them, and joined Lindvald Halen in the shadows.
"No!" screamed Grindelwald, in fury, when they arrived back where they started from. "Albus! You said you had this right!" He lay Cecilia down on the floor between them gently, almost reverentially, and added, "you have emptied her mind; it has to work!"
"But, you are missing something." Now, the truthteller was not even waiting to be asked. Perhaps because she had so little time left, a biochemical result of her interaction with space-time was compelling her to speak. (Or, it could be that it is a logical narrative device to have Ragnhild speak just now. Either way, she spoke."
"You are missing something, Albus Dumbledore. "You are missing the one final key that will take you to where you need to be!"
"No!" shrieked Caelius, stepping over to her. "Ragnhild, what are you doing? Your daughter is safe; you do not need to sacrifice yourself to this." He brushed a long strand of hair away from her face, her blue eyes still managing to shimmer in the semi-darkness.
"So says the man who has made the ultimate sacrifice for his brother." She looked at Caelius's face, cool in the face of his pain; collected when confronted with chaos. A true politician if ever there was one. "Rest, Caelius Lupin. Your ancestor would want you to, I think."
And then she hoisted herself up onto her elbows, and stared at Albus Dumbledore, her ethereal beauty radiating around one last time.
"My history is terrible," she began. "As you know, Aloysius Lupin, for you were there, twenty three generations ago." She pulled back her head as if she were speaking to someone very far away. In the shadows, Lindvald Halen took a step back so that Aloysius Lupin could take his place. "You remember, don't you? How you were given the red amethyst by Agnetta Nicholasdottir? But, of course you do."
Below them, aeons below, Tabitha Penwright inched her way up the rope.
"Gloria was born, on a bright morning, the winter solstice, born alone, as we all were. Gloria. Dear Gloria Salazarsdottir." She looked at Dumbledore, holding the bone of Tom Riddle. "I am the Heir of Slyrherin too. As is Crystallia." She looked sharply across to Caelius, and hissed, "You guarantee her safety?"
"I do."
"And that of my granddaughter."
"You are related to Salazar Slytherin?" asked Harry, his arm pulsing as it began the slow process of healing.
"And Herpo the Greek," she nodded, happily. "Even this artefact, this veil, is as related to me, in a manner of speaking.
"Then I have something of yours!" exclaimed Julian Scott, who had just opened his hand, realising just what he had in it. He dashed before Dumbledore and Grindelwald, kneeling carefully in front of her and handed her the red amethyst. Ragnhild looked up to him with her still brilliant eyes, and they crinkled as she tried to smile. "It saved the whole of Hedgewards," he added, proudly.
"You are a kind boy," Ragnhild said, "and I am grateful to Lindvald Halen for taking it from me last Christmas to give to you for that very purpose. But I am afraid it is too late."
"No!" demanded Grindelwald, his white-blonde hair shimmering in the low light. "You will live, Ragnhild Andersson. You will live long enough to tell me if we will succeed."
The truthteller turned her eyes, now sunken into he beautiful face to Caelius Lupin. "Severus Snape was right. You did not make this place as secure as it could be."
Closing her eyes, Ragnhild made to sleep, but Julian tried to shake her arm.
"You have your watchstone!" he insisted. "You don't have to die!"
"Out of the way, stupid boy!" exclaimed Severus Snape, taking Julian roughly by the shoulder and shaking him away. "Look!"
From out of nowhere, a cry, like a gyrfalcon, a kaa-kaa-kaa sound began, quietly at first, as if very far away. And then, as if hurried along by a wind a blue-white bird appeared, which shed frost particles and snowfakes in its wake.
The ice phoenix circled the veil's arch, and then perched on the top, as if considering what to do. But not what, when. For his mistress was lying on the ground, her eyes closed. It was time.
The phoenix circled the people it found below it, kaa-kaa-kaa'ing as it flew, shedding sparkles of ice When it descended it landed next to Ragnhild, stretching out its wings as if to shield her from view.
How very like her hair colour this bird's plumage was, Harry caught himself thinking. Hermione glanced to him and nodded in agreement.
It then gave one last kaa-aa, as it folded its wings around Ragnhild, before popping out of existence suddenly, like a soap bubble. All eyes were on the phoenix. All except one. Septimus's eyes were on his mother. For she had given him a growing sense of hope.
"Where has she gone?" asked Julian, who was still close to where the witch had been lying.
"To the land of her ancestors," said Snape and then, more quietly, "and to where souls go."
"Enough of this!" Grindelwald raged, holding his wand at arms' length, ranging it around like a loaded shotgun. "We need the third object, Albus, otherwise all of this has been for naught!"
Nearly at the top, thought Tabitha Penwright, her optimism rising as light filtered through from above. She was nearly there, and she could hear the sounds of the Ministry, of people talking, of footsteps. But, she thought, as she pulled herself to the top. However, Tabitha could not see anyone distinctly: it was as if she were looking through a room of mist. And, even worse, they were't of the same place: indeed, the people on one side of the view were in completely different positions. With care, she pulled the coalesced memory clouds close to her.
"Why is it not working!" Grindelwald cried, his wand darting aroung from person to person. Septmus gave a vary look to his uncle, who seemed to be standing quite calmly, quite patiently near where Ragnhild had disappeared from.
Unless...
"It's good of you to join us, Lindvald Halen!" Dumbledore greeted the wizard enthusiastically, and smiled a lighthouse beam smile. "I wish to congratulate you on your loyalty." Lind bowed.
No!" shouted Snape, wand raised. But Lind held up his hand. Panic crossed their minds now as Snape, the famous potion-maker, the Ministry employee, the European Parliament official, the floo engineer felt their limbs stiffen. Hermione tried to move, but her legs felt as if they were trying to run through snow. Ron and Harry exchanged glances.
"What can we do?" hissed Darren to Rufus. But Rufus Lestrange nodded in the direction of Septimus, who kept looking in his mother's direction.
"How long have you been here, Lindvald?" Grindelwald asked, his angular features forming into a kind of smile.
"A long time," replied Lind, casually. "Before anyone else arrived. You have all of the NTOs? "
"Yes, yes!" shot back Grindelwald, irritably. "We could not get past the archway!" Caelius Lupin put his arms around Septimus and the minister slowly withdrew his wand. But Septimus did not notice. Instead, he was looking at his mum.
"And you have the right time?" Dumbledore asked Grindelwald.
"It could be the wrong date!" Gellert Grindelwald screamed to his lover.
"How could it?" shot back Dumbledore. "We know we can only access it through the world of souls when the way is thin...tonight...the opposite time from Samhain, Halloween. Walpurgisnacht, wie du kennt, mein schatz. Tomorrow is Beltane, the way to the other world is...thin...it's the only chance we have, now, tonight, to pass to Voldemort's world!"
"No!" Snape managed, trying to free himself from the body bind curse and successfully finding his voice. He looked across to Caelius Lupin, who was nodding towards Grindelwald as a dreadful thought occurred to him "No, Caelius, surely not!"
Caelius Lupin looked at Snape with pity in his face. It wasn't Severus's fault that he had not transmitted the whole of Aberforth's roles to Snape and to James. But the potion-maker had been foolish to trust him.
"Of course! This is not just our world Severus, as well you know. The minute Cecilia appeared here it bound our worlds. As Aloysius Lupin will tell you."
"Aloysous Lupin is in the past!" shot back Snape, struggling against the spell that was impeding him.
"One day," said Lindvald Halen, quietly, turning his chestnut-brown head towards Snape. "But not just yet. You have served them all well, Caelius, my boy," Lind added turning to the Minister for Magic, who was still holding his nephew protectively. He could never ask anything more than what Caelius had done.
"This was all planned?!" Snape bellowed.
"Yes! Of course!" Harry's words tinkled into the conversation like icicles crumbling. "It all makes sense! The missing time turner, which belonged to belonged to Salazar Slytherin, he gave it to you, Flamel, Lully!" He glared at Caelius, to whom, Harry realised, were no surprise which, for some reason, angered him more. How could they have been so stupid as to follow Septimus? Of course they weren't stopped; it was all part of Caelius's plan. And then another thought occurred to him.
He looked across to Lindvald Halen who, now Harry came to think about it, had come from nowhere, and was now an integral part of this. So much time spent reading about the Going and now, with congealed blood on his arm, standing in the centre of the Ministry for Magic, one answer beamed into his brain like a laserbeam.
"Flamel just wanted to go home," he began, steadily, looking at Lindvald's young, happy features. "But you and Lully, wanted to do something. Yet, you are not of their time, are you, Lindvald Halen? Go on! Answer me!"
What do you mean? Thought Hermione. How is Lindvald Halen linked to the "Going"?
But if he had heard her, he didn't show it. Instead, he stared at Lindvald.
"It is true," nodded Lind. "I am not of their time."
"And, and when Tabitha returns," Harry continued, "Dad will find that there is only 1 timeturner missing - yours and Tabitha's are one and the same: Slytherin's and yours. And you - " He wrenched his eyes from Lind, and back to Caelius. Oh, Caelius, the loving uncle; the caring Minister, in whom people didn't entirely trust to be on their side, but people did trust to do what was needed for the good of everyone, even if it was distasteful, even if it was harsh. Caelius was the traitor, selling out the country?
" - you wanted them to have the non-transmutable objects! You planned this; you allowed so many deaths! You said there was a traitor in the ministry, you were right, it was you."
"I do not deny it," Caelius nodded, gravely, bending his neck. "It all became too much, in the end. Something had to give. I had to protect my family."
"Caelius," warned Lindvald, "you must keep your side of the bargain."
"What bargain?" thought Hermione, to Harry, but Harry shook his head.
"All very touching!" snapped Grindelwald. "But, can you tell me, Caelius Lupin...Lindvald Halen...what is the third object?" But Caelius did not answer at first. Instead, he drew Septimus closer to him, giving him a hug, and kissing him on top of his head.
"I have loved you, Septimus, since you was a little boy, like you were my own..." Caelius spoke softly, his voice one of mourning, one of regret and, dropping to the boy's level, he held his shoulders and looked him sorrowfully into his eyes. "From the moment you were born, it was like you were my own son. But I knew then that I could never keep you...I had to give you up one day. It's in you, this link to where they are, not in your mother, for she never existed here, not properly. You were made not here...but there...where they want to go."
A slow, lazy smile crept over the features of Gellert Grindelwald, who raised his arm triumphantly into the air.
"Wwhen your mother came, and it was discovered she was expecting you, I was so pleased for your parents, but could never leave my mind that you were from Beyond. I tried to forget about it, and I loved you, probably more than Remus could, if that were possible. But, the truth is absolute." He pulled Septimus towards him, holding onto him tightly, before loosening his grip and standing away.
"You have done well, Caelius Lupin," growled Grindelwald, stepping triumphantly over to Septimus, holding his wand towards Septimus.
"No!" shouted Julian, standing right by him. "Septimus! No!"
"Out of the way!" screamed Grindelwald, pushing him firmly by the chest. But Julian would not be pushed, and instead, lunged at the wizard's legs, hitting and pounding at him.
"Ah, the little non-wizard!" exclaimed Grindelwald, laughing as he kicked Julian off, turning his wand to him instead. Darren made to dash past Snape and join in the fight, but Rufus grabbed his arm. Instead he pointed to the floor, and to Cecilia Lupin.
"Avada..." began Grindelwald, with pleasure. But that was all that he could manage. Instead, he found that his wand was not in his hand, and was lying on the floor by his feet.
"Accio wand!"
And there she was, standing between Dumbledore and Grindelwald, Lindvald Halen, the cause of her imprisonment with the two wizards standing mute next to Caelius, watching in amazement as the woman who had been used for her memories was challenging the greatest wizard this reality had ever known. She was still in the blue dress Lind had taken her to the Durmstrang dinner in, her hair somewhat dishevelled now, and one of her shoes lost. But now she had the power.
For, she had spent the last four months in an induced state of unconsciousness while Albus Dumbledore removed memories from her mind an extreme magical environment. And this environment had equipped Cecilia's cells with the ability, if only temporarily, to acquire magical powers and abilities from these two powerful wizards. They had accidentally taught Cecilia magic, and her body had learned it purely and without interruption. Had you not known it, you might have said she was a witch.
"Leave Septimus, or I will break it!" Cecilia threatened, holding Grindelwald's wand between two hands. "You need it, don't you, Gellert, to get back to where I'm from?" Triumph irradiated from Cecilia, a triumph that she was unused to. She had come from somewhere else; she had changed history with Joseph Black. And she had come here, where things – some things – were done very differently.
But, she had not known about Septimus. As she stood there, with the wizard's wand in her hand, trying to think what spell she needed to release Snape, and Harry, Ron and Hermione, her mind flooded with thoughts of the Old Place, of Remus, her werewolf lover, of Sirius, of Snape. Not the Snape of here, but destroyed by dark magic, of Harry, the young boy trying to absolve the world of the dark wizard Voldemort, who had killed his parents and orphaned him. Would he have turned out like the man standing before her, in the company of his fiancee, unburdened by terrible events and even worse choices? What would a world where these dark wizards had allied themselves with Voldemort be like? The consequences were too abhorrent to contemplate.
"Relashio!" Cecilia's mouth managed, pivoting around and aiming Grindelwald's wand to the bound wizards. The spell was inaccurate, but it managed to reflect off the wall behind Snape and scatter over them like water. It freed up Ron the most, who withdrew his wand and aimed a "Stupefy" spell at Caelius, which missed as the wizard fell to the floor. "Julian!" she shouted at Julian Scott, who was standing, rigid, to the spot. "Get out of here – go! There must be a way out for you." She ducked as a stunning spell had been sent to her, which had, much to her delight, managed to hit Caelius in the chest.
"Go, now, Septimus, my darling!" she shouted, as his Uncle Kay slumped to the ground. But Srptimus did not go, and instead sank to his knees, looking in horror at his uncle's body.
Another stunning spell, from Gellert Grindelwald, trying to succeed where Albus had failed. However, it too failed and he swore at the miss, damning Cecilia to hell, for this time it hit the wall and reflecting off, its path tracing towards the veil. When it got to the interface, the spell fizzed out, leaving blue and purple sparks to bounce back off the translucent curtain.
In the meantime, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Snape had joined in the fight, all of them aiming stupefying or other unconscious-inducing spells, with a variety of success. Ron had managed to make Dumbledore's beard grow at an alarming rate. But, Grindelwald, now relying on wandless magic, had repelled them all, and was advancing slowly towards Septimus.
"Go on!" shouted Snape, who was covering him. "Your uncle will be what he will be. Get out! Find the Reciprocators if you can; find James and Sirius!It's you they want. Go, with your friends. Put your friend finders together!"
With one last look back at his uncle Kay, Septimus jumoed out of the way of a "glisseo" spell, glancing over his shoulder as the floor behind the veil became as smooth as an ice rink. The spell was expanding all over the floor, and he ran towards Julian, Rufus and Darren, his friend-finder clutched in his hand.
"We need to do something with them!" Septimus panted, as they ran back up the passage down which he had come, when he had floo'd to the Department of Mysteries. "Come on, does any of you know? Rufus?" He looked pertinently towards his friend, who had gifted them all to them under Darren's illuminated wand. "What does your mum say?"
In the atrium the fight was getting critical. Hermione had sustained a strain to her ankle as she had been caught unawares of the slippery floor, and it had taken Ron's two strong arms to pull her back from the angle at which she had been travelling, towards the veil. Snape was battling Grindelwald, both wizards locked in a bitter battle of wills. Balls of light were coming from Grindelwald's palms, which Snape was deflecting, for now. But he surely couldn't keep it up indefinitely? He was being aided by Harry, in a sporadic, haphazard manner, for Harry was also blocking stunning spells and others, nasty and unpleasant, designed to inflict cuts and gashes to limbs and the body which Dumbledore was dealing out to him. Behind them, Ron and Hermione were parrying blows with Lindvald Halen.
But Cecilia had stopped in her fight for the moment, drawn as she was to her brother-in-law. Caelius looked so vulnerable, so weak, lying there on the cold, flagstone floor. Could she do anything? Should she? She knew that he had been about to hand her son over to Grindelwald. But: he had, in a roundabout sort of way, tried to protect him too; had always protected him. Kneeling by him, Cecilia whispered, "Caelius. What can I do to help?"
"Do?" The voice came low, and cracked. But was there all the same, firm, and commanding, even though Caelius Lupin was clearly in pain. "I tested Remus's vampire potion on myself, to ensure its efficacy," the Minister for Magic managed, its tone still managing to chide. "He will live; he will not undergo the change."
"I tried to love your brother!" Cecilia protested, feeling pent up emotion, like a dam, behind her throat. "He made it easy at the start, but then...! And you forced him to marry...me...!" And then there were no more words. She had wanted to say something soothing, something to help a dying man. Clearly, Caelius did not want to hear them,
A hollow moan, like a million dying elephants, came from her brother-in-law, but Cecilia's head whipped away. She gripped Grindelwald's wand as the wizard held up a hand, palm facing her.
"Avada Kedavra!" he began. But, Cecilia was quick enough to hold up Grindelwald's wand, which repelled it immediately, and it travelled towards the veil again. Again, it was extinguished by the artefact's moving fabric. Grindelwald was then engaged with Ron "repulso'ing" all spell after spell, his attention taken away from murdering her for a few minutes.
And then a voice answered. Cecilia turned around, to see where it was coming from, but couldn't pick it out. It was a slow, lulling sort of voice, like one a mother might use to soothe a child.
"Remember, Cecilia, how I first met you?" She nodded, narrowly avoiding a cruciatus curse from Grindelwald, and looked around again. "I saved your life. And, all along, I knew, what you wanted. I knew what you desired, deep down.
"All I wanted to do was to get back to him," sighed Cecilia, her knees gelatinising as she thought about Remus Lupin; her Remus, the werewolf, back in the Old Place.
"I can take you," the voice continued. "Give up your son; he will thrive."
"No!" Cecilia screamed, the beguiling in her mind broken as she exclaimed. "You want me to give him to them!"
"Listen to your heart, Cecilia Jane Wells, where does your heart truly lie?"
And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Septimus with his three friends, comparing what looked like pendants between them, holding them up and looking at them. Grindelwald had noticed them too and was bearing down on the children at speed.
"Run, Septimus!" Cecilia shouted, her mind unable to think of a spell with which to use the wizard's wand against him. In fright, the children jumped But, Septimus had in his hand a screw of paper, one which she herself had once given him. He threw the entirety of the packed over themselves as a flash of blue light surrounded them. They glowed as Grindelwald raised his hands towards them, palms facing them, but before he could do anything about them, the boys had gone.
"The street, above us. London!" Darren declared, when he had finally got some information out of Rufus. All four linked hands, as Septimus threw a hail of green powder over them. They vanished.
And then, a warm, mocking laughter filled the atrium. Cecilia turned around to see spells and curses ebbing until no wizard was making any attempt at all. Silence filled the atrium, silence save for what sounded like the swishing of material, like the sighing of waves on a lonely beach.
Because, Lindvald Halen was holding in his hand a box. It was black, with a word stencilled on its lid. And it was open. Wood lined its sides, put there, presumably, to add strength to the tin from which it was made. Lindvald Halen had the non-wizard floo powder, in one hand and, underneath it, a book in the other. Around the border Cecilia could just about make out a chain of words being repeated one by one: Energy-Light-Magic.
A slow smile crept across Lindvald's face when he opened the box. Taking out a pinch, he scattered the green, glitter-like dust into the air. Cecilia's eyes widened...she remembered it...but, from where...? Locating the memory in her head was like searching in a box for the thing you know you put in there once, but isn't there now, and heaven only knows where it really is.
"Priori Incantatem Reverso!" Using his own non-wizard floo powder, Lindvald had cancelled out Septimus's bright idea and reversed it.
All at once, in the archway of the passage, from which the four children had left, they appeared, one by one, wobbly at first, like people in a television broadcast from the days when TVs were tuned in with big dials, and you had to get the setting just-about-right.
"Septimus Lupin," said Lindvald, simply, when the boys were all standing still before them, announcing him as a compere might between acts on the stage.
Gellert Grindelwald, his white spiky hair glowing in the atrium's halflight turned. A look of triumph passed over his face, and he glanced at his lover, betraying his delight.
"Septimus Lupin," he echoed, with the laziness of a cat who had its quarry quite literally under its paw, and was taking its time in choosing where it would strike first.
"You will have to get past us first!" shouted Rufus, bravely, stepping in front of his friend, wand raised. Darren joined him, flanking the other side of Septimus. Julian pushed aside Darren. No lack of wand was going to deter protecting his friend, either.
"Do away with them, Gellert!" shouted Dumbledore, impatiently. A quick glance to Hermione and Harry, who were next to him, and he raised his hand.
"No!" shouted Cecilia, running past Snape and Ron, who were training their wands on Grindelwald, and up past him. Her legs were telling her to get to her son as fast as she could, but then her legs stopped working. She was moving backwards, into the arms of her former Durmstrang colleague."
"Take your prize, Lindvald Halen!" Grindelwald snarled, thrusting a "Locomotor Wibbly" curse at Cecilia's legs, which caused them to crumple under her, "for the good she will do you!" And he raised his hand again as Lind caught her up, crossing his arm in front of her, holding his wand under her chin.
"No!" shrieked Cecilia, struggling as much as she could in Lind's grasp. But then, Grindelwald lowered his wand. Septimus was walking out towards him.
"No!" shrieked Cecilia again, her eyes wild, staring around wildly, to someone, to anyone, who could help her son, who was so willingly going with them. But all of them had tried to raise their wands, to run, to attack, They had been cursed again, and could not move.
No, not all. One was not. Snape, who had bent to retrieve his wand from the atrium's floor had missed the limb-bind curse, and now had his wand at Caelius's throat.
"I trusted you! And you forced him to marry her, for what?" he demanded.
"To keep him safe, Severus," replied Caelius, quietly. "To protect him...for now."
Tabitha raised her head through the floor of the Department of Mysteries. She had done it. The first Mysteriour ever to travel to the Beyond, harvest memories and return. When she saw Aberforth again, it would be her delight to tell him that he was right.
She peered, Kilroy-like over bottom of the veil, looking around. Exactly where he predicted everything would be; exactly where they should be. And look, Tabitha told herself, looking across to where Lind was holding his was holding Cecilia, there was Aloysius, as he was meant to be, his wand to her throat.
"We have your memories, Cecilia Jane Wells, every last one of them," proclaimed Gellert, in triumph. "Voldemort will make a valuable asset to our alliance. And, together, we will rule two worlds."
"He will never share power!" shouted back Cecilia, defiantly. "He works with no-one!"
"When we offer him a world to rule, he will change his mind!"
Septimus ran, ran towards his mother, ignoring Grindelwald, ignoring Lindvald. But he did not make it. Instead, he stopped just short of Cecilia, as the very last Recprocator addressed him, in the same soft, gentle way in which he had tried to pacify Cecilia.
"Septimus, you are so like your grandfather, so like my John. He could not do what I am asking you to do."
The boy stared at Lindvald, incomprehension in his eyes. And then, from Lindvald's wand, clouds, like giant tendrils looped their way through the air, attaching around his waist, pulling him back towards Grindelwald and Dumbledore.
"Mum! Mum!" he screamed.
"Septimus!"
And then, there was that same thunderous "crack" which accompanied their original entrance into the atrium occurred again as Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, with their three non-transmutable objects, Tom Riddle's bone soaked in Harry Potter's blood, stepped through the veil and Beyond.
Tabitha pulled herself up out of the hole, the veil's translucent fabric flapping around her. She looked down, as one might look down a well for the bucket.
"Is that what you wanted?" demanded Snape, his wand still at Caelius's throat. "To send your nephew to his death?" He wheeled round and turned his wand on Cecilia.
"And you, Lindvald Halen..."
"...Aloysius?" Tabitha, her hand attached to the Twine of Togo, which in turn was attached to the memories she had spent some time collecting, smiled widely as she made her way over to Lindvald and Cecilia.
"You did marvellously, Tabitha Penwright, exceeding all our expectations!" Lindvald grinned at her, in delight. "How long until this unreality holds?" Cecilia watched a woman she had not seen for nearly three years stare back towards Herpo's veil.
"Until I bring Them out," she replied.
"Then I still have time," Lindvald breathed, turning to look at Cecilia, releasing her from his arms.
"Time for what?" asked Hermione. But Harry had just worked something out and was staring at Lindvald and Tabitha.
"My book," he said, holding "Mysterious Mythology out towards Cecilia, his eyes looking, if not sorrowful, then regretful. "I remember when it was made. Raymond had just finished some work with de Broglie, and came out of the lab and handed it to me.
Cecilia stared. It was the book; she knew it. Not just a copy of a children's book containing secrets, no: this was the real deal, the one Remus Lupin had given to her for her research all those years, and one dimension ago. Here, she remembered, she had left it behind in her room. Had he left Hedgewards to get it?
"And then there's these. Refined. Perfect." She looked at his hands again. A scroll of parchment lay within them and, curled up in the paper, two vials, Harry Potter's match and base.
Cecilia looked back at Lindvald, and it occurred to her that he looked even younger than when she had seen him last, when he had taken her to the Durmstrang dance, when she had been given this dress by Ragnhild.
Ragnhild. Cecilia looked across to the place where she had breathed her last. We will meet again, Cecilia, she had told her, but under terrible circumstances.
"You are not...Lindvald Halen, are you?" asked Cecilia, slowly.
"No, he's not!" declared both Harry and Tabitha together. They looked at one another, but Harry got there first and continued, "The time turner. The missing one."
"Yes, Harry Potter," said Lindvald Halen, putting his hand to his throat. He extracted a gold chain, which glittered in the atrium's half-light. In the centre of its pendant was a disc, attached at four points to an outer ring. Another ring sat around the disc, which made it so the time turner could move up and down, backwards and forwards, left or right, And in the middle was an hour glass. Or rather, a century glass.
"You are quite right," nodded Lindvald, "there was one missing. But it went missing a long time ago, 1927, if you must know." And then suddenly, Aloysius Lupin reached into his pocket and withdrew a small, multicoloured brooch. Cecilia felt her mouth open in amazed fascination. She recognised it, even though it was nearly thirteen years since her Remus Lupin had given it to her.
"There," he said, nodding as he pinned it to the strap of her evening dress. "Bessie would want you to have it, I am sure."
And then the net tightened. At the same time as Tabitha began to pull in the Twine to remove the memories from Beyond, Aloysius Lupin grabbed the waist of his granddaughter-in-law and stepped through the Veil, light as bright as burning magnesium filling its chamber.
Tabitha released the rope onto which the memories were tethered and followed them back through it. The memories skipped and moved obeying Brownian motion, until they were occupying the whole of the Veil's chamber, all thodr memories, unbounded in time and space leaking out in Department of Mysteries, like radiation frpm a damaged nuclear reactor
And in another place, at another time, where a boy fights for his life against the most evil wizard persisting in his time, a veil ripples with life.
88888888
Beyond the veil, and in the souls, Cecilia felt her mind filling, filling with thoughts and memories, random and disordered, ones of a childhood dinner with her family abutting teaching muggle studies to Harry's class abutting a time in Dalton Drive waiting for Blue Peter to come onto her family's old -fashioned black and white television set.
Her memories were being returned to them, as they surfed the backdraft of those taken by Albus Dumbledore. If she were in any position to rationalise what she was experiencing, Cecilia may well have aligned the experience to that felt by a dog with his head out of the window on fast car journey.
She tried to say something, but Lindvald...Aloysius...put his fingers gently to her mouth.
"No need to say anything...watch..."
Another place, another time...a wizard, pacing in his office, before stopping abruptly. Severus Snape folded his arms, the Dark Mark on his forearm clear to see...
He was not the Severus Snape Cecilia had known for twelve years, untainted by guilt and bitterness, alive to possibility and greatness, but the one who had been there for her, at Christmas, who she had kept alive, who had scurried her from Remus's cottage while she atrtempted to solve the mystery of Harry's potion to overcome Voldemort; who had clumsily revealed his feelings for her, projected feelings of his love, ever enduring, for Lily Potter. The Severus Snape twisted through with sorrow and regret.
"What does she need, Severus? What will ensure she develops Harry's potion?"
"Time," said Snape, simply, eyeing Dumbloedore's desk. "Years A dozen, maybe? But we haven't got years!"
"There may be a way."
There was a way, Lindvald whispered in Cecilia's ear.
"There is a way," Dumbledore echoed. "Aloysius Lupin can provide what we need. If only she can find him."